The MS. in a Red Box Part 24

"I am willing to give myself up to the coroner, or any one who has a just right to try me, but not into the hands of my enemies, who have been the tools of my Lord Sheffield, for it is too much their interest to have my life."

"Mustn't be taken to torture chamber!" a voice called out.

Torture chamber was the people's name for the dungeon in Castle Mulgrave, where the Lord President of the Council of the North was wont to examine prisoners. From that chamber men had come with maimed limbs and shaken wits, men whose only crime was their unwillingness to give the testimony which his lords.h.i.+p desired.

"I don't think there is much fear of that with so many brave fellows to stand by me; but if I should be taken or killed, I beg you to defend this lady and her father until they are under the roof of the Vicar of Crowle."

So saying, I drew Anna forward to the window. My words had taken the colour out of her face and set her trembling, but she spoke with a clear voice--

"Oh, I am sure you will not let him be killed or taken!"

The sight of her pale face, and the sound of her sweet tones uttered from quivering lips, roused the men to the highest pitch, and they answered with one voice--

"Never--never!"

So I went to work about our defence, placing twenty men round the house, under such shelter as we could find or make with bundles of reeds from Drury's stack, or anything that came handy. Twenty more I disposed in a half circle about fifty yards away, facing the road by which the enemy must come. Five of our best shots I appointed to guard the approach by the river, strictly charging them not to leave their post; and the remainder of our men, twelve in number, I sent to the higher ground overlooking the road, so as to be ready to take our enemies on the flank.

After our disposition had been made, we were reinforced by sixteen men, whom I sent to join the twelve on the higher ground; bidding them hide themselves until they heard three blasts from a horn, when they were to fire and charge down the hill. I had meant to take the command of this part of my force myself; but as young Mell came in the last company, and he was both cool-headed and courageous, I entrusted him with it.

We had ample time for our preparations, for we saw nothing of an enemy before seven o'clock, when there came in sight a big, disorderly crowd--about a hundred men in number as near as I could reckon--armed with poles, crossbows, slings, knives, and a few guns. Two or three women accompanied the band.

A little way up the slope, above my semicircle of men, stood an old pollard willow, which I climbed as a post of observation, keeping my body in the shelter of its trunk, and having my face well s.h.i.+elded among the young shoots. I could see no Mulgrave livery in the crowd, so I concluded Boswell held the earl's men in reserve. The mob came along in a straggling fas.h.i.+on, and did not appear to look for any kind of defence outside the house, or to note our preparations, so well were my men covered. When they came within fifty or sixty paces, I cried, "Halt, or we fire."

The foremost of them stood and stared; but those behind pressed them forward. Some of them espied me, and sent a shower of bolts and stones about my head. At the same moment my men fired, and a dozen of the enemy fell. This, or some command from the middle of the crowd, brought them to a stand long enough for my men to reload and prime.

There was no howling or yelling on the part of the others, which a.s.sured me of the presence among them of men who understood something of discipline, I heard a low buzz of talk among them, and then Boswell came to the front.

"Give me a hearing, you men of Belton. We have no quarrel with you.

We want the murderer of my Lord Sheffield," he shouted.

"And the witch!" bawled and screamed a score of voices.

"And the witch," added Boswell.

"Steady, men. Don't let him draw your fire," said I. "There's a rush coming. Shoot, and retire."

The words were scarce out of my mouth, when the mob hurled a volley of shots, stones, and bolts, very much at random, and made forward at a run. Again more than a dozen of them dropped under my men's fire; but the rest continued the charge, breaking into shouts of triumph as they saw my Beltonians run to cover. Their shouts changed to yells and curses, as they received a well-directed fire from the second ring, and I hoped they would turn and run. But they came on, more enraged than daunted by their losses, and we were quickly engaged in a hand-to-hand fight, in which, strange to say, I had little active share, for four of my men gave me to understand they were my bodyguard, and they stuck to me so closely that I could not make play with my stout ash pole. So I made the best use of my eyes and ears, and it was well that I was compelled to do so, for while we were being swept to and fro, smiting and stabbing in a wild medley, some twenty-five or thirty hors.e.m.e.n came galloping along the lower road--Mulgrave men--with long muskets.

I blew my horn thrice, and the sound almost stopped the fight round the house. Up rose the trusty Mell and his men, and one half of them fired. Before the Mulgrave fellows could handle their pieces, four or five saddles were empty and two or three horses were down. The second half of Mell's men fired, while their comrades were reloading, with equal effect. The earl's retainers were not valiant enough to await a third volley, but fled helter-skelter the way they had come, all but those who could neither ride nor run. Mell followed them out of my view, and our scrambling struggle, which had slackened for the last few minutes, went on again fiercely.

