Chapter 41. The Attempt At Rescue

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_ CHAPTER FORTY ONE. THE ATTEMPT AT RESCUE

Frank's eyes took all this in, and then turned dim with the emotion he felt, and for a few moments everything seemed to swim round him. His horse, however, needed no guiding; it kept pace with its companion, and the lad's emotional feeling passed off as he found himself in presence of the officer in command of the escort and his subordinates, a warm greeting taking place between Captain Murray and the principal officer, an old friend.

"Don't seem regular, Murray; but with this note from the Prince, I suppose I shall be held clear if you have come to help the prisoners escape," said the officer lightly.

"Escape!" said Captain Murray sharply.

"No, no; nonsense, old fellow," said the dragoon officer merrily. "Of course I was bantering you."

"Yes, I know," said Captain Murray quickly; "but we were stopped by a couple of mounted men a quarter of a mile back."

"Highway men?"

"I thought so at first; but they challenged us for a password."

"Well! These fellows work hand and glove."

"No," said Captain Murray, "I feel sure they were scouts, ridden forward to get touch with you, and then go back and give warning."

"What for? Whom to? You don't think it means an attempt to rescue?"

"I do," said Murray firmly.

"Thanks for the warning, old fellow," said the officer through his teeth. "Well, mine are picked men, and my instructions are that a strong detachment will be sent out to meet us, and vedettes planted all along the road, to fall in behind us as we pass. Pity too. What madness!"

Frank's heart sank as he heard every word, while his attention was divided between the two dark carriages with their windows drawn up, and he sat wondering which held his father.

"Yes, madness," said the captain sadly. "I shall be very glad when my job's at an end," said the dragoon officer. "It's miserable work."

"Horrible!" replied Murray; and then he turned to Frank. "Hold my rein for a few moments," he said; and, dismounting, he walked away with the officers, to stand talking for a few minutes, while, as Frank sat holding his companion's horse, and watching the well-guarded carriages, a distant neigh and the stamping of horses told of a strong detachment guarding the rear.

"If I only dared ride up to the carriages," thought the boy; and he felt that he did dare, only that it would be useless, for without permission the dragoons would not let him pass.

But a light broke through the mental darkness of despair directly, for Murray came back with the officer in command, a stern, severe-looking man, but whose harsh, commanding voice softened a little as he laid one hand on the horse's neck, and held out his other to the rider.

"I did not know who you were, Mr Gowan. My old friend, Captain Murray, has just told me. Shake hands, my lad. I am glad to know the brave son of a gallant soldier. Don't think hardly of me for doing my duty sternly as a military man should. I ought perhaps to send you both back," he continued in a low tone; "but if you and Captain Murray like to ride by the door of the first carriage, you can, and I will instruct the officer and men not to hinder any reasonable amount of conversation that may be held."

"God bless you!" whispered Frank, in a choking voice.

"Oh, don't say anything, my boy. Only give me your word, not as a soldier, but as a soldier's son, that you will do nothing to help either of the prisoners to escape."

"Yes, I give you my word," said Frank quickly. He would have given anything to be near his father and speak to him for a few minutes.

"That will do.--Murray, we shall go on at a sharp trot; but you are both well mounted, I see." Then he said in an undertone: "I don't believe they will venture anything when they see how strong we are. If the rascals do, I shall make a dash, standing at nothing; but at the first threatenings get the boy away. My instructions are that the prisoners are not to escape--_alive_!"

"I understand," said Captain Murray; and he mounted his horse.

The next minute an order was given in a low tone; it was passed on, and the men sprang to their saddles. Then another order, "Draw swords!" There was a single note from a trumpet; and as Frank and Captain Murray sat ready, the officer in command led them himself, and placed one at each door of the first carriage, a dragoon easing off to right and left to make place for them.

Frank's hand was on the glass directly, and the window was let down.

"Father!" he cried in a low, deep voice, which was nearly drowned by the trampling, crashing of wheels, and jingle of accoutrements, but heard within; and it was answered by a faint cry of astonishment, and the rattle of fetters, as two hands linked together appeared at the window.

"Frank, my dear boy! you here?"

