“Tut! tut! this is idle vaunting!” the sergeant exclaimed. “Since thou wilt not be advised, thou must take the consequences.”
“No; it is thou who must take the consequences, sergeant. I have warned thee,” Micklegift rejoined, raising his hands.
“Aid me to put him forth, Besadaiah,” said Delves, “for I perceive he is disposed to offer resistance. But take heed thou doest him no injury.”
Rearing his carabine against the door of a pew, he marched towards the pulpit. Besadaiah also laid down his musket, and followed him. But scarcely had the foremost of the two Ironsides set foot on the pulpit-steps, when Micklegift clapped his hands together, and called out with a loud voice, “Arise! — it is time!”
At the signal, for such it proved, two persons suddenly sprang up behind the troopers, and in an instant possessed themselves of the carabines which had been so imprudently abandoned. These personages, it soon appeared, were no other than the Saxbys, father and son, who had contrived to secrete themselves until this moment within the chancel. Levelling the gun at the Roundhead soldiers, Ninian and his father threatened to shoot them if they stirred a step. It was now Micklegift’s turn to triumph. Not only had his signal summoned the Saxbys from their hiding-place, but at the same moment the prisoners burst forth from the interior of the tower, and so unexpectedly, that ere the drunken and drowsy troopers could recover from their surprise and seize their arms, they were deprived of them by their assailants. Aided by circumstances, the stratagem completely succeeded. All the’ fire-arms were secured by the Royalists. Helpless Henly was so overcome by the liquor he had swallowed, that he could not raise himself from the ground; and two others were in nearly the like state. The Royalists now numbered five, but as they had obtained possession of all the muskets and pistols belonging to the troop, it followed that they were completely masters of the position. Without much difficulty, the newly liberated prisoners succeeded in driving such of the Ironsides as were capable of offering resistance into the tower which they themselves had so recently occupied, and locked the door upon them. This done, they turned their attention to Delves and Besadaiah, over whom the two Saxbys still kept guard, with levelled muskets. On coming up, John Habergeon at once rushed in and grappled with the sergeant, while Ninian and his father laid hold of Besadaiah. A coil of rope which had been brought in by the troopers was soon found by Micklegift, who by this time had descended from the pulpit, and with it Delves and his comrade were bound hand and foot, and handkerchiefs tied over their mouths. Though the trouble seemed needless, similar precautions were taken with Helpless Henly and the two other equally inert troopers; and only one of them stirred and opened his eyes while the cords were being fastened round his wrists.
The Royalists next transformed themselves into the semblance of Republican soldiers, by putting on the habiliments and accoutrements of their enemies, equipping themselves in the scarlet doublets, tassets, breastplates, headpieces, and bandoleers of the Ironsides, buckling on their swords, and appropriating their carabines and pistols. These operations were conducted as expeditiously as possible, for the troopers shut up within the tower had begun to vociferate loudly, and make as much noise as they could, in the hope of giving the alarm; and though the thick walls of the chamber in which they were enclosed greatly deadened the clamour, still the Royalists did not know whether it might not be heard at the Grange. So the utmost dispatch was used. And no sooner was their task accomplished, than the newly released prisoners, with their deliverers, Micklegift and the two Saxbys, quitted the church, locking the door upon their foes.
On issuing from the church, Micklegift quitted the party, and hastened to the parsonage, to make preparations for instant flight. For some time Ovingdean would be no safe place for him. The Royalists agreed to keep together for the present, unless circumstances should require them to separate. Command of the little party naturally devolved upon Lord Wilmot, and his first instructions were to proceed to the stables, and help themselves to the troopers’ horses.
By this time the moon had risen, but her lustre was frequently obscured by passing clouds. Not being familiar with the locality, Lord Wilmot placed himself under the guidance of Ninian Saxby, who now led the way to the stables. As the young falconer marched along in this unaccustomed guise of steel cap and breastplate, he almost lost the sense of his own identity, and while eyeing his accoutrements with secret satisfaction, flattered himself that he made a very smart soldier, and only regretted that Patty Whinchat could not behold him.
