Chapter 10

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_ CHAPTER TEN.

The gale had been blowing for some days on the Dorsetshire coast. The seafaring men along the shore pronounced it the hardest they had known at that season for many a year, harder than one which had blown a few days previously for a short time. A vessel, from stress of weather, had put into Lyme, and reported that she had passed two small craft, tempest-tossed and sorely battered, but they refused assistance, saying that they intended to keep the sea, as they were bound to the eastward. This information being given to the authorities at Lyme, notice was issued to the men stationed along the coast, placed there to prevent the escape of rebels, and they were directed to watch for the two vessels, which it was conjectured had on board fugitives from Sedgemoor, or others who had taken part with Monmouth.

Colonel Tregellen had been deeply stirred with indignation at the cruelties practised by the Earl of Feversham and Colonel Kirk on the hapless Monmouth's defeated army, and he felt far more interest in them than would otherwise have been the case.

"Had they been criminals of the darkest dye, they could not have been more severely dealt with. Instead of that, they were honest men, fighting bravely for what they believed a righteous cause," he observed, as he read the accounts of what had taken place.

It is scarcely necessary to say how Alice Tufnell felt. Though she had warned and entreated Stephen Battiscombe not to take up arms, she knew that he was prompted by the highest and purest of motives. Her heart sank as she thought of the uncertainty that hung over his fate. No news had been received of him and his brother since the day of the battle, and their friends could not conjecture whether they had fallen at Sedgemoor, been killed in the pursuit, or were still in hiding.

The first intimation that his sons were still alive was received from Farmer Stubbs, who had brought Stephen's letter, saying that he and Andrew were in the hands of Cornet Bryce, and that they were to be carried to Bridgewater or Taunton. Mr Battiscombe immediately sent off to Colonel Tregellen to ask his advice. Farmer Stubbs was very unwilling to put himself into the power of Colonel Kirk and his lambs, and declined going with the sum of money necessary to bribe those in authority. Mr Battiscombe had the money ready, which he hoped would be sufficient. He first thought of Mr Handscombe, but on applying to Mr Willoughby, who had last heard from him, he found that he had left London, no one knew whither. Colonel Tregellen himself would have been a fit person in some respects, for his loyalty would never have been doubted, but his health prevented him from going far from home. He was not suited by his temper and disposition to deal with characters such as Colonel Kirk and those associated with him. Poor Mr Battiscombe, in despair, applied to Mr Willoughby. He had taken no part in the rebellion, and his son, with his sanction, had entered the Royal Navy, and was serving under Captain Benbow. Feeling deeply for his friend, though the undertaking was very contrary to his habits, he agreed to set out without loss of time, and endeavour to carry on the negotiation. He had very little to plead for Stephen and Andrew, except that they were young men carried away with the flattery bestowed on them by the Duke, but their father would undertake for their good behaviour in future, and would send them out of the country. Farmer Stubbs, saying that he had a relative not far off, with whom he intended to stay till the storm had blown over, disappeared the next evening, and Mr Willoughby set out on his mission of mercy, which, as the reader knows, was to prove a bootless one.

The storm had been blowing for some days, when Colonel Tregellen, accompanied by Alice on her pony, started on a ride to the village, where he had some tenants to visit, intending to return along the cliffs, where he hoped that the fresh wind off the sea would raise Alice's depressed spirits. On reaching the Downs the wind was so strong that they could with difficulty make headway against it, still the little pony seemed to enjoy the breeze even more than its mistress. When the Colonel pressed forward, his horse cantered gaily along. Alice at length, just as they reached the higher part, where an extensive view could be obtained over the ocean, begged to stop to regain her breath. The Colonel was looking westward, when he observed two sails in the distance.

"Look out there, Alice," he said, "your eyes are sharper than mine. Tell me what those are."

"Two small vessels or boats," she answered. "They have a very small amount of canvas, and are running to the shore, while they appear to be terribly tossed about. It is surprising that they can remain afloat in such a sea."

"They must be in a desperate strait, or they would not stand in for this coast," remarked the Colonel. "Unless they can manage to reach Lyme they will to a certainty be lost."

"They are not steering for Lyme," said Alice, "but are coming on directly for our bay."

"Can they be the craft reported to have been fallen in with by the Lyme vessel?" observed the Colonel.

"I pray that they may not be, as those too likely contained fugitives from Monmouth's army," said Alice.

"There must be some one on board who knows this bay, or they would not be steering for it," said the Colonel. "As the vessels are small, the crews may hope to run them up on the beach and escape through the surf."

