CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST
The Attack on the Towers
That night the Towers was heavy with an atmosphere of gloom. The Squirehad remained the whole evening sunk in his chair, not reading, orsmoking, speechless, his head bent upon his breast. He had heard fromhis lawyer that all efforts to transfer the mortgage had as yet provedfruitless: nobody wanted a bond on barren land. The next day but onewas Christmas, and the Squire brooded on the melancholy thought that itwould be the last Christmas he would spend in his old home. Occasionallyhe glanced at the motto inscribed above the lintel of the door:
Trevanion, whate'er thy Fortune be, Hold fast the Rock by the Western Sea.
What a mockery the old legend seemed! He had held fast; now he felt asthough some inexorable power were unclenching his nerveless fingers.And the bitterness of his mood was intensified by the foreboding thatthe old house, and his last rood of land, would go, as all the rest hadgone, into the hands of the man who had disgraced his name, and who borehim implacable enmity.
Dick went to bed early, sick at heart, unable to endure the mute miseryupon his parents' faces. He meant to rise before it was light, for apurpose which, he sadly felt, he might never accomplish again. It hadbeen his custom for several years to carry to the Parsonage on ChristmasEve a basket of fish of his own catching, as a present to his goodfriend the Vicar. It was a poor gift, but he had not the means to offeranything better, and Mr. Carlyon was always pleased with it, regardingthe spirit in which the simple offering was made.
About an hour before dawn he wakened Sam, and after nibbling a crust,the two boys set off. Experience had taught them that this was the besttime to fish at so late a season of the year. The air was damp and raw,with scarcely any wind, and as they issued from the house they shivered,and buttoned their coats high about their necks.
"We must go to the Beal for some tackle, Sam," said Dick. "That willwarm us before we go down to the boat."
"Iss. I wish it were to-morrer. Pa'son's dinner will be summat tocheer a poor feller up, these wisht and dismal times. Do 'a think, now,Maister Dick, as we'll ever hev a real Christmas randy up at Towers,same as they do hev at Portharvan?"
"I'm afraid not, Sam. I'm afraid we shan't spend another Christmas atthe Towers."
"Well, then, you and I had better go for sojers or sailors. I'm afeardI bean't high enough for a sojer. But sailors get prize-money, old Joesays, and I'd like that, 'cos then I could buy a thing or two for MaidySusan--and Mistress, too: I wouldn' forget she. Maybe I'd get killed,fightin' the French, but dear life! it wouldn' matter much: we hain'tgot many friends. I don't s'pose Maidy Susan 'ud fall more 'n twotears, or maybe three."
"None at all, I should think," said Dick.
"Oh, I don't think so bad o' she as that. When I seed her yesterday shesaid she wished I could go to Dower House to-night. Maister John begoin' to a randy at Portharvan; he'll kiss his young 'ooman under themistletoe, I reckon."
"And Susan wants you to go to the Dower House and kiss her, I suppose?"
"Now that's too bad, Maister. We bean't neither of us so forward asthat. Maidy said she'd like me to go up-along and gie un some o' mymerry talk, but jown me if my tongue 'ud run merry wi' things so bad upto home."
"You couldn't go: Father would never allow it. You'll have to besatisfied with the Vicar's nuts and candy, Sam."
They came to their den at the end of the Beal, and remained there forsome little time arranging their tackle in the wan glimmer preceding thedawn. Then they emerged, and climbed up beside the big boulder to takea look at the sea, over which a thin mist hung.
"Isn't that the _Isaac and Jacob_?" said Dick, pointing to a vesseltacking to make the fairway between the cliff and the reef.
"Iss, sure. Tonkin be come home wi'out a cargo, seemin'ly, unless hehev run it a'ready."
