While they were thus carousing, a tap was heard at the door, and the landlord, opening a reconnoitring hole within it, spoke to some one without. He next proceeded to convey the information he had received, in a low tone, to Cordwell Firebras, who immediately said aloud,— “Oh, yes, admit him by all means. Gentlemen, a new brother!”
The door was then opened, and Randulph recognised, in the gaily-attired, self-possessed coxcomb who was admitted, Mr. Crackenthorpe Cripps.
“Take a glass of wine, Mr. Cripps,” said Firebras, filling a bumper, and handing it to the new comer. “It is Beau Villiers’s chief valet,” he added, in an under tone, to Sir Norfolk, who had made a polite, though formal bow to the stranger.
“What!” exclaimed Sir Norfolk, almost shuddering at the inadvertence of which he had been guilty; “a waiting-man in such costly and nitid attire. Why his master, the Petronius Arbiter of the day, can scarcely be more studiously refined in the taste and style of the vestments wherewith he decorates his person.”
“He is not a whit so,” laughed Firebras, “The only difference between them is, that Beau Cripps wears in May the coat that Beau Villiers has worn in April.”
“Mehercle!” exclaimed Norfolk. “Such prodigality almost exceedeth belief.”
“Landlord, it is time!” cried Father Verselyn, who performed the part of chairman, and occupied the principal seat.
“I am ready, your reverence,” replied the landlord. And he forthwith proceeded to a cupboard from which he produced a large china bowl, apparently filled with punch, which he placed with great care and solemnity in the centre of the table.
“Why, it is water!” exclaimed Randulph, gazing at the clear lymph, with which, on nearer inspection, he perceived the bowl was filled.
“To be sure,” said Firebras, “and we are about to drink the king’s health — over the water. And now, gentlemen,” he continued, filling Randulph’s glass and his own— “fill, I pray you, to the brim.”
“I have filled, even to the summit of the vase,” said Sir Norfolk, rising and holding up his glass.
“And I,” cried Sir Bulkeley, likewise rising.
“And I,” said the landlord, who stood next to the last named baronet, and was allowed to join in the ceremony.
“And I — and I,” chimed Mr. Travers and the valet.
“Then give the word, my son,” said Verselyn, addressing Firebras.
“With the greatest pleasure, father,” replied Cordwell. And he held his glass over the bowl, while his example was imitated by all the others except Randulph. “Here is the king’s health ‘over the water.’ Why don’t you do as we do?” he added, turning to Randulph.
“Ay, stretch forth your arm over the scyphus!” cried Sir Norfolk, pointing to the bowl.
“You must drink the toast, it’s the rule of the Club,” added Sir Bulkeley.
“It is a rule I cannot subscribe to,” replied Randulph.
“Am I mistaken in you, young man?” said Firebras, regarding him menacingly.
“Do as they bid you, or you’ll have your throat cut, ‘pon rep!” whispered Mr. Cripps, popping his head over Firebras’s shoulder.
“Will you drink the toast, or not?” demanded Firebras, fiercely.
“I will not,” replied Randulph, firmly. “It is treasonable, and I refuse it.”
Randulph’s bold declaration had well nigh cost him dear. Cries of ‘spy!’ ‘traitor!’ ‘Hanoverian.’ ‘down with him?’ resounded on all sides; the landlord rushed to the door, and placed his back against it, to prevent any attempt at egress in that way; while Sir Norfolk Salusbury, plucking his long blade from its sheath, and making it whistle over his head, kicked a chair that stood between him and the young man out of the way, and bade him, in a stern tone, defend himself. The confusion was increased by the vociferations of Mr. Cripps, and by an accident caused by Sir Bulkeley Price, who, in hurrying round the table, contrived to entangle himself in the cover, and dragging it off, precipitated the bottles and glasses to the ground, drenching the lower limbs of his brother baronet in the contents of the fractured bowl. The only two persons apparently unmoved in the midst of this uproar were its author and Cordwell Firebras. The latter made no hostile display, and did not even alter his position, but kept his eye steadily fixed upon Randulph, as if anxious to observe the effect of the incident upon him. The young man maintained his firmness throughout. He retreated a few steps towards the wall, and put himself in a posture of defence. The nearest of his antagonists was Sir Norfolk Salusbury; but seeing the others press forward, the chivalrous Welsh baronet declined commencing the attack.
