CHAPTER VIII
OUR ADVENTURE IN LOSTWITHIEL CHURCH
THE troopers kept up their rapid pace, as if anxious to reach theshelter afforded by Lostwithiel without delay, and as we proceededthe nature of their anxiety became apparent.
A burly dragoon rode between us, sternly checking any attempt atconversation, while the sergeant, who had possessed himself of mysword--the gift of the armourer at Newport--placed a couple of men,armed with petronels, immediately behind us, giving them orders toshoot us through the head at the first sign of an attempt to escape.
This order was, I felt certain, given to the sergeant by Chaloner,who would have been only too glad to get us out of the way, knowingthat we were acquainted with his past treachery, and also because hewas aware of the fact that I was the son of Sir Reginald Markham, whostill held Ashley, in spite of the Parliamentarian mandate bestowingit upon the renegade.
Long before midday we had passed through Liskeard, where theinhabitants were manifestly in sympathy with us, though overawed bythe menaces of Chaloner's troopers.
About four miles beyond the town we came to the fork roads, where oneroad leads to Bodmin and the other to Lostwithiel, and hardly had weproceeded a hundred yards along the latter when two dragoons, who hadbeen riding some distance ahead, came back at a gallop with theintelligence that a troop of malignant cavalry were drawn up beyondthe brow of the hill.
My spirits rose at the thought of a rescue, though, at the same time,it occurred to me that, should an affray take place, Chaloner wouldhave no scruples in shooting us, and putting the blame on the bulletsof our friends.
The Roundheads lost no time in preparing to receive the threatenedattack. The dragoons dismounted, one man in every three being toldoff to hold the reins of their comrades' horses. We were sent to therear under guard, while the soldiers vigorously plied their swords,cutting down brushwood and small branches of trees which they placedacross the road to render more difficult the charge of theiropponents.
In a few moments we saw the cavalry appear, and, drawing up againstthe sky-line, they halted, while their leaders trotted slowlyforward, as if to reconnoitre the Roundheads' position.
Apparently, however, the Cornish Royal troops thought the numbers oftheir enemies too great to attempt an onslaught, for, greatly to mydisappointment, the horsemen wheeled and retired, amidst the ironicallaughter and gibes of our captors.
But the Roundheads had reckoned too lightly with their enemies, forshortly afterwards the Royalists appeared in our rear, opening asteady fire at long range.
Chaloner was manifestly ill at ease, and, as usual, his craven spiritshowed itself in its true colours. With the opening of the rearguardaction he took his place at the head of the troop, exhorting them toincrease their pace till their progress was little better than aflight.
On our part, Colonel Firestone and I were subjected to the awkwardpredicament of being under the fire of our own party, the bulletswhistling unpleasantly above our heads. Although several of thedragoons essayed to make a stand, their pursuers drove them back withthe loss of three killed and five wounded, till at length the chaseended at Lostwithiel Bridge, by the timely arrival of a strong bodyof musketeers from the Roundhead stronghold.
Here Chaloner handed us over to a captain of pikemen, who conductedus to the church, where, still bound, we were placed in a corner ofthe sacred edifice under a strong guard.
The floor of the nave was strewn with straw, some twenty or morehorses being stabled here, while gathered in small groups were therough soldiery, polishing their arms.[1]
Presently there entered an officer, whom I recognised in a moment. Itwas Captain Dawe, the man we had befriended when attacked by robbersnear Whitchurch, and the recognition was mutual, though the Roundheadcaptain placed his finger meaningly on his mouth.
"Why are these men trussed up in this fashion?" he demanded.
"By Captain Chaloner's orders, sir," replied one of the men whomounted guard over us.
"'Tis unduly harsh. Cast off those ropes. Have they been questioned?"
"I know not, sir."
"Then stand aside while I obtain information of the malignantforces."
Our bonds were unfastened, and we stood upright, glad to stretch ourcramped limbs.