The party were crossing the valley a little to the south of the Grange, when the sound of their footsteps attracted the attention of the patrol at the door of the mansion. The sentinel immediately advanced to the gate, and challenged them.
“Who are ye that go there?” he demanded.
“Friends!” responded John Habergeon, in the true puritanical snuffle.
“Advance, friends, and give the countersign,” rejoined the sentinel.
“Maccabaeus and his company,” John replied, having luckily overheard the watchword whispered by the sergeant to his men.
“Pass on, then,” cried the trooper. “ Yet stay!-whither go ye?”
“To the stables, by order of Sergeant Delves.”
“Good! — but what means the clamour within the church?”
“It is caused by the malignant prisoners, who like not their lodging,” John replied, with a laugh, which was echoed by the trooper,
“Is that all?” he said. “I feared something might have gone wrong.”
“Hath aught been heard of our captain? demanded Lord Wilmot, disguising his voice as well as he was able.
“He returned half an hour ago with the prisoner,” replied the sentinel.
“Did you hear that? “Lord Wilmot observed in a low voice to Clavering. “Colonel Gunter is taken. He must be rescued at any cost.”
“Do you go back to the church after seeing to the horses, or are some of us to take your place?” inquired the sentinel.
“We will return presently and ascertain the captain’s pleasure,” returned Lord Wilmot.
Upon this the Royalists moved on, and the sentinel went back to his post.
In another minute the party reached the stables. Opening the door, Ninian quickly roused up a couple of grooms who were lying asleep on a pile of straw. A lighted horn lantern was hanging by a pulley overhead. At first the grooms took the whole party for Republican soldiers, and seemed reluctant to get up, but when Ninian made himself known, they quickly bestirred themselves. Each stall had a couple of horses within it; but though the stables were large, there was not accommodation for so many, and several of the troopers’ steeds had been placed in the cow-house. It was in the latter place that Lord Wilmot found his own charger. Having selected such horses as they thought would best suit them — keeping one for Colonel Gunter, in case they should succeed in liberating him — they turned all the others loose in the farm-yard, hiding away the saddles and bridles.
But just as the party issued forth from the stables with their newly acquired steeds, an alarming sound reached their ears.
The bell of the church began to toll.
How it could be rung by the imprisoned Ironsides, the Royalists could not conjecture, for they had seen no bell-rope; but so it was. The bell went on tolling, and with momentarily increasing rapidity and loudness.
At this sound, the sentinel posted outside the Grange gave the alarm. In another minute the door of the mansion was thrown open, and, a light streaming forth, showed the soldiers rushing out.
Though somewhat taken by surprise, Lord Wilmot and his party promptly prepared to act,
BOOK VII. CAPTAIN TATTERSALL OF THE SWIFTSURE
CHAPTER I.
How Sargeant Delves Was Reprimanded By His Leader
WEARIED by his long ride, and by his exertions throughout the day, Stelfax, on his return to Ovingdean Grange with the prisoner, retired to the chamber he had appropriated, and merely taking off the more cumbrous parts of his
accoutrements, flung himself on the couch. He was buried in profound slumber, when the knocking of the butt-end of a carabine at the door roused him, causing him to spring up instantly and seize his arms. Clapping his steel cap on his head, but without tarrying to buckle on his corslet and leg-pieces, he marched to the door, and, unfastening it, found Mattathias outside, who acquainted him with the strange ringing of the church bell. Indeed, the sound could be plainly distinguished where they were, though the room was at the back of the house.
Stelfax was not so much alarmed as his subordinate, for it did not occur to him as possible that Delves could be the dupe of a stratagem. Something, however, was wrong, and must be promptly rectified. He therefore hurried downstairs, with the intention of repairing to the church, but, on gaining the entrance-hall, found it invaded by a tumultuous assemblage of the household, who had flocked thither on hearing the bell toll, and two or three minutes were spent in their dispersion. But this being accomplished, he left a small guard in the hall, as well to watch over the prisoner, who was confined in a little room adjacent to the library, as to keep the household in order, and then went forth with the rest of his troop.
