CHAPTER IX
MY MEETING WITH AN OLD FOE
FOR over an hour a continuous stream of men in soiled buff coatspassed in more or less military precision. Their arms, save those ofthe officers, had been piled or stacked, their colours handed over,and their cannons, most of which they themselves had spiked, werealready parked and placed under a strong guard.
In many instances the men were still suffering from wounds, bandagedheads and limbs in slings being numerous.
The completeness of the surrender was, however, marred by the factthat on the previous night the rebel Earl of Essex had escaped fromthe town and taken boat to Fowey, whence, we afterwards learnt, abrig had conveyed him to Plymouth.
Nor was the renegade Chaloner to be found amongst the prisoners, muchto the Royal commander's disappointment; whether he were dead oralive no one knew. The other two rebel officers, Hobbs and Gale,against whom serious counts were proved, had already been strung upin front of the Shire Hall.
Sixty of the common rank and file alone were retained, and under astrong guard these were compelled to cleanse out the dishallowedchurch and to restore it, as far as possible, to its formercondition.
Directly the surrender was completed, the troops were dismissed,precautions being taken against a surprise, though 'twas evident thatthe rebellion in this part of Cornwall had been stamped out.
As soon as we were at liberty Colonel Firestone and I turned ourhorses over to the care of a camp follower, and made our way to theplace where the rebels' arms had been given up, for I was anxious toregain my sword, while my companion was equally solicitous on behalfof his own weapons.
As we passed by the Shire Hall, before which the bodies of the tworebel officers still swung to the gaze of a curious throng ofsoldiers and townsfolk, we saw the crowd being parted by a body ofarmed men, who had great difficulty in preventing the infuriatedtownspeople from tearing a prisoner from their midst, while shoutsand threats filled the air.
Planting ourselves firmly in the midst of the crowd, so that thearmed guard would pass within a few feet of us, we jostled with thesurging mass, till at length we could see the features of theprisoner.
Instinctively an exclamation of surprise burst from my lips. Strippedof coat and doublet, his face cut and bruised and stained with driedblood and dirt, was--not Chaloner, but the so-called Southampton"merchant," the charlatan Cutler!
Half dead with fear, his legs hardly able to support his tremblingbody, the wretched man was urged onwards by his guards, as, with hishands pressed to his ears as if to shut out the threats andexecrations of the crowd, he was marched towards the provost'squarters.
"What has he done?" I asked, laying a detaining hand on the shoulderof a dragoon who, carrying the trickster's torn coat, was followingthe guards.
"Done?" he replied. "Dost know the villain?"
"I know that he has done us more than once," I replied grimly.
"I trove he'll do you no more, for he'll dance at the end of a ropewithin the hour," said the soldier, preparing to move on. "For he hasbeen caught in the act of robbing the dead."
"Then we've seen the last of Master Cutler," remarked my companion aswe resumed our way. "At least, unless we see his body gracing agallows."
Upon arriving at the ground where the arms of the surrendered armyhad been deposited, we were somewhat dismayed at the magnitude of ourtask; but upon our applying to the camp marshal for permission to tryand recover our weapons, that officer was able to inform us of theprobable place where Chaloner's dragoons had stacked their arms.
Muskets had been piled in a military manner, but stands of pikes,swords, pistols, breastplates, morions, Swedish feathers, and otherarms of offence and defence lay heaped in indescribable disorder.
For over an hour we searched without success, till I suggested thatwe might question some of the prisoners who had been retained toclean out the church, and, my comrade falling in with the idea, wereturned to the scene of our recent adventures.
After a short conversation with the captain of the guard, an officerof Hopton's troop, with whom Firestone was acquainted, we entered thebuilding.
"There's our man," exclaimed the colonel, pointing to the sergeant ofdragoons who had so brutally used us on the day of our capture byChaloner.
"Come hither, sirrah," said Firestone, and the man, now thoroughlyfrightened, obeyed.
"What did you do with our arms when your men mishandled us?"
"I know not," stammered the man.
"Think again," continued my companion, "or we must needs refresh yourfailing memory."
"I know not," repeated the sergeant.
"Two rebels even now dance at the end of a rope outside the ShireHall," remarked Firestone in a dry, casual sort of voice. "Theymurdered their prisoners and burnt the houses of loyal Cornishmen;methinks I know of a third who ill-treated men having the misfortuneto fall into his hands."
"I did but carry out mine orders," replied the dragoon.
"Brutality is not necessary to the obedience of orders," snappedFirestone. "Come, now, say where our arms were placed, or the provostwill have speech with you, with the great possibility of the gallowsto finish up with. Now, sirrah, what say you?"
