With Marlborough to Malplaquet: A Story of the Reign of Queen Anne

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER IV

  THE RESCUE

  Matthew stopped short, unable to move a yard further, his eyes fixedupon the slight form hanging so dangerously high above him. It wastruly an awful moment for both the lads, a moment never afterwards tobe forgotten by either of them. The time of suspense was but seconds;it seemed years. But George, his knees firmly pressed against the lowparapet wall that ran along the top in front of the house, had nodifficulty in supporting the weight, and not too much in actuallyhauling up his living burden. Another moment and he had seized one armwith a strong grip; the next he had pulled the child to him on theroof.

  "Safe! thank God!" he murmured, almost breathless with his exertionsand still more with his agitation.

  Safe! As if to mock him a great tongue of flame shot from the windowfrom which rescuer and rescued had but now emerged, and a cry ofdespair rose from Matthew below.

  "Run for the library!" Blackett shouted, a thought suddenly strikinghim. "Run, run!" And the boy pointed to a sort of wing, an addition tothe mansion recently made by the Squire, and devoted to his books andthe extensive and valuable collection of antiquities and curiositiesof which he was very proud. This building was connected with the bodyof the house by only one small arched door, on the ground-floor.

  George understood, and cautiously but rapidly edging his way along thebroad leaden gutter behind the parapet, he drew the girl, by this timeconscious once more, but dazed with fright, to the outlying portion ofthe roof, which was as yet untouched by the flames. He peered over forMatthew, but could see nothing of him.

  For the moment the two were in no danger. But the flames were alreadylicking the portion of the library immediately adjoining the houseproper; soon the whole wing must be ablaze. The boy gazed wildlyaround, to see if there was any means, however risky or evendesperate, by which escape might be made. He saw nothing but theslender branches of a magnificent yew that grew in the retired gardenbehind and close to the library. These boughs overtopped even the tallbuilding, and some of them overhung the roof a little. But the nearestof them was ten feet above the heads of the two, and hopelessly out ofreach. Would that some great gust of wind would drive those brancheswithin clutching distance!

  This tantalizing thought had hardly taken possession of George's mindwhen his attention was attracted by shouts from below. Peering down hewas astonished to see Matthew rapidly climbing the yew. The samethought had struck him also! Up the climber swarmed, higher andhigher. Then he began without hesitation to crawl along some of thetopmost branches that overhung the library roof. Outwards he crept,embracing tightly half a dozen of the long thin boughs; they seemedbut little more than twigs.

  "You'll be dashed to pieces!" Mary cried; "go back, go back!"

  "Haven't you a rope anywhere?" George asked eagerly.

  "Every rope and ladder locked up in the stable yard," was thebreathless reply, "and the men away. This is our only chance. Catchhold."

  As Matthew spoke, the end of the long swaying branches, swinging everlower, came down to the roof, and a good yard or more of the greenerywas within George's grasp. Matthew lay at full length on hiscollection of boughs in order that his weight might keep the endsdown. It was a precarious position truly, but Matthew was very light,and had absolutely no fear for himself.

  "Lash her well to three or four of the strongest of the boughs," hesaid hurriedly; "give the rope half a dozen good turns about her waistand the boughs. They are yew and very tough. Quick!"

  Hardly knowing what he was doing, George obeyed. He was a bit of asailor, and in a couple of minutes he had bound the child to thebranches in a way to satisfy even Matthew, who still lay amongst thefoliage, some three yards away.

  "Now cling for your life to the rest of the branches you've got,Fairburn, till I go down to the long thick arm there below. Can youhold?"

  "Yes!" cried the other cheerfully, light beginning to dawn upon him."I can hold on; you go down."

  Matthew moved down, and the branches, relieved of their burden, beganto exert a considerable upward pull. But the weight of the boy and thegirl held down the ends, and they awaited Matthew's call. It sooncame, though the interval of waiting seemed an age.

  "Now then!" came the shout, and George could see his quondam enemyfirmly seated on a stout branch that had been cut shorter, its foliagehaving interfered with the light of one of the windows of the library.Matthew was sitting astride, his legs firmly gripping the branch. "Nowdrop yourselves over," he went on. "You'll fall right on the top ofme, and I'll grab you. Throw one arm round Mary's waist, and thenseize the branches with both hands and stick tight."

  "I'll stick like a leech," George replied, "but it's a fearful drop."

  "There's no other way, none! See! the blaze has caught the libraryroof behind you! It will be upon you in another minute. Drop over, forpity's sake!"

  George set his teeth, placed one arm round the child's slender form,gripped hard a handful of the pliant boughs, and dropped over theparapet, Mary closing her eyes in her mortal fright. With a huge swingthe branches bent, and in an instant the two were swaying a goodfifteen feet below, George almost jerked from his hold. The boughscreaked but did not snap.

  "Thank heaven!" cried Matthew, "I have you!" And reaching up, he got agrip of George's foot and dragged down the swinging pair.