They watched the lugger creeping slowly toward the harbour. The tidewas on the ebb, and there was not enough depth of water upon the reef toallow the vessel to head straight for the jetty. As she crept into thefairway Dick was struck with the unusual appearance of her deck.Amidships it was almost clear except for two or three men; but, herdedunder the low bulwarks on the weather side, out of sight from theharbour, were a score or more of men whom he recognised by slightindications in their dress to be foreigners. Almost instinctively Dickslipped behind the boulder, pulling Sam with him.
"That's very curious," he whispered, standing so that he could seewithout being seen.
On the lee side of the vessel, he noticed arms, legs, and here and therea red-capped head protruding from beneath tarpaulins, thrown withapparent carelessness on the deck. Two or three heads also appeared inthe hatchway, suggesting that other men were on the companion below.But what struck Dick most of all was the fact that although NathanPendry held the tiller, there lolled against the bulwarks near him astranger whose hat and coat were manifestly Cornish, but whose lowergarments were as unmistakably of foreign cut. He was a short, stoutman, and he held a pistol, which was pointed at the helmsman.
Dick was so much fascinated and wonderstruck by this extraordinaryspectacle that for a few moments he neither spoke nor stirred.
"Be it Boney at last?" whispered Sam, his eyes wide with alarm.
"No, no: Boney would bring thousands. But I can't make it out. We'llrun home, Sam, and tell Father."
Creeping round the boulder, and dipping their heads as long as there wasany chance of being observed from the lugger, they set off at abreakneck run for the Towers. Dick dashed up to the Squire's room, andknocked at the door.
"Come in," said the Squire. He was awake--had indeed lain sleeplessalmost all night, thinking miserably of his affairs.
"Father," said Dick, entering, "Tonkin's lugger has just put in with agang of Frenchmen on board. Pendry is at the helm; there's a fellowstanding over him with a pistol. I didn't see Tonkin."
"What on earth does that mean?" cried the Squire, starting up. "Get memy boots, Dick; I'll pull on some clothes, and go up on the roof to takea look at them."
In a few minutes the Squire, Dick, and Sam were behind the parapet ofthe principal tower, the Squire with his telescope in his hand. Loftyas their perch was, the jetty and the lower part of the village were notin sight, being concealed by the contour of the hill. But they couldsee the upper houses and the cliffs beyond; the church tower and the redroof of the Parsonage away to the left; and almost every yard of groundbetween the hilltop and the Towers.
"Shall I ring bell, Maister?" asked Sam.
"No; wait a little. We don't want to make ourselves a laughing-stock.There's nothing in Polkerran to make it worth any Frenchman's whileto--Ha! I see it all. 'Tis a trick of Mildmay's, the sly dog. Do yousee, Dick? He has disguised himself and his men as Frenchmen, andpounced on Tonkin's lugger with a fine crop aboard. Ha! ha! The neatestfeat I ever heard of."
"I'm rather doubtful about that, sir," said Dick. "The faces I sawweren't Cornish."
"It would be a poor disguise if they were. You may be sure I'm right,and we shall have Mildmay coming up to breakfast by-and-by with a finetale of tubs. I slept badly, Dick; I'll return to my bed for an hour ortwo."
Dick remained with Sam on the roof. He was not at all convinced thathis father was right. It was difficult to conceive what object a bandof Frenchmen could have in attacking so small a village, yet he feltsure that they were Frenchmen, and that their visit was not an ordinarysmuggling affair. After a long look through his spy-glass he said toSam:
"There's no smoke, no sound of firing---no noise at all. We can't seeanything here, Sam; let us take a run to the Beal again."
But at that moment he saw a man rise over the crest of the hill;immediately behind him came others. They were armed with muskets andcutlasses, and advanced rapidly and in a manner that suggested adefinite goal.
"Off to the turret and pull the bell, Sam!" cried Dick. He rusheddownstairs to his father's room again.
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sp; "Thirty or forty armed men are marching from the village, sir," he said."I think they're coming to attack us."
"Bless my soul, what fools they must be!" said the Squire with amirthless laugh. "There's nothing here worth firing a shot for. Ah!there's the bell. We'll see if 'tis more effective than last time werang it. And we'll give them a warm reception, my boy, by George wewill! Go and bring Reuben to me."
