Throughout the siege, the inhabitants continued their religious meetings, their public preachings in the market-place, at the Cross, and elsewhere — their constant psalm-singing. Every one lent aid, fearing to be treated as a malignant if he stayed at home. Gentlemen employed themselves in casting bullets, and preparing matches for firelocks. Gentlewomen rendered all the assistance in their power, and brought meat and drink for the soldiers.
When Sir Thomas Tyldesley and his dragoons were driven back from Deansgate by Captain Bradshaw — when Sir Gilbert Hoghton was repulsed by Captain Radcliffe — there was great rejoicing among the saints, and their confidence, shaken for the moment, was fully restored.
When Lord Molineux and Sir John Girlington were determined to pass the bridge, and were driven back by the marksmen on the walls of the churchyard, there was again great rejoicing among the saints, and Rosworm was hailed as their deliverer. Shouts of triumph everywhere resounded throughout the town, and hymns were sung, but Rosworm was not to be deceived. He felt that some successes had been gained, but he knew that far more must be done, ere the town could be effectually delivered from its powerful foe.
Once more he ascended the church-tower to see how matters stood.
On looking towards Alport Lodge, he could easily perceive that preparations for a general assault were being actively made. For the moment the artillerymen at the battery had ceased firing, but it was evident they would recommence very shortly.
In Salford it was the same thing. There the besiegers were preparing for a fresh attack. Having obtained possession of a couple of houses at the foot of the bridge that afforded them shelter, they could cover the advance of the assailing party.
At length the designs of the Earl of Derby became manifest. Determined not to be baffled, he sent off a party of men under the command of Captain Windebank to set fire to two large barns standing at no great distance from the walls.
At the same time another party was despatched to set fire to eight or ten houses at the end of Deansgate. This was done in spite of the efforts of the besieged to prevent it, and the houses soon burst into flames. As the wind was blowing at the time from the south-west, the flames and smoke were driven upon Bradshaw and his men, and almost blinded them. Moreover, it was feared that the conflagration would extend to the town, and such would undoubtedly have been the case, had not the wind suddenly changed — a circumstance not unnaturally regarded as a special providence.
While the fire was raging, a large party of Royalists, under the command of Sir Gilbert Gerard, made another attempt to enter the town, but were baffled by the bravery of Captain Bradshaw and his men, supported by a band of musketeers sent to their assistance by Rosworm. After a sharp encounter the Royalists were driven back with considerable loss.
No further attack was made at the time on the barrier and walls, but the besiegers having possessed themselves of a house at the foot of the bridge, as previously stated, kept up a constant fire throughout the night.
CHAPTER XII
Captain Cranage
IN the conflict at the barrier in Deansgate, Frank Standish, who accompanied Sir Gilbert Gerard, had his horse shot under him, and while on the ground received a thrust from a pike in the arm, that prevented him from using his sword, and he was therefore obliged to surrender.
Taken to the college, where his wound was dressed, he was still in the surgeon’s hands, when Rosworm came into the room with some other prisoners, and recognising him, asked if he was badly hurt.
“Not much,” replied the young man.
“You look very faint,” said the engineer. “My house is close by; go there and get a cup of wine. My daughter will attend to you. I shall return shortly. I will be answerable for him,” he added to the guard.
This was enough. As soon as the surgeon had finished his task, Standish was allowed to depart, and at once repaired to Rosworm’s dwelling.
He found Gertrude in the houseplace, examining a musket, which she had been cleaning. She seemed greatly surprised to see him.
He told her he was a prisoner and wounded, and added that her father had sent him to the house to be cared for.
“In that case you are welcome,” she said. “Sit down, I pray you.”
He gladly complied, and opening a cupboard, she filled a drinking-cup with wine and set it before him.
“You have been unlucky,” she remarked, as he emptied the cup. “Your lord has not found it so easy to take the town as he expected.”
“No,” he replied. “The inhabitants may thank your father for the defence they have been able to make. Had he not been here to aid the rebels, Lord Derby would now be master of the town. But I see you have just laid down a musket. Have you used it?”
“Not yet,” she replied. “My father will not allow me to go forth, or I should have done.”
“He is quite right,” said Standish. “You are better at home.”
“I do not think so,” she rejoined. “I cannot hear the thunder of the cannon or the rattle of musketry without longing to mix in the fray. Where were you wounded?”
“In an attack on the Deansgate barrier,” he replied. “My horse was shot under me, and I received a thrust from a pike ere I could rise. For a moment I thought all was over with me.”
“Would I had been there to help you!” she exclaimed.
“I wish you had,” he rejoined. “I met with bad usage. Although I had surrendered, the leader of the town-guard, Captain Cranage, would have cut me down, if Captain Bradshaw had not prevented him.”
“That was a base act,” she cried. “I do not like these Roundheads, but their cause is just.”
“Do not mistake,” cried Standish. “Their cause is not just. They are rebels, and have thrown the whole kingdom into confusion. It grieves me to think that your father has joined with them. Ah! there the psalm-singing knaves are at work again,” he added, as voices were heard outside singing a hymn.
