To Catch a King

by Charles Spencer

  Captain Alford’s recollections are quite different, and are supported by the written testimony of other witnesses: Samuel Pepys seems to have set great store by Alford’s words, since he kept them with his chosen key sources. They reflect significantly less well on Ellesdon, while exonerating Limbry. Alford wrote his account of this part of the escape thirty-three years later, at which time he was serving his second term as mayor of Lyme Regis.

  Alford said that the reason the Lyme Regis escape attempt failed was because Ellesdon failed to make the promised £25 down-payment for Limbry’s efforts. According to Alford, Limbry was already upset with Ellesdon for withholding nine shillings, needed to make the plan’s initial arrangements, after their first meeting. This was the version of events that Limbry would swear to before witnesses in the presence of a Master of Chancery.

  Alford maintained that Limbry joined Charles and his party at the inn in Charmouth where they were waiting prior to departing for France. Limbry had gone there to collect his first payment of £25 from Ellesdon before setting off on the voyage. In Alford’s account, Limbry ‘failed not to be there, and came several times to the house where the gentlemen were with the lady, Mrs Coningsby … and demanded of the people of the house if Mr Ellesdon were come. The King spoke with the master, who assured him the ship was ready; but still he lingered to see when Mr Ellesdon would come to fulfill his agreement. And it being very late at night, the master finding that Mr Ellesdon never came, who had not paid (nor never did any other) one penny of the money, the master retired there three times, and never came again to the King.’2

  Over the years Limbry, whose Royalist sympathies were long-established (Ellesdon conceded that he ‘had ever the repute of being well affected to his Majesty’), would repeatedly explain and justify his actions to acquaintances: ‘That Stephen Limbray [sic] often told Captain Fookes that if Elesdon [sic] had paid him but £10, he had carried away the King; and so he told Mr Thomas Plucknell, who spake it at Bridport the 22nd of January, 1683, before the Lord Bishop of Bristol; and Mr Jones doth affirm that the master often told him that if Elesdon would have given him but £5, he had proceeded.’3

  Left in limbo in a hostile landscape, Charles and his companions decided to ride to somewhere safer, hoping to establish what had gone wrong, and to repeat their escape attempt the next night. But the king’s horse was found to have a loose shoe. The local blacksmith, by the name of Hamnet, was summoned. While he was there, he tended to all the other horses too. Looking at the hooves of Lord Wilmot’s mount, Hamnet remarked out loud, with obvious interest, that the markings on the shoes showed that they came from in or around Worcester. There must have been an uneasy hush among the Royalists as they waited to see what the blacksmith concluded from that discovery.

  But Hamnet completed his task without further comment, was thanked and paid, and then left without apparently showing any great concern. His suspicions, however, had very much been aroused by the Worcester connection. Being aware of the ongoing search for Royalists fleeing from their recent defeat, he went to report what he had just seen to the Reverend Benjamin Westley, the parson of Charmouth, and an enemy of the Crown.

  Westley, a pious man, was not immediately available, for he was deep in prayer. When he eventually finished his devotions, he heard the blacksmith’s intriguing report, and then sent word to the Parliamentary forces in Lyme Regis that a party of suspected Royalists had been spotted in his parish. Captain Macy was dispatched from the town, with ten or twelve cavalrymen, to detain and question the suspects, and find out who they were. By the time they arrived, though, Charles and his party were gone, and Macy could find no hint of the direction in which they had travelled. In fact they had headed east for Bridport, a town known for its Royalist leanings.

  As Charles rode into Bridport with Francis Wyndham and Juliana Coningsby, he saw to his horror that the town’s unusually wide streets* were swarming with redcoats. Fifteen hundred of them were there, under Colonel James Heane, one of the New Model Army’s foremost fighting men. They were preparing to head for Weymouth, where they were to join up with six companies of the regicide Sir Hardress Waller’s infantry regiment, and sail on to attack Jersey. Carteret’s stronghold still stood firm as one of the last Royalist bastions.

