Chapter 2

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_ CHAPTER TWO.

Madam Pauline, aided by Alice and several active-fingered maidens, laboured without cessation for several hours till they had prepared Roger's kit as far as circumstances would allow. The Colonel had retired to his chamber, and Mr Willoughby had seen Master Handscombe to one which had been prepared for him. Roger and Stephen had fallen asleep in spite of their intention of sitting up all night to be ready for the morning, when suddenly a strong blast, which found its way through the window, blew out two of the lamps at which the maidens had been working. Madam Pauline ordered them to run and shut it. Scarcely had this been done, when another blast, sweeping round the house, shook it almost to its foundation, setting all the windows and doors rattling and creaking. Even Stephen and Roger were at length awakened. The wind howled and whistled and shrieked among the surrounding trees, the thunder roared, the lightning flashed, the rain came down in torrents.

"Which way does the wind blow, think you?" asked Roger in an anxious tone.

"From the south-west, I fear," answered Stephen. "And if so, Captain Benbow will have reason to wish that he had got a good offing from the shore before it came on."

"Surely she's a stout craft, and will stand a worse gale than this," answered Roger.

"I do not know what you would call a worse gale than this," said Stephen. "It makes the house rock, and I should not be surprised to find many an old elm torn up by the roots."

"I wish that I had been on board to assist our brave friend and his crew," said Roger.

"You may have reason to be thankful that you are safe on shore," remarked Stephen. "Such a gale as this is sufficient to drive even a stouter ship than the _Benbow_ frigate from her anchors; but we must wait patiently till the morning to ascertain the truth."

"Why should that be?" exclaimed Roger. "I am not afraid of the wind, and can find my way if it were twice as dark as it is.--Come along."

Stephen, however, who was not inclined to expose himself to the inclemency of the weather, proposed that they should wait till the morning.

"No, no," said Roger, rising and putting on his clothes; "if we are to be of any use we should go at once."

"Certainly, if such is the case," said Stephen, also rising. "But I am afraid that we can render no assistance to the stout frigate if she is in peril."

"Let us go and see about it, at all events," said Roger, who had finished dressing.

They put on their thick overcoats; fortunately Stephen had left his some days before at the manor-house. They had hitherto awakened no one, and had just reached the side-door when they saw a light coming along the passage.

"Who goes there?" asked a voice, which they recognised as that of Mr Willoughby. "Whither are you going, lads, on such a night as this?" he inquired.

"We are greatly afraid that some misadventure may have befallen the _Benbow_ frigate, and are going to see, father. You will not say us no, I hope?"

Mr Willoughby hesitated, but Roger pressed the point, and finally obtained leave, his father assisting them to close the door, to do which required no small amount of exertion. So great was the darkness, in spite of Roger's knowledge of the road and the lantern he carried, the lads could not at times clearly see their way. The wind blew in their faces the branches waved to and fro, the tall trees bent, while ever and anon down came the rain in huge drops battering against them. Still they struggled on. Crossing the downs, they had still to make greater exertions, or further progress would have been impossible, but they were not to be daunted.

"We must take care that we do not go suddenly over the edge of the cliff," said Stephen, who was always cautious. "Even with the light of the lantern it is difficult to distinguish it."

"I shall see it clearly enough when we get there," said Roger. "But I propose that we first visit Ben Rullock's cottage, and get him and his boy to help us; he will know whereabouts the ship lies."

"But you do not think we can go off to the ship in his boat?" remarked Stephen.

"No; my fear is that the ship may be driven in close to the shore, and that her crew may be unable to escape from her," said Roger.

He, knowing the locality well, even in the darkness, managed to hit the path which led down to the old fisherman's cottage; he and his companion, however, had to walk cautiously, for it was narrow and winding, and a false step might have sent them over the cliff.

On reaching the door they knocked loudly.