The boy could not answer, but leaned over toward the carriage with his hand grasped between his father's.

"Hah! this is a welcome home!" cried Sir Robert cheerily. "Gentlemen, my son."

"There's Captain Murray at the other window," gasped out Frank at last.

"Ah! more good news," said Sir Robert. "Murray, my dear old fellow, this is good of you."

The prisoner's voice sounded husky, as he turned his head to the right in the darkness.

"I can't shake hands even if you wished to, for we are doubly fettered now."

"Gowan, I'm glad to meet you again," said the captain hoarsely.

"God bless you, old friend! I know you are. I see now; you brought Frank here to meet me. Like you, old fellow. There, I cannot talk to you. But you know what I feel."

"Yes. Talk to your boy," cried Murray. "Quick, while you can. The order to trot will come directly."

"Yes. Thanks," said Sir Robert; and he turned back to his son, who clung to his hands. "Quick, Frank boy. Your mother--well?"

"Very, very ill. Heart-broken."

"Hah!" groaned Sir Robert.

"But, father, these handcuffs? Surely you are not--"

"Yes, yes. I'm a dangerous fellow now, my boy. We are all chained hand and foot like the worst of criminals, my friends and I."

"Oh!" groaned Frank.

"Bah! Only iron," said Sir Robert bitterly. "Never mind them now. Tell me of your mother. Are you still at the Palace?"

"Yes; the Princess--the Prince--will not hear of our leaving, and--"

Then a note from a trumpet rang out, the horses sprang forward at a sharp trot, and the dragoon on Frank's left changed his sword to his left hand, so as to place his right on the rein of the boy's charger, though it was hardly needed, the well-trained horse bearing off a little to avoid injury from the wheel, but keeping level with the window, so that from time to time, though conversation was impossible, father and son managed to bridge the space between them and touch hands.

It was fortunate for the lad that he was mounted upon a trained cavalry charger, for he had nothing to do but keep his seat, his mount settling down at once to the steady military trot side by side with the horse next to it, and keeping well in its distance behind the horse in front, so that the rider was able to devote all his attention to the occupant of the carriage, who leaned forward with his head framed in the darkness of the window, as if pictured in the sight of his son, possibly for the last time, for in those hours Sir Robert Gowan had not the slightest doubt as to what his fate would be.

On his side, Frank sat in his saddle watching his father's dimly seen face, but ready to start and glance in any direction from which a fresh sound was heard.

The first time was on reaching the turnpike gate, where the toll-taker seemed disposed to hesitate about letting the advance guard pass. The result was an outcry, which sent Frank's heart with a leap toward his lips, for he felt certain that the attack had commenced. But the foremost men dismounted, seized the gate, lifted it off its hook hinges, and cast it aside, the troops and carriages thundered through, and made the people of Highgate village come trooping out in wonder to see what this invasion of their quiet meant.

Then the descent of the hill commenced, with the heavy old-fashioned carriages swaying on their C-springs; but no slackening of speed took place, and the artillerymen hurried their horses along, as if the load they drew were some heavy gun or a waggon full of ammunition.

Twice over Frank gazed at the foremost carriage in alarm, so nearly was it upset in one of the ruts of the ill-kept road; but the rate at which they were going saved it, and they thundered along without accident to where the gradient grew less steep.

There was very little traffic on the road at that time of the night, and not many people about, while before those who were startled by the noise of the passing troops had time to come out the prisoners had gone by.

Holloway and Highbury were passed, and Islington reached, but no sign of an attempt at rescue caught Frank's anxious eyes; neither was there any appearance of fresh troops till the head of the escort turned down the road which entered the city at the west end of Cheapside. But here the boy started, for they passed between two outposts, a couple of dragoons facing them on either side of the road, sitting like statues till the whole of the escort had passed, when they turned in after it, four abreast, and brought up the rear, but some distance in front of the rear guard.

At the end of another fifty yards two more couples were seen, and at the end of every similar interval four more dragoons turned in at the rear, strengthening the escort, while it was evident that they had previously cleared the road of all vehicles, turning them into the neighbouring ways, so that the cortege was enabled to continue its progress at the same steady military trot as they had commenced with on leaving Highgate.

