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Updated: June 16, 2025
Harbutt read the lines and didn't even smile at the grammar; on the contrary, he appeared very much upset, and was still standing holding the paper, staring stupidly at it, when his wife came on the scene.
But that principle was not consistently followed by William the Second. Into the detailed story of his departure from it I have not space to enter. But those who wish to follow this will do well to read the narrative contained in an admirable and open-minded book by Mr. Harbutt Dawson, "The German Empire from 1867 to 1914," in the second volume of which the story is told in detail.
He had a wife but no children, and was a middle-aged, thick-set, very dark man, powerful and vigilant, a "tarrable" hater and persecutor of poachers, feared and hated by them in turn, and his name was Harbutt. It happened that one morning, when he had unbarred the front door to go out, he found a great difficulty in opening it, caused by a heavy object having been fastened to the door-handle.
The fo'c'sle, lit by a teapot lamp, shewed the port watch in their bunks, snoring, all but Harbutt and Raft seated on a chest, Harbutt patching a pair of trousers, Raft smoking. Raft was a big red-headed man with eyes that seemed always roving over great distances as though in search of something. He was thirty-two years of age and he had used the sea since twelve twenty years.
"They've kill 'n!" he cried in despair, "they've killed my poor boy!" and straight to Rollston House he went to inquire, and was met by Harbutt himself, who came out limping, one boot on, the other foot bound up with rags, one arm in a sling and a cloth tied round his head. He was told that his son was alive and safe indoors and that he would be taken to Salisbury later in the day.
It was not preceded by the gradual dissolution of his physical and intellectual strength; rather was it like the burning out of a flame. Written in 1913. All English students interested in Germany owe a deep debt of gratitude to the unremitting labours of Mr. William Harbutt Dawson in the fields of Teutonic scholarship.
I joined at Bombay, after the business, or I'd have croaked too." "What ship was that?" asked Harbutt. "I've forgot her name, it was a good bit back but it's the truth." "Of course it's the truth," replied the other, "who's doubtin' you, any dog's trick played on a sailorman's the truth, you can lay to that. I've had four years of sea and I oughta know." "What's this you were?" asked Raft.
Then it seemed to him a voice, very far and small, was speaking to him, coolly, impersonally, in a matter-of-fact way as though suggesting an experiment. Dazed as he was, he recognized that voice it was the voice of Dr. Harbutt, who once had taught him many a wily trick upon the mat; Harbutt, dead and gone these thousand years or more. "Why not try the satsu-da, Stern?" the voice was saying.
Deer-stealing on Salisbury Plain The head-keeper Harbutt Strange story of a baby Found as a surname John Barter the village carpenter How the keeper was fooled A poaching attack planned The fight Head-keeper and carpenter The carpenter hides his son The arrest Barter's sons forsake the village
"Well, you've seen chaps in plug hats and chaps drivin' in carriages, that's the sort that keeps us down, that's the sort we've got to make an end of." Raft did not quite see. He had a respect for Harbutt mixed with a contempt for him as a sailor.
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