The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “All friends of Cæsar, captain,” replied the host, bringing in a bottle of brandy and glasses, while his wife followed with pipes and tobacco. “Mrs. Bonfellow Smith is Cæsar’s particular friend. Which nobody can deny!”

  “He always was fond of the lasses,” said Tattersall, laughing. “Give me a glass of brandy, sirrah host. As I told you just now, I drank to the late king’s health by command of the noble prince, his son.”

  “But that was upon compulsion,” observed Charles, “and must have gone against the grain.”

  “It went no more against the grain than the pledge I am about to drink now,” rejoined the skipper. “Here’s to the noble young prince who gave me freedom, and by the act bound me to him by ties of everlasting gratitude! Here’s to him who ought to wear the crown of England, only rogues have dispossessed him of it. Here’s to my royal master — for I acknowledge no other, except the Master above! — and may he soon be out of the reach of his enemies, and it shan’t be Nick Tattersall’s fault if he be not so.” So saying, he drained the glass to the last drop.

  “Oddsfish! Tattersall,” cried the king, “you were represented to me as a half- Republican, but I find you a thorough-going Royalist.”

  “Whatever flag I may be obliged to hoist, my true colours are the king’s colours, and those I wear next my heart,” replied Tattersall. “And now to cut matters short, since all’s settled, I’ll make bold to tell your Majesty what I think had best be done. You may have noticed that I brought a bundle of seamen’s clothes with me. Let me recommend your Majesty, and your fellow- passenger that is to be, to rig yourselves out in the gear. You will find a suit apiece, so that in case of any unexpected hindrance — as you have no passes, and might be stopped — you can go on board as part of my crew. The brig will slip her moorings, and get out of the harbour two hours after midnight, and will lie off shore in waiting for us. I’ve got a boat to take us to her. I don’t anticipate any difficulty, but it’s best to be on the safe side.”

  “I quite agree with you, Tattersall,” replied Charles. “You have shown great forethought. I ought to have introduced Lord Wilmot to you. (Tattersall bowed.) His lordship and I will at once proceed to change our attire. Colonel Gunter will attend to your wants in the interim, and ere you have smoked your first pipe we will be back with you, fully equipped in the habiliments you have so thoughtfully provided for us.”

  So saying, his Majesty and Lord Wilmot quitted the room, preceded by the hostess, bearing a light.

  CHAPTER III.

  Introducing Two Of Captain Tattersall’s Crew

  “AND now, Captain Tattersall,” said Gunter, as soon as they were alone, “we’ll settle our accounts, if you please. Here’s the other half of the passage- money — fifty caroluses.”

  “Well, a bargain’s a bargain, colonel,” replied the skipper, bestowing the bag of gold in his jacket; “but if you had only spoken plainly at first, and told me who wanted a passage with me, I would have placed my vessel at his Majesty’s disposal.”

  “You can’t blame me for acting cautiously in a case of such importance, captain,” Gunter replied. “And pardon me for saying that I didn’t know you so well as I do now. Besides, you richly deserve all you’ve got, and more, and I trust this matter will be the making of you.”

  “I hope to Heaven it may, colonel!” replied Tattersall. “Howsomever, as I said before, if I save his Majesty it’ll be reward enough for me. I’ll have it written on my tombstone, ‘Here lies Nick Tattersall, who faithfully preserved his king.’ Moreover, if I accomplish this voyage securely, I’ll change the name of my ship, and call her the Royal Escape.”

  “An excellent name,” said Gunter, filling a pipe with tobacco and lighting it, while the skipper followed his example; “and I hope your brig will earn a title to it. The wind is favourable, eh?”

  “Ay, the wind is nor’-east, and if it holds where it is — and I feel pretty sure it will — we shall have a quick run across to Fécamp, near Havre-de-Grace, in Normandy, for that’s the port I mean to make for.”

  “Fécamp, eh? I fancied you would have tried for Dieppe. But the port matters not, provided you land his Majesty safely in France — that’s the main point. I hope you won’t fall in with any cruisers.”