Meanwhile, a trumpet had more than once been sounded outside to recall the men supposed to be gone to the stables; but no notice was taken of the summons. When informed of this circumstance, Stelfax was exceedingly wroth, and dispatched Nathan Guestling to the stables, commanding the instant return of the offenders. A further interruption to his progress occurred at the gate. A posse of villagers, only partially attired, and armed with such weapons as came readiest to hand, was here congregated, anxious to learn the cause of the disturbance. Distrusting these hinds, Stelfax peremptorily ordered them to return to their dwellings, threatening to fire upon them if they hesitated to comply. Intimidated by the menace, the poor fellows retired, while the Ironside captain and his men pursued their way to the church. The torches having been left burning by the fugitive Royalists when they quitted their temporary prison, the light of the flambeaux was dimly distinguishable through the windows as Stelfax passed through the churchyard; but nothing, as yet, had occurred to rouse his suspicions. His surprise and rage, however, may be conceived when his thundering knock at the church door, which he found looked, remained unanswered. Violently shaking the door, he endeavoured by main strength to burst it open, and, aided by his men, he speedily accomplished his object. A scene then lay before him so startling and extraordinary, that he could scarcely believe in its reality.
His astonishment and stupefaction, however, soon gave way to fury. Snatching a torch, he threw its light upon the prostrate forms of Delves and Besadaiah, and then commanded that the handkerchiefs should be taken from their mouths, but that the cords with which they were bound should not be unloosed.
“How is this, sergeant?” he demanded in a severe voice, as the order was obeyed. “How comes it that I find thee thus?”
Delves gave utterance to a groan, but made no other reply.
“How hast thou fulfilled thine office?” continued Stelfax, with increased severity. “Where are the captives committed to thy charge?”
“Gone, captain — all gone!” groaned Delves, in a tone of deep contrition. “They have escaped from me. I will not attempt to extenuate my conduct. I have been guilty of gross neglect.”
“Soh! thou dost confess it! — ha!” exclaimed Stelfax, with concentrated fury. “Negligent and disobedient dog, thou deservest that I should pistol thee without grace allowed for prayer.”
“Dispatch me, captain, without pity,” the sergeant rejoined. “I deserve to die. You cannot be more angered with me than I am with myself. Were I to live a hundred years, instead of only so many seconds, I should never regain my own good opinion. To think that I, who have been signalled out for public commendation by the Lord General himself — who have been deemed worthy of your confidence, captain — who prided myself upon strictness of discipline, and blind obedience to the orders of my superior, that I should have failed on all points! — it is too much — it is more than I can bear. Place your pistol at my head, and finish me.”
“No,” rejoined Stelfax; “I will not forestal the provost-marshal’s office. Grievously am I disappointed in thee, O Deodatus Delves! — shamefully hast thou betrayed thy trust! But how came the matter to pass? It passeth my comprehension to understand how thou and thy comrades could be overcome and bound by so few. Ye would almost seem to have proffered your limbs to the fetters of the enemy.”
“Our prisoners had a subtle demon to aid them, captain,” replied Delves. “Strong waters were treacherously introduced with the provisions from the house, and robbed the men of their senses, so that they were no longer under my control. I say not this in my own defence, but in explanation. The truth will appear upon inquiry, if I be brought before a court-martial.”
“Why didst thou not snatch the mischievous drink from the besotted fools?” demanded Stelfax.
“Alack, captain, all my efforts were unavailing. They resisted, and would not be bidden. But this was only part of a scheme, which I believe to have been devised by the Independent minister, Increase Micklegift. Men were hidden within the church, who came forth suddenly to aid in liberating the captives.”
“All this shows how culpably negligent hath been thy conduct,” said Stelfax. “A notable example will be made of thee.”