Again and again Frank, now growing breathless, had hoped that the walking pace would once more be renewed, so as to afford him a chance to speak to his father; but he wished in vain, for, except at two sharp turnings, the whole body of dragoons swept along at the sharp trot, and without change, saving that as London was neared the men flanking the carriages were doubled.

But though no sign of rescue caught Frank's eyes, he saw that the stationing of the dragoons to keep the way and the turning of the traffic out of the road had had their effect; for at every step the collection of people along the sides and at the windows increased, till, when the road changed to a busy London street, there was quite a crowd lining the sides.

"There will be no rescue," sighed the lad; and he turned from sweeping the sides of the street to gaze sadly at his father, whose face he could now see pretty plainly, as they passed one of the dismal street lamps which pretended in those days to light the way.

He could see that, brief as the time had been since he last saw his father, his countenance had sadly altered. There was a stern, careworn look in his eyes, and he looked older, and as if he had been exposed to terrible hardships. He noted too that he did not seem to have had the opportunity given him of attending to his person, but had been treated with the greatest of severity.

The lad's gloomy musings on the aspect of the face which beamed lovingly upon him, the eyes seeming to say, "Don't be down-hearted, boy!" were suddenly brought to an end by a check in their progress, for the advance guard, from being a hundred yards ahead, had by degrees shortened the space to fifty, twenty, and ten yards, and finally was only the front of the column. But still they had advanced at a trot, and the officer in command sent orders twice over for the vanguard to increase their distance.

"Tell him I can't," said the officer in front. "It can only be done by riding over the people."

And now the men stationed to keep the way had utterly failed, the people having crowded in from the side streets north of Saint Martin's-le-Grand till the pairs of dragoons were hemmed in, and in spite of several encounters with the crowd they were forced to remain stationary.

The check that came was the announcement that the trot could no longer be continued, and, perforce, the escort advanced at a walk; while, as Frank glanced round for a moment, it suddenly struck him that, save at the windows of the houses, there was not a woman to be seen, the crowd consisting of sturdy-looking men.

The lad had no eyes for the crowd, though. The relapse into a walk had given him the opportunity for grasping his father's hand again, and Sir Robert said to him hurriedly:

"My dearest love to your mother, Frank lad. Tell her, whatever happens, I have but one thought, and that it is for her, that we may meet in happier times."

"Meet in happier times" rang through Frank like a death-knell, for he grasped what his father meant, and tried to speak some words of comfort, but they would not come. Even if they had, they would have been drowned by a tremendous cheer which arose from the crowd and went rolling onward.

"The wretches!" muttered Frank; and he turned to look round, with his eyes flashing his indignation. Then, as the cheer went rolling away forward, he repeated his words aloud, unconscious that they would be heard.

"The wretches! It is not a sight."

"They're a-cheering of 'em, sir," said the dragoon at his elbow, "not hooting 'em, poor fellows!"

Frank darted a grateful look in the man's eyes, and his heart leaped with excitement as the light flashed upon him. It was a manoeuvre, and there would be an attempt to rescue, after all.

"I believe we're in for a row, sir," continued the man, leaning over to him and speaking in a low voice. "Strikes me the best thing for you to do would be to step into the carriage to your friend before the fight begins: I'll hold your horse."

"I!" said Frank sharply. "I wouldn't be such a cur."

"Well said, youngster. Then you try and stick by me. We shall be in the thick of it, and nobody shall hurt you if I can help it."

"Do--do you think, then, that there will be trouble?"

"Yes, for some of us, sir," said the man. "They mean to try and get the prisoners, and the attack will be here."

Frank was unconscious of a movement behind him, till a horseman forced his way in between him and the dragoon, and Captain Murray said sharply:

"Try and ease off, my man."

"Not to be done, sir," replied the dragoon.

"There's going to be an attempt at rescue, Frank," whispered the captain. "Shake hands with your father before we are forced away."

At that moment word was passed along from the rear, running from man to man as they still kept on at a slow walk:

"Flats of your swords; drive them back."