So crowded was the next hour, and so conflicting were the accounts givensubsequently, in all honesty, by actors in the drama, that the writingof a clear and coherent narrative is a matter of some difficulty. Mr.Carlyon diligently questioned everyone who could throw a light on theseparate incidents, and out of this material compiled a long chapter forhis history of the parish. But the prolixity of his style, and hishabit of interrupting his narrative with classical parallels andreferences to abstruse authors, render his book quite unsuitable to thepresent age, and make it necessary to treat his manuscript as the modernhistorian treats his sources.
When the _Isaac and Jacob_ was moored alongside the jetty, thetarpaulins that covered the deck were thrown aside, the men whom theyhad concealed sprang to their feet, and, joined by others who swarmed upthe companion way, rushed ashore behind their leader, Jean Delarousse ofRoscoff. There were but two or three of the Polkerran folk visible. Alarge number of the fishers were five or six miles away, having affairsof their own to attend to. The majority of the population were stillabed. A dozen miners, due for the day shift in an hour's time, werebreakfasting. Only the smoke rising into the air from the chimneys oftheir cottages gave sign of life.
The few men who were out and about fled incontinently to their homes atsight of the fifty determined Frenchmen, armed with muskets, cutlasses,and pistols, advancing across the few yards of open space that separatedthe jetty from the nearest houses. It was evident that the invaders hadprearranged their operations. Twelve of their number separated from themain body and went off hastily in couples, three to the right, three tothe left, until they reached the last dwelling in either direction.Then doubling up the hills to right and left, they posted themselvesaround the village in a half circle, at intervals of about a hundredyards. Their object manifestly was to prevent any villager frombreaking through, and carrying news of the raid into the country beyond.The Dower House and the Towers were naturally not included in thecordon.
While this movement was being carried out, Delarousse led the rest ofhis force straight to the Five Pilchards. The door was already open;the miners usually paid an early visit to the inn before they startedfor their work. Delarousse on entering was confronted by an elderlywoman of shrewish aspect, who stood like a dragon behind the shiningtaps.
"Ze Towers, vere Trevanion live--it is zat big house on ze cliff?" heasked.
Mrs. Doubledick nodded. Fright bereft her of speech.
"Vere is Doubledick?" asked the Frenchman.
The answer was a shake of the head; whereupon Delarousse, ejaculating"Ah, bah!" returned to his followers, who were collected about theentrance, and led all but six of them up the hill. Like a prudentgeneral, he took care to secure his communications.
Though he presumed that Mrs. Doubledick's shake of the head signifiedignorance of her husband's whereabouts, in this he was in error.Doubledick had returned home late at night, unaware of the impendingcrisis in his affairs. His wife gave him Mr. Polwhele's message, and heanticipated a very pleasant interview with the riding-officer on hisreturn from circumventing the smugglers. Rising early, he happened tosee from his bedroom window the crowd of Frenchmen swarming from thelugger, and without waiting to finish dressing, he ran down to thetaproom, pulled up a trap-door behind the bar, and descended into thecapacious cellar beneath, having strictly charged his wife not to revealhis whereabouts. He was shaking with fear, rather of possibleconsequences which his imagination foresaw than of immediate bodilyharm. Delarousse could scarcely fail to discover before long thatDoubledick had given him misleading information, and he was a man whosewrath it was not wise to face.
Between thirty and forty Frenchmen, strong, hardy fellows, marchedrapidly up the hill behind their leader, whose agility was remarkable inone so corpulent. They had just risen upon the crest when the clang ofa bell struck upon their ears.
"En avant, mes gars!" cried Delarousse. "Courez, a toutes jambes!"
And being on fairly level ground, they broke into a double.