"They were sold at Liskeard."
"To whom?"
"To the host of the 'Stag.'"
"For how much?"
"A barrel of cider."
"You rascal!" shouted Firestone, shaking his fist in the man's face."You rascal! To sell the arms of two loyal gentlemen for a barrel ofcider. Get back to your work, you prick-eared rebel, lest I forgetmyself."
And, wild with rage, my comrade stalked out of the building.
For my part my indignation was almost as great, and I resolved at theearliest opportunity to regain possession of my sword, the gift ofthe armourer of Newport. However, as the countryside was overrun withthe remnants of the surrendered army, it was deemed wise to defer thejourney for a few days at least.
One morning, however, I was seized with a sudden impulse to ridealone over to Liskeard, a distance of twelve miles, and to offer areasonable sum to the innkeeper for the weapons, or, failing toobtain them in this manner, to threaten him with a visit from our menfor illegal trafficking with rebels; and, having executed my mission,the result would be a pleasant surprise to Nick Firestone.
It was after midday ere I obtained the necessary permission from theprovost to leave the camp, and, having made an excuse to my comrade,I saddled my horse and rode off.
This animal was not the one I had ridden from home, neither was itthe passable nag that I had had given me on joining Hopton's camp,but a powerful black charger which I bought immediately after thesurrender of the rebel army, and was, in consequence, ignorant of itstemper.
In under two hours I arrived at Liskeard, where I found the host ofthe "Stag" most amenable to my request, and, protesting that he hadbeen compelled to take my sword and a brace of pistols belonging toFirestone in payment for the cider, he handed them over inconsideration of the sum of a crown--a far less amount than I hadexpected to have had to pay.
Delighted with the success of my mission, I had refreshment, andafterwards set out on my journey back to the camp. But I had barelycovered half the distance when my horse began to show symptoms ofrestlessness, and before I was fully aware of the fact, it suddenlyplunged, bounded forward, and, regardless of my effort to retain it,tore headlong over the dusty road.
Thinking it would soon tire itself out, and consoling myself that Iwas still going in the direction of the camp, I let the creature havea loose rein, till at length it suddenly turned, cleared a low stonewall with a bound, and headed across a field.
Now I sought to rein in the frantic animal, but in vain. Acrosscountry it tore, till it reached a wild tract of open country twomiles from the highway, and, sinking to its knees in a marsh, I wasable to leap from the saddle.
Tugging at the exhausted creature's reins, I succeeded in extricatingit from the bog-land; then, loth to take further risk, I walked i
t inthe direction from which I had come.
At length I espied a stone hut, or hovel, from which a thin column ofsmoke was rising. In the excitement of my wild ride I had failed tonotice it before. As I drew nearer I saw that at one time it musthave been an ancient British cromlech, a massive slab of graniteresting upon two uprights. A rough wall of stone had converted thecromlech into a rude dwelling, and here apparently human beingsexisted. Door there was none, a gap in the wall serving that purpose.
The soft, springy turf deadened the sound of my approach, and,gaining the entrance, I stooped down and peered within, having tiedup my horse to a thorn bush, and taken the precaution of holding oneof my pistols in my hand.
In front of the fire a hare was roasting on a rough spit, while thesmoke and the sudden change from the glare of the sunlight made itimpossible to distinguish things clearly. Lying on the ground was aman. He was fast asleep, and even my voice failed to rouse him. Thefloor of this singular dwelling had been excavated to a depth ofabout two feet below the surface of the ground outside, so that therewas a height of nearly seven feet between the floor and the roof ofsolid rock.
I stepped within and stirred the sleeper with my foot.
With a sudden start he awoke and jumped to his feet. It was CaptainChaloner!
It was Captain Chaloner, in spite of his scared face, unkempt hairand beard, his torn and travel-stained clothes. Doubtless he thoughtthat a troop of horse stood without.
"Yield yourself, Captain Chaloner," I exclaimed, holding up my cockedpistol.
"I yield," he replied, without hesitation, somewhat to mydiscomfiture, for I knew not where I was, neither did he know that Iwas alone, so what was I to do with my prisoner?
"Make ready to go," I continued, "for we must needs journey toLostwithiel."
"Promise me that your men will not harm me," he said imploringly,whereat I unthinkingly informed him that there was no one without.
"Then on what authority do you arrest me?" he exclaimed, with asudden change of tone.
"The authority of right and might," I replied, showing him the pistolonce more. "You must needs walk five paces ahead of me, and at thefirst sign of escape I shoot you down."
"What must needs be," he rejoined. "But, Master Markham, consider amoment. I am of opinion that the matter of Ashley Castle beingbestowed upon me is the cause of your hatred towards me, though Iswear it was not through my asking."