The next minute, just as a fresh cheer was being started, the trumpet rang out behind "Trot!" and the men put spurs to their horses, and dashed on, driving a road through the crowd; and, amidst a savage yelling and hooting which took the place of the hearty cheer for the prisoners, the escort literally forced their way for another fifty yards, the men in advance striking to right and left with the flats of their heavy cavalry swords.

But it was soon evident that they were slackening speed, and the trumpet rang out again, but with an uncertain sound, for it was nearly drowned by the angry yelling which arose. The command was _gallop_, but the execution of the order was _walk_, and a minute later the whole escort came to a stand, literally wedged in, with the frightened horses standing shivering and snorting, only one here and there trying to rear and plunge.

"We're caught, Frank lad. Think of nothing but keeping your seat. Take out a pistol, and point it at the first man who tries to drag you from your horse. Ah! I thought so."

Orders were passed along now to the dragoons to defend themselves, for efforts were being made to drag some of the outside men from their horses. Blades flashed on high, cut and point were given, and amidst howlings and savage execrations blood began to flow.

And now, as if by magic, sticks and swords appeared among the crowd; men who had forced their way under the horses' necks, or crept under them, appeared everywhere; and amidst a deafening roar, as the seething mass swayed here and there, Frank caught sight of two men busy just before him, doing something with knives. One of the dragoons noticed it too, and he leaned forward to make a thrust at one of the two; but as he bent over his horse's neck a cudgel was raised, fell heavily across the back of his neck, and he dropped forward, and was only saved from falling by a comrade's help.

"They've cut the traces," said Captain Murray hoarsely. "It's an organised attempt."

As he spoke men were rising amongst them; and, before Frank could realise how it happened, a dozen filled up the little spaces about the carriage, while moment by moment the dragoons were being rendered more helpless. The blows they rained down were parried with swords; they were dragged from their horses; and, in several cases, helped by their fellows, men climbed up behind them, and pinioned their arms.

Organised indeed it seemed to be, for while the greater part of the rioters devoted their attention to rendering the great escort helpless, others kept on forcing their way till they had surrounded the carriages, trusting to their companions to ward off the blows directed at them, but in too many cases in vain.

Frank tried his best to remain near his father, but he was perfectly helpless, and had to go as his horse was slowly forced along, till he was several yards away from the carriage door, at which he could still see the prisoner watching him as if thinking only of the safety of his boy, while the captain was still farther away, using his pistol to keep off attempts made to dismount him.

All attempts at combination were getting useless now for the troops, and it was every man for himself; but the mob did not seem vindictive only when some dragoon struck mercilessly at those who hemmed him in, when the result rapidly followed that he was dragged from his horse and trampled underfoot.

Sir Robert was now shut out from his son's gaze by several men forcing themselves to the carriage door, and Frank was rising in his stirrups to try and catch another glimpse of him, when in the wild swaying about of the crowd his horse was forced nearer to Captain Murray, an eddy sending the captain fortunately back to him, so that their horses made an effort, and came side by side once more, snorting and trembling with fear.

"The men are helpless, Frank lad," said the captain, with his lips to the lad's ear. "They can do nothing more. They are literally wedged in."

"My father?" panted Frank.

"It will be a rescue, my lad."

An exultant roar rose now from the dense mass of people which filled the wide street, and, separated from each other, as well as from their officers, the dragoons ceased to use their swords, while the men round them who held them fast wedged waved their sticks and hats, cheering madly.

"Told you so, sir," shouted some one close behind them; and Frank turned, to see a dragoon, capless and bleeding from a cut on his forehead, sitting calmly enough on his horse.

"Can't do any more, sir," said the man, in answer to a frown from Captain Murray. "They've got my sword. It's the same with all of us. We couldn't move."

The cheering went on, and in the midst of it the carriages began to move, dragged by the crowd, for there was not a soldier within a dozen yards. The clumsy vehicles were being dragged by hand, and the horses led away toward a side street, while the cheering grew more lusty than ever, and then changed into a yell of execration.

"What does that mean?" said Captain Murray excitedly.

"I don't know," said Frank, having hard work to make himself heard. "Let's try and get to the carriage."