"More I dare not do," said Captain Dawe in a low tone. "But seize thefirst chance of escape, for 'tis certain this Captain Chaloner isintent on your deaths. Your outposts are in possession of RestormelCastle. Dost know where it lieth?"
"No," I replied.
"But a mile and a half from the north gate. Gain it, and all will bewell, for I foresee that we are sore beset by your troops. To-night,perchance, I'll try to make your way still easier, but tillthen--farewell."
Our benefactor went out, while our guards resumed their places, onehaving brought us some food, which we ate with avidity, having beenwithout refreshment since early morning. Then, making ourselves ascomfortable as the hard oak pews would permit, we feigned sleep.
Immediately after Captain Dawe's departure a scene of rioting began,ending in an uproar that filled me with disgust.
"Can we sit here idle, and gaze upon this vile work?" I whisperedfiercely to my companion, for I was beside myself with fury.
"Not I," replied Firestone.
"Then let's fall upon them," I exclaimed in a low voice.
The next instant I had pushed aside our guards and sprung on the pew,the colonel following almost as quickly, in spite of his wooden leg.
Before the noisy fellows could grasp the meaning of our suddenonslaught, I had seized the leading spirit by the throat. With analmost superhuman effort, I dashed his head against the font, thestonework stopping his blasphemy for the time being.
Firestone served another in a similar manner, and, as if by mutualagreement, we dashed towards the doorway leading to the tower. Up thespiral staircase we flew, and, before the first of the astonishedrebels had grasped the situation, we had gained the wooden ladderleading to the belfry.
In another moment we had drawn the wooden ladder up after us, and laybreathless and panting, yet safe for the present, upon the floor ofthe steeple.
Anon we heard growls of the soldiers, who, having reached the top ofthe stone staircase, had found the ladder removed.
"On your head be the blame, Hosea Standfast," exclaimed one of thetroopers.
"Nay, why on mine?" replied another. "You were told off to keep watchand ward as well as I."
"A truce to your bickering," interrupted a third, "and help to getyour men down. Send a messenger to Captain Chaloner, and inform himof the circumstances."
"Cannot we secure them without the captain knowing aught of thematter?" asked the first speaker. "Try, but I'll warrant the rogueswill sit tight," replied the third man, evidently a corporal ofhorse.
Threats, persuasions, and entreaties met with no results, for,intoxicated with the success of our attempt, we laughed at thediscomfited soldiers, till at last one of them reluctantly departed,to inform the renegade, Captain Chaloner, of our escapade, and in avery short time that infuriated officer made his appearance,accompanied by a file of musketeers.
"I'll fetch you down," he exclaimed, and immediately ordered themusketeers to make ready their pieces.
Peering cautiously over the edge of the trap-door, I could see themen lighting their matches, and casting about to load. Observingthese preparations, I assisted Colonel Firestone to clamber astridethe top of a large bell, while I followed his example, for, thoughthe stout oak planking of the belfry floor might not be proof againstthe bullets, it was certain that the huge metal cylinders would formample protection.
We had not long to wait before a musket was fired, the report makinga prodigious noise, while the bullet struck the floor with a dull,heavy thud.
The next shot passed between a crevice in the rough timbers, and hitthe lip of the bell, which gave forth a resonant ring.
The intermittent fusillade continued for about ten minutes, and,although the bells were struck at leas
t a dozen times, we came offunscathed, keeping up a running fire of derisive remarks at theenraged captain and his impotent musketeers.
"I'll have you yet," shouted the renegade, beside himself with fury,and, ordering his men to follow, he led the way down the spiralstaircase.
"I wonder what he intends to do next?" I remarked to my companion, aswe stepped from our unsteady perches and gained the floor.
"He'll stop at nothing," replied the colonel. "But we'll know soonenough. In the meantime haul up those ropes, for methinks we'll haveneed of them ere long."