There was a sort of method in the fighting of the Boswell party: they tried hard to drive or draw us to the rear of the house. Seeing this, I and my bodyguard worked round toward the front, and as we were doing so we heard a shot and a cry, "This way, Belton men!" The voice was John Drury's, I could swear. We rushed round, and for an instant stood as if thunderstricken, for, sure enough, there was John Drury at the landing-place, bare-headed, his face of a death-like pallor, raising gun to shoulder.

About fifty yards down stream were three boats filled with men. Some of them fired at us as we ran up to John, but did no hurt to any of us, while his shot brought down its man. Two of our men, who had disengaged themselves from the hurly burly, now loaded their guns and fired on the boats. To my unspeakable relief, Mell and his men ran up to our a.s.sistance, and poured such a steady fire on them as quickly drove them out of range.

Leaving four men with John to guard against their return, the rest of us ranged ourselves in line at a little distance from the scuffling ma.s.s, and I shouted--

"This way, friends, and leave the rascals to us."

Most of our men obeyed promptly, and as soon as they had got out of the throng reloaded their guns. We were now the stronger party, about sixty, with firearms. The others had more men disabled than we, so that in numbers we were nearly equal; but they were at a disadvantage in the matter of weapons, and not a little disheartened by rough handling and the discomfiture of the hors.e.m.e.n, as I gathered by the curses which I overheard on "the mongrel curs."

So when I bade them throw down their weapons, they pitched poles, knives, crossbows, guns to the ground. They showed some surprise at my picking them out one by one, bidding each go about his business, but to take his part in carrying off their wounded men. In this way I let go all but Boswell and thirteen gipsy fellows, whom I had securely bound and laid far apart one from another, Boswell I bestowed safely in an outhouse under the watch of two guards. My purpose in this was to learn the truth about Jim Ulceby's death. As soon as the prisoners had been dealt with, I sent some of my men to Crowle to ascertain whether Mr. and Mrs. Graves were at the vicarage; some to Sandtoft to learn how things stood there, and particularly to inquire for Mr. Ulceby; and some to b.u.t.terwick to glean what tidings they might of the action of the earl with regard to his son's death. Doctor Goel, a.s.sisted by Anna and her maid, had attended to the half-dozen of our men whose injuries demanded a surgeon's care, and Dame Drury, with her grumbling husband's help, was busy supplying food and drink to our good friends. Now I had leisure to question John concerning the marvel of his rising from the bed on which he had lain helpless so long.

"I know no more than you," he answered. "I lay at the window, in a bad humour enough that I was as useless as a log, looking out over the fen, and I saw boats on the river. The men you had posted at the landing-place had disappeared--gone to join their comrades in the fray, I suppose. I called out, but n.o.body heard, and the boats drew nearer and nearer; if they were not beaten back you would be taken unawares by a fresh attack. Without thinking about the wonder of it, I sprang off my bed, rushed downstairs, took my cousin's gun, and ran out. 'Twas the will of Heaven, a miracle on your behalf, and on mine."

I feared his strength, so suddenly restored, might as suddenly fail, but it did not. So far as we could see, he was hale and vigorous, and as active as any man among us. The doctor cheered us by saying that in a number of such recoveries, which were well attested, the cure had been lasting. I spoke of my astonishment on seeing John move as if to rise when I took Anna to his chamber.

"Now you speak of it, I remember that," said John; "and it makes my restoration to accord with ancient precedent. An angel was sent to heal me. 'Tis a miracle in proper form and order."

Though he spoke so lightly, the s.h.i.+ning in his eyes were eloquent of feeling too deep for words.

In the course of the day, our scouts returned with the information that the vicar of Crowle had returned to his parish; that the Dutch had driven off the invaders of their settlement, and Mr. Ulceby would shortly arrive; that the old earl was said to be half mad with rage and grief, and had issued proclamation of a hundred pounds reward for my apprehension and of severe punishment for any person who should aid or harbour me. As President of Council he declared me an outlaw for having resisted the King's authority with violence, plotted against the life of the royal commissioner, and murdered Lord Sheffield. Orders had been given that all ports were to be watched, and all outgoing vessels to be searched, and these orders were being carried north, south, east, and west with all speed. Warrants had been issued for the arrest of Doctor Goel, his daughter and servants. Mr. Ulceby and his man rode up while we held debate over these tidings.