“Singulatim! — one at a time, Mr. Travers,” he cried. “Ne Hercules contra duos. It shall never be said that any man, however unworthy of fair treatment, fought against odds in the presence of a descendant of Adam de Salzburg. Stand aside, therefore, sir, — and you, Father Verselyn, — and leave him to me, or I must relinquish the right of combat, which I have in some measure acquired, as being the first to claim it, to you.”
“Let the young man swear to keep silence touching all he has seen and heard, or he shall not quit this room alive,” rejoined Travers.
“Trust him not, trust him not!” cried Father Verselyn: “his oath will not bind him. Fall upon him altogether, and slay him! That is the only way to ensure his silence and our safety. I will absolve you of his blood. The imminence of the danger justifies the deed.”
“Proh pudor!” cried Sir Norfolk, sternly. “That would be trucidation dedecorous and ignave; neither can I stand by, and see it done.”
“Nor I,” cried Sir Bulkeley, who had by this time recovered from the embarrassment occasioned by the accident. “I disapprove of Father Verselyn’s counsel entirely. Let us hear what the young man has to say. I will question him.”
“Haudquaquam, Sir Bulkeley,” replied the other, gravely. “I gave you precedence on a recent occasion, but I cannot do so on the present. I claim this young man as my own, — to interrogate, to fight, and, perchance, to slay him.”
“Fight him as much as you please, Sir Norfolk, and slay him if you think proper, — or can,” rejoined Sir Bulkeley, angrily; “but you shall not prevent my speaking to him.”
“Sir Bulkeley Price,” returned Sir Norfolk, raising his crane neck to its utmost height, “I pray you not to interfere between me and Mr. Crew, otherwise—”
“Well, Sir Norfolk, and what then?” cried the other, his hot Welsh blood mounting to his cheeks, and empurpling them more deeply than usual. “What then, Sir Norfolk?”
“I shall be compelled to make you render me reason for it,” replied the other sternly.
Cordwell Firebras now thought it time to interfere.
“Gentlemen,” he said, advancing towards them, “we have plenty of other quarrels to settle without disputing among ourselves. I brought Mr. Randulph Crew here, and will be responsible for his silence.”
“What saith the young man?” demanded Sir Norfolk. “If he will oppignerate his word for taciturnity, I will take it.”
“So will I,” added Sir Bulkeley.
“I thank you for your good opinion of me, gentlemen,” returned Randulph. “I have been, almost unwittingly, a party to your counsels, and ought perhaps to have declared my sentiments sooner. But I hoped the meeting would pass off without rendering any such avowal necessary, in which case, though I certainly should never have joined your club again, the secret of its existence would have rested in my own bosom, — as it will now, if I am suffered to depart. I could not avoid expressing my disapproval of a toast which, in common with every loyal subject of King George the Second, I hold to be treasonable.”
“You cannot be the subject of a usurper, young man,” said Firebras: “your allegiance to King James the Third is unalienable.”
“Compel him to vow allegiance to his rightful sovereign, Mr. Firebras,” interposed Father Verselyn.
“I will sooner lay down my life than comply,” cried Randulph, resolutely.
Firebras l
ooked slightly disconcerted; and Sir Norfolk, who had lowered the point of his sword, again raised it.
“It is in vain to reason with him, my son,” whispered Verselyn. “Our safety demands his destruction. If he goes hence, we are denounced; and an irreparable injury will be done to the good cause.”
“I have promised him safe conduct, father,” rejoined Firebras; “and, at all risks, I will keep my word. Mr. Randulph Crew, you are at liberty to depart. You give up all hopes of the miser’s daughter?” he added, in a deep whisper.
“I must, if she is only to be purchased in this way,” replied Randulph, in the same tone.
“Take time to consider of it,” rejoined Firebras. “I will find means of communicating with you to-morrow. Landlord, attend Mr. Crew to the door.”
“You are wrong in letting him go,” cried Verselyn. “You will repent this blind confidence. Sir Norfolk, I entreat you to interfere — Sir Bulkeley, I appeal to you.”