"Impossible, my lad," said Captain Murray. "Great heavens! what a gehenna!"

The yelling rose louder than ever from the direction of Cheapside, and directly after the cause was known, for a heavy, ringing volley rang out clear and sharp above the roar of the crowd, and went on reverberating from side to side of the street.

Hardly had it died away when another rattling volley came from the other direction; and in answer to an inquiring look from Frank, Captain Murray placed his lips to the boy's ear.

"The foot guards," he cried; "the mob is between two fires."

The pressure was now terrible, the crowd yielding to the attack from both directions, and yells, wild cries, and groans rose in one horrible mingling, as for a few minutes the seething mass of people were driven together in the centre formed by the carriages; and from where he sat, gazing wildly at the chaos of tossing arms and wild faces, whose owners seemed now to be thinking of nothing but struggling for their lives, Frank could see men climbing over their fellows' heads, dashing in windows, and seeking safety by climbing into the houses, whose occupants in many cases reached down to drag people up out of the writhing mass beneath. In half a dozen places streams could be seen setting into the side streets; and mingled with the attacking party, dragoons of the escort, perfectly helpless, were pressed slowly along, and in every instance with one, sometimes with two men mounted behind them.

Frank caught these things at a glance, while his and the captain's mounts were being slowly forced farther away from the carriages, which were once more stationary, jammed in by the densest portion of the crowd.

And now, without a thought of his own safety, the boy's heart began to beat high, for not a single dragoon was near the prisoners, and some strange movement was evidently taking place there, but what, it was some moments before he could see.

It seemed to him that several people there had been injured, and that those between him and the first carriage had been crushed to death, while the crowd were passing the bodies over their heads face upward toward the narrow side street up which an effort had been made to drag the carriages.

As far as he could make out by the lamplight, that was it evidently, and so strangely interested was the lad, so fascinated by the sight, that he paid no heed to a couple more volleys fired to right and left. For the moment he hardly knew why he was watching this. Then it came home to him as he twice over saw a gleam as of metal on one of the bodies which floated as it were over a forest of hands and glided onward toward and up the side street.

"Look, boy! Do you see?" said Captain Murray, with his lips close to the lad's ear. "They have dragged the prisoners out, and are passing them over the heads of the crowd."

Frank nodded his head sharply without turning to the speaker, for he could not remove his eyes from the scene till the last fettered figure had passed from his sight.

And now at length the awful pressure began to relax, for the half-dozen streams were setting steadily out of the main street, while in several spots where dragoons had sat wedged in singly two had drifted together. Then there were threes and fours, and soon after a little body of about twenty had coalesced, stood in something like order, and were able to make a stand. Right away toward Cheapside there was now visible beneath a faint cloud of smoke, which looked ruddy in the torch- and lamplight, a glittering line above the heads of the still dense crowd, and Frank grasped the fact that they were bayonets. Then turning in the other direction he saw, far up the street toward Islington, another glittering line, showing that a second body of infantry barred the way.

And now once more came the sound of firing, and Frank's heart resumed its wild beating, for it came rolling down the side street nearly opposite to him, that up which he had seen the prisoners passed, and he knew that troops must be guarding the end.

This was plain enough, for the steady stream passing up it grew slower, then stopped; there was a tremendous shouting and yelling, and the human tide came slowly rolling back, then faster and faster, till it set right across the main street, and joined one going off in the opposite direction.

Soon after, to the boy's horror, he caught sight of one of the prisoners being borne along over the heads of the returning crowd; then of another and another. And now, as the two lines of dimly seen bayonets drew nearer in both directions, there was once more the sound of the trumpet; and in half a dozen places the dragoons began to form up, and, minute by minute growing stronger in the power to move, swords were seen to flash, and they forced their way through the stream, cutting it right across, and hemming in the portion of the crowd over whose heads the perfectly helpless prisoners were being borne.

This manoeuvre having been executed, the rest proved simple. Knot after knot of the dragoons forced their way up to what had become their rallying-point, the foot guards were steadily advancing up and down the main street toward the carriages, and another company was steadily driving the people back along the side street up which the prisoners had been borne.