We pulled up the bell-ropes as far as the knots for the ringers'hands would allow, then set laboriously to work to chafe through thestout hempen cords by the edge of one of the bells. We had barelysawn through three ropes, and detached their other ends from themassive wheels, when we heard the noise of scuffling feet hastilymaking the way up the worn steps of the spiral staircase, accompaniedby the unmistakable rustle of straw.
_Seized by the arms and legs, the terrified rogue washurled into the river._]
"They are going to burn us out," I exclaimed.
"Trying to, you should say," replied Firestone. "Unless they actuallyset fire to the steeple, which Heaven forfend, we can laugh at them."
Piling a heap of straw and hay on the stone floor of the towerimmediately below the trap-door of the belfry, the rebels called onus once more to come down.
The only reply was a piece of wood, small 'tis true, but thrown withunerring aim. It caught one of the soldiers fairly on the top of hisbare head, for he had removed his steel cap, and, with a yell ofpain, he dashed for the doorway of the spiral staircase, not knowingin his fright whether he had been shot at or not.
Coming into violent contact with another man who was bringing up somemore straw, the twain fell in a confused heap, and we could hear thembumping and jolting down the narrow steps.
"Capitally done, Humphrey!" exclaimed the colonel. "Had we but agoodly store of missiles, we could hold them at bay."
"Which we have not, unfortunately," I rejoined.
Experience had taught the rebels a lesson, for, having donned thesteel cap, another soldier set match to the heap of straw, and thenext instant a pillar of flame shot upwards, the fiery tonguesactually licking the sides of the trap-door, by which we were lying.
But to destroy us by fire was not their object, for one of the mensoused the fiercely-burning mass with water. The clear flame gaveplace to a dense column of blinding smoke, and in a few seconds wewere choking and coughing furiously. Firestone gripped me by theshoulder, and, forcing our way through the smoke, we reached a littledoorway in one of the hexagonal sides of the steeple, which gaveaccess to a narrow platform surrounded by a parapet.
Here we stood, once more in God's good sunshine, half blinded andsuffocated. Drawing in the pure air to our smoke-laden lungs, we hadno thoughts for anything but the delights of the life-restoringatmosphere, till the thud of a bullet on the stonework close to ourheads warned us that our enemies had expected our appearance, andwere firing at us from the street.
Instinctively we dropped behind the parapet, lying in the leadgutters, still taking in copious draughts of air, while from thedoorway through which we had emerged came thick columns of smoke.
Bullets still pattered thickly against the stonework of the steeple,while, in addition to the reports of the muskets, the hoarse shoutsof the baulked rebels added to the din.
After a while we plucked up courage, and, raising ourselvescautiously, we looked over the edge of the parapet.
In spite of our danger, we could not help admiring the prospect.Bathed in the slanting rays of the setting sun, the town ofLostwithiel and the surrounding country made a delightful picture,that, were it not for the presence of the rebels, would have beentypical of an English countryside.
On the east beyond the red-tiled roofs of the timbered houses wecould see the road by which we had come, looking like a white threadamidst the dense masses of dark green foliage and the lighter tintsof the well-laden fields. Across the silver thread that showed thecourse of the Foy stream was the old stone bridge, its townward endclosed by a rough barricade, through the gaps of which were fourpieces of ordnance trained to command the road.
Here were strong parties of pikemen and musketeers supporting thegunners, while, on the north side of the town, the rebels wereactively engaged in throwing up earthworks. Further up the valley, onthe low hills to the left, we could discern a small castle, on whicha flag hung motionless in the still air.
"Canst make out yonder standard?" asked Firestone, indicating theflag.
"Nay, 'tis o'er far," I replied.
"It must be the castle of Restormel, of which Captain Dawe spoke.That being so, 'tis the standard of the Hoptons that flies over it."
"The rebels are in a great state of activity," he continued, "and,judging by their defence works, I trove that they expect an attack.But we must keep an eye on the trap-door, lest the rogues make anattack under cover of the smoke."
