The Young Cavalier: A Story of the Civil Wars

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XV

  THE SECRET PASSAGE

  WHEN I came to, I found myself lying on the grass of the courtyard,with my friends Granville and Colonel Firestone kneeling by my side.

  The former had a blood-stained scarf bound round his head, whileFirestone's steel cap bore a dent that was a silent testimony to hisvalour. It was nearly dark, but there was sufficient light to seethat on the ground were several motionless objects that but a fewshort hours before had been the living defenders of my home.

  The assault had failed, but the solitary gun still kept up a steadyfire.

  "How goes the day?" I asked feebly, for my head was whirling, and mythroat parched with thirst. "We hurled them back," replied Ralph."Chaloner's dead we found his body in the breach. At the last moment,when we thought everything was lost, one of the rebels raised a crythat the breach was mined, and they gave back in confusion."

  "And how have we fared?"

  "Badly. Nine good men killed, and five sorely wounded. There are notten men left whole. I fear we cannot withstand another onslaught."

  "Then we must make use of the secret passage!" I exclaimed, startingpainfully to my feet. "None can say that we have not borne ourselveswith honour."

  Beyond being knocked senseless by the musketeers weapon I was unhurt,and after partaking of food and drink, I felt stronger, though weakin the limbs. For some unexpected reason the rebels did not offer torenew the attack, and in consequence we were able to enjoy a goodnight's sleep.

  Early the following day we had the mournful task of burying thebodies of those who had fallen in the defence of the castle.Especially mournful 'twas as far as I was concerned, since I hadknown every one of them, save one, from my earliest days. Theexception was Sergeant Lawson, who, after slaying four men with hisown hand, was shot down at close range by a musketeer.

  This done, we inspected the breach, where the bodies of the slainrebels lay thick.

  As I looked at Chaloner's corpse, stiff and cold, with thedishonourable wound in the back of his neck plainly visible--for infalling his helmet had come off--I could not help remembering myfather's injunction never to let the renegade's footsteps cross ourthreshold.

  I had indeed carried out my sire's instructions, for my enemy hadnever planted his feet within our walls, though 'twas a near thing.

  While at breakfast--the last meal I was fated to partake of withinthose walls--I questioned the colonel concerning the spiking of theguns.

  "'Twas of little avail," he replied. "The mischief was already done.Had we managed it before the breach was made, the result might havebeen different, and we could still make good our defence. True, wespiked them, but the rebels discovered us ere we made a properbusiness of the last. I gave the word that each man should look tohimself, but I fear they were all overtaken and shot down. For mypart, I knew that running was out of the question, so I crawledbeneath the gun till those in pursuit had passed by. Then I made goodmy escape to the woods, but did not hesitate to steal a horsebelonging to a rebel officer, and biding my time, rejoined you. As Isaid, 'twas of little avail, and a matter which anyone couldperform."

  "A gallant deed, notwithstanding," replied Granville warmly.

  "A truce to compliments, young sir," rejoined the colonel. "Lookyonder!"

  One glance sufficed to show that the rebels were massing for anotherattack, and if we wished to save ourselves, no time was to be lost.

  Our first act was to convey our wounded to the entrance to the secretpassage, leaving a man with a lighted lantern to facilitate ourretreat. This done, we deliberated whether we should give the rebelswarning of our intentions of blowing up the castle, or involve asmany of them as possible in the explosion.

  Firestone favoured the latter course, arguing that they were rebels,that they refused us quarter, though forsooth we had not asked it,and also that such were the usages of warfare; but Granville and Iwere opposed to his suggestion.

  "They are Englishmen, though they be rebels," I argued, "and the menare acting under the orders of their officers. For my part, I havethe satisfaction of knowing that Chaloner will never own this heap ofstones, though the rebels seek to gain possession of the castle; butthat is no reason why I should like to take life heedlessly."

  "As ye will, then," grumbled the colonel. "You were ever a strangelad in such matters. Then we had better take immediate steps toacquaint them with the fact."

  We then liberated our sole prisoner, and bidding him inform theRoundhead officers that we intended to blow up the castle, andwarning them to keep away, as they valued the safety of their men'slives, we sent the captured pikeman back to the rebel lines.

  Meanwhile I had sent a man to the stables for the purpose of shootingour six remaining horses, for though I could not bear to see the deeddone, 'twas better than to leave them to the mercy of a horde ofrebels, supposing they survived the explosion.

  Mustering the survivors of our little band, I informed them, much totheir surprise--for they had fully expected to perish to a man in theassault--that we were able to evacuate the castle without furtherloss of life.