As the hymn ceased, the door opened, and the stalwart figure of Captain Cranage was seen.
“That is the man who would have slain me when I had surrendered,” remarked Standish.
“What do I behold?” cried Cranage. “Has a Papist and a malignant taken refuge here. My men shall drag him forth, and put him to death.”
“I will resist!” cried Standish, springing to his feet.
Then recollecting that he was disabled, and without a sword, he looked confounded.
“He must not be molested,” interposed Gertrude. “My father has sent him.”
“This is the second time since I have surrendered that you have threatened to take my life,” said Standish. “I am a prisoner on parole.”
“Thou hast richly deserved death,” said Cranage; “and had I been in command at the Deansgate barrier, thou shouldst have died. Thou wert present when the houses were set on fire.”
“What of that?” cried Gertrude. “The men had received their orders from Lord Derby. Did you think this officer would prevent them?”
“I know not,” said Cranage. “But since you plead for him, fair damsel, I will spare him.”
“I would not owe my life to thee,” said Standish, contemptuously.
“If you take him hence, you will greatly offend my father,” remarked Gertrude.
“Then I will abide his coming,” said Cranage, seating himself. “Give me a cup of wine, I pray you, fair damsel. I have had much hard work, and would fain recruit my forces.”
Gertrude again repaired to the cupboard and set a flask before him.
“I drink to your health, fair damsel,” he said, eyeing her tenderly as he filled his glass. “You are aware that we have gained a complete victory over the malignants. We have beaten them off in every attack, and their cannon have not done us any hurt.”
“It is not well to exult,” said Gertrude. “The fight is not over yet.”
“The Lord is with us, therefore we cannot fail,” said Cranage. “Ere many days, the town will be delivered from the enemy.”
�
��Should it be so, it will have been preserved by Colonel Rosworm alone,” said Standish. “To him the entire credit of the defence is due.”
“Humph!” exclaimed Cranage. “Methinks we have done our part.”
And he was proceeding with some further self-laudation, when Rosworm himself came in, accompanied by Colonel Holland.
Standish bowed to the governor, who courteously returned the salutation.
“I have some intelligence that will be satisfactory to you, Captain Standish,” he said. “The Earl of Derby has just sent an officer to propose an exchange of prisoners. I have agreed to the proposition. You will, therefore, be exchanged for Captain Booth, who was captured in a sally that he made yesterday.
“I rejoice to hear it, colonel,” replied Standish. “I have been very well treated since I have fallen into your hands — still I shall be glad to get back.”
“You will be able to inform Lord Derby as to our condition,” said the governor.
“I shall give his lordship a correct report, rest assured, colonel,” replied Standish.
“That is all I desire,” said the governor. “Captain Cranage,” he continued, turning to that personage, who had risen on his entrance, “I notice that you have a small party of men outside.”
“I have, colonel,” replied the other. “Have you any orders?”
“Conduct Captain Standish to the Deansgate barrier, where he will be exchanged for Captain Booth. At the same time, his sword must be restored to him.”
“It shall be done, colonel,” replied Cranage. “Come with me, sir,” he added to Standish.
“Adieu, captain,” said Rosworm. “You have not had a long captivity to endure.”
“Nor has it been disagreeable,” replied Standish, glancing at Gertrude. “I am much beholden both to you and your daughter.”
Formally saluting the governor, and bowing to Rosworm and Gertrude, he went forth with Cranage, who did not like the task imposed upon him, but could not decline it.
Many a scowling look was fixed upon Standish as he passed through the streets with his guard, and many a deep malediction reached his ear.
As usual, crowds were collected in the marketplace, singing hymns, or listening to preachers. The triumphant looks of these persons showed they were exulting in their success.
As the firing from the enemy’s battery had ceased, Deansgate was full of soldiers, but they readily made way for Cranage and his party. On arriving at the barrier, they found Captain Bradshaw, with a guard drawn up beside him. In the midst of the guard were half a dozen Royalists — officers and men.
On the further side of the barrier was Captain Windebank, on horseback, attended by a small party of dragoons. He had brought Captain Booth and Captain Hyde, with five Parliamentary soldiers to be exchanged.
All the prisoners on either side being now assembled, the exchange was promptly effected.
The Republican officers and men were welcomed with shouts, while the Royalists, attended by the escort, marched on to the battery, where they were greeted in like manner by the artillerymen. Here Standish received Captain Windebank’s hearty congratulations on his release.
CHAPTER XIII
Rosworm proposes to burn Alport Lodge
AFTER Standish had been taken away, Colonel Holland and Rosworm continued for a short time in consultation.
Since they did not retire to the inner room, but remained in the houseplace, Gertrude, who was occupied in some household matters, necessarily overheard their discourse.
“I fear our ammunition may run short,” said the governor. “We have not more powder than will suffice for to-morrow, and the match is nearly exhausted.”
“We must obtain a fresh supply of both from the enemy,” replied Rosworm. “That must be the main object of the sally to be made to-night. We may not be able to carry off any of the cannon from the battery, but we can secure some powder and match.”