In spite of the wind the Colonel and his adopted daughter were unwilling to leave the Downs till they knew the fate of the boats. The pathway down to the beach was too steep for the horses to descend, or in their eagerness they would have gone down. The Colonel rode as close as he could to the edge of the cliff, to see if he could observe old Ben Rullock, or some other fisherman, in order to desire them to make preparations for rescuing the storm-tossed crews, whosoever they might be. While he was watching he observed several persons coming along the cliff.

"The fellows are on the look-out for those boats," he said to himself. "I wish they had not discovered them, for if the people on board are fugitives, should they escape the waves, they will fall into their scarcely less remorseless clutches." He watched the men as they descended the cliffs, but could not see what had become of them. "I verily believe they have hidden themselves, that they may pounce out on their prey, and give them less chance of escaping."

The guards, who were all armed, seemed to have made signals to others, who came hurrying up till nearly a dozen were collected about the same spot. A reef of rocks ran off on the west side of the bay, which, circling round, formed a sort of breakwater, which, in moderate weather, enabled Ben Rullock and other fishermen to leave their boats at anchor in security, though at present they were all hauled up. It required nice steering to enter the bay so as to avoid the end of the reef; the two boats approached, their shattered appearance showing the urgent necessity which had induced them to steer for the land. Some of the people in them were baling, others pumping, both pressing eagerly on, almost abreast, instead of following each other. At length they drew close to the bay, when one, standing more to the westward than she ought to have done, struck the end of a reef. The next sea scattered her fragments, and she literally melted away from sight, leaving those who had been on board struggling helplessly in the waves. In vain those in the other boat threw out ropes to rescue the drowning people; they succeeded in dragging only one on board. As far as could be seen from the top of the cliff, the remainder perished miserably. Alice uttered a shriek of horror as she saw the catastrophe; no help could apparently be afforded from the shore; the other boat rushed forward up the bay, and disappeared beneath the cliff.

"The poor fellows have escaped a watery grave, but only to find themselves prisoners in the hands of their enemies," cried the Colonel.

Shouts and cries heard above the roaring of the seas came up from below the cliffs; then all was still. After the lapse of a few minutes a number of men appeared coming up the cliff which led down to Ben Rullock's cottage; they were the soldiers guarding six prisoners. The Colonel, followed by Alice, rode forward to inquire where the prisoners were to be conveyed, with a charitable wish to do what he could to alleviate their sufferings. Poor Alice could scarcely restrain the cry which rose from her breast as she saw the first of the prisoners, who was Stephen Battiscombe, followed by his brother Andrew; but she knew the Colonel's generous intentions. The state of the prisoners was sufficient, it might have been thought, to excite the compassion of their captors; they looked utterly broken-down and emaciated, as if they had long been in want of food, while the bitter disappointment they must have felt at finding themselves immediately on landing in the hands of their foes completely overcame them. Stephen lifting his eyes recognised Alice; he bowed his head, and then cast his eyes again to the ground, as if he felt he had so completely disobeyed her wish that she could have no further interest in him.

"Where are you going to take these persons, my friends?" asked the Colonel of the soldiers. "Judging from their appearance they are scarce able to walk, much less to march any distance, and the sun is nearly setting. Whoever they may be, or whatever they have done, they are our fellow-creatures, and in sore distress. They certainly were not flying from the country, for you all saw that they steered for the shore, and evidently intended to land instead of attempting to go farther. I shall be glad if you will bring them on to Eversden Manor,--it is not far from this,--and I will give you and them quarters and provisions, which they at all events, judging from their looks, sorely want."

The sergeant who had taken charge of the party, after making some remarks to two or three of his comrades, who seemed to like the idea of getting into comfortable quarters, instead of having to march to Lyme or Bridport, replied that he would accept the Colonel's offer.

"Come then, friends," said the Colonel; "I will ride on ahead while you follow with your prisoners; but do not hurry them, for they are but ill able to move at a fast pace." Saying this he rode slowly on, with Alice by his side.

"I thought it wise not to show too much interest in the young Battiscombes, lest it might be supposed that I was inclined to favour them," said the Colonel; "but the poor fellows seem perfectly broken-down for want of food. I fear that if I were to leave them they would be ill-treated or urged on too fast, but I think, were you to ride forward to the house and obtain some refreshment, it might shorten their sufferings. Platt can bring as much more food as he is able to carry."

The idea was no sooner suggested to Alice, than answering, "That I will, thankfully," she started off at a fast pace across the Downs.

