The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  And as he spoke he knelt down and kissed the hand which Charles graciously extended to him.

  “Do not let your zeal lead you into any indiscretion, Pope,” said the king. “Show me no marks of respect when any one is present, except Mistress Jane Lane, but continue to treat me as Will Jones.”

  “I will carefully attend to your majesty’s injunctions,” said Pope.

  Feeling now quite sure that the king would be well attended to, Jane left the room.

  But the loyal butler had his own duties to fulfil, and could not neglect them without exciting suspicion. Praying the king, therefore, to excuse him, he proceeded to serve supper, and while he was thus occupied, Margaret Rider, by his directions, brought a jug of metheglin for the king.

  For more than an hour Charles was left alone in the butler’s pantry, but at the end of that time Pope reappeared.

  “I am now entirely at your majesty’s service,” he said.

  “Sit down, and take a cup of metheglin,” said Charles. “I want to have a chat with you.”

  After some hesitation the butler complied.

  “To prove that I place entire confidence in you, Pope,” observed the king, “I will tell you what I desire to do, and possibly you can aid me. My object is to obtain a passage for France. Do you think I shall be able to find a vessel at Bristol to take me to Bordeaux?”

  “Very few vessels sail from Bristol to France, my liege. You had better hire a schooner for Cardiff or Swansea.”

  “But I have no money,” said Charles.

  “Mistress Jane Lane can procure any sum your majesty may require from Mr. Norton,” replied Pope. “But of course she will be obliged to enter into explanations with him.”

  “I should not feel uneasy on that score, because I know your master can be trusted,” observed the king.

  “That is quite certain,” rejoined Pope. “But with your majesty’s leave, the first thing to be done is to ascertain that a vessel can be hired. There are plenty of ship-masters, plenty of ships, and plenty of seamen to be found at Bristol, but one doesn’t know whom to trust. Or rather, I should say, one can’t trust any of the skippers, since most of them are Roundheads. But if you desire it I will go with your majesty to Bristol to-morrow night. At the Dolphin, a tavern near the quay, frequented by seafaring men, we may be able to pick up some information.”

  “But will it be safe for me to go to a tavern like the Dolphin?”

  “If I thought there was the slightest risk I would not offer to take your majesty there,” replied Pope. “I am well known to David Price, the keeper of the tavern, and he will not question any one I may take to his house. Possibly we may obtain from him all the information we require. If I succeed in obtaining your majesty a passage to Bordeaux — or even to Swansea — I shall esteem myself the happiest of men.”

  Shortly afterwards Pope conducted the king to the pretty little chamber prepared for him. Needless to say that his majesty slept soundly.

  * * *

  CHAPTER VI.

  CARELESS BRINGS THE KING GOOD NEWS.

  Next morning Charles was alone in the butler’s pantry, when Mr. Norton, accompanied by Doctor Gorges, who had been the late king’s chaplain, and now filled the same office at Abbots Leigh, came into the room to inquire after him. The appearance of the latter, with whom he was well acquainted, rather confused Charles, as he feared that the chaplain must recognise him. However, the divine suspected no deception, and Charles acted his part so well that he completely imposed upon the worthy man. The interview did not last many minutes, and was interrupted by Jane Lane, who came to the king’s assistance.

  “I hope I have not overacted my part,” observed the king to Jane, as soon as Mr. Norton and the chaplain were gone. “But it occurred to me that my recovery was too rapid, and that I ought to have a relapse.”

  “You acted the part so naturally, my liege, that you would certainly have imposed upon me, had I not been a confederate. It will be sure to be spread about among the household that you have had another attack, and as the servants may have thought your conduct strange in keeping aloof from them, their suspicions will now be removed.”

  “I shall go forth presently,” said the king. “I think it likely that Careless may venture here in the course of the day.”

  He then informed Jane of his intention to visit Bristol at night with Pope, for the purpose of hiring a vessel to convey him to France.