  I next paid them according to my father's orders, thanking them fortheir loyal services both to His Majesty and to our house. Thereuponthey gave three lusty cheers, showing that their courage andpatriotism even in danger and defeat were undiminished.

  Led by Granville, the men marched in good order and without unduehaste through the powder magazine, and down the steps leading to theunderground passage. Firestone and I tarried to give a final glanceback; then, descending the shattered staircase of the tower, we madeour way to the magazine.

  Here a double train was already laid, and a light close at hand. Withthe utmost deliberation Firestone applied a flame to each of thesinister ribbons; then, after making sure that both were wellkindled, we hurried down the steps to the passage that led to safety.

  By the glare of a pair of torches and a lantern we could see our waywithout difficulty, though our progress was slow by reason of thetransport of the wounded men. The tunnel was paved with rough slabsof stone, while the walls and arched roof were composed of flints setin hard cement. The smoke from the torches dispelled any noxiousodours, but of damp we found no trace.

  We passed three massive doors in quick succession, and bearing inmind my father's warning, we closed and bolted them as we passed.Then, in silence, broken only by the dull rumble of our feet thatre-echoed along the hollow passage, we slowly continued our way.

  Suddenly there was a deep boom like the noise of distant thunder, andthe solid ground beneath our feet trembled with the shock.

  The explosion had taken place. Ashley Castle was no more!

  Neither Granville nor Firestone spoke to me, for which I feltthankful, my heart being too full of grief and mortification. LikeRalph, I was now homeless, and except for the fact that I had notlaid down my life, I had paid the price of loyalty to the utmostfarthing.

  Of the future I cared not one jot, though before I was clear of thepassage my thoughts, thanks to the buoyancy of youth, assumed a morehopeful nature.

  We must have walked for the best part of half an hour, and I waswondering where we should emerge, being ignorant of the direction ofthe tunnel, when the men who were on in front halted.

  "The place is blocked up!" exclaimed one of them, who, holding atorch, was examining the rough flintwork.

  Firestone and I were quickly at the spot, and we too could see nosigns of an aperture, the tunnel ending in a half-moon-shaped wall.

  "Surely we are not caught like rats in a trap!" asked Firestone."Your father doubtless never explored the passage?"

  "He would not have shown it us had it been a trap," I replied."There must be some signs of a doorway or secret entrance. Perchancewe have already passed it."

  "If we cannot find it, we have tools wherewith we can dig a way out,"said the colonel, indicating our weapons, which we one and all, savethe wounded men, retained. "I'll warrant the surface of the groundis not ten feet above our heads."

 
"If the passage leads under the Downs, it may be five hundred,"exclaimed Ralph moodily.

  "Talking will not find it, so let's to work," said the colonelcheerfully, and taking a torch from one of the men, he began toretrace his footsteps, looking both at the sides and roof of thetunnel as he went.

  "The air seems fresh enough," he said. "So we need not fearsuffocation for a while, at any rate. But there's no sign of anopening, though your father expressly mentioned 'twas easy enough tofind."

  At length he returned to the end of the passage, where we hadremained, endeavouring to dislodge some of the flints with a stoutknife, but without avail. The man who had built that passage musthave meant it to last, for the cement was as hard as the flints.

  "Let me mount on your shoulders," said I to one of the men, a tall,broad-shouldered farmer from Compton. From this height I couldexamine the roof, which at no part was more than seven feet inheight, though my face was almost touching the jagged flints of thecrown of the arch.

  In one place it looked as if a crack existed in the cement, andtaking the knife from its owner's hands, I scratched the pointagainst the supposed joint in the stonework.

  My efforts met with no success, but just at that moment the knifeslipped from my hand and fell to the ground. A shout from Firestonecaused me to look down in alarm.

  "Has it struck your foot?" I asked anxiously.

  "Foot? No," he replied. "Fool that I was not to have thought of itbefore. Look at the knife!"

  The steel was deeply embedded in the floor.

  I descended from the farmer's shoulders, and stood by while thecolonel directed a man to remove the thick deposit of dust thateverywhere covered the floor of the tunnel. This done, a square ofwood with a rusted iron ring in its centre was laid bare.

  "'Tis evident we must go down ere we go up!" remarked Firestone, witha laugh. "Now--pull together!"

  Accordingly, the big farmer and another strong yeoman tugged at thering, but the next instant they were sent crashing into the stonewall of the tunnel, which alone saved them from falling backwards,with the rusted iron held firmly in their hands.

  "It has broken off short we must be careful lest we are unable tomake use of what is left in the ring," cautioned the colonel, anddirecting the men to secure a better grip of the fragment of ironthat still remained in the slab by means of a strip of cloth, whileothers used their weapons as levers, the barrier between us andfreedom was removed.