"What has happened?" exclaimed Madam Pauline, who had seen her coming up the avenue at a gallop, her hair, which had escaped beneath her hat, streaming in the wind. Alice explained in a few words, and Madam Pauline, saying to herself, "It is sad, very sad; I am sorry, so sorry," set about heartily putting up such food as was ready, together with a bottle of her cordial waters, while Alice directed Platt to prepare to accompany her. No sooner, however, was a basket packed, than, taking it on her arm, she hurried back to meet the Colonel and the prisoners. She found them just as they had crossed the Downs near a tolerably sheltered spot. Here the Colonel requested the sergeant to halt, while she, immediately unpacking her basket, took round the contents to the famishing prisoners. She endeavoured to exhibit no special favour to one more than the other, though this was difficult. As she came up to Stephen a second time, she whispered, "Be on the watch; tell your brother." She then passed on hurriedly. After some time Tobias Platt arrived with more provisions, a portion of which he distributed among the soldiers, thus putting them in good humour, and making them more inclined than they might otherwise have been to treat their prisoners kindly. As it was getting late, the Colonel advised that they should proceed, and they continued their march to the manor-house. Alice again galloped forward to assist Madam Pauline in getting ready for their reception. She did not hesitate to confide to her aunt her intention of trying to enable Stephen and his brother to escape.

"But you do not consider the risk, my dear Alice," said Madame Pauline. "Should these young men escape, the Colonel would be implicated, might suffer all sorts of fines and penalties, that he can ill afford, though I know he would gladly spend any sum to buy them off, if that were possible, and help poor Mr Battiscombe. However, we will see what can be done. What a pity that Mr Willoughby should have gone off on his useless errand! We must let Mr Battiscombe know that his sons have been captured, in order that he may take such steps as he deems necessary."

"I will go," said Alice; "my pony is perfectly fresh, and I shall quickly gallop to Langton Hall and back." Madam Pauline hesitated, but Alice soon over-persuaded her to let her go.

On arriving at home the Colonel was somewhat inclined to find fault with Madam Pauline for allowing Alice to set off by herself, though he acknowledged it was important that Mr Battiscombe should be made aware that his sons had been captured, that he might take such steps as he might deem necessary to preserve their lives. He did not conceal from himself the fearful predicament in which they were placed: hundreds, he heard, had been slaughtered, and the vindictive King was not yet satisfied. That King little thought that his cruelties were preparing the way for his own dethronement.

There were numerous rooms in the lower story of the manor-house, and the Colonel proposed that one should be got ready for the young Battiscombes, and another for the remainder of the prisoners, who were of an inferior rank. There was no end of truckle-beds in the house, which he ordered to be got ready. He proposed allowing the soldiers to occupy the hall, while the sergeant might place his guards as he considered necessary. The sergeant, on his arrival, was well pleased with the arrangements that had been made. Not being without human feeling, he was satisfied that the worn-out prisoners should enjoy the comfort of beds and good food, while he was pleased with the ample fare provided by Madam Pauline for himself and his comrades.

The Colonel looked out anxiously for the return of Alice, for he was afraid lest some accident should happen to her. There were wild characters abroad who pretended to be in search of rebels, and had succeeded in obtaining blood-money by capturing several. While Tobias Platt took care that the soldiers should be well supplied with food and good liquor, he did not forget the prisoners, especially the young Battiscombes, to whom he carried more delicate food, suited to their present condition.

The Colonel was on the point of setting out for Langton Hall in order to meet Alice should she have left it, when she arrived, having ridden hard the whole distance. She had been detained in discussing plans with Mr Battiscombe, as also while a package of clothes, of which she had observed they stood in need, was preparing. She had brought it secured to her saddle.

"We need not let the soldiers see the package delivered," she observed; "Tobias Platt can carry it in as part of their bedding. The clothes will enable them to present an appearance very different from what they do now."

Tobias, with whom Stephen was a favourite, took good care to carry in the clothes as proposed, without being observed by the soldier on guard. The windows were barred with iron, intended rather to prevent ingress than egress, but answering both purposes. The sergeant, on examining them, considered that his prisoners were perfectly secure in the rooms. Both he and his comrades were kept generously supplied with food and good cider, together with somewhat potent beer; as they had been out all the day in the hot sun, they were well inclined to keep up their carouse.

"It is tiring work, Master," said Tobias Platt, bringing a comfortable chair to where the sentry was pacing up and down. "You can watch as well seated as walking, I suppose, and I will get you a pipe of tobacco, if you have a mind for it."

"Ay, that I have, and I say, Master, a glass of something to keep the throat moist won't come amiss."