The Squire, being now convinced that the Towers, as the most conspicuousdwelling-house in the neighbourhood, was the object of the Frenchmen'sraid, displayed none of that indecision and vacillation which so oftenbeset him in the matters of every-day life. He was now keen, alert, andready, as became a man who had served in the King's navy. He smiledgrimly as he saw the Frenchmen hasting towards him, as yet half a mileaway. "A pack of fools!" he thought; "but 'tis hard that I should bemolested when on the brink of ruin."
In a few sharp, decisive words he bade Dick and Reuben close and boltthe doors and shutters, and haul against the former such heavy articlesof furniture as they could move in the few minutes at their disposal.Meanwhile he himself collected several old muskets that were at hand,with powder and slugs, in some cases relics of ancient trophies of armstreasured by the family. If he could hold the enemy at bay even for ashort time, their project would be ruined, for the alarm bell and thesound of shots would arouse the whole countryside, and unless theinvaders were supported by other vessels, they must soon retire to thelugger. At the first glance he had seen that they were not Frenchregular soldiers, and concluded that their landing was not the foretasteof a general invasion, but merely a chance filibustering raid.
In the turret Sam was pulling the bell-rope with short, quick jerks.His brain was in a whirl. The advance of the Frenchmen was hidden fromhim, but looking out of the narrow window in the opposite direction, hespied, less than a minute after the first clang, Joe Penwarden hurryingalong towards the Towers as fast as his old legs would carry him.Running to the opposite side of the chamber, where a door admitted tothe house, he yelled down the stairs:
"Maister, here be old Joe a-comin'. Let un in by the back door."
"Run, Dick," said the Squire, "you're quickest. An addition to thegarrison is welcome."
Dick flew to the back door, whither Sam had summoned Penwarden throughthe turret window. During these few seconds the strokes of the bell werevery irregular, but they did not cease.
"What is it, Maister Dick?" said the old man, as Dick closed andbarricaded the door behind him.
"A gang of Frenchmen are running to attack us. They landed fromTonkin's lugger about ten minutes ago. Go to Father, Joe; he's in thefront room over the porch. I'm going to the roof to see what they aredoing."
He leapt up the stairs three at a time, and emerged on the leads of thetower, whence, sheltered by the parapet, he could observe the enemy insafety. They were now within two or three hundred yards of the house.Dick was surprised that there was no sign of pursuers from the village.Now that the feeling between his family and the people was less acute,he had expected that the bell would already have summoned a concourse offishers, miners, and men of all occupations. He was surprised, too,that the alarm was not echoed by the new bell which had recently beenrigged up in the Dower House. Surely at such a moment personal feudsmight well be forgotten, and private enemies unite to beat off a publicfoe. But between the Towers and the hill not a man was to be seenexcept the advancing Frenchmen. At the Dower House there was no sign oflife or movement, a strange circumstance that set him wondering. Whywas not John Trevanion alarmed at a French raid? Was it possible thathe knew of it beforehand, approved it, had even arranged it? Havingfailed in some of his schemes hitherto, had he now joined hands withalien filibusters to deal his cousin a crowning stroke?
As his eyes ranged round, Dick suddenly caught sight of a large vessellooming in the mist in a straight line with the head of the Beal. Itsshape was very indistinct and blurred, but there was a certainfamiliarity in its aspect, and a sudden convic
tion flashed upon Dickthat it was the same vessel as he had seen twice before in unusual andmysterious circumstances. Surely it must be the notorious privateer,the _Aimable Vertu_, owned by Jean Delarousse. Why it should have cometo an insignificant place like Polkerran, when it might have gained richprizes on the high seas, was a question that puzzled him greatly, unlessTrevanion had made an alliance with the Frenchman.