  “I hope we shan’t,” rejoined the skipper, puffing away at his pipe, “but I ain’t much afeared of ‘em. The Swiftsure’ll show ’em a light pair of heels; and if they do overhaul us, they’ll take the king and his lordship for part o’ the crew. What I should least like to meet would be one of them rattlin’ Ostend privateers, which, ever since the war broke out betwixt France and Spain, have been hoverin’ about the French coast, on the look-out for prizes. I shouldn’t like to meet one o’ them ugly customers, for they might plunder us, and set us ashore in England.”

  “‘Sdeath! that would be a mishap indeed!” exclaimed Gunter. “But let us hope for the best. Heaven, that has preserved the king through so many dangers, won’t desert him at the last. But what’s that?” he added, as exclamations and laughter, proceeding from the hostess, were heard outside.

  “I shouldn’t wonder if two of my crew have arrived, colonel,” replied Tattersall, with a wink. “I’ve been expectin’ ‘em. Ay, here they come!” he cried, as the door was thrown open by the hostess, who was laughing immoderately, and two rollicking individuals, with the gait, gestures, looks, and attire of seamen of the period — that is to say, blue jackets and brown slops, Guernsey shirts and red caps, like the skipper himself — rolled, rather than walked, into the room.

  “Why, they’re enough to deceive a body to one s very face!” exclaimed Mrs. Smith, holding up her hands in admiration. “If I didn’t know better, I should take ’em for real sailors.”

  “Real sailors!” cried Charles, chucking her under the chin; “so we be, my pretty hostess — reg’lar jack-tars, I can promise ye. I say, capt’n, put in a word for us, will ye? How long have my messmate Tom Barlow and I sailed wi’ ye i’ the Swiftsure?”

  “Ever since 1648, Will Jackson,” replied Tattersall, emitting a long puff of tobacco. “But sit down, my lads — sit down. Take a glass of grog, and smoke a pipe. Don’t mind me — I’m not partic’lar when ashore. This gentleman, I dare say, won’t mind ye.”

  “Not in the least,” replied Gunter. “Sit down, my lads, I beg of you. These are two stout fellows, capt’n, especially Tom Barlow.”

  “Ay, he’s big enough in all conscience,” said Tattersall, remarking that Lord Wilmot’s breadth of shoulder and athletic proportions seemed materially increased by his change of costume; “but they’re both able-bodied rascals. Harkye, hostess, give ’em each a glass of brandy, and fill a pipe for Will Jackson with this prime Spanish tobacco. He’s too bashful to help himself.”

  “Shiver my timbers, but she shall do nothing of the sort!” cried the king. “She shan’t turn her pretty fingers into tobacco stoppers. A hand like this was never made for such work.” And he pressed it gallantly to his lips.

  “‘Oons, Will, I was wrong, it seems, in callin’ thee bashful,” observed Tattersall, laughing. “Thou seem’st free and easy enough now, I must say.”

  “Well, I declare if it ben’t just like a play!” exclaimed Mrs. Smith, delighted.

  “I hope our comedy mayn’t take a serious turn!” exclaimed Colonel Gunter, uneasily. “What’s that?” he added, as the tramping of horses, accompanied by the clattering of arms, was heard in the inn-yard. Cautiously lifting the edge of the curtain, he peeped forth, and immediately afterwards cried out in alarm, “The Iron-sides are upon us! Half a dozen or more of them are in the yard — and some are dismounting. We shall have them here in a moment.”

  “Lord, preserve us! What’ll become of the king?” cried the hostess, almost sinking with fright.

  “Peace, Joan!” said Charles. “My safety will depend a good deal upon your composure.”

  All had started to their feet except the young monarch, who completely maintained his self-possession.

 
“Sit down all of you,” he said. “Do you, Wilmot, feign to be drunk — sleepily drunk, d’ye understand? Gunter, you must play the Puritan — you can act the part to the life, if you choose. I shall be as drunk as Wilmot — but wide awake.”

  At this moment Bonfellow Smith rushed into the room exclaiming, distractedly,

  “The troopers are here! the troopers are here! What’s to be done?”

  “Be quiet!” rejoined his wife. “Go and see what they are about! We are all prepared for them.”