By this time the fire had died out, and, though the atmosphere withinthe belfry was charged with choking fumes, we could breathe with butlittle difficulty. Looking down, we saw the lower room was deserted,and the ominous silence filled us with misgivings.
The sun had set, and twilight was drawing in apace. Thirst and hungerbegan to make their presence felt, and in desperation I suggested toFirestone that, when it grew dark, we should descend by means of thebell-ropes knotted together, and take the risk of capture rather thanstarve where we were.
"Yes," he replied shortly. "We can but try."
We immediately set about unfastening the remaining ropes, out ofwhich we made one stout rope of double thickness, sufficiently longto reach the ground.
The oppressive silence still continued, although from the churchitself came the discordant sounds of the lawless soldiery.
"Hist! Someone comes!" I whispered, as the now familiar noise offootsteps stumbling up the spiral staircase became audible.
"For the last time, dogs!" came Chaloner's voice--"will you giveyourselves up?"
"This is not Southsea Castle," I replied sneeringly. "We do not giveup without sufficient cause."
"Then take the consequences," replied the renegade. "For a barrel ofpowder is even now placed underneath the tower, and in five minutesyou will be blown skywards. Fare ye well, and a pleasant journey!"
And, with a mocking laugh, he disappeared.
The horror of the situation held us spell-bound.
Here we were eighty feet above the ground, with a barrel of powderready to burst asunder the very foundations of the tower, while aboveus was a mass of stone another seventy feet in height, orthereabouts, which, at the moment of the explosion, would crumble,collapse, and bury us beneath its stupendous weight.
Nor was escape possible, for the churchyard was filled with rebels,and we knew full well that to accept Chaloner's offer of surrenderwas to deliberately throw away our lives, seeing that the man wouldhave had us shot in cold blood under the plea of armed resistance.Colonel Firestone was the first to recover his composure.
"Perchance, 'tis but an idle threat," he exclaimed. "Yet, even ifthey fire the powder, its effects may not be so disastrous as theythink. I call to mind the springing of a mine at the causeway of Rhe,when those nearest escaped nearly scot-free, and the greatest damagewas done by the falling stones on the Frenchmen, who caused theexplosion. Nevertheless, if we are to die, let's get to the open aironce more."
Taking the ropes with us, we made our way out on to the parapet.
It was now dark. But few lights twinkled in the houses of the town,though the watch-fires of the troops surrounded Lostwithiel like acircle of glimmering points of light. Looking straight down, we coulddistinguish the heads and shoulders of the troops in and around thechurchyard.
"Why not lower ourselves on to the roof of the nave?" I exclaimed.
"The idea seems good," replied Firestone, and we immediately ranround the leads to the opposite side of the tower. Tw
enty feet belowwas the ridge of the tiled roof that sloped down on either side to aparapeted gutterway.
"Fools we were not to have thought of this before," exclaimed thecolonel. "Quick! Make fast the rope round this piece of stonework.Once we gain the roof, we are safe."
The rope was secured but, just as I was about to clamber over theedge, there was a glimmer of a match on the farthest end of the roof,then a flash, and a loud report, and a bullet whizzed past our heads.
"The rogues have done us!" muttered the colonel. "They have placedmusketeers on the roof to shoot us down."
Hastily crouching behind the sheltering stonework, we drew up therope and waited, in dead silence, for the threatened catastrophe.
In obedience to an order, there was a hasty stampede on the part ofthe rebels from the church, and, in our anxiety, we imagined we couldhear the spluttering of the slow-match.
Regardless of the possibility of being shot at, Colonel Firestonestood erect and defiant, his figure showing clearly against thestarlit sky.
"God save the King, and confusion to all his enemies!" he shouted,receiving in reply a chorus of ribald jests and laughter.
"Stand firm, Humphrey," he exclaimed, gripping my hand. "'Tis soonover, if 'tis to be."