"Ben Rullock, turn out! turn out! there is a ship in danger!" shouted Roger. But the dashing of the breakers on the shore, and the howling of the wind, produced so wild an uproar that his voice was not heard. Again and again he and Stephen shouted and knocked louder and louder.

"Who's there wanting me at this hour of the morning?" they at length heard a voice from within exclaim. Roger repeated what he had before said, and at length old Ben came to the door with a candle, which was immediately blown out.

"A ship in danger, young master!" he exclaimed. "I have not heard her guns firing, or other signal of distress, and my ears are pretty sharp, even when I am asleep."

"We are anxious about the _Benbow_ frigate, as we are afraid that she may have been driven on shore."

"Her captain knows too well what he is about to allow her to do that," answered old Ben. "He had not been aboard yesterday evening two minutes before he got under weigh, and must have gained a good offing before the gale came on."

"I heartily hope that such may be the case," observed Stephen.

"I am afraid that if he got under weigh he will not be coming back," said Roger.

"We shall soon know," observed Ben. "Dawn is just breaking, and it will be daylight ere long.--Come in, young gentlemen, and in the meantime, for you are wet through, I will rouse up young Toby, and we will have a fire lighted to dry your wet duds."

The lads were glad enough to accept old Ben's invitation, for though they had strained their eyes to the utmost no sign could they discover of the _Benbow_ frigate, but they fancied that the darkness, which is generally the greatest an hour before dawn, had concealed her from their sight. Toby, who turned out on being called, quickly lighted a fire with the driftwood, of which there was generally an abundant supply on the beach, and they sat before it for some time drying their wet clothes, its bright light preventing them from seeing how rapidly the dawn was advancing. At length Roger starting up exclaimed, "Why, it is nearly broad daylight: we shall be well able to see the ship where she lay at anchor."

"I doubt if you will see her there or anywhere else," said old Ben, as he accompanied Roger and Stephen, who eagerly ran out of the cottage.

Though the rain had ceased, the gale was blowing as hard as ever, while the spray which rose from the breakers dashing on the shore beneath their feet filled the air as they reached a point where, by shading their eyes with their hands, they could obtain a view over the whole bay. They eagerly looked out, but nowhere was the _Benbow_ frigate to be seen. Ben's information was correct.

It was evident that Captain Benbow, on perceiving the approach of bad weather, had immediately got under weigh to gain a good offing. In vain the lads gazed along the whole line of the horizon extending from the Bill of Portland to the Start--not a sail was visible.

"Maybe she's run in for shelter on the other side of Portland, or, still more likely, has stood on through the Needle passage to bring up inside the Isle of Wight," observed Ben. "She will not be coming back here, you may depend on?"

As there was nothing more to be done, Roger, greatly disappointed, returned with Stephen to the manor-house. He was very glad to find that the ship had escaped, but he was afraid that it might be long before she would return, and his hopes of going to sea on board her would be realised.

The gale lasted scarcely the usual three days, when the weather became as fine as before, and Roger paid many a visit to the shore in the hopes of seeing the _Benbow_ frigate coming once more to an anchorage. Though many ships passed by, they were bound up or down Channel, and none came near the land.

It was the first great disappointment Roger had ever had. Day after day went by, but still the _Benbow_ frigate did not make her appearance. Sometimes he hoped that he should receive a letter from her captain, telling him to come to some port farther west; where he might go on board, but no letter was received. The thought occurred to him that the vessel had been wrecked or had gone down during that dreadful night, but old Ben assured him that she had got under weigh while the wind was sufficiently to westward to enable her to weather Portland Bill and its dreaded Race, and that she was well out at sea before the worst of it commenced.

"All a sailor wishes for is a stout ship and plenty of sea-room, you should know, Master Roger, and if he gets that he is content, as I have a notion Captain Benbow was on that night," observed the old man.

Roger often looked at his chest of clothes, and at length he did up those Stephen had brought him, and took them back to Langton Park, but his friend begged him to keep them.