"You are right, though I'll not believe you did not ask it to beconferred upon you."
"Then why seek my life?"
"I do not seek your life, although by doing my duty I have littledoubt but that you'll be hanged for your treachery. Had I not struckup the barrel of a musket, you would certainly have been shot downfrom the tower of Lostwithiel Church when you tried your utmost toburn or blow us up."
"Good lad! Good lad!" sneered Chaloner. "I thank you for theservice."
"And now make ready," I continued, ignoring his insolent manner. "For'tis late in the afternoon, and we must needs be in camp ere sunset."
"Since you are alone, Master Markham, can you not forego the honourof taking me into the Royalist camp? Consider, sixteen good miles ofrough road, darkness long before we arrive there, and the chance ofmeeting some of my men. For, look you, I am not alone. Furthermore,if you let me go free, I'll promise, on my word of honour----"
"Your word of honour!" I repeated scornfully.
"Ay, I'll swear it, if you will, that I'll hand over the deed ofsettlement of Ashley Castle, and take ship overseas till the war beat an end. I mean what I say," he continued as I shook my head at hisbase proposal. "See, I have the document here."
Stooping down, he lifted up a pile of clothing that lay on the floor.
There was a sudden flash, a loud report, and I reeled backwards witha sharp pain like a hot iron searing through my shoulder.
I had a dim recollection of firing my pistol straight at him as hestill remained huddled on the floor, and seeing him half spring tohis feet, only to fall forward with convulsive struggles. Then, witha red mist swimming before my eyes, I staggered to where my horse wastethered, clambered into the saddle, and gave spur.
After a while my senses became clearer. My left arm was paining me,while a dark stain flooded the shoulder and front of my doublet. Myhorse had settled down to a trot, though whither 'twas bearing me Iknew not nor Hardly cared. I had some consolation in the thought thatI was being borne somewhere, and, providing I could keep my saddle,all would be well at the next village or homestead I came to.
The sun was close on the time of setting, and by the fact that itsruddy glare came from the direction slightly behind my rightshoulder, I knew we were heading southwards.
As my senses returned the pain of my wound increased, the incessantjolting causing the blood to flow freely. I could not help wonderingwhat might have been my fate had I fallen from the saddle during theperiod of unconsciousness, for my feet were firmly wedged in thestirrups, and, if unable to disengage them, I would have been ashapeless mass of shattered pulp. I had seen a similar thing atEdgehill, and knew full well what it meant.
At length the horse gained the summit of a lofty hill, and before mestretched the seemingly boundless expanse of the English Channel, agentle declivity of about half a mile separating me from the water,though on either hand a spur of the hill in what must be a pair ofrugged headlands.
Suddenly the horse was seized with the same unseen terror that hadcaused it to bolt on the highway. It reared almost on its haunches,and only by keeping a tight grip on its mane with my sound arm was Iable to retain my seat. Then, with its freshly-found wind, thestartled animal bounded forward.
"'Tis time to cry halt," I exclaimed to myself, and, putting all thestrength of my unwounded limb into the pull, I strove to rein in theanimal, as I saw that what I took to be a gentle slope actuallyterminated in a cliff, though considerably lower than the adjacentportions of the coast.
My efforts, as before, were useless, and only tended to increase thehorse's pace and fury. Several times I tried to turn its head, but inspite of this the animal kept straight for the sea.
Not a moment was to be lost. I determined to shoot the brute and riska headlong fall on the soft turf. Forgetting my wound for the moment,I took the reins in my left hand. Then, drawing my remaining pistolfrom its holster, I snapped it at the horse's forehead but, to mydismay, there was no report.
The weapon had missed fire.
At that moment I realised that there were persons riding to my aid.At least a score of horsemen were galloping furiously down the spuron my right, with the evident intention of intercepting my runawaysteed and diverting its flight. Some of them had carbines, and madeready to fire, though I had misgivings as to their marksmanship. Butthe efforts of the horsemen were in vain; my horse thundered past theleader at more than twenty paces, and, defying pursuit, continued itsmad flight.
Throwing away the useless pistol, I drew my sword, determined to slaythe animal before it carried me to destruction; but before I couldshorten the blade for a stroke we had gained the edge of the cliff.
The horse gave a neigh, whether of triumph or of terror I knew not,and with undiminished speed shot into space. In a few brief seconds Imust have turned completely round; I saw the red sheer face of thecliff appear to shoot upwards, the air whistled past my head, andwith a heavy splash my horse and I struck the surface of the watersimultaneously.
Then everything became a blank.
The Young Cavalier: A Story of the Civil Wars Page 9
