The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “We shall see, Justine. I mean to put on my military dress.”

  “That dress has put this whim in your head,” observed Justine. “I thought mischief would come of it, when your father gave it you. But he meant it to serve for a different purpose.”

  “He meant me to wear it, or he would never have given it me, Justine — and so I will — this very night.”

  “Then Heaven protect you!” exclaimed the housekeeper, with a groan. “I see it is vain to reason with you.”

  And she returned to the kitchen.

  For a few minutes Gertrude looked irresolute.

  She then went up-stairs to her own room, and opened a chest that contained some martial equipments — buff jerkin, baldrick, boots, and head- piece — all of light make, and small size. She knew they would fit her, for she had often tried them on.

  The sight of these accoutrements decided her.

  CHAPTER XIV

  The Nocturnal Thanksgiving

  THAT night the interior of the fine old Collegiate Church presented a most singular spectacle.

  The broad nave and aisles were filled with armed men, for all who came thither to offer thanksgiving had brought their weapons with them — muskets, pikes, and halberts.

  The place was imperfectly lighted, but the gloom heightened the effect of the scene. A lamp fixed here and there against the pillars partially illumined the aisles, and revealed the stern visages of those grouped around.

  The majority of the congregation were Presbyterians, but there were a great number of Round-heads present, easily distinguishable by their habiliments, and sour looks. These belonged to various sects, but they had come together on that night, which had been appointed for a general thanksgiving. Differences there might be among them on certain religious points, but they were all united against the common enemy — they were all violently opposed to the malignants and Papists. Among the assemblage thronging the nave were a large number of the militia, and several of their officers were with them. All the town guards — except those on duty — were present — Captain Cranage being conspicuous among them.

  Every portion of the sacred structure was invaded — the chapels were full, the choir was as crowded as the nave, and the stalls were occupied by the fiercest enemies of the Established Church, who would gladly have destroyed them.

  The service commenced with the psalm — O Lord, arise, and scatter thine enemies — and from the many earnest voices that joined in it, a fine effect was produced, but the sacred song lost much of its solemnity, since no organ accompanied it.

  The noble instrument which, until lately, had resounded in the church, its strains rolling along the roof, and filling every part of the pile, had been silenced by the rigorous Puritans.

  Amid the deep silence that followed the cessation of the singing, the impressive accents of Mr. Bourne were heard reading prayers, and the venerable figure of the divine could be seen in the pulpit.

  Mr. Bourne was listened to with the greatest attention, and when he had finished reading, another hymn was sung by the whole congregation.

  Then followed a fiery sermon by Warden Heyrick, that excited his hearers to the highest point, as was shown by the agitation pervading them.

  The warden had just ceased, when Rosworm entered the sacred edifice from the south porch, and made his way as quickly as he could along the crowded aisle to the Trafford Chapel.

  Here, among a number of armed men, he perceived a youthful soldier, accoutred in a buff coat and steel head-piece, and holding a musket in his hand. The features of this youth, so far as they could be discerned, were almost feminine, and his figure looked too slight for the martial task he had undertaken. Still, he seemed full of spirit.

  On receiving a sign from Rosworm he left the corner where he was standing, and joined him, and they quitted the church together.

  There was no moon, but the night was clear, and the stars shining brightly. Rosworm led his young companion across the churchyard towards the low stone wall that overlooked the river. Here were the best marksmen, and occasionally a shot was fired. On looking from the wall the dark outline of the bridge could be discerned, and the river glimmered as they approached it.

  The besiegers, as already mentioned, had now taken possession of a house at the foot of the bridge, and kept up a constant fire against the guard at the barrier, but without doing much damage.

  Satisfied with this inspection, Rosworm retraced his steps. The service was not yet over in the church, and the lights gleaming from the painted windows of the massive pile produced a very striking effect.

  “Thou hadst best go home,” said Rosworm, to his daughter. “I am about to mount the tower. Thou wilt find the ascent fatiguing.”