"You may want them still, I hope, and you will not refuse to oblige an old friend by accepting them," he said.

Meantime Mr Handscombe accompanied Mr Willoughby to pay a visit to Squire Battiscombe at Langton Park; his object he did not explain.

"I have a notion that your worthy friend has some other object besides attending to his mercantile affairs in his visit to the west country," observed the Colonel to his brother-in-law, who came back to the manor-house without his companion.

"If you do not insist on knowing, it were as well that I should not tell you," answered Mr Willoughby. "All I can say is that he is much touched by the Duke of Monmouth, Lord Shaftesbury, and others, and that he is a true Protestant and right honest man. He is bound for Bristol, from which place he promises to write to me, though it may be some time before I shall hear from him."

The Colonel was satisfied with this explanation; it did not occur to him that any evil consequences would arise from his receiving so respectable a personage as Mr Handscombe at his house.

Roger was expecting another visit from Stephen, and perhaps Mistress Alice might have been looking forward with some pleasure to his coming, when a note was received from him saying that by his father's express desire he was about to accompany Mr Handscombe to Bristol; that before the note would reach Roger he should already have set out. He regretted not having had time to pay a farewell visit, and begged to send his kind regards to Madam Pauline and Mistress Alice, as also to the Colonel and Mr Willoughby. "Mr Handscombe," he continued, "undertakes to place me in a situation of trust, and my father thinks that it would be folly to decline so fine an opportunity of forwarding my interests in life. I promise you, Roger, that should I hear of any situation which you can fill with advantage, I will not fail to let you know, and I hope that your father and the Colonel will approve of your accepting it; you know that I mean what I say, and therefore do not look upon it as a mere make-believe promise."

This last paragraph somewhat consoled Roger for the regret he felt at the loss of his friend and companion.

"I am sure he will do his best," said Mistress Alice, who was always ready to praise Stephen; she, indeed, thought there were but few people like him in the world.

"Yes, he is honest and truthful, two excellent qualities in a young man," observed Madam Pauline.

"Yes, that he is, and I shall not find any one like him in this part of the country," said Roger.

Stephen often said the same thing of his friend.

Roger Willoughby had now plenty of time to attend to his studies; he continued working away steadily with his book of navigation, as well as with the few other works which he possessed, his uncle and father helping him to the best of their ability, but neither of them had had much time in their youth for study. He obtained rather more assistance from Master Holden, who was very willing to impart such knowledge as he possessed, albeit not of a description which Roger especially prized.

Almost sooner than he expected, Roger received a note from Stephen Battiscombe, saying that his good fortune had been greater than he expected. He had got a situation in one of the principal mercantile houses in Bristol with which Mr Handscombe was connected, and that a post for which he considered Roger very well suited being vacant, he had applied and obtained it for him.

"Lose no time in setting out," he wrote, "for after a few weeks' training we are to sail on board one of the ships belonging to the firm for the Levant."

Mr Willoughby and the Colonel were highly pleased with this. It seemed to open the way to Roger's advancement, while he would be able to gratify his taste for the sea without being bound to it, as he would have been had he sailed with Captain Benbow. The question arose how he was to get to Bristol. The distance was considerable, upwards of sixty miles in a straight line, and much more when the turnings of the roads were calculated, which roads were in many places in a very bad condition. Roger himself, who was eager to set out, proposed performing the journey on a small horse or cob, with such luggage as could be carried in his valise and saddle-bags, while the remainder was to be sent by the stage-wagon from Lyme.

"But, my dear boy, you might be attacked by highwaymen, and robbed and murdered on the road," said his father.

"I will try to beat off any highwaymen who may attack me, or gallop away from them," answered Roger. "Besides, I doubt whether any gentlemen of the road would think it worth while to attack a boy like me; they generally fly at higher game. I have been talking to Tobias Platt, and he says that old Tony, though he has not done much work of late, will carry me well, and that if I do not push him too hard, I may do the journey in three days, or four at the most."