“Reproach me no more, captain,” cried Delves. “Your words are not needed to sharpen the stings of my own conscience. Oh! if I be not discarded from the service, no departure from duty shall ever again be laid to my charge.”
“Misconduct like thine cannot be lightly passed over, I tell thee,” returned Stelfax, somewhat appeased, though not choosing to let it appear that he was so. “Thou hast suffered a prisoner of great importance to escape from thee. Thou wert made responsible — body for body — for the security of the Lord Wilmot, who was committed to thy charge. How wilt thou answer for his evasion?”
“Even as you yourself have said, captain, with mine own body,” the sergeant returned.
“Go to! dolt. Think’st thou thy worthless carcase, or those of all thy mutinous comrades, will weigh with the Lord General against the head of this malignant nobleman? A great prize has been lost through thy negligence. I have hunted down Lord Wilmot’s companion, and brought him back captive, and thou mayst guess how it would have gladdened our general to receive the twain from my hands. Thou thyself wouldst have been advanced in his favour. I make little account of young Maunsel and the others, but the Lord Wilmot is a great loss.”
“But may he not be recaptured?” said Delves. “Release me from these bonds, and I will not rest till I bring him back to you, dead or alive. Fear nothing! I have no desire to escape punishment, but am wishful to repair the mischief I have done.”
“Be it so, then,” said Stelfax, after a moment’s reflection. “I will give thee a chance of redeeming thy errors. Untie those cords, and set him free,” he added, to the men near him.
The order was instantly obeyed, and the like grace was accorded to Besadaiah, who humbled himself, as the sergeant had done, promising better conduct in future.
Long before this, the troopers shut up in the tower had been let out, but they kept aloof, as long as they could, from their incensed leader. How the church bell had been rung was then explained. One of their number, aided by his comrades, who lifted him on their shoulders, after the manner practised by professional tumblers, had contrived to catch hold of the bell-rope, which had been tied up at a point supposed to be out of reach. The bell was then tolled without difficulty. The Ironside leader’s anger being by this time considerably abated, he contented himself with sharply reprimanding all the minor culprits. But the state in which Helpless Henly and the two other drunken troopers were found did not admit of their conduct being passed over so lightly. Causing the bandages to be removed from their mouths, but not suffering the cords with which they were bound to be taken off, their leader left them in this state to sleep off the effects of th
eir drunken revel. While mustering the men, it suddenly occurred to him to inquire from Delves whom he had sent to the stables.
“I have sent no one,” the sergeant replied. “If any have gone thither, it must be the cunning malignants who carried off our weapons and accoutrements.”
“Thou art right!” exclaimed Stelfax. “Fool that I was, not to perceive this sooner! These men were seen and challenged by the sentinel, who took them for comrades because they were accoutred like us, and gave the watchword. Let us to the stables at once — though I fear the birds are flown. In that case we must scour the country for them.”
Upon which he rushed out of the church, followed by his men.
CHAPTER II.
In What Manner Colonel Gunter Was Liberated
No notice, as we have shown, was taken by Lord Wilmot and the little party under his command of the trumpeter’s summons; but as it was almost certain that a messenger would speedily be sent to order their return, preparations were made for his reception. For this purpose, John Habergeon and the elder Saxby dismounted and entered the stable; and as soon as Nathan Guestling arrived there, the door was closed upon him, and, being seized by these two powerful men, he was thrown down bound hand and foot with a halter, and almost stifled with a horse-cloth wrapped round his face.
This task accomplished, the pair issued from the stables, and found that, in the interim, Lord Wilmot had sent the horses, in charge of the grooms, to a particular spot at the back of the garden indicated by Ninian. Stelfax had been sent to go to the church with a party of men, and the house being left comparatively undefended, his lordship apprehended little resistance, and ordered his party to set forward at once.
As they approached the mansion, the sentinel called out to them, “How now, comrades! Are ye come at last? Wherefore did ye not answer the recall? Did ye not hear the alarm-bell rung from the church?”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 574