  “If I succeed in my object I shall not return here,” he said; “and in that case I shall not require your further services. You will then be at full liberty to inform Mr. Norton who has been his guest.”

  “I must be quite sure your majesty is safe before I make any such communication to him,” she replied.

  “If Pope returns alone, you will know that I am gone,” said Charles.

  “Heaven grant that your majesty may find means of escape!” said Jane. “But I own I am not very sanguine, and I implore you not to run any heedless risk. I think there is great hazard in visiting Bristol.”

  She then quitted the room, and Charles, who found his confinement rather irksome, went to the stables, where he remained for some time. He did not return to the house, but passing through a retired part of the garden gained the long avenue leading to the mansion.

  While wending his way slowly beneath the overarching trees, he perceived a horseman at a distance riding towards the house. As the person drew nearer, he felt almost certain it must be Careless — but if so, Careless had abandoned his disguise as a groom, and attired himself in a costume more befitting his condition. Careless it proved to be, and no sooner did he discern his royal master, than he quickened his pace and rode up.

  “Well met, my liege,” he exclaimed, springing from his steed and saluting the king. “I have come in quest of your majesty.”

  “I hope you bring me good news,” replied Charles. “I see you have thrown off your disguise.”

  “I found it necessary to do so,” said Careless. “Habited as a groom I should never have been able to make any arrangements for your majesty. Luckily, at the Lamb, where I put up, I met with Tom Hornyold of Worcester, who not only supplied me with a good sum of money, but with a change of attire. Thus provided, I lost not a moment in endeavouring to carry out your majesty’s plans. By Tom Hornyold’s advice, I repaired to the Dolphin, a tavern frequented by ship-masters and seafaring men in the neighbourhood of the quay — —”

  “And kept by David Price,” interposed the king.

  “Your majesty knows the tavern?” exclaimed Careless, in surprise.

  “I have heard of it,” replied Charles. “But proceed. Did you see the tavern-keeper?”

  “I did, my liege, and found him exactly the man described by Tom Hornyold. I had a long conference with him in private, and told him I wanted to hire a vessel to convey me to France, and if that could not be managed, to Swansea. I said that I meant to take with me a young dame, to whom I was about to be wedded — but whose parents objected to the match — —”

  “Dame Gives, I suppose?” observed the king.

  “Exactly, my liege. I had previously obtained her consent to the scheme. But your majesty has not heard me out. I thought it necessary to acquaint David Price that I should be accompanied by a friend — a fugitive Royalist who had fought at Worcester — but I took care not to lead him to suspect that my friend was a person of rank.”

  “Well, what followed?”

  “He listened to all I said, and after some reflection, replied that he knew the master of a small lugger, who he thought might be induced by a good round sum to convey me, my intended bride, and my friend to Swansea. ‘I think the man is in the house now,’ he added. ‘If you desire it, I will call him in here, and you can speak to him yourself?’ I said this was exactly what I wished, so he went out, and shortly afterwards returned with a sturdy, broad-shouldered man, whom he introduced as Captain Rooker. The skipper had an honest look that prepossessed me in his favour. In order to give a friendly character to
the interview, David Price placed a flask of Nantz on the table, and filled a glass for each of us. My object having been explained to Captain Rooker, he entered upon the matter at once. He said it was a hazardous job, and might get him into trouble, but as he sympathised strongly with the Royalist party he would undertake to assist me, provided he was well paid. After some talk he agreed to take me and my companions to Swansea for fifty pounds — but he required twenty pounds down, which by David Price’s advice I paid him. I hope your majesty will think I have done well in making the arrangement.”

  “You have done admirably,” cried Charles, joyfully. “But when will Captain Rooker sail?”

  “To-night,” replied Careless. “To-morrow, I hope your majesty will be at Swansea. Once there, you cannot fail to secure a passage to France.”

  “Yes, I shall feel perfectly safe at Swansea. But where am I to embark?”