The Squire's dispositions to meet the threatening attack were as good ascould be devised, having regard to the short breathing-space allowedhim, and to the nature of his situation. A large rambling building likethe Towers could not be held for any length of time by a slendergarrison of five. There were half-a-dozen points at which it could beassaulted simultaneously--the front door facing the village, the backdoor facing the sea, the stable-yard, the offices, the rooms andpassages in the ruined portion. But the principal tower, flanking theporch, was in passable repair, and it was there that the Squire haddetermined to make a final stand. It contained two or three roomsapproached by a stone staircase springing from near the front door.Mrs. Trevanion was sent by her husband to the topmost room. He postedhimself, with Reuben and Penwarden, in the room over the porch, wherethe window-shutters had been loopholed, no doubt by some former owner ofthe Towers, though the Squire had never given the matter a thought.Dick he sent to the back of the house, instructing him to call Sam tohis help if he saw fit.
"Neither for fire nor battle does the bell summon aid," he saidbitterly. "Sam may as well save his energies."
His final instruction was that if the Frenchmen broke in, as seemed onlytoo probable, they should all retreat to the tower, the entrance towhich from the staircase was protected by a heavy, iron-studded oakendoor. Believing that the invaders' object was loot and not slaughter,he scarcely anticipated personal damage, but supposed that the garrisonwould be allowed to remain in the tower unmolested while the rest of thehouse was sacked.
Delarousse, panting a little from his exertions, was as much alive tothe risks and perils of his enterprise as the Squire could be. Successor failure hung upon minutes. But he had not earned his reputation as adaring and resourceful privateer undeservedly. His object was a verysimple one. It was not bloodshed or rapine, but merely the seizure ofthe man who had grievously wronged him--John Trevanion, or, as he hadknown him in Roscoff, Robinson. Doubledick, to feed his private malice,had declared that John Trevanion lived in the Towers--the largest houseupon the cliff. The Frenchman's little knowledge of the country hadbeen gained solely by observation from the sea, and by the faintglimpses he had obtained on that dark and rainy night when he evaded thepursuit of the dragoons. He remembered that the house at whose door hehad seen his enemy was nearer the top of the hill than the Towers; buthe had no reason to doubt Doubledick's statement that the latter was nowthe residence of John Trevanion, and no one had told him that there wereother Trevanions who had no dealings with John. It was therefore hiswhole-hearted belief that the Towers sheltered his bitterest foe whichinspired his attack upon a man who had never injured him.
Utterly possessed by his purpose, he wasted no time in a vain summons tosurrender. The bell was still clanging overhead. He had takenprecautions to prevent interference from the village, where the absenceof so many men on the scene of the expected run favoured his design.But he was not to know but that the summons might draw armed men fromevery corner of the neighbourhood beyond the village, and his blow mustbe struck at once. Accordingly he made straight for the porch, andfinding, as he had expected, that the door was fast closed, he put hispistol to the lock, and with one shot shattered it to splinters. Butthe door was held also by bolts and crossbars resting in staples, andfurther secured by a sideboard placed against it by Dick and Reuben, sothat the breaking of the lock availed him nothing. Brought thus to acheck, he stood for a few moments within the porch among his men toconsider his next step.
Meanwhile the Squire at the last moment had hurried to the top of thetower, with a double object: to observe the movements of the enemy moreclearly than was possible through the loophole of a shuttered window,and to scan the surrounding country for any sign of assistance. No onewas at present in sight. The air was heavy; the wind was off shore; andin all probability the sound of the bell had not even reachedNancarrow's farm, the nearest house except the Parsonage, much less SirBevil Portharvan's place, two miles farther away.
He had given instructions before leaving Penwarden that the French werenot to be fired on until they opened hostilities. With his wife in thebuilding, he was determined not to draw upon himself by any prematureact the reprisals of so formidable a gang of desperadoes. Now that theFrenchmen were within the porch, they were immune from musket fire, andhe began to wonder whether his prohibition was not a mistake. As soon,however, as he heard the report of Delarousse's pistol, with a rapiditythat might have surprised those who had only known him of late years,the Squire seized a large block of loose stone that formed part of thehalf-ruined parapet, and toppled it over on to the roof of the porchbelow. It fell upon the tiles with a tremendous crash, scatteringfragments in all directions, and bounded off on to the gravel path.Though none of the Frenchmen was struck by the stone itself, or even bythe splinters of the tiles, it was sufficiently alarming to drive themfrom the porch, and they scurried instantly into the open. Two musketsflashed upon them from the loopholes above; one man was hit by a slug,and hopped away on one leg, assisted by his comrades. At the samemoment the bell ceased to clang. Hearing the shots, Sam rushed down thestairs to take his part in the fray. The whole body of Frenchmen hadnow withdrawn out of range, and the Squire saw the little stout man,their leader, carefully scanning the building, with the object, nodoubt, of finding a weak spot to attack. Only two minutes had elapsedsince the enemy made the first move.