Old Tony was a cob which Mr Willoughby had ridden several years, but was now allowed to spend most of his days in the meadows. As no better mode of conveyance could be suggested, it was arranged that Roger should set out in a couple of days with his valise and saddle-bags, with a brace of pistols and a sword for his protection, in the use of which he had been well instructed by the Colonel. Old Tony in the meantime was fed on oats to prepare him for the journey. Just as Roger was about to set out, the Colonel received an intimation that his neighbour, Mr Battiscombe, would proceed the following day in the same direction, and he accordingly rode over to Langton to ask whether he would allow Roger to travel in his company.

"With great pleasure," he replied, "although, as I have several places to visit I may be longer about the journey than he would were he to go alone."

This, however, was of little consequence compared to the advantage it would be to Roger to travel with a gentleman who would, of course, have several servants in attendance.

The morning arrived in which Roger Willoughby was to start from the home of his childhood to commence the active business of life. He was to sleep at Langton Park that he might start at daybreak the following morning with Mr Battiscombe.

The Colonel accompanied him part of the way.

"It is as well that you should make your appearance alone," he observed. "It will show that you can take care of yourself, for your father and I have given you plenty of good advice, and all I have now to counsel you is to remember and follow it at the proper time. I have always found you to be honest and upright. Continue to be so. Fear God, and do your duty to man, and you will grow up all your father and I wish to see you. Now, fare thee well," he added, pressing Roger's hand. "If this proposed expedition to sea be carried out, you will witness strange sights and things of which you little dream at present, and you will come back, I hope, well able to amuse us two old men in our solitude with an account of your adventures."

The Colonel turned his horse's head, and Roger rode forward on his nag to Langton Hall. The squire received him in the kindest way possible.

"As I cannot take one of my sons, I am glad of your company, Roger, though it may delay your arrival at Bristol for some days," he observed.

"I thought that the journey could be performed in three days," said Roger.

"So it can under ordinary circumstances," answered Mr Battiscombe, "but there may be interruptions, and we may have to tarry at the houses of friends; but I will talk to you more about that matter when we are on the road."

Roger was always treated as a friend by the family at Langton Hall, who thought of him more as the son of Mr Willoughby, who agreed with them in politics and religion, than as the nephew of the Cavalier Colonel Tregellen, with whom they differed on many points.

At an early hour the following morning the whole family were astir to see the travellers start. Mr Battiscombe took with him a couple of stout serving-men, well mounted on strong horses. Farewells were uttered, and they set out. Leaving Axminster and Chard to the west, they proceeded northward along green lanes, the hedges on either side rich with flowers of varied tints. For some distance they met with few persons, for the labourers were out in the fields, and no travellers were journeying along those by-roads. The first day's journey was but a short one, as Mr Battiscombe was unwilling to run the risk of knocking up his horses. As there was no inn on the road, they stopped at the house of a friend of his, holding the same religious and political opinions. As Roger took but little interest in the subjects they discussed over the decanters of beer which were placed on the table at supper, he was not sorry to be ordered off to bed.

"If we do not make more progress than we have done to-day, it will be a long time before we get to Bristol," he thought. "Had I been by myself, I could have made my nag go twice as far. However, we shall see how much we can accomplish to-morrow."

As on the previous day, they started at early dawn, that, as Mr Battiscombe said, "they might run no risk of having to travel by night." They stopped at noon at a farm-house, with the owner of which Mr Battiscombe was well acquainted. The family were sitting down to dinner, and the travellers were warmly invited to enter and partake of the abundant though somewhat rough fare placed on the board. At one end of the table sat the sturdy farmer with his buxom wife and his sons and daughters; at the other were the farm-servants, with wooden bowls and platters before them, their knives the only implements they possessed to help themselves to food.