  But Gertrude would not be dissuaded, and entering by a low door at which a sentinel was stationed, they began to mount a circular stone staircase, that brought them to the belfry. A small lamp here and there fixed against the walls showed them the way.

  The scene in the belfry was exceedingly curious, the place being filled with musketeers, several of whom were seated on benches, and making a hearty supper of cold meat and bread. The room was lighted up by a couple of lamps. Telling the men not to disturb themselves, Rosworm mounted with his daughter to the summit of the tower. Only a couple of musketeers were on the watch, but the others could be instantly summoned, if required.

  From this elevated position, of course, the bridge could be discerned through the gloom, and the firing of the besiegers distinctly seen and heard. Looking towards the town, the buildings and fortifications could be imperfectly distinguished, but nothing was visible beyond the walls.

  After contemplating this curious prospect for a few minutes, and pointing out the different barriers to his daughter, Rosworm bade the musketeers keep strict watch, and telling them he should return as soon as he had made his rounds, he descended with Gertrude to the belfry, and thence to the churchyard.

  The congregation were then issuing from the church, but Rosworm hurried on with Gertrude through the dark and silent streets, through the now deserted market-place, and halted not till they reached the walls. Everywhere the sentinels were at their posts.

  Turning off on the right, Rosworm next bent his course towards Deansgate, but halted before he got to the barrier. The post he had chosen commanded the end of the street, and looked towards Alport Lodge. All was buried in obscurity in that direction, and the mansion was quite undistinguishable.

  “You will be able to witness the sortie from this point,” said Rosworm. “I must leave you for a short time, but you will be perfectly safe here. Do not quit the spot on any account.”

  And committing her to the care of a sentinel, he moved off.

  CHAPTER XV

  The Sortie

  QUARTER of an hour elapsed, and Gertrude began to feel uneasy, but the sentinel reassured her, and shortly afterwards, while looking towards the park, she discerned a number of armed men issue from the gate, and move stealthily and silently towards Alport Lodge.

  Feeling certain this must be Captain Bradshaw and his party, she would fain have joined them, but the sentinel would not let her stir.

  The party quickly disappeared in the gloom, and for a few minutes all continued quiet.

  A loud discharge of musketry then broke the stillness. At the same time, a bright light showed that the party had succeeded in setting Alport Lodge on fire. Whatever efforts were made to extinguish the conflagration proved unsuccessful. Built almost entirely of timber, the old hall burnt with the greatest rapidity. By this light the Royalist soldiers and their leaders could be seen actively, but unavailingly employed in trying to save the mansion from the entire destruction that threatened it.

  Meanwhile, Bradshaw and his party having successfully accomplished their purpose without any loss, hurried back as fast as they could, and acting upon Rosworm’s instructions, made an attack upon the battery. But being hotly pursued by a company of dragoons headed by Frank Standish, they were compelled to beat a hast
y retreat, and several of them were cut down, or made prisoners before they could reach the barrier at the end of Deansgate.

  Standish attempted to follow them, but was driven back. Resolved, however, to gain an entrance at some other point, he rode further on, and then dismounting with a dozen men, scaled the walls and killed the sentinel who opposed him. He might have succeeded in his purpose, had not Rosworm appeared at the juncture with a party of musketeers, and forced him to retire.

  All Standish gained by the exploit was a prisoner. Having captured a young soldier on the walls, he carried him off in his retreat.

  Little did he suspect at the time that the prisoner he had made was no other than Gertrude Rosworm.

  CHAPTER XVI

  The Burning of Alport Lodge

  ON that night, Lord Derby, whose head-quarters were at Alport Lodge, retired early to rest, being greatly fatigued.

  Since the hall was well guarded he did not for a moment imagine it would be attacked, or if any such rash attempt should be made, he never dreamed it would prove successful.