  Overcoming his fright as well as he could, Smith left the room, and presently after ominous sounds were heard without, announcing that sentinels were being posted at the doors of the hostel with orders to shoot any one who might attempt to escape. A stern voice was then heard in the passage, holding a brief colloquy with the host, after which the door was thrown open, and a sergeant of Ironsides, in full accoutrements, with pistols in belt and drawn sword in hand, strode into the room, followed by three others, armed with carabines. Poor Bonfellow Smith did not venture further than the doorway, where he stood a terrified spectator of the scene, his naturally rosy countenance having become as white as his own apron.

  Meanwhile, a great change had taken place in the appearance of three of the personages at the table. Lord Wilmot appeared to be fast asleep, with his head upon the board, and Charles, to judge from his looks, was completely overcome by liquor. Never was the appearance of a drunken man better simulated than by the king — head hanging down — eyes half shut, and stupid in expression — limbs wholly unequal to their office, since their owner could apparently neither rise from his chair nor guide the pipe to his lips. Colonel Gunter had put on a black skull-cap and spectacles, and smoothed down his bands. By elongating his features, he managed to give them a decidedly Puritanical expression.

  Delves (for he was the sergeant of Ironsides in question) marched towards the group at the table. Colonel Gunter and Tattersall rose at his approach, but the other two remained as we have described them, except that Charles apparently made an effort to get up, and failing totally, seemed to maintain his balance in the chair with difficulty. Delves, though regarding him at first with suspicion, could evidently make nothing of him, but turning his attention to Lord Wilmot, seized him by the shoulder, and shook him lustily. Thus roused, his lordship looked up for a moment with the vacant stare of an intoxicated man, and then laid his head down again.

  “Who are these drunken fellows?” demanded Delves of Tattersall.

  “Two of my crew,” replied the skipper, “and both, I am sorry to say, the worse for liquor, as you can scarce fail to perceive.”

  “It is only too apparent,” replied the sergeant, with a look of infinite disgust. “How art thou named, friend?” he added to the skipper. “Thy calling I can pretty well guess at.”

  “I have no reason to be ashamed either of my name or calling,” replied Tattersall, bluffly. “I am Nicholas Tattersall, captain of the Swiftsure, now lying in Shoreham harbour. My papers are all regular, if you desire to look at them,” he added, producing a packet from his breast.

  “No, I care not to see them,” replied Delves. “I am satisfied with what you tell me. But mark me, Nicholas Tattersall. Certain intelligence has reached me that the Young Man Charles Stuart is in this neighbourhood, and is seeking to obtain passage in some vessel across the Channel. Take heed thou aidest him not, or thou wilt be hanged as a traitor.”

  “Hanged, quotha! — hang our captain!” hiccupped Charles. Not while Will Jackson can lift an arm (hiccup). If any man touches our capt’n (hiccup), I’ll smash him like this pipe,” breaking the pipe to pieces upon the table.

  “You ought to put these two drunkards in irons, and give them a round dozen apiece in the morning,” said Delves, angrily.

  “I must take a lesson from your service,” rejoined Tattersall. “You are strict enough, I make no doubt. Yet methinks I have heard of some delinquencies on the part of the troopers at Ovingdean Grange.”

  “That will never occur again,” said Delves, somewhat abashed. “But there is one person here whom I have not yet questioned. Thy name and station?” he added to Colonel Gunter. “Take care thou dost not equivocate.”

  “I had best not equivocate with you, sergeant, that I can see plainly enough,” replied Gunter. “My name is Seek-the-Fold Stray-Not Lamb — Four-Year-Old South- Down Mutton, the profane are wont to call me in derision. I am a Muggletonian, and hold forth at the conventicle in Ship-Street. If thou doubtest me, sergeant, appeal to the host.”

  “Thou art mocking me, I suspect, friend,” said Delves, sternly.

  “He hath spoken falsely, sergeant,” said Nathan Guestling, who was one of the troopers standing behind. “He hath already been a prisoner in our hands. It is the man whom our captain chased across the downs on that unlucky night, and brought back a prisoner to Ovingdean. Pluck the spectacles from off his nose, and the cap from off his head, and thou wilt instantly recognize him. I knew him at once.”

  “Thou art right, Nathan! — it is he!” exclaimed Delves. “I am glad we shall not go away empty-handed. Thou art my prisoner,” he added to Colonel Gunter; “come forth, or my men will fire upon thee.”