  Wyndham, startled by the sheer number of the enemy on view, asked the king what they should do. There was only one thing to do, Charles replied: go to the best hostel in town and find rooms there, because that was where he felt sure Wilmot would head for, given his uncompromising love of the finer things in life.

  The courtyard of the George inn was packed with enemy soldiers. Wyndham accompanied Juliana Coningsby inside, pretending to be her servant, eager to help her settle into her room, and sending an order to the kitchen for a shoulder of mutton to be prepared.

  Charles, meanwhile, continued in his role as the groom, and took the party’s horses to be rubbed down by the ostler. Far from being intimidated by the sight of the enemy all around him, the king seems to have made a point of being a nuisance, knocking into several redcoats on purpose as he led the horses to the stables. Once there, he asked the ostler to give them some feed. As he worked, the ostler talked openly about having been a Royalist soldier, ‘and cursed the Parliament’s soldiers that were then in the house’. He then looked thoughtfully at Charles, and said, ‘Sure, sir, I know your face.’

  Charles instinctively knew that he had to interrupt the other man’s thoughts before he worked out who he was, and quickly asked the ostler if he had always lived in Bridport. No, came the reply, he had not. The ostler, happy to talk about himself, revealed that his name was Henry Hall, and that he hailed from Exeter, where he had until recently worked at an inn that, as he described it, Charles realised he knew. It was next to a house that belonged to George Potter, a Royalist merchant (who was Captain Alford’s father-in-law). Charles had stayed with Potter briefly during his stint as Royalist commander in the south-west in the First Civil War. Realising that Hall had probably spotted him back then, Charles said, ‘Friend, certainly you have seen me there at Mr Potter’s, for I served him a good while, above a year.’

  This satisfied Hall’s curiosity. ‘Oh – then I remember you a boy there,’ he replied, relaxing, before suggesting they enjoy some beer together. Charles, anxious to get away before the ostler’s memory was jogged further, said he sadly could not take up the kind invitation just then, as he had to prepare dinner for his master. But he promised he would be back to see him again on the return leg of his and his master’s journey to London, three weeks later. Then he would definitely make time for that beer.

  A little later Wilmot arrived in Bridport, and also braved the infusion of enemy soldiers. He soon worked out where Charles and his companions were lodging, before checking himself into another inn.

  Charles’s party stayed up in their quarters, ensuring that the only person to see them was an old serving woman who brought them their mutton. They gave her what was left of the meat, a treat that she took the precaution of hiding under the room’s portable lavatory when she left, so nobody would deprive her of any of it.

  Wilmot and the king’s party set off separately, all pretending to head towards London, before meeting up. Wilmot reported that there had been some misunderstanding between him and Ellesdon, and that he hoped the ship would arrive on time, at the agreed place, the next night.

  Charles was cautious, and insisted that they did not return to the same waiting place as the previous night, in case it had been compromised. Instead, they went to another inn called the George, in the village of Broad Windsor, four miles inland. It was a place that Francis Wyndham knew. He trusted the landlord there, Rhys Jones, because he had worked for friends of his.

  Again, because of the preparations for the assault on Jersey, Broad Windsor was swarming with redcoats. The only room available was a small one at the top of the inn, with one bed. Charles and his companions would have to share the space.

  That night one of the other guests wen
t into labour, her cries of pain persuading the rebel troops who were staying in the inn to move on to other quarters. The Royalists spent the evening of Tuesday, 23 September there while Harry Peters, the Wyndhams’ servant, went to Lyme Regis to check on the ship’s readiness.

  He returned with deeply disappointing news. Stephen Limbry, sure that whatever mission he was being sent on was a dangerous one, although he was unaware of the king’s part in it, had told Ellesdon that he was not prepared to risk his life. The Charmouth plan, so well planned, so promising, and so tantalising, had ended in failure.

  There was nothing for it but to return to Trent House, Francis Wyndham’s home. Charles set off again, Juliana Coningsby behind him, with time to wonder what might have been, with just a modicum of good luck, and to worry that his best and perhaps only chance of freedom had just passed him by.