  "Grab the branch with your legs, Fairburn! and I'll cut Mary clear."

  No sooner said than done. By the aid of a good clasp-knife Matthewsevered the cords and secured his little sister, her weight, however,as it came upon him, almost knocking him from his perch. But he helddesperately, and in another moment had Mary on the branch beside him.Then George, throwing his legs apart, suddenly loosed his hold of thebranches and dropped also astride of the bough, which he grasped tightwith both hands. He swung round and hung from the branch headdownwards. But the next minute he had righted himself, and was readyto help with Mary.

  The rescue was complete. To guide the child along the branch, towardsthe middle of the tree, and then to lower her from limb to limb of theold yew was mere play to the two boys. The three dropped the last fouror five feet to earth just as a man rushed forward with a great cry,to clasp in his arms the fainting girl.

  "God is merciful!" he ejaculated. It was Squire Blackett, who hadarrived just in time to see his beloved child saved from an awfulfate.

  For a few moments father and children clung to each other. When atlength they looked round to express their gratitude to the pluckyrescuer, he was nowhere to be seen. Seeing a great crowd of theBlackett pitmen arrive with a run, George had felt that he could be ofno more use, and slipping into the wood had made for home. He wantedno thanks, and moreover the brig was to sail at four in the morning,at which time the tide would serve.

  "He's gone--George has gone!" cried Matthew.

  "We can never repay him," murmured Mr. Blackett. "We must go on to seehim at the earliest moment in the morning."

  When Mr. Blackett, with Matthew and the rescued Mary, drove early nextday to the Fairburns' house, it was only to learn that George hadsailed for London some hours before. There was no help for it, and allthey could do was to overwhelm the father and mother with words ofgratitude and praise. They informed the Fairburns that by theexertions of the men the library and its contents had been saved; therest of the mansion was left a wreck. Mrs. Maynard had been drawn fromthe mass of burning rubbish at the foot of the staircase, and was nowlying between life and death.

  George had had a bad quarter of an hour at the parting from hisparents, but by the time the vessel felt the swell of the open sea hewas full of spirits again. The sea voyage, even in a dirty collier,was a delight. Then there was London the wonderful at the end of it,and he had long desired to see the great capital of which he had heardand read so much.

  The London of Queen Anne's reign was not the huge overgrown London ofour own day. But it was a notable city, and to George Fairburn and hiscontemporaries the grandest city in the world. The Great Fire hadtaken place but twenty years before George
was born, yet already thecity had risen from its ashes, with wider and nobler streets, and witha multitude of handsome churches which Wren had built. The new andmagnificent St. Paul's, the great architect's proudest work, wasrapidly approaching completion. George's father had witnessed theopening for worship of a portion of the cathedral five years before,and soon the stupendous dome, which was beginning to tower high abovethe city, would be finished. Sir Thomas Gresham's Exchange, the centreof the business life of the city, had been replaced by another and notless noble edifice. The great capital contained a population of wellover half a million souls, a number that seemed incredible to thosewho knew only Bristol, and York, and Norwich, the English cities nextin size. The houses stretched continuously from the city boundary toWestminster, and soon the two would be but one vast town. George hadheard much of London Bridge, with its shops and its incessant streamof passengers and vehicles, and he hoped to visit the pleasantvillages of Kensington and Islington, and many another that lay withina walk of great London. He hoped one day, too, to get a glimpse ofsome of the clever wits, Mat Prior, Wycherley, Dick Steele, andothers, who haunted the coffee-houses of the capital, and of therising young writer, Mr. Addison, not to mention a greater than themall, the incomparable Sir Isaac Newton. For George had ever been agreat reader, even while he loved a good game as well as any boy inthe land.

  It was many a long year, however, ere George Fairburn was destined tosee the mighty capital. Once fairly at sea, the skipper brought outand mounted his four little guns, to the lad's huge joy.

  "You mean business, captain," he remarked with a merry laugh.

  "I do, if there comes along a Frenchy who won't leave us alone," theold fellow replied, "leastways if she isn't too big a craft for usaltogether."

  The evening was coming in, the town of Yarmouth faintly visiblethrough the haze, when suddenly the crew of the _Ouseburn Lassie_became aware of a big vessel in the offing.

  "She's giving chase, by thunder!" cried the skipper, after he hadtaken a long look through the glass; and all was excitement on boardthe brig. Anxiously all hands watched the stranger, and at last theshout went up, "She's a Frenchy!"

  "Aye, and a big 'un at that," somebody added.

  Hastily the preparations were made to receive her, though the captainshook his head even as he gave his orders.

  "It's no go," he whispered to George. "We've got these four smallguns, but what's the good? We've nobody to man 'em; only a couple on'em, leastways. And the Frenchman's a monster."

  "We'll show them a bit of fight all the same," George put in eagerly.The old salt shook his head again.

  Quickly the big vessel overhauled the collier brig, and signals weremade to pull down her flag, whereupon the Englishman grunted.