  Conceiving himself, therefore, in perfect security, he slept soundly, but was roused from his slumbers by shouts and the loud beating of a drum, followed by the discharge of musketry.

  These alarming sounds announced that the foe was upon them, and springing from his couch, he proceeded hastily to attire himself, and had nearly completed his toilette, when Frank Standish rushed into the room, with dismay depicted on his countenance.

  “You look scared,” said the earl. “What has happened? Speak!”

  “A sortie has been made from the town, my lord,” replied Standish.

  “But no harm has been done?” interrupted the earl.

  “Much mischief, I grieve to say, has been done, my lord,” rejoined Standish. “We have been taken by surprise. The enemy contrived to pass the sentinels unperceived.”

  “But they have been driven off?” cried the earl.

  “They have, my lord. But they have succeeded in their aim. They have set fire to the hall.”

  “Set fire to the hall!” exclaimed the earl, rushing to the window, and looking forth. “Gracious heaven, it is so!”

  “Every effort, I fear, to extinguish the fire will be unavailing, my lord,” said Standish.

  “I hope not,” cried the earl. “‘Twill be grievous, indeed, if this fine old mansion should be destroyed. That calamity must be prevented if possible. I will see to the work myself. Do not tarry here. Pursue the foe, and bring back all the prisoners you can.”

  Standish required no further orders, but hurrying off, mounted his horse, and accompanied by a party of troopers, rode swiftly towards the town — with what result has already been shown.

  On descending to the lower part of the house, Lord Derby found the whole place in confusion.

  Already the fire had made considerable progress, and the entrance-hall and passages were filled with smoke. Serving-men and soldiers were hurrying hither and thither; removing various articles under the direction of Sir Edward Mosley, who maintained the greatest composure at this trying juncture. When Lord Derby expressed his belief that the hall might yet be preserved, Sir Edward shook his head.

  “Alas! no,” he said. “The place is doomed.”

  The earl then went forth into the courtyard, where he found Sir Thomas Tyldesley, Sir Gilbert Gerard, Sir Alexander Radcliffe, Sir Gilbert Hoghton, Mr. Prestwich, and others, who were encouraging the soldiers in their efforts to extinguish the fire.

  But it was evidently impossible to arrest the progress of destruction. The fire burnt swiftly, the building being old and dry, and constructed, as we have already explained, of wood and plaster.

  The incendiaries had done their work well. They had set fire to some outbuildings, which quickly communicated with the mansion. One side of the quadrangle was entirely on fire, and the flames were extending rapidly. Unfortunately, no water could be procured.

  By command of the Earl of Derby an attempt was made to pull down a portion of the building, but the flames advanced with such rapidity that it could not be accomplished. They had now reached the roof, and bursting forth, soared aloft, lighting up a portion of the park, and even illuminating the walls of the town, and the lofty tower of the Collegiate Church.

  Viewed from the south walls, the spectacle of the burning mansion was exceedingly fine, and was contemplated by several hundreds of the inhabitants who looked upon it as an interposition of Heaven in their behalf. Even the Royalists themselves felt dismayed.

  A new source of alarm now arose. Sir Edward Mosley suddenly recollected that a couple of barrels of powder were stowed away in a cellar beneath the house, and he gave orders that they should be immediately removed. Several soldiers were willing to make the hazardous attempt. But it was now too late. The fire had got so near the entrance that no one could descend into the cellar with safety. The only hope was that the barrels might escape the sparks.

  However, since the risk was imminent, all the persons assembled in the court- yard, or on the terrace in front of the house, including the servants, men and women, were ordered to withdraw at once to a certain distance from the burning mansion.

  The order was promptly obeyed. Everybody hurried off, and they had only just reached a place of safety when a tremendous explosion took place, completely destroying the house, scattering the burning fragments in every direction, and seeming to shake the very ground.

  A grand, but terrible sight, it powerfully affected all the beholders. Lord Derby, who with Sir Edward Mosley, Sir Thomas Tyldesley, and the others, was standing at a distance, expressed his great concern.