  “I am unable to inform your majesty at this moment. All I know is, that Captain Rooker means to send his lugger down the Avon to-day, and the vessel will wait for us at some point where we can safely go on board. Come to Bristol to-night, and then I shall be able to give you exact information.”

  “You have forestalled my plans,” said Charles. “I had arranged with Pope, the butler at Abbots Leigh, who turns out to be a trusty fellow, to go to Bristol to-night, and we meant to visit the Dolphin.”

  “Then let that tavern be our place of rendezvous,” rejoined Careless. “We will meet there at nine o’clock to-night. And now, unless your majesty has some further commands for me, I will take my departure.”

  “I have nothing more to say,” said the king. “At nine o’clock expect me at the Dolphin.”

  Thereupon, Careless mounted his steed, and bowing profoundly to the king, rode down the avenue.

  When he had disappeared, Charles turned and walked slowly towards the house. On arriving there, he repaired at once to the butler’s pantry, where he found Pope, and acquainted him with the arrangements made by Careless. The butler approved of the plan, and thought it could be safely carried out.

  Later on in the day the king had an opportunity of conferring with Jane Lane, who did not seek to disguise her uneasiness, when she was informed of the scheme.

  “I pray that your majesty may not be drawn into some snare,” she said. “I have great fears that the captain of the lugger may prove treacherous.”

  “Why should you distrust him?” cried Charles. “Careless has perfect faith in his honesty.”

  “I can give no reason for my suspicions,” she replied, “and I hope they may prove groundless. Zeal for your majesty makes me anxious. Pray allow me to consult with Mr. Norton.”

  “No,” replied the king, in a decided tone. “’Tis needless to do so.”

  “Your majesty, I am sure, has not a more devoted follower than Major Careless. But he may be deceived.”

  “Tut! these are idle fears!” exclaimed Charles. “I never knew you so timorous before. Ordinarily, you are full of courage.”

  “I cannot conquer my apprehensions, sire. I have a presentiment of ill, and I beseech you to listen to me.”

  “I can scarcely think that it is the high-spirited Jane Lane who speaks to me thus,” said the king.

  “Think of me as you please, my liege, but follow my counsel,” she rejoined. “Again, I entreat you to let me consult with Mr. Norton.”

  “No — no — no,” cried Charles. “Not till I am gone will I allow you to tell him who has been his guest.”

  Nothing more passed between them.

  The prospect of immediate escape, now held out to the king, threw him into such a state of excitement, that he felt it almost impossible to continue to play the sick man, and in order to avoid observation, he withdrew to his chamber, and remained there till evening, all his time being occupied in watching the sails on the broad estuary of the Severn.

  * * *

  CHAPTER VII.

  THE TAVERN-KEEPER AND THE SKIPPER.

  In the good old times supper was generally served at an hour which would not now be deemed particularly late for dinner, and after he had finished his attendance at the evening meal, Pope, who had obtained leave from his master to go to Bristol, set out with the king.

  Charles had no opportunity of bidding Jane farewell, but she sent him a message by the butler, expressing her heartfelt wishes for his success. Though it was nearly dark at the time that he and Pope started on their expedition, and the gloom was greatly increased by the thickness of the woods into which they had plunged, the butler was well acquainted with the road, so that they were in no danger of taking a wrong course.

  However, it was a relief when they emerged from the thicket, and gained the open ground, known as Stokeleigh Camp. As they reached the verge of the steep upland, the valley, deeply ploughed by the Avon, lay before them, while the lights of the city were distinguishable in the distance. Descending from this eminence, they pursued their course along the bank of the river, and met with no interruption.

  “The tide is flowing,” observed Pope. “Two hours hence the channel will be full. The moon will have risen by that time, and then there will be light enough for your majesty’s business.”

  “It is quite light enough now, methinks,” said Charles.

  “It is pitch dark at this moment in the gorge of the Avon,” rejoined Pope.