Alarmed at the sudden silence of the bell, from which he concluded thatits clanging had achieved its object, Delarousse despatched one of hismen to the high ground northward to report the approach of any armedforce. Meanwhile he himself made a rapid circuit of the Towers,keeping, if not out of range, at least beyond easy-hitting distance.The back entrance seemed to him a vulnerable point, and the morepromising, because it was not commanded by the tower, but only by thesmall window at which Dick was stationed. His ill-success at the frontdoor made him resolute to go the shortest way to work at the back. Hesent half-a-dozen men across the open stable-yard into the half-ruinedstable to haul down one of the stout balks of wood that supported theroof, for use as a battering-ram. This movement was concealed from Dickby the angle of the building.
While his men were gone about this errand, Delarousse, impatient of theloss of time, took it into his head to summon the garrison to surrender.He trotted back to the front of the building, set his legs apart, and,lifting his eyes to the top of the tower, shouted a loud "Hola!" TheSquire showed his head above the parapet, but did not reply.
"Hola!" repeated the Frenchman. "Trevanion! Render Trevanion; zen Igo."
"A trick!" thought the Squire. "He thinks I'm worth a ransom!"
"Trevanion!" cried Delarousse again. "Ze ozers I not touch."
"I'll see what they say," shouted the Squire. "Anything to gain time,"he thought.
Going to the door opening on the staircase he called for Dick.
"This fellow wants me, Dick," he said. "Goodness knows why! I supposehe imagines some rich imbecile will buy me back. If I surrender myself,he promises to spare the rest. Just run and see what your mother says:my old bones don't take kindly to those stairs."
Before Dick returned Delarousse lost patience and shouted for an answer.The Squire kept out of sight.
"Mother says you must not think of it for a moment," said Dick, runningup again. "I knew she would."
"To tell the truth, so did I," replied his father. "But we have gainedtwo or three minutes. Now to decline as civilly as possible--though hemight at least Mounseer me, I think."
As soon as his head reappeared above the parapet, Delarousse shouted:
"Eh bien! You render Jean Trevanion?"
Father and son looked at each other. Dick's face expressed surprisemingled with relief; a strange smile sat upon the Squire's countenance.
"We give up nobody," he called down firmly. "Do your worst."
Dick thrilled with filial pride. It was a lesson in chivalry that henever forgot. A word from his father, he could not doubt, would havesent the Frenchmen in hot haste to the Dower House; but that word theSquire could not speak, even though John Trevanion was his worst enemy.
Delarousse spat out an oath, shook his fist at the impassive gentlemanabove him, and toddled off to the back, disappearing behind theouthouses.
"We'll see what the rascal is after now," said the Squire quickly, andfollowed Dick down the stairs.
For a minute or two the further proceedings of the assailants werehidden from view. Then the watchers saw, coming round the corner fromthe stables, four men bearing a stout twelve-foot post. Delarousse,immediately behind, urged them on with voluble utterance and vigorousplay of hands.
"A battering-ram!" said the Squire. "I think, Dick, 'tis time to givethem a warning."