"You shall have it," said Tobias Platt, and he quickly returned with a small table, a jug of ale, and a pipe with some tobacco.

"Mind you don't go to sleep, though," said Tobias, as the sentry, seating himself in the chair and placing his musket by his side, stretched out his legs, when, taking a pull at the jug, he began to puff away from the pipe which Tobias Platt had lighted for him. Tobias then, having placed a lantern with the dark side turned away from the sentry, quietly retired; he came back, however, before long, to find the beer jug empty, while the man was snoring loudly.

"You will do," said Tobias, nodding as he passed. In a short time he came back accompanied by a light figure in a dark cloak, and turning a key, and noiselessly drawing back some bolts, glided into the room. Both the prisoners were sleeping. She was loth to awake them, yet it must be done. She turned the lantern on Stephen's face and uttered his name. He started up in a moment. "Can you forgive me?" he whispered in a low voice. "And yet you come as an angel of light to console me in my sore trouble."

"I come not to blame you, Stephen, but to comfort you if I can. I would inform you the means for your and your brother's escape have been provided; you have simply to walk out of this room while the sentry is sleeping. Your father is aware that you have been made prisoner, and he has arranged for your concealment, or will endeavour to have you conveyed northward where search is not likely to be made for you."

"Thanks, dearest, thanks a thousandfold," said Stephen. "For your sake I would use every exertion to escape, but I cannot desert my companions. I have already brought too many into trouble in endeavouring to get clear of my foes. I have induced several to join our unhappy cause who have lost their lives. I cannot run the risk of bringing the Colonel and his family into trouble, which I should do were I to escape from his house."

"Indeed, he is anxious to save you, I am sure of it, else he would not have had you placed in this room," said Alice, "though he wisely would not commit himself further. He knew that I brought you your clothing, and he would willingly run any risk for the sake of saving you from the clutches of Judge Jeffreys, who is expected every day at Dorchester to commence the assize, and all who know him say that it will be a fearful one."

"I must endure whatever I am called on to suffer," answered Stephen. "The Colonel and our father will be made responsible were Andrew and I to escape. Were you to be suspected of assisting us, they would not even spare you, Alice."

"But were I betrothed to you I would urge that as my plea," said Alice, in a trembling voice. "I know what were your intentions, and if you will even now ask me to marry you, I will consent, and I shall then have a right to plead that I acted according to the dictates of duty, or should you not after all escape, I should be able to exert myself as I best can to obtain your pardon."

A fearful struggle took place in Stephen's heart. He had long loved the girl who pleaded with him, and that love prompted him to endeavour to save her from dangers to which she might be exposed; but hope triumphed. Without further hesitation he pledged his troth to her; still he could not bring himself to desert his companions and to compromise the Colonel and his family, which he knew he should do were he and his brother to make their escape from the house. Andrew had been sleeping soundly all this time. He awoke him and told him of the arrangements that had been made to enable them once more to get free from the clutches of their foes. Two spare horses, Alice told them, would be in waiting outside the grounds at midnight, with a guide to conduct them northward. They would be many miles away before their flight would be discovered. By remaining concealed during the following day they might, by riding all night, get beyond the counties where the rebellion had existed. Andrew, according to his custom, considered the matter calmly over.

"I agree with you, Stephen," he said; "we must not attempt it." And he used the same arguments which his brother had already done. "Let us remain and brave the consequences; we are deeply grateful to Mrs Tufnell."

Both spoke so lightly that Alice, though she bitterly mourned their decision, was won over to agree that the course to be pursued was the right one. That they would have succeeded was doubtful, and before she left the room the sound of the sergeant's voice as he roused up his men to change the guard reached their ears, and she had barely time to escape from the room when the heavy tread of the soldiers' feet was heard coming along the passage. The guard at the door started up, not so completely overcome as might have been expected. The sergeant looked into the room, to find both his prisoners sleeping apparently in their beds; he then went to the other room, where he found all secure, but his suspicions must have been aroused from some cause or other, for he placed a double guard at the door, and retired highly satisfied with his own vigilance. Poor Alice went back to her room to weep, agitated by various emotions. Though disappointed that Stephen had not escaped at once, she felt that, now she was betrothed to him, she had a right to exert herself in his favour. She determined bravely to do so at all costs. She wished that Roger had been at home, as he would be able to assist her in whatever she might undertake; but there was not the slightest chance, she feared, of his returning for some time to come.