Silence had now fallen upon the crowd of rebels and townsfolk, theformer eager to see the result of their vile work, the latter,doubtless filled with grief at the wanton destruction of theirvenerable edifice, which for nearly four hundred years had been thepride of this Cornish borough.
Suddenly the massive tower shook like a leaf. There was a blindingflash, a deafening roar, a cloud of sulphurous smoke, followed by therattle of hundreds of pieces of stonework. Gasping and nearly blindedand deafened by the explosion, I could not for a minute grasp thefact that I was still alive. Gradually it dawned upon me that I wasnot injured, and that, moreover, I was still on the tower. Then Istretched out my hand, and, to my delight, I gripped that of ColonelFirestone.
"Art hurt, Humphrey?"
"Nay, I think not--only shaken. And how is it with you?"
"Little the worse. We must brace ourselves together, for now is ourtime. Canst slide down the rope?"
"I hope so."
"Then explore the roof of the nave, for 'tis certain the men havetaken themselves away ere the explosion. I must needs stay here tocover your retreat if needful, and also to guard against an attemptby the trap-door. We need not fear for lack of missiles, I take it."In truth the parapet was littered with broken tiles, each of whichwould make an effective impression if hurled at a man's head.
I swung myself over the ledge and descended the rope. At length onefoot touched the roof, and instinctively I put out my other to gain afooting, but, to my surprise, there was a gaping hole. I had lightedupon one of the massive oaken rafters of the nave, for the explosionhad stripped the whole of the tiles off the roof close to itsjunction with the tower.
Even as I looked down the evil-smelling smoke was still filteringthrough the ragged gaps between the beams. Men with torches andlanterns were already pouring into the building.
Fortunately for us, the effects of the explosion had followed theline of least resistance. The massive outer walls of the tower hadwithstood the shock, but a thin wall separating it from the nave hadbeen blown into the church, and, as I said before, the roof had bornethe brunt of the catastrophe.
Steadying myself by the rope I walked cautiously down the beam, tillI gained the lead-lined parapet. Here I made fast the rope, andproceeded on my tour of inspection, keeping a careful watch lest anyof the rebels should have remained on guard on the leads.
At length I neared the part above the east window, when suddenly Istumbled over the body of a man. It was one of the rebels who hadfired at us on our previous attempt to descend. He still lived,having been only stunned by a fragment of flying masonry that hadcaught him on the right temple.
Just then I heard men's voices. A detachment of rebels was coming upto the roof by means of a ladder. Retracing my footsteps, I pausedbut for a moment to relieve the senseless soldier of his musket andbandolier; then, seizing the rope, I swung myself back to where mycomrade was anxiously awaiting me.
"Is it safe to make the attempt?" he asked.
"Nay, the rebels are even now on the roofs. Listen!"
I showed him the musket I had gained possession of, whereat heexpressed great approval.
"We must needs wait till the small hours of the morning," hecontinued. "And the best way to forget one's hunger is to gain sleep.I'll take the first watch, so the sooner you fall asleep the quickeryou'll forget your troubles."
So saying, he took the musket, loaded and primed it, and sat down atthe edge of the trap-door. For my part I lay down on the dust-coveredfloor of the belfry, and, worn out by hunger, fatigue, andexcitement, I fell into a dreamless slumber.
I was awakened by Firestone shaking me by the shoulder.
"Time to be up and doing," he exclaimed.
It was broad daylight, and the sun's rays played strongly upon theblackened stonework of the tower, and across the gaping rafters ofthe roof of the nave.
"Why did you not waken me before?" I asked reproachfully, for thecolonel presented a sorry appearance; his gaunt features were drawnwith hunger, his face blackened with smoke and dirt, and his, clothessmothered with dust and particles of charcoal.
"You wanted rest more than I," he replied, with a grim smile. "A fewhours' vigil makes but little difference to a war-worn veteran. Butsee!" he added, holding up an arrow for my inspection.