Dick lifted his musket and fired through a loophole upon the men rushingforward. There was a cry from below; the effect of the shot could notbe seen through the smoke; it was answered by a score of bulletspattering on the shutters. The Squire placed his musket to a secondloophole. It was impossible to take aim; he fired at random; andanother sharp cry seemed to tell that his slug had gone home. A babelof shouts arose. Peeping through the loopholes they saw that one of thefour men bearing the post lay on the ground; he had let fall his end ofthe battering-ram. At the same moment there came the distant crackle ofa fusillade. The sound goaded Delarousse to fury. He rushed forward tolift the dropped end of the post. But just as he was stooping, therewas a loud shout from his left. He turned his head, without rising fromthe ground, and what he saw, in common with the spectators above, wasthree men half pushing, half dragging a fourth towards the leader of theparty. Delarousse remained in his stooping posture, as thoughtransfixed with amazement, while a man might count four. Then,springing to his feet, he rushed headlong towards the approaching group,drawing a pistol as he ran.
"DELAROUSSE RUSHED HEADLONG TOWARDS THE APPROACHINGGROUP."]
Up to that moment the fourth man had been passive in the hands of thethree; but as soon as he caught sight of Delarousse leaping towards him,he jerked himself violently from the grasp of his captors, felled firstone, then a second, with sledgehammer blows from right and left, and,slipping from the hands of the third, dashed with extraordinary speedalong by the stable wall in the direction of the village. In tenseconds he was out of sight, and the whole band of Frenchmen, yellingfiercely, some discharging their pistols, turned their backs upon theTowers and doubled after the fugitive.
Dick darted from the room, and up the stairs to the roof, Sam hard uponhis heels, the Squire following at a pace that belied his melancholyallusion to his old bones. Penwarden also, hearing Sam's jubilant shoutat the raising of the siege, left his post at the front, and clamberedup after the others, muttering "Dear life! what a mix-up the world is!"Leaning over the parapet, the four watched the strangest chase that everwas seen. The fugitive came to the wicket-gate leading out of thegrounds, and took it with a flying leap, with the crowd of Frenchmen infull cry behind him. Some, like Delarousse himself, bore a burden offlesh and forty years; others were younger and slimmer, and these,impelled by the furious cries of their leader, leapt the gate in turn,the last of them catching his foot in the top and coming sprawling tothe ground.
Their quarry, crossing a strip of land that still belonged to theSquire, came to the fence recently erected around the grounds of theDower House. It was six feet high, a formidable obstacle to a man of hisbulk and years. He clutched the top of it, heaved himself up, rolledacross it sideways, and disappeared on the other side, wrenching thetail of his coat from the hands of the foremost Frenchman. In a tricethe pursuer scrambled up after him, threw himself over, and alsodisappeared. Of the other members of his party, some scaled theobstacle with more or less facility; others, baulked by it, ran to rightand left to find a path. Delarousse, whose stature and build forbadeany athletic feat, yet disdained to leave the direct course, and calledto two of his men to hoist him up. For an instant he sat swaying on thetop of the fence; then he too dropped like a falling sack. Of all thethirty odd Frenchmen there were now only two or three to be seen.
But in a minute or two the hunt again came fully into view from thelofty tower. The fugitive sped along with amazing swiftness, making astraight line for the Dower House. Behind him, strung at intervals overtwo fields, poured the impetuous Frenchmen. One or two were close athis heels; the rest followed, each according to his ability.
"They've catched un!" cried Sam, his eyes dilated with excitement. "No,be-jowned if they have. Got away! Yoick! Yo-hoy! Now then, Frenchy!Ah, I thought ye'd do it, now you've smashed yerself. No, he's up again!Halloo!"
The side door of the Dower House stood half-open. The fugitive drewnearer and nearer to it; the pursuers seemed to make still more violentexertions to overtake him before he reached it. A few yards more! Ah!he was inside: the door was closing. But before it was quite shut, thefirst pursuer flung himself forward and thrust his musket within. Toclose the door was now impossible. For a few seconds the Frenchmanappeared to be engaged in a fierce trial of strength with the personsinside. Two or three of his companions joined him; they threwthemselves together upon the door; it yielded; and they dashed into thehouse.
The Adventures of Dick Trevanion: A Story of Eighteen Hundred and Four Page 21