  Presently, they drew near St. Mary Redcliffe’s pile, the outline of which noble fabric could only be discerned through the gloom.

  They then entered a narrow street skirted on either side by old timber houses, and leading towards one of the city gates, which took its name from the church they had just passed. Pope readily satisfied the guard at Redcliffe-gate, and entering the city they proceeded towards the bridge.

  At that hour there were few people in the streets, which were almost dark owing to the overhanging stories of the old houses. Just after they had crossed the bridge and entered High-street, they encountered the city watch, which had begun to make its rounds, and were challenged by the captain, but allowed to pass on.

  Shortly after this encounter, Pope turned into a narrow street on the left, and descending it, they had nearly reached the quay, when Pope stopped, and pointed to a tavern on the right, above the open door of which hung a lamp that cast a feeble glimmer on the footway.

  “That is the Dolphin, my liege,” he said.

  Charles looked at the house for a few moments, as if debating within himself what he should do, and then said:

  “Go in first. I will follow.”

  Pope obeyed, and went into the tavern, Charles keeping close behind him. On crossing the threshold they found themselves in a large, low-roofed, old fashioned room, in which a number of seafaring men were seated at small tables drinking and smoking. The room was so dimly lighted, besides being filled with tobacco-smoke, that the whole of the guests could not be clearly distinguished, but amongst them were three or four individuals, whose puritanical garb and tall steeple-crowned hats showed that they were sectaries.

  Besides these there were a couple of troopers.

  On making this discovery, Charles felt inclined to beat a hasty retreat, and would have done so, if the tavern-keeper, David Price, who had been watching them, had not come forward, and beckoning them to follow him, ushered them into a small inner room, where they found Careless and a stout-built personage, whose appearance answered to the description Charles had received of Captain Rooker.

  Tall glasses and a big bowl of sack and sugar, or “Bristol Milk” as it was termed, were set on the table, and light was afforded by a lamp. Careless saluted the new-comers on their entrance, and begged them to be seated, but nothing passed till David Price had quitted the room.

  “This is Captain Rooker,” said Careless. “He has engaged to give us a passage to Swansea.”

  “Ay, it’s all right,” cried the captain, in rough but cheery accents. “My lugger has already gone down the river, and we shall follow her as soon as the tide suits, and that will be in abou
t two hours. The current will then be running down quickly. If so be you don’t like to embark on the quay, I can take you up somewhere lower down — say at the Gorge of the Avon.”

  “That’s a long way off,” observed Charles. “What’s your reason for wishing us to embark at that place, captain?”

  “Because it’s the safest spot I know of,” returned Rooker. “You need have no fear of anyone lying in wait for you there.”

  “No, we’ll make sure of that,” observed the king, glancing significantly at Careless.

  “Hark ye, captain,” said the latter, “you and I must not part company till we reach Swansea.”

  “Why, you don’t doubt me?” cried the skipper, gruffly.

  “No, I don’t doubt you, but I won’t let you out of my sight. We will arrange it in this way. You and I will start from the quay, and we will take up the others as proposed.”

  “Well, I’m agreeable,” said the skipper. “But I understood that a young lady was going with you. Is she to be left behind?”

  “No,” replied Careless. “My friend will bring her with him. You will find her near the high cross on St. Augustine’s Green,” he added to Charles. “I would go there myself, but — —”

  “You don’t want to leave me,” supplied the skipper, with a laugh.

  “Ay, that’s just it,” said Careless. “It won’t make much difference to you,” he continued, again addressing the king. “You need not come back. You can embark on the right bank of the river.”

  “Just as easily as on the left,” remarked Captain Rooker, “if you can only get down the cliffs without breaking your neck.”

  “I will guide him,” said Pope. “I know the path down the rocks.”

  “Well, the place will suit me,” said Charles. “So you may look out for us at the entrance of the gorge, captain.” Then, bending towards Careless, he added, in a low tone, “Don’t lose sight of this man.”