But they both turned from him, and sheathed their swords; while the landlord, having received a sign from Firebras, obeyed his instructions.
As soon as Randulph was gone, Firebras addressed himself to the two baronets:— “I hope no unkindly feeling — none at least, that cannot easily be set to rights, — subsists between you, gentlemen,” he said.
“I shall never quarrel with my good friend, Sir Norfolk, except about a matter of punctilio,” replied Sir Bulkeley, who was as easily appeased as roused to anger.
“And I ought never to quarrel with one who knows how to make so handsome a concession as Sir Bulkeley Price,” replied Sir Norfolk, with a gracious bow.
“Then the storm has blown over,” laughed Firebras. “I feared this more than the other.”
A long discussion then took place among the members of the club as to Randulph’s introduction to it, and Firebras was severely censured by Father Verselyn, for admitting the young man, without testing his political principles.
“I do not repent what I have done, father,” returned Firebras, “because I am satisfied no harm will come of it; and it was an attempt to gain a very useful ally to our cause. He is a brave lad, as his firmness during this affair proved, and it would be a great point to win him over. Nor do I yet despair of doing so.”
“I hope we have seen the last of him,” muttered Verselyn; “and I beg it may be borne in mind that it was against my advice that he was suffered to depart.”
Cordwell Firebras darted an angry look at the priest, but he made no reply; and the cloth having been replaced by the landlord and Mr. Cripps, the former proceeded to fetch a fresh supply of flasks and glasses; after which, the company once more gathered round the table, and began to discuss anew their projects.
* * *
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Jacobite Club Surprised by the Guard — The Flight and Pursuit — Mr. Cripps’s Treachery — His Reflections.
Midnight arrived, and found them still in deep debate, when a quick and continuous knocking was heard at the door.
All instantly started to their feet, gazing at each other in alarm.
“We are betrayed,” said Firebras, in a deep whisper.
“We are,” replied Father Verselyn; “and by the spy you introduced among us.”
“It is false!” cried Firebras, angrily. “But this is no time for dispute. We must provide for our safety. Who is it, landlord?” he cried to the host, who, on the first alarm, had rushed to the door, and opened the reconnoitring-hole within it.
“O lord! we’re all lost!” rejoined the landlord, closing the trap-door, and returning to them with scared looks and on tiptoe, as if afraid of the sound of his own footsteps.
“Who is it — what is it?” demanded Firebras.
“A dozen grenadier guards, headed by their captain and lieutenant, come to search the house,” replied the landlord. “They’re mounting the stairs now.”
“Zounds!” exclaimed Sir Bulkeley, “this is awkward!”
“There is nothing to fear,” said Firebras, calmly. “We have plenty of time for flight.”
“Yes, you can fly, gentlemen, but I am ruined,” exclaimed the landlord. “I can never return to my own dwelling!”
“Pshaw! you shall never be the worse for it,” replied Firebras.
“But what will become of me if I am taken?” cried Mr. Cripps, feigning a look of despair. “I am sure to be the worse for it.”
“Silence!” cried Firebras, authoritatively— “don’t you hear them? — they are at the door. Be quick, gentlemen. Not a moment is to be lost.”
While this was passing, Father Verselyn hurried to the lower end of the room, and mounting a ladder placed against the wall, passed through a trap door in the ceiling above it. The landlord, Mr. Cripps, and Mr. Travers next ascended, then Sir Bulkeley followed, then Sir Norfolk, whose equanimity not even the present danger could disturb — while Firebras brought up the rear.
“‘Sdeath! Sir Norfolk,” cried the latter, as the baronet slowly scaled the steps before him— “move on a little more quickly, or we shall certainly be captured. They’re breaking open the door. Don’t you hear them?”
“Perfectly,” replied Sir Norfolk, coolly. But he did not on that account accelerate his movements.