"We are about to make holiday this afternoon Mr Battiscombe," said the farmer. "The great Duke of Monmouth, with a party of friends, has ridden down from London to pay us west country folks a visit, and is on his way to stop at White Lackington House, where Mr George Speke awaits to welcome him. The country people from all quarters are turning out to do him honour, and we wish to show the affection we all feel for the champion of the Protestant faith."

"I had some intimation of this a few days ago, and so timed my journey to Bristol that I might be able to pay my respects to our brave Duke," said Mr Battiscombe.

As soon as dinner was over the farmer and his sons mounted their horses, and the whole party rode forward at a more rapid rate than Mr Battiscombe and Roger had gone on the previous day. As they reached the high-road which was between Ilchester and Ilminster, they saw numbers of people, some on horseback, some on foot, hurrying up from all directions, both men and women, among them several parties of young maidens dressed in white, and carrying baskets of flowers, the men generally in their gayest costumes. Presently the cry arose, "The Duke is coming!" when the young women hurried on and strewed the road with herbs and flowers, and as the Duke appeared, incessant shouts arose, "God bless King Charles and the Protestant Duke!" No one could look on him without admiring his fine figure, his handsome features, and graceful manner, as he bowed with his plumed hat, now to one side, now to the other. It was truly an exciting scene. Banks lined with people in their gayest dresses, trees covered with boys who had climbed up to obtain a better view of the spectacle, banners with various devices waving everywhere, while the people bawled themselves hoarse with shouting their joyous welcomes. Mr Battiscombe was among those who rode forward to salute the Duke and then to fall into his train, which was rapidly increasing. At last two thousand appeared in one body from the direction of Ilminster, more and more continuing to pour in, till their numbers must have swelled to twenty thousand at least. Mr Battiscombe met several friends and acquaintances, with whom he held conversation, and all were unanimous in speaking of the affability and condescension of the Duke. Thus for several miles they rode on, their numbers increasing, till they reached the confines of White Lackington Park. Mr Speke, the owner, who had been prepared for the Duke's coming, rode out with a body of retainers to welcome his Grace; and that there might be no impediment to the entrance of the multitude who had arrived, he forthwith ordered several perches of the park paling to be taken down. In front of the house stood a group of Spanish chestnut-trees, famed for their size and beauty; beneath them were placed tables abundantly spread with all varieties of refreshment, of which the Duke with his immediate attendants were invited to partake.

Mr Speke no sooner observed Mr Battiscombe than, beckoning to him, he introduced him to the Duke, with whom he had much conversation, while Roger was left by himself to watch the proceedings. The horsemen rode round and round that they might obtain a good view of the Duke, while those on foot pressed forward for the same purpose, and it was not without difficulty that they were prevented from approaching too near. No person, indeed, under royal rank had ever been received with the respect and honours now bestowed on the Duke. So well accustomed, however, was he to be thus treated, that he took everything as a matter of course; at the same time he expressed his gratitude to his noble entertainers for the honour they were doing him. He was leaning back talking to Mr Battiscombe, his hand hanging carelessly over the side of the chair, when from among the crowd a woman rushed forward, and eagerly seizing it, placed it on her head and face. The Duke, apparently much astonished, started up.

"Why did you do that, good woman?" he asked.

"That I might be cured of the king's evil, for which I have in vain applied all the remedies the surgeons can prescribe," she answered. "I have also travelled a score of miles that I might be touched by the seventh son of a seventh son, though all with no effect; but now I am assured that I shall recover."

"I pray that you may, good woman," said the Duke, "though I know not how far the power of curing resides in me. What is your name?"

"Elizabeth Parcet."

"Here," said the Duke, producing a coin from his pocket, "this may help to console you should my touch fail to produce the desired effect." The woman on this immediately retired, telling all those present that she felt sure she should ere long recover.