  “You will now have to seek a lodging elsewhere, my lord,” observed Sir Edward Mosley.

  “Come with me to Ordsall,” said Sir Alexander Radcliffe.

  “No, I shall not leave the spot,” rejoined the earl, in a sombre voice. “As soon as it is dark I will attack the town.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” remarked Sir Thomas Tyldesley.

  The destruction of Alport Lodge was witnessed with exultation from the walls, where, as we have said, a great number of the townspeople were now gathered. Their rejoicing found expression in a hymn, in which so many voices joined, that it reached the ears of the Royalists.

  Amongst those on the walls was Rosworm. But he was greatly troubled. His beloved daughter had disappeared, and no doubt had been carried off as a prisoner.

  CHAPTER XVII

  Whither Gertrude was taken

  NEXT morning, as soon as it became light, the blackened ruins of the fine old hall presented a dismal spectacle, and inspired all the Royalists who gazed upon them with a fierce desire of vengeance.

  Soon afterwards, the ordnance at the battery began to play upon the town, and the firing was continued without intermission for nearly three hours, but without doing any material damage.

  An attack was likewise made by the Earl of Derby in person on the battery at the end of Deans-gate, but the defence of Captain Bradshaw and his men was so determined that an entrance could not be gained, and the earl, to his great mortification, was compelled to retire.

  Sir Thomas Tyldesley attacked the barrier in Market-street Lane, but with equal ill success, and the constant attempts by the Royalist soldiers to scale the walls at various points, resulted in failure.

  The same ill fortune attended Lord Molineux and Sir John Girlington in Salford. The bridge was so stoutly defended by Rosworm that they could not cross it, and sustained heavy loss in the attempt.

  Finding that no impression could be made upon the town, and apprehensive that another sortie might be made at night by Captain Bradshaw, Lord Derby caused a deep trench to be digged at the end of Deansgate, and though the engineers were protected by a large party of musketeers, three or four were shot before the work could be completed.

  During the greater part of the morning, Frank Standish had been so much occupied that he had no time to attend to the prisoners, but committed their charge to a sergeant, by whom they were placed
in a farm-house, about a quarter of a mile off, a guard being stationed near the building to prevent their escape.

  Later in the day, Standish rode to this farmhouse, and dismounting at the door entered the building.

  While he was looking about, the farmer’s wife, a middle-aged woman, came to him, and said:

  “We have made a strange discovery. One of the prisoners who was brought from the town last night proves to be a young damsel.”

  Standish uttered an exclamation of surprise.

  “What is more, pursued the woman, she is the daughter of Colonel Rosworm, the German engineer, who has fortified the town. My daughter Joan recognised her at once.”

  “This is strange, indeed!” cried Standish. “Where is she?”

  “In an inner room,” replied the woman. “Joan is with her. She persuaded her to lay aside her soldier’s dress she had put on, and has lent her a gown that fits her exactly.”

  “Take me to her at once, I pray you,” said Standish.

  The good woman complied, and ushered him into a small room, where he found Gertrude and the rustic maiden, who was really very pretty.

  “Little did I dream what a prize I had made,” said Standish. “But you will not have to endure a long captivity. Before night you shall be exchanged.”

  “I have nothing to complain of,” said Gertrude. “Good Mistress Bancroft and her daughter Joan have been exceedingly kind to me. But, I fear, my father will be uneasy about me.”

  At this juncture, a noise was heard outside the cottage, and it presently appeared that it was caused by the arrival of the Earl of Derby, who came to look after the prisoners. His lordship was greatly surprised to learn that Rosworm’s daughter was a captive.

  “I have just caused a parley to be sounded,” he said, and am about to send a messenger to the governor. You shall go with him. Tell your father that, but for him, I should long since have taken the town. Had he served the King as well as he has served the Parliament, the rebellion would soon have been crushed.”