The first thing, it seemed to me, was to send away the Beltonians, who might be held the less blamable for protecting me and my friends, if they could prove they had dispersed on hearing the terms of the earl's proclamation. With a good deal of difficulty, I prevailed on the brave fellows to leave us. The next question was how to convey my lady and her father and servant to a place of safety, and Mr. Ulceby proposed they should ride with him to Hull, where he would put them aboard one of his own s.h.i.+ps bound for Amsterdam; and the doctor now being free to return to Holland, it was so agreed. Anna besought me to go along with them, but as I was sure that my being with them would be likely rather to hinder their escape than to favour mine, I did not consent. John Drury promised to accompany them as far as Hull, and to bring me word when they were out of Humber. My lady would fain have had Bess go with her, now that she had cut herself off from her own people, but Bess would not, and said she had already engaged to render certain services to Dame Drury, for which she was to receive food and shelter.

"But what is your intent?" asked John, turning to me.

"To hide in a retreat not far away, which is impossible of access to any one who does not know the road, and it needs wary walking, even when one does know it, for it winds through quaking bog and mire-pits and hidden pools."

"You mean Lindum," said Bess. "No one knows the way but the hermit."

"You are mistaken, Bess," I answered. "Daft Jack knows it well, and so do I. I spent a week there last autumn, and promised the hermit I would spend another with him this year. I shall be in safety there, and when the hue and cry is over, I will make my way to Holland."

"I think your plan is admirable," said John. "It is the last place in the world your enemies will think of, and if they find you are there by any chance, they will be much at a loss to get at you. I will remain here in readiness to join you when it is prudent to break cover. Has the hermit pigeons, do you know?"

"Flocks of them."

"Then you have but to bring a few to Messic Mere, or send them by your host, and I shall be provided with messengers in case of need. I will be on the water early on Wednesday, and every day after, until I see or hear from you."

Then arose question what to do with our prisoners, and in particular with Boswell. On going to look into the outhouse in which he had been confined, I found the place empty. When the Beltonians withdrew I forgot Boswell, and he had contrived to escape. This hastened our proceedings. With so wily an enemy at liberty, and perhaps spying upon us, it was needful to be as quick and crafty as we knew how to be. In dealing with the other men, we took counsel with Bess, who bade me and John talk roughly to them of our intent to shoot them, and while we were threatening, up came she to make intercession for them, and to promise on their behalf that they would take no part against us, if we spared their lives. She swore them to this in words which the gipsies consider most binding. So I bade her release them at a time when I hoped the travellers would be well on their way. Mr. Ulceby gave up for the present the endeavour to ascertain the truth concerning his son's death, John Drury vowing to search out the matter on his return.

It was not easy to find horses for the party going to Hull. Mr. Ulceby and his man had their roadsters, and John was to take my Trueboy, who was much too frisky after his long idleness, though John had seen to it that he had some exercise every day, to be ridden by a novice. Drury had two horses, one a decent nag, on which the dame went to market, and this we saddled for Anna. The other was too old and heavy for our use, but John caught a sober steed which had carried one of the Mulgrave troopers, and induced the doctor to mount him, taking Martha on pillion. They trusted to doing better in Belton.

Leave-taking had to be short, and for once I was glad that so it must be, for my love was more despondent than I had ever known her.

"To go over sea and leave you, encompa.s.sed with so many perils and pursued by enemies so bitter and cunning and cruel, nearly breaks my heart," said she. "Be persuaded to come with us, Frank."

"That will I not, sweetheart, for there will be sharp watch kept for me at the port; and if you and your father are seen with me, there will be small hope of your gaining your country, whereas now you may be protected by a man well known."

I tried to comfort her by reminding her how marvellously I had been helped and delivered hitherto; but she took no cheer, saying that I had never before been in such evil plight; again and again entreating me to go with them, so that I was driven to be hard with her, for, indeed, every minute of delay was dangerous. Thus it fell that we parted hurriedly at the last, and she rode away very sorrowful.

When she had pa.s.sed out of my sight, I made haste to prepare for my journey, Bess and the dame a.s.sisting me. They found clothing for me in which I looked like a marshman, and put more plaister on my face, the better to disguise me. I took gun, pistols, pole and knife, flint and tinder, a pair of cleat-boards, and a good supply of powder, and thought I had all I could need; but the dame would have me take a pasty and a bottle of wine.

"Nay, dame," said I, "there is no occasion to carry victual for my short journey."

"Call yourself a marshman, and don't know how short journeys turn out to be long ones! Many a man has rued he did not take meat and drink with him when he set out to cross fen."

So, not to vex the kind soul, I added her provision to my load, and set off within an hour of sunset for the hermitage of Richard Bland, who was commonly called by the few who knew him "the Wizard" or "the Madman" of Lindholme.