Next morning the family at the manor-house were early on foot. The sergeant was evidently so well satisfied with the way he and his companions had been treated, that he had no wish to move forward. For the sake of the young Battiscombes, the Colonel was not in a great hurry to get rid of them, as he otherwise would have been. In order to have an excuse for remaining longer, the sergeant sent off one of his men to Lyme to learn whether he was to take his prisoners to that place, or to convey them to Dorchester, where, as the assize was soon to commence, they would have a speedy trial. Alice was in hopes that they would be detained another night, and Stephen and Andrew might then be persuaded to make their escape. Having dressed herself as much as possible like a waiting-maid, she took the opportunity of visiting them during the dinner-hour, under the pretence of carrying in their food. Stephen, to her disappointment, was firm as before; the same reasons weighed with him. It grieved him to say so, but he was sure that he was acting rightly. She had not long left the room when Mr Willoughby returned. He looked fatigued and out of spirits as he passed along the passage to the Colonel's private room, for it could not be justly called a study. Some time passed, when Madam Pauline, who was eager to hear what had happened, went in, accompanied by Alice. Mr Willoughby, who in the meantime had had a long conversation with the Colonel, now told Madam Pauline his first visit was to the abode of Farmer Stubbs, which to his dismay he found empty. Mrs Stubbs had gone no one could tell whither, possibly carried off by the soldiers in revenge for the escape of Stephen and Andrew, although he was not aware of that at the time. The farm itself had not been pillaged, except of portable provisions. This was probably owing to its distance from the camp, or it would have fared but ill. Unable to hear what had become of his young friends, Mr Willoughby had gone on to Bridgewater, and had run a great risk of being seized as a suspected adherent of the Duke of Monmouth, and it was only by asserting that he was brother-in-law to Colonel Tregellen, a well-known Royalist, that he had escaped. He had done his most to gain information of his young friends, of course in vain. It would have been folly to try and get access to any of the leaders for the purpose of purchasing their pardon till he could learn where they were. He said that he was sick at heart at the sight of the heads of the hapless rebels which were seen at the entrance of every village, while gibbets in great numbers lined the roads in the neighbourhood of Bridgewater. Mr Willoughby had several narrow escapes, when he encountered an old acquaintance, who was no other than Cornet Bryce. He had to look at him hard, for he little expected to see him in military guise. The Cornet looked much cast down. Mr Willoughby learned from him the cause of his depression, the escape, namely, of two prisoners. He fully expected to be placed under arrest and severely punished, should it be discovered by the General that they had got off. Mr Willoughby was not long in ascertaining that the two missing prisoners were the sons of his friend. He kept his counsel as to his object in coming to Bridgewater, and returned home as soon as he could. Alice was glad to see him arrive, as she thought he might possibly try to induce Stephen and Andrew to escape. He saw clearly the danger to which the Colonel would be exposed, and declined in any way committing himself, though he promised, should they be delivered over to the officers of the law, to use every exertion to obtain their pardon or liberation.

As the sergeant had not ordered the man he sent to Lyme to make any haste, it was late in the day before he returned with orders to carry his prisoners to Dorchester. "I suppose, Colonel, that you do not insist on our setting out this afternoon?" said the sergeant. "It is a long day's march to Dorchester. We should make it better by starting fresh in the morning."

The Colonel assured the sergeant that he was welcome to remain. He knew that in the meantime Mr Battiscombe was exerting himself, through certain friends, with those in authority to obtain the pardon of his sons. Every day he gained was of consequence. He also hoped leave might be obtained to enable them to perform the journey on horseback. In the evening he came over to see his two sons. The parting was an affecting one. Though he had been exerting himself to obtain their pardon, he knew too well that his efforts might prove fruitless. He remained that night at the manor-house, that he might be with them as long as possible. When he asked leave of the sergeant to allow his sons to ride on horseback, the request was refused, on the ground that he could not grant them a favour which was denied to the other prisoners, and that as he and his men would have to march on foot, they must be content to proceed in the same manner.

A sad procession set forth from Eversden Manor on the early dawn of a bright autumn morning. Each prisoner was conducted by two guards with loaded muskets. Farewells had been spoken, and the order to march was given.

Though no mention has been made of the other prisoners, they had been treated at the manor-house with every kindness and consideration, and had been supplied with means for purchasing provisions on the way, as well as on their arrival. Mr Battiscombe rode a short distance beyond the Hall with his sons. Upon his return home, Mr Battiscombe said that he had left the party marching on in tolerably good spirits, not believing, from the numbers already executed, that many more victims would be required to satisfy the demands of the law. Alas! they were to find that they were terribly mistaken. _

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