The Duke slept that night at White Lackington House, to which Mr Speke invited Mr Battiscombe and Roger, who had thus a further opportunity of seeing the Duke. The next day the Duke set forth to visit Sir John Sydenham at Brampton House, where he was entertained with a splendid dinner. In the evening he went on to Barrington Court, the seat of Sir William Strode, who had prepared another sumptuous entertainment to do him honour. After dinner, attended by a multitude of people, he rode to Chard, at which town he was met and welcomed by a crowd of men, women, and children, all shouting their welcomes till their voices were hoarse. At night he slept at Ford Abbey, where he was treated to a very splendid supper by the owner, Mr Edmund Prideaux.

Mr Battiscombe would willingly have accompanied His Grace during the rest of his progress, but he was compelled to proceed on his journey. He, however, received due notice of the movements of the Duke, who visited many other gentlemen of rank and influence throughout Somersetshire and other parts in the west. He received, too, notice of the perfect cure of Elizabeth Parcet, the document being signed by Henry Clark, minister of Crewkerne, two captains, a clergyman, and four others, which was forwarded to him before he reached Bristol.

"This is wonderful!" he exclaimed as he showed it to Roger. "It proves one of two things, either that the Duke of Monmouth is the lawful son of Charles the Second, or that imagination must have had a powerful influence on the poor woman, for it is here stated that in two days she was perfectly well."

"Is it not possible that there may not be a third solution to the mystery?" asked Roger, who was clear-sighted and somewhat matter-of-fact. "There being a good many people who desire to have it supposed that the Duke is the rightful heir to the throne of England, it is possible that the paper was a bold forgery, drawn up for the purpose of influencing the populace. Either the woman may have been hired to play her part, and was not really a martyr to the king's evil, or she may not be cured. It might be worth while to inquire whether Mr Clark, the minister of Crewkerne, ever put his signature to the paper, or if such a person exists; such, I suspect, would be the opinion my uncle would have formed on the subject."

"Thou art a thorough infidel, Roger!" exclaimed Mr Battiscombe in a half angry tone, though he confessed there was some probability in what Roger said.

Be that as it may, the document produced the effect intended on the minds of many of the ignorant, not only in the West of England but in London, where it was circulated, and the Duke and his supporters were not persons generally inclined to contradict what was calculated to forward their objects.

Instead of three or four days, more than a week had passed before Mr Battiscombe and Roger reached Bristol, where Stephen welcomed them at the lodgings he occupied, close to the mansion of the wealthy firm in whose service he was employed. Mr Handscombe was still there, though about to return to London. He was highly pleased at hearing of the reception the Duke had met with.

"He has been sowing the seeds which will, I hope, produce ample fruit in good time," he observed. "While his present Majesty lives, though at heart more Papist than Protestant, it may be well for him to remain quiet; but should James Duke of York come to the throne, it will be time for all who love our Protestant principles to rally round the standard of Monmouth."

Mr Battiscombe having soon transacted the business which had brought him to Bristol, took his departure to return south with Mr Handscombe.

Roger set to work with the zeal which was one of his characteristics to master the details of the work he had undertaken, and soon won the approval and confidence of his employers.

Bristol, though covering a much less extent of ground than at the present time, was then looked upon as a large city, but its beautiful churches were surrounded by a labyrinth of narrow lanes, through which a coach or cart could with difficulty pass along; goods were therefore conveyed about the town almost exclusively in trucks drawn by dogs. As even the chief merchants could not use carriages when they went abroad, they walked on foot, attended by servants in rich liveries. They were renowned also for their luxurious entertainments, when their guests were supplied with a beverage composed of the richest Spanish wines, known as "Bristol milk." The merchants traded chiefly to the West Indies and the American plantations, as also to the coast of Africa and the Levant. It was in one of these princely firms that Stephen Battiscombe and Roger Willoughby were so fortunate as to find employment, and, thanks to the strong recommendation of Mr Handscombe, they were both placed in posts of trust. _

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