“That will be a great help to us,” said the governor. “The supplies we expected from An-coats Hall have been cut off.”
“Hitherto we have done well,” said Rosworm. “But, to-morrow, our good fortune may desert us.”
“I trust not,” said Colonel Holland. “But wherefore these misgivings?”
“I have no misgivings,” replied Rosworm. “I am confident as ever. But I feel certain the Earl of Derby meditates a grand attack, and most probably will put his plan in execution to-morrow — if he be not prevented.”
“How can we prevent him?” asked Colonel Holland.
“By striking a heavy blow to-night,” replied Rosworm. “He tried to burn down the town. We must retaliate.”
“You do not propose to set fire to Salford?” cried the governor. “Such a step would be highly prejudicial to our cause. We have many partisans in the place.”
“No, I do not design to fire Salford,” said Rosworm. “I propose to attack the earl in his head-quarters, and burn down Alport Lodge.”
“That would be a heavy blow, indeed,” rejoined the governor. “But a courageous man is needed to strike it.”
“Captain Bradshaw is the man,” said Rosworm. “I would execute the project myself, but I cannot quit my post. This is my plan: A sortie must take place at midnight. The night will be dark, so that it will favour the design. Bradshaw must sally forth with a party of fifty men, and make his way, as best he can, to the lodge. He may not succeed in passing the sentinels unobserved, but he must try to do so. Should he reach the house, he must throw combustibles into it and into the out-buildings. This done, he must hurry back to attack the battery and seize upon the ammunition.”
“But he may want aid in this bold attempt,” observed the governor.
“True,” replied Rosworm. “Captain Radcliffe and Captain Booth must hold themselves in readiness; and as soon as they perceive that Alport Lodge is on fire, must sally forth — each with a party of fifty men — and make for the battery, to render aid in case of need.”
“The plan is excellent, and cannot fail,” said Colonel Holland. “I will go at once, and give the necessary orders to Bradshaw and the others.”
“Impress upon them the necessity of caution,” observed Rosworm. “If the plan is betrayed it is ruined.”
“No imprudence need be feared on their part,” said Colonel Holland. “I may have to consult with you again. Shall I find you here?”
“You will find me in the churchyard, with the marksmen,” replied Rosworm.
The governor then departed on his errand.
“Give me a cup of wine, child,” said Rosworm to his daughter.
“Father,” said Gertrude, as she brought him the wine. “I should like to witness this nocturnal sortie.”
“Thou may’st see it from the church-tower,” he replied. “But there will be nothing visible till the hall is fired.”
“I mean I should like to go with Captain Bradshaw’s party,” she remarked.
“Nonsense,” he cried. “They will run great risk.”
“I do not care for the risk,” she rejoined. “Let me accompany them.”
“Thou art mad to make such a foolish request.”
“Nay, I am quite serious, father!”
“Then I should be more mad to grant it,” he rejoined.
“I will put on male attire,” she said. “I have a doublet that would fit me, and you yourself have taught me how to fire a pistol, and use a sword.”
“But I never meant thee to join in a midnight sortie,” he cried sharply. “Dismiss the notion at once.”
“I have made up my mind to go, father,” she rejoined. “And you know I am very self-willed.”
“Bah! thou art only jesting. If I thought you were in earnest, I would lock you in your chamber.”
“That wouldn’t prevent me from going,” she exclaimed, with a laugh. “I could easily get out of the window.”
“Enough of this,” he cried, rising from his seat. “I know you too well to believe you capable of such folly. Do as you will, I shall not control you
.”
“Then you give your consent?”
“Assuredly not,” he rejoined. “If you are really curious to witness the sortie, you can accompany me when I make my rounds. But I ought to mention that a great thanksgiving meeting will be held at the church to-night. Thou hadst best attend it.”
“I will — but I must not lose the sortie.”
“Well! well! thou art wilful, and must be humoured. Go to the Trafford Chapel — on the south side of the nave — thou know’st it — I will come to thee there.”
“At what hour does the service commence?”
“Not till late — but it will be over long before midnight,” he rejoined.
“That is all I wanted to know,” she returned. “You will find me in the Trafford Chapel.”
Her father looked as if he had something more to say by way of caution, but he left it unsaid, and kissing her on the brow, took up his musket, and went forth.
No sooner was he gone than Gertrude went to the door of the kitchen, which was situated at the back of the house, and called out:
“Justine — come here — I want to speak to you.”
The summons was immediately answered by an elderly and decently attired woman, who acted as Rosworm’s housekeeper.
“What think you, Justine?” cried Gertrude, clapping her hands with delight. “At length, I have my wish. My father has promised to take me with him to see the sortie to-night.”
“But not to let you join it,” remarked Justine.
“No, but I may do so, for all that,” said Gertrude, with a singular look.
“I hope not,” observed the housekeeper, in a severe tone. “You quite astound me! A young damsel join a midnight sortie — I never heard of such a thing. Why, you are certain to be killed.”
“Not till I have killed half a dozen of the enemy, Justine.”
“Then, indeed, you would deserve to be shot. But I know your good father won’t allow you to expose yourself to any such risk.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 759