At first I thought the rebels had resorted to this bygone instrumentof offence in the hope that its noiseless flight might have taken usunawares. Its point was blunted, but whether by design or by reasonof its striking the stonework I knew not.
"'Twas shot by a friendly hand," continued Colonel Firestone. "Hereis a paper that was folded round the shaft."
Taking the scrap of paper, I saw written in a scrawling hand: "_Be ogoode cheere, for the rebells are leaving Listithiel this day._"
"I would be fuller of good cheer had I a square meal!" replied I,dolefully, as a savoury smell was wafted to our nostrils.
We looked cautiously over the parapet. Through the shattered roof wecould see the floor of the church, where several of the rebels wereengaged in cooking their food in large iron cauldrons suspended fromrough tripods, the fires being fed with pieces of oak, which thetroopers had relentlessly hacked from the pews. The soldier whom Ihad found insensible in the gutterway had been removed, but the forkof his musket still remained. Soldiers were busily engaged inclearing away the mass of rubble that blocked the entrance to thespiral staircase leading to the tower, so it was evident that theyhad not despaired of taking us--a further proof of the vindictivenessof the renegade Chaloner.
Could I gain possession of the musketeer's rest before the passagewas cleared, a means would be at our disposal whereby we could obtainmuch-needed food; so, descending by the rope, I reached the shelterof the parapet of the nave, and immediately secured the instrumentleft behind by the wounded sentinel.
It was about five feet in length, made of wrought iron, andterminated in a double prong.
Requesting the colonel to throw me a length of rope, of which,fortunately, we had plenty, I bent the rest into the form of a largehook. To this I secured one end of the rope, then, leaning cautiouslyalong one of the beams, I slowly lowered my improvised fishing tackledown into the interior of the church.
To my delight, none of the soldiers noticed the descent of the hook,owing possibly to the smoke, and by dint of careful manoeuvring Isucceeded in hooking a large iron pot that, full of savoury stew, wasboiling over a brisk fire.
The next instant, amid the shouts of the astonished and enragedrebels, pot and tripod were being rapidly drawn upwards; but ere Icould secure my prize, a musket-shot pierced the bottom of thevessel, tearing a ragged hole. By the time I had unhooked the potnearly the whole of the precious contents had escaped, but ColonelFirestone and I had the great satisfaction of
breaking our fast bymaking a sorry meal from the sticky mixture that still adhered to thesides of the utensil.
Later on, though still in the early morning, we could discern largebodies of troops pouring into the town from the direction ofLiskeard, and 'twas evident that the rebels had met with a reverse.
But we had no time to observe what was going on outside the town, forour own lives were in jeopardy.
Having cleared away the rubbish that obstructed the staircase, themusketeers, with fierce shouts, began the ascent.
"Stand to it," exclaimed Firestone, encouragingly, as a bulletwhizzed close to my head. "Can we but hold our own for another fiveminutes, all will be well!"
"Shall we open fire on them?" I asked, making ready with the musket Ihad taken from the insensible man on the roof.
"Nay," replied the colonel. "Keep them in ignorance of the fact thatwe possess a weapon. Then, if the rebel Chaloner appears, I'll put abullet through his traitorous head."
But the musketeers contented themselves by firing several volleys upthrough the floor of the belfry, which, however, as we took the sameprecaution as heretofore, did us no harm. After a while they wentdown again, leaving a soldier on guard.
We kept perfectly quiet, so that, evidently thinking we were withoutthe steeple, the man relaxed his vigilance, and, seating himself in alow wooden chair, he drew a portion of a loaf and some cheese fromhis pocket.
Following this he produced a pipe and a metal box of tobacco, and,after looking from the food to the tobacco with evident indecision,he leant back in the chair, stretched his limbs, and gave a terrificyawn.