  Within a minute a puff was seen, and a round shot whizzed close pastthe _Ouseburn Lassie's_ bows.

  "Give them a reply!" George urged in great excitement.

  "Wait a bit, my lad," and the skipper bided his time.

  "Now!" came the order at length, and a couple of eight-pound ballsflew straight to the Frenchman.

  "Well hit!" shouted the Englishmen, as a shower of splinters was seento fly upwards from the enemy's deck.

  "It's enough to show 'em we've got mettle in us," growled the oldcaptain, "and that's all we can say."

  His words were justified, for the next moment there came anotherflash, and with a crash the brig's mast went by the board.

  "Done for!" groaned the skipper. "We shall see the inside of a Frenchprison, I reckon."

  The enemy's long boat put out with a crew four times that of the brig.Within a quarter of an hour the Englishmen had all been transferred tothe _Louis Treize_, and an officer and half a dozen men left in chargeof the prize. The Frenchman at once set a course for Dunkirk, and,with a spanking breeze behind her, she made the port in fifteen hours.The noon of the next day saw George Fairburn and his companionsclapped into a French prison.

  "A bonny come off," the old skipper grumbled, "but we shall ha' tomake the best on it."

  It will not be forgotten that the war just begun was, to put itbluntly, a war to determine which of two indifferent princes, Philipof France and Charles of Austria, should have the Spanish crown. LordPeterborough declared that it was not worth his country's while tofight for such "a pair of louts."

  "Now!" came the order.]

  Into the war, however, England had thrown herself, under the directionof Harley, the famous Tory minister now in power, at home, and withMarlborough as commander-in-chief of both the English and the Dutchforces abroad. The General's first aim was to take back from Louis XIVall those fortresses in the Spanish Netherlands which had been seizedand garrisoned by the French troops as if the country were a Frenchpossession.

  He started from Kaiserwoerth, a town on the Rhine, which his troops hadcaptured from one of Louis's chief allies, the Elector of Cologne,before Marlborough arrived to take command. Venloo was taken ingallant style, and then the important city of Liege, on the Meuse. Theresult of the campaign was that the French had been chased from theLower Rhine, and Holland, much to its relief, made far more safe fromattack. Returning to England, the victorious commander was given agrand reception. And no wonder, for it was the first time for many ayear that the French had received a real check.

  While these things were going on in the Netherlands, another leaderunder the Grand Alliance, Prince Louis of Baden, took Landau, on theRhine, from the French. In Italy, too, the allies triumphed, thegallant Prince Eugene, presently to be the warm and life-long friendof Marlborough, defeating the French brilliantly at Cremona, afortunate thing for the Empire, which was thus secured from a Frenchinvasion through the Tyrol.

  To crown the successes of the Grand Alliance during the campaign of1702, the first of the war, the brave sailor Sir George Rooke,following the Spanish galleons and the French war vessels into theharbour of Vigo, destroyed the greater number of them. It was arepetition of Drake's famous expedition to "singe the King of Spain'sbeard."

  All these things happened while George Fairburn and other Englishprisoners ate their hearts out in captivity at Dunkirk. The lad chafedunder the surveillance to which he was subjected, and never passed aday without turning over in his mind some scheme of escape. How it wasto be done, he did not see. But he waited for his chance, andmeanwhile, partly to avoid being suspected, and partly to while awaythe hours he made friends with the soldiers on guard. He already knewa little French, and with his natural quickness he soon made rapidprogress. At the end of a month he could get along capitally in thelanguage; at the end of three months he could speak the tonguefluently; at the end of nine months--for thus did his term ofcaptivity drag itself out--he was, so far as the language wasconcerned, almost a Frenchman. Thus the winter passed, and the springof 1703 came round, George Fairburn still an inmate of a Frenchprison, hopeless of escape, so far as he could see.

  But his chance came at last suddenly and unexpectedly. One morning hewas escorted to the Hotel de Ville, to interpret for an officerexamining a batch of English prisoners who had been brought in fromthe Netherlands border. The way to the town lay at no great distancefrom the shore, and he observed how a boat lay close in on the lowsandy beach, no owner in sight. His heart leapt into his mouth, and hehad much ado to keep himself from betraying his thoughts by the flushthat mantled hotly on his cheek.

  One, two, three hundred paces the boat was left behind. Now or never!Instantly the lad started off back to the spot, his feet flying acrossthe sand.

  A shout broke from the throats of his astonished guards, and a halfscore of bullets whistled after the runaway. George ducked his headand sped on unhurt. A second volley did little more harm than thefirst, merely grazing the lobe of his right ear. The race was furious,but the lusty English lad was far and away the superior of the heavyFrenchmen. He gained the boat, the enemy still a hundred paces behind.The painter was loosely wound round a large stone, and in a triceGeorge had leapt with it into the little craft. He had just time togive a vigorous shove of
f before the pursuers came up, the foremostdashing into the sea after him.