  It proved extremely fortunate that Charles had kept on the move, because a quarter of an hour after he and his companions had left Bridport, Captain Macy and his cavalry troop rode into the town. They were still hunting for the suspicious group with those horseshoes with the tell-tale Worcester markings. Macy made enquiries at the George inn, and was told that guests answering his description had set off down the road to London. The Parliamentarians charged off in pursuit, not stopping till they reached Dorchester, fifteen miles away.

  It is possible that this was the point at which Ellesdon gave in to the temptation of the huge reward on Charles’s head. He seems to have set off from Lyme Regis after Macy’s posse had departed. Not far out of town he came across a man he knew, Thomas Taylor, and said to him, ‘Now, Mr Taylor, there is a £1,000 promised for anyone that can discover the King.’ Ellesdon made it clear that he knew where the king might be found. But Taylor later swore that he dismissed the suggestion with disgust: ‘I would not do it if it were to gain the World,’ he said, before riding on.4

  Undeterred, Ellesdon appears to have carried on alone in pursuit of the king and the reward. He rode to Pilsdon House, the home of Sir Hugh Wyndham, which was five miles from Lyme Regis. Sir Hugh was Francis Wyndham’s uncle, and Ellesdon was convinced that this was where the king would have been taken to hide. He said as much to Sir Hugh, who was furious at the impertinence of his uninvited guest, and sent him swiftly on his way.

  Soon after that, perhaps after receiving a tip-off from Ellesdon, Captain Macy appeared at Sir Hugh’s house with his troopers. They were no longer merely on the trail of suspected Royalist fugitives, but now openly declared that they were there to arrest ‘Charles Stuart’. Excited at the prospect of catching such a uniquely valuable prize, they roughly searched every room of the house, local tradition recording: ‘They burst in upon the astonished family with some heat, and commenced their blundering proceedings by declaring that one of the young ladies of the house was Charles Stuart in disguise. When this error had been corrected, they placed the old baronet, his lady, his daughters, his manservants and his maid-servants in the hall under guard, while they set to work to search every cupboard and loft in the house … The indignant maids watched the soldiers ride sulkily away, while the young ladies mourned over the dainty gowns and laces which had been tumbled out of any wardrobe that could shelter Charles Stuart.’5 But Charles was already some distance away.

  * Bridport was a centre of rope production, for the navy and for the gallows. The town’s famously wide streets were put to use in support of this industry, with ropes being hung across them to dry.

  15

  Still Searching for a Ship

  There are strong probabilities that Charles Stuart and the Duke of Buckingham were in or about Staffordshire, some days after the victory at Worcester, and probably they may still be in those parts under disguise.

  The Council of State to Captain John Ley, 13 October 1651

  Francis Wyndham led the royal party back to his home in Trent. He made it clear that he was willing to host the king for as long as necessary, but Charles was already concerned at the length of time he had been spending in this one place. More and more people were coming into contact with him, in a household that was the fulcrum of local society. Also, he remained acutely aware that the surrounding area had a large Parliamentary element in it.

  The king was startled one day by the frantic ringing of the nearby church’s bells. Seeing a number of villagers buzzing excitedly in the churchyard, he asked one of Wyndham’s housemaids to go to find out the cause of the commotion. She reported back that a Parliamentary soldier had arrived, proudly brandishing a buff coat that he claimed to have stripped from the king’s body after having killed him. The crowd was clearly thrilled by the news.

  Charles thought hard about other people nearby whose loyalty to the Crown could be relied upon to help him in his escape. That Wednesday night, Anne Wyndham’s brother-in-law Edward Hyde (a cousin of Charles’s adviser Sir Edward Hyde) was visiting Trent House from his home in West Hatch, halfway between Trent and Salisbury. At dinner he mentioned that he had recently seen Colonel Robert Phillips. Phillips was of solid Royalist stock; as a result he had been in custody while Charles’s army moved south, but had been released after the battle of Worcester had neutered the Crown’s cause, and allowed to return to his family, forty miles away in Salisbury.