  “Nay, I will come peaceably,” replied Gunter, stepping forward.

  Nathan Guestling and Besadaiah (for the latter also was present) placed themselves one on either side of the prisoner, and in this manner he was led out of the room. But just as he was going forth he whispered to the landlord that he felt certain of a rescue, and would be back again ere long. Shortly afterwards, a trampling in the inn-yard announced the departure of the troopers, and the host came in to say they were gone — though the satisfactory intelligence was somewhat damped by the thought that Colonel Gunter had been carried off a captive.

  CHAPTER IV.

  Containing Particulars Of The Conflict On Kingston Hill, And Of The Embarkation At Shoreham

  CHARLES would have been greatly troubled by the loss of his faithful adherent, had he not felt almost certain that Gunter would be rescued by Clavering and the other Royalists hovering about the town, and that he should see him again before he started for Shoreham. Lord Wilmot was also of the same opinion. Whatever Tattersall might secretly think of the chances in the colonel’s favour he kept his sentiments to himself, and continued to puff away at his pipe; but the host and hostess were loud in their expressions of delight at his Majesty’s providential escape.

  “I owe my safety entirely to Captain Tattersall,” observed Charles. “Had he not brought these disguises with him, Lord Wilmot and I should have been infallibly detected.”

  “It was lucky I thought of them,” replied Tattersall, quietly.

  Shortly after this, a very nice little supper was placed on the table by the hostess, to which both the monarch and his companions did ample justice. A glass or two of choice canary, poured out for him by Mrs. Smith, quickly dispelled the king’s gloom, and before the repast was over he had regained his customary spirits, and was laughing and talking as merrily as ever. As soon as the table was cleared, pipes and tobacco were again introduced. A jug of cold water and a bottle of right Nantz were placed near Captain Tattersall, but Charles and Lord Wilmot confined their potations to canary. As it was now getting late, and all the other guests in the house had long since left, the inn doors were locked, and the servants, who were no longer required, were sent to bed. By his Majesty’s special invitation, the host and hostess joined the party in the parlour, and it was ever afterwards a subject of infinite gratulation to them that they had been allowed to sit down in his Majesty’s presence. Captain Tattersall, who was of a jovial turn, did his best to amuse the company — sang nautical ballads, and related droll incidents in his own career, at which the king laughed heartily.

  In this way time passed quickly away. It had now struck one o’clock. Nothing had been heard of Clavering Maunsel and his party, and Charles almost began to despair of seeing Colonel Gunter again.

  “In another hour your Majesty will be th
inking of starting, I presume,” observed Tattersall.

  “True,” replied Charles, looking at the clock; “I did not think it was so late. But I hope our friends will be here before then.”

  “They are here now, or I am much mistaken,” cried Lord Wilmot, starting up, as the sound of horses’ feet was heard in the inn-yard.

  “Look out, and make sure that the Ironsides have not returned,” said Charles.

  His lordship obeyed, and after cautiously peering through the window-curtain, declared it was Clavering Maunsel and the others. “And I am almost certain Gunter is with them,” added his lordship.

  “Now heaven be thanked!” exclaimed Charles. “That is good news indeed!”

  At this moment, a cautious knocking was heard at the yard door.

  “Admit them straight, my good host,” cried the king. And Smith flew to execute his Majesty’s commands.

  Immediately afterwards quick footsteps were heard in the passage, and Colonel Gunter and Clavering entered the room. They were followed in another moment by Colonel Philips and Captain Gunter, and three other persons, who remained in the background.

  “I am as good as my word, you see, my gracious liege,” said Colonel Gunter. “I promised to be back before your Majesty left, and here I am.”

  “And delighted I am to see you again,” replied the king. “But how did you manage to escape from those rascally Ironsides?”

  “My friends rescued me, as I felt sure they would,” rejoined Gunter, pointing to Clavering and the others; “but they had hard work to do it.”

  “So it would seem,” replied Charles, noticing that the young man and those near him bore marks of a recent and severe conflict. “Tell me how it chanced?”

  “Your Majesty has some enemies the less,” replied Clavering. “But you have lost one faithful subject,” he added, gravely.

  “How?” exclaimed Charles, glancing at the group in the background. “I discover not stout John Habergeon. Is he gone?”