I could see Firestone's eyes fixed longingly on the tobacco, while Ilooked with equal avidity upon the bread and cheese. In a moment mymind was made up. Holding up the end of the rope to my companion, whonodded knowingly, I gathered myself up at the edge of the trap-doorand made ready to spring.
I alighted fairly and squarely on the shoulders of the unsuspectingrebel. He fell backwards in one direction, I in another; but I wasinstantly on my feet, and, seizing the man's musket, prepared to stunhim should he offer resistance. But he lay motionless whether thefall had killed him or merely deprived him of his senses, I knew not.
Gathering up the food, tobacco, and pipe, and hitching the end of therope round the man's musket, I swarmed up to our place of refuge, anddrew up the weapon.
Hardly had I done so when the rest of the party, alarmed by thenoise, rushed up the stairs, only to find to their mystification thesenseless body of their comrade.
The sight of the muzzles of the two muskets caused them to beat ahasty retreat, although we suffered them to remove the body of theirluckless fellow-soldier.
Assured of no further molestation in this direction, we went out onto the leads, and found that at that very moment an attack was beingmade upon the rebel position, both sides keeping up a continuousartillery fire, though the defence was conducted in a spiritlessmanner that promised a speedy release from our captivity.
We shared the captured food, and the colonel filled the pipe, whichfortunately had been unused, lighting it with a portion of theslow-match obtained with the bandolier we had previously taken.
Suddenly my companion pointed to a company of men forming up in thechurchyard.
"There he is--there's that villain Chaloner," he exclaimed, and,starting to his feet, he seized and levelled his musket. But as heapplied a match I struck up the piece, and the bullet went singingover the house-tops.
The colonel turned on me, livid with anger.
"Why this foolishness?" he demanded.
"We are not assassins," I replied.
"That man with his treachery has placed himself without the pale," heretorted. "Therefore I am justified in shooting him like a dog. Markmy words, Humphrey, you'll rue the day you made me miss my aim."
"Nevertheless, 'tis a craven act to shoot a man unawares. I, too,have an account to settle with Chaloner, and with more cause than youhave, I trove; but Heaven forfend that I strike him after the mannerof a hired assassin."
Happily, Firestone soon regained his accustomed composure, and, afterreloading his piece, we watched the progress of the assault.
A ring of smoke encircled the town, for the cavaliers had drawn acordon round it, and already their advanced works were withinmusket-shot of the bridge, whence the cannon behind the bridge keptup a steady fire on the attackers.
It was low tide, and the river ran but an insignificant stream,barely two feet in depth beneath the arches. Even as we looked weheard a flourish of trumpets, and with a wild, irresistible rush asquadron of Royalist cavalry, with loose rein and flowing mane,charged headlong for the bridge as only our horsemen can charge.
Saddles were emptied, but, regardless of the losses, the attackersdeployed right and left, plunged into the river, and the next instantthe barricade was charged in the rear, and the gunners cut down ormade prisoners.
The horsemen were ably seconded by a strong body of Cornish pikemenand musketeers, and, the guns being turned to command the principalapproach to the bridge, the town was at the mercy of the Royaltroops.
There was a roll of drums, and, bearing a white flag, a rebel officerrode from the headquarters of the Parliamentarian army towards theRoyal lines.
"They are treating for terms," exclaimed the colonel. "While thearmistice lasts, there's no reason why we should not try to takeadvantage of it."
And without let or hindrance we did indeed descend the tower, passthrough the now deserted church, and gain the street. Soon we weresafely within the outposts of the Royal army.
We were immediately taken to a tent, where the Royalist officers wereengaged in drafting out the terms of capitulation, and, thinking wemight be of service to them, they asked us for an account of ouradventure.
"Chaloner, say you? Chaloner, the renegade?"
"The same, sir," replied Firestone.
"Mark him down. Mark him down, scrivener," exclaimed one of theofficers, addressing a scribe who was laboriously writing out theterms of surrender at a roughly constructed table.