  Charles decided to send Lord Wilmot and Harry Peters to talk through plans with Phillips. While in Salisbury they would also sound out another trusty supporter, John Coventry, the son of the former Keeper of the Great Seal. Their task was to see if either man could help secure the elusive transport abroad. Wilmot and Peters met Coventry in the King’s Arms inn, which was run by a Royalist called Henry Hewett. Coventry then asked Phillips to join them, ‘who presently came; and after my Lord and he had saluted, they having been formerly acquainted in the army, Mr Coventry left them together, saying he would go into the next room and take a pipe of tobacco with Mr Hewett. Then my Lord asked the Colonel whether he could help a gentleman in distress out of the kingdom.’1

  Phillips said he would certainly do so, since that was his duty as a gentleman, but Wilmot sensed that he was only going to assist half-heartedly unless he was let in on the great secret. ‘Sir,’ said Wilmot, ‘I am commanded to be free with you, and to let you know that the King is at Colonel Wyndham’s house at Trent, and his condition is such that he knows not how to dispose of himself. He is assured of your fidelity, and is told that no man is more capable to serve him in this exigent. He therefore commits himself to your care to provide for his safety.’2

  Phillips was astonished by the news. His first words were pessimistic: knowing how powerful the enemy was, and how tightly they now seemed to control all of England, he said he thought it highly unlikely that they would get anywhere. However, he promised to do all he could to save the king, vowing to perish in the attempt if need be.

  John Coventry rejoined Wilmot and Phillips with a cheery, ‘Well, gentlemen, are you agreed?’ Reassured that they were, and that the great adventure was on, he called for bottles of wine, over which Wilmot told the other two all that he had been through in the three weeks since the defeat at Worcester. The most remarkable aspect of the tale was the good luck that Wilmot had enjoyed throughout, especially given his aversion to disguise.

  They eventually parted, with Wilmot setting off for Trent once again, while Coventry and Phillips walked along Salisbury Cathedral Close. Phillips, still incredulous at the secret he had been let into, told Coventry all that he and Wilmot had discussed. Coventry assured his friend that he could rely on him for any help, at any time, and wished him the best of luck in his efforts on the king’s behalf.

  Phillips set about his task with great energy. He headed off for Southampton to sound out a reliable merchant called Horne, who operated out of the port. Horne was not at home when Phillips called, but he was expected back the following day, so Phillips left a message that he would be staying nearby at a friend’s house, and asked him to visit him there as soon as he could.

  Horne appeared the next day, and Phillips asked
him to accompany him on a walk outside. He told him that he needed to get some friends of his across to France without anyone knowing. Horne paused, then replied, ‘There is such a man now at home, so honest a fellow that I would trust 10,000 lives, were I master of as many, in his hands; and I will make haste home and speak with him.’

  He asked Phillips to meet him at three o’clock the next day, Sunday, 28 September, at Redbridge, a shipbuilding hamlet to the west of Southampton. Horne reported that he had brokered the negotiations between the master and Phillips for a boat lying on the shore, which could sail three days later. A fare of £40 would be charged, with half paid up-front, and the rest on the day of the voyage.

  But again, it was not to be. With no warning, the vessel was seized by the Parliamentarians and pressed into service for their attack on Carteret’s Royalists on Jersey. The only consolation was a return of part of the £20 down-payment.

  Meanwhile, in London, the leaders of the Commonwealth were trying to make sense of their continued inability to hunt down Charles.

  On 27 September the Weekly Intelligencer newsbook amplified earlier rumours of the king’s death in battle as an explanation for his remaining unfound: ‘It is confirmed by several personages of worth, that the Earl of Lauderdale hath reported, that at Worcester fight he saw one of our soldiers make a great blow at the Scots King, and that he fell down under the weight and violence thereof; It is conceived he is dead, and that being stripped of his clothes where he fell in the Royal Fort, he was taken the less notice of, his skin being of a sad complexion, and that undiscovered, he was buried with the multitude of the slain, to partake of the same numerical corruption, and to crumble with them into promiscuous dusts, never hereafter to be regretted.’3