Knowing it was in vain to remonstrate, Cordwell Firebras waited till Sir Norfolk had worked his long frame through the trap door, which he did with the utmost deliberation, and then ran up the steps himself, with much more activity than might have been expected from a person so weighty. Just as he was quitting the ladder, the door was burst open with a tremendous crash, and two officers of the guard rushed into the room, sword in hand, followed by a dozen grenadiers, armed with muskets, on which bayonets were fixed. Firebras’s first object, on securing a footing on the floor of the garret above was to try to draw up the ladder, and he was assisted in it by Sir Norfolk; but their design was frustrated by the foremost officer and a tall grenadier bearing a halbert, both of whom sprang upon the ladder, and kept it down by their joint weight, and all those above could do was to shut down the trap door before it could be reached by their foes. A dormer window opened from the garret upon the roof of the house, but an unexpected difficulty had been experienced by the first detachment of fugitives in unfastening it. All ought to have been in readiness for an emergency like the present, and Sir Bulkeley and Mr. Travers bitterly reproached the landlord for his negligence. The poor fellow declared that the mischance was not his fault that he had taken every possible precaution — and, in fact had examined the window that very morning, and found it all right. At length, it was forced back; and all but Sir Norfolk and Firebras got through it. They were detained by the necessity that existed of guarding the trap-door. Unfortunately, there was no bolt on the upper side of it, so that they had to stand upon it to keep it down, and this plan being discovered by the officer below, he ordered two of his men to thrust their bayonets through the boards, while the tall grenadier tried to prize open the door with his halbert. The manouvre compelled Firebras and Salusbury slightly to alter their position, to avoid being wounded by the bayonets, and in doing so, they necessarily gave admittance to the point of the halbert. The efforts of the assailing party were redoubled, and the trap slightly yielded.
“Lose not a moment! fly, Sir Norfolk!” cried Firebras, apprehensive lest the baronet’s deliberation, which he well knew nothing could shake, should prevent his escape.
But true to his principles, Sir Norfolk would not move an inch.
“I cannot leave you in angusto,” he said.
“But I am the stronger of the two, as well as the more active,” rejoined Firebras. “My weight will suffice to keep down the trap-door till you have got through the window, and then I can make good my retreat. Fly! fly!”
But Sir Norfolk continued immovable.
“I shall be the last to quit this place,” he said, in a tone of unalterable determination. “But do not, I pray you, tarry with me. The trifurciferous myrmidons of the Hanoverion usurper shall never take me with
life.”
“I must leave the punctilious old fool to his fate,” muttered Firebras, observing that the greater part of the head of the halbert was forced through the side of the trap. “God protect you. Sir Norfolk!” he cried, rushing to the window.
The brave old Welsh baronet essayed to hew off the head of the halbert from the staff — but in vain; and finding that the enemy must gain admittance in another moment, and that Firebras had cleared the window, he turned away, and strode majestically towards it. His retreat was so suddenly made, that the grenadier who held the pike and was prizing with all his force, lost his balance, and tumbled off the ladder, causing such confusion among his comrades, that Sir Norfolk had time to get through the window unmolested.
It was a beautifully bright night — the moon being at the full, and the sky filled with fleecy clouds. On the left, lay ridges of pointed-roofed houses, covered with the warm-looking and mellow-tinted tile, so preferable to the cold blue slate — broken with stacks of chimneys of every size and form — dormer windows, gables, overhanging stories and other picturesque and fantastic projections; and the view being terminated, at some quarter of a mile’s distance, by the tall towers and part of the roof of Westminster Abbey.
Viewed thus, the whole picture looked exquisitely tranquil and beautiful. The fires in the houses were almost all extinguished, and little or no smoke issued from the chimneys to pollute the clear atmosphere. Right over the venerable and majestic fane hung the queen of night, flooding its towers — seen at such an hour to the greatest advantage — with silvery light, and throwing some of the nearer buildings and projections into deep shadow, and so adding to the beauty of the scene. On the right, the view extended over other house-tops to the gardens and and fields of Pimlico. Behind, was Saint James’s Park, with its stately avenues of trees, its long canal, and Rosamond’s Pond glimmering in the moonlight; while in front lay the Artillery-ground, and the open and marshy grounds constituting Tothill Fields. But it will be readily imagined that neither Firebras nor his companions looked to the right or to the left. They were only conscious of the danger by which they were menaced, and were further discouraged by Father Verselyn, who at that moment scrambled over the roof they were about to cross, to inform them that the door by which they hoped to escape could not be got open.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 301