"A brave attempt, Frank," said Captain Murray; "but they have failed. Come along;" and, dizzy with excitement, the boy felt his horse begin to move beneath him toward the escort which formed a crescent round the carriages in double rank, through which they passed slowly the men of the crowd they had entrapped, till some forty or fifty only remained, whose retreat was cut off by the bristling line of bayonets drawn across the side street down which they had come.

Frank had no eyes for the scene behind him, now shown by the light of many smoky torches,--the roadway littered with hats, sticks, and torn garments, trampled people lying here and there, others who had been borne and laid down close to the houses, whose occupants were now coming out to render the assistance badly enough needed, for even here many were wounded and bleeding from sword cuts: of the ghastly traces of the firing, of course, nothing was visible there. He did not heed either the state of the dragoons, who had not escaped scot free, many of them being injured by sword and cudgel; some had been dragged from their horses and trampled; others stood behind the double line, separated from their mounts, which had gone on with the crowd; most of them were hatless, while several had had their uniforms torn from their backs.

Frank had no eyes for all this; his attention was too fully taken up by the proceedings near the carriages, where the fettered and handcuffed prisoners--five--were being passed in by men of the foot guards, who then formed up round the vehicles, toward which the two teams of horses were now brought back, the men roughly knotting together the cut traces, and fastening them ready for a fresh start toward the prison.

"One of the prisoners has been carried off, Frank," whispered Captain Murray then; and in a weak voice the lad said:

"My father?"

"No, my lad; he is in the second carriage now." The next minute orders were given, and the dragoons advanced to clear the way for the carriages, now surrounded by the bristling bayonets of half a regiment of foot guards, who refused passage to Captain Murray and the boy, so that they had to be content with riding in front of the rear guard of dragoons.

And now once more the yelling of the crowd arose from the direction of Cheapside, where the mob had again gathered strongly; but no mercy was shown. The heavy mass of dragoons that formed the advance guard had received their orders to clear the way, and, finding a determined opposition, the trumpet rang out once more, and they advanced at a gallop, trampling down all before them for a few minutes till the crowd broke and ran. The way was clear enough as at a double the Grenadiers came up, and passed round the angle at Newgate Street, the escort driving the mob before it; and the wide space at the west end of the Old Bailey was reached.

This was packed with troops, who had preserved an opening for the carriages, and into it the Grenadiers marched, and formed up round the massive prison gates. And now Frank made an effort, with Captain Murray's assistance, to get to the carriage door again for one short farewell. But in the hurry and excitement of the time, the pass from the Palace and the military uniform the captain wore went for nothing, the dense mass of Grenadiers stood firm, and very few minutes sufficed for the prisoners to be passed in and the gates closed. A strong force of infantry was stationed within and without, for the authorities dreaded an attack upon the prison; and the regiment of dragoons that had been detailed to meet the escort and guard the road to Islington patrolled the approaches, while the rest marched off to their quarters amidst the hooting and yelling of the crowd.

Captain Murray turned off at once into a side street, and rode beside Frank for some distance, respecting in silence his young companion's grief, hardly a word passing till they reached the Guards' stables and left their horses, which looked, by the light of the men's lanthorns, as if they had passed through a river. Then the pair hurried across the Park, feeling half-stunned by their adventure, Frank so entirely, exhausted that he would have gladly availed himself of his friend's arm.

But he fought hard, and just as the clock was striking twelve he made his way to his mother's room, wondering whether he was to be called upon to face some fresh grief. But he found Lady Gowan lying awake, and ready to stretch out her hands to him.

"You saw him, Frank?" she whispered; and the disorder of his appearance escaped her notice.

"Yes, mother; I rode beside him, and he spoke to me."

"Yes, yes; what did he say?" cried Lady Gowan.

Frank delivered his father's loving message, and his mother's eyes closed.

"Yes," she said softly, "to meet again in happier times." Then, unclosing her eyes again, she moaned out, "Oh, Frank, Frank, my boy, my boy!" and he forgot his own weakness and suffering in his efforts to perform the sacred duty which had fallen to his lot. _

Read next: Chapter 42. After The Failure

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