"Him we must have at any price. Let me think. His name will be third.There's the rebel Colonel Hobbs, formerly a waggoner, who ruthlesslyburned Pentillie; the ex-miller, Captain Gale, who unlawfully strungup five of our men at Looe; and the traitor Chaloner. The otherofficers we will suffer to depart on parole."
While the clerk's quill pen was scratching and spluttering over theparchment, the officer turned to us once more.
"You were on the way to join the Cornish army. What regiment did youintend serving in?"
"In Sir Bevil Granville's."
"In Sir Bevil Granville's? But I grieve to say Sir Bevil is dead, andthe regiment well-nigh cut to pieces at Cropredy Bridge."
"And his son----"
"Sir Ralph Granville, as he must now be styled, has joined his sorryremnant to the command of Sir Ralph Hopton."
"Then under Sir Ralph Hopton will suit us."
"'Tis well. Malpas!" he shouted to a sergeant who was on guardwithout the tent. "Conduct these gentlemen to the camp of Sir RalphHopton, for, methinks, rest and refreshment will not come amiss. Fareye well."
With a salute we left the staff-officer's tent, and, under theguidance of the sergeant, we were taken to a spot where a triple Lineof weather-worn tents and rough huts of boughs and bushes marked thetemporary camp of the redoubtable Royalist.
Here we were hospitably received, for, though in common with most ofthe cavaliers, there was scarcely a gold piece to be found amongst ascore of them, such was their devotion to His Majesty, both inpersonal service and gifts of money, they gave us plenty to eat andinsisted on our going to sleep.
When I woke up I found, to my joy, Ralph Granville sitting at myside. A complete change of apparel and a serviceable equipment ofarmour and weapons were placed at our disposal, which, I afterwardslearnt, were contributed from the joint store of this particularcompany.
"How goes it with you, Ralph?" I exclaimed, wringing my friend'shand.
&
nbsp; "Passably," he replied, "though 'tis but the fortune of war."
"I heard of your father's gallant end."
"Ay. My father and twenty-two of our tenantry fell before Waller'spikes, and now I have just heard that our house at Tregetty has beenburnt to the ground, so nothing remains but my sword."
I hardly knew what to reply. For all I knew I might even now be in asimilar position. Ashley Castle might be razed to the ground, and myparents dead beneath its ruins. It was, as Ralph had observed, thefortune of war, and we had but to look around and see the devastatingeffects of this struggle, in which Englishmen were flying at eachother's throats.
Further conversation was interrupted by the trumpets sounding theassembly, and, mounting our chargers--two passable horses which hadbelonged to two cavaliers who had fallen in the charge on LostwithielBridge--Firestone and I took our places in the ranks of our newcomrades, Granville being my left-hand man.
Everyone was in high spirits, for the articles of capitulation hadbeen accepted by the rebels, and we were even now on our way towitness the surrender of the Parliamentary army of the west.
Other regiments had preceded us, and by the time we crossed the oldbridge once more, this time in the midst of a troop of horse withstandards flying, and not as prisoners in the centre of a body ofsour-faced Roundheads, the greater part of the King's army was drawnup in a long double line.
Our troop formed up facing the church, and as I looked up at thesmoke-blackened tower and shattered roof I could not help wonderinghow near we had been to death, and how Providence had safely guidedus through perils innumerable.
My reveries were cut short by a roll of drums, followed by a hoarseorder, which was taken up all along the double line by the companycommanders. Instantly the swords of the cavalry flew from theirscabbards, while the pikemen stood to their pikes and musketeersshouldered their pieces.
The march of the surrendered army was about to begin.
[1] It must be borne in mind that Humphrey Markham's narrative dealswith the Civil War from the standpoint of an ardent young Royalist.Both sides were doubtless guilty of many excesses.
_With undiminished speed the horse shot into space._]
The Young Cavalier: A Story of the Civil Wars Page 8