  Another short flight of steps, followed by a passage less than twentyfeet in length and lower than the one we had just traversed,terminating in a spiral staircase.

  At the top of these steps was a massive stone slab, balanced on aheavy iron pivot, while two strong bolts kept it in position, so thatit could not be moved, save from the side on which we were.

  Remembering that extreme caution was necessary, we carefully withdrewthe bolts, and slowly pushed the stone, Without a sound, the wholeslab turned easily on its pivot, and, to my great surprise, I foundthat we were looking into a building, while my astonishment was evengreater when I discovered it was none other than Chalton Church!

  Many a time had I noticed a large tomb in one corner of the church,with a brass showing the effigy of a knight with his legs crossed atthe knees and his feet resting on a lion, while I had often tried todecipher the almost illegible writing, "Ci gist..." But up to thatvery moment I had not the faintest idea, nor had anyone else in oraround Chalton, I feel certain, that the tomb was in reality not atomb, but the egress from a secret tunnel from Ashley Castle.

  It was a tedious struggle to worm our bodies through the narrow slit;especially so was it with the wounded men, and deep groansinvoluntarily rose from their lips as we literally dragged theirhelpless forms through the aperture.

  At length we succeeded, and as we closed the movable slab we heard afaint click. The bolts on the inside had by some ingenious mechanismslipped back into their places, and the exit from the undergroundpassage was firmly closed. Nothing short of the demolition of thespurious tomb would ever reveal the secret tunnel.

  Fortunately, the church was deserted, and no one had witnessed ourappearance; not that any of the villagers would have betrayed us, forthey were stamped with unswerving loyalty, but for the benefit ofthose who were to inhabit Ashley Castle at some future date (for Ihad a presentiment that a new castle would rise phoenix-like from thescorched ruins of the old) it was undesirable that the secret shouldbe public property.

  I then addressed the sorry remnant of my faithful garrison once more,urging them to return as quickly and secretly to their homes as theywere able, and requested them honourably to preserve the secret oftheir means of escape.

  This they promised most readily to do, and after telling the men, erethey set out for their homes, to take their wounded comrades acrossto the Red Lion till they should recover--for Master Anthony, theworthy host, was as staunch a Royalist as could be found inHamptonshire--I bade them farewell.

  Then, accompanied by Firestone and Ralph, I crossed the little green,and entered this inn, where I made arrangements for the accommodationof the wounded, forcing Master Anthony, much against his wish, toaccept a sum of money to recompense horn for his assistance.

  As the rebel horse was swarming over the neighbourhood--nay, over thewhole county--'twould be unwise for the three of us to traveltogether, so we resolved to separate and each take his own chance.But before doing so we had a farewell dinner, the last we were likelyto have together for many a long day, while our host kept a carefulwatch for fear of roving parties of the rebel troops.

  Firestone had resolved to make his way westward once more, andnaturally Granville desired to do the same, so they agreed on arendezvous at Stoney Cross, in the heart of the New Forest, thecolonel journeying by way of Southampton, and Ralph throughBishopstoke and Romsey. Each agreed to wait three days for the other,and if one failed to keep this tryst, the other would continue hisjourney alone, concluding that some misfortune had befallen hiswould-be companion.

  For my part, I was determined to seek a quiet retreat in the Isle ofWight, and to live there in strict seclusion till the dawn of betterdays. Little did I dream how Fate was to cross my wish, and whatexciting times were in store!

  In the midst of setting our plans word was brought that a body ofrebel horse was approaching. Our wounded men were already placed inbed in the upper rooms of the inn, and Master Anthony concealed us insome huge barrels that stood on a low oaken bench at one end of thelarge drinking-room.

  Barely were we safely hidden than the door was unceremoniously thrownopen, and several soldiers--a dozen at least by the noise they madestrode into the room.

  Roughly ordering the landlord to bring them drink, and plenty of it,they sat down, removed their steel caps, and began to discourse onthe events of the day.

  They were, judging by the manner of their conversation, dragoons ofChaloner's regiment, and held their late leader in scant respect, forthey even expressed satisfaction at his death. Rough soldiers theywere, with a true contempt for cowardice, and Chaloner's behaviour onseveral occasions had not escaped their notice; while, on the otherhand, they confessed to a certain amount of admiration at ourdesperate deed of self-sacrifice, for, in common with every man inthe rebel host that had lain around the castle, they firmly believedthat the devoted garrison had perished in the explosion.

  The barrels in which we had taken refuge were large, so that we wereby no means cramped, but the one in which I lay hidden was encrustedwith dried lees of wine, and before long I was seized with anuncontrollable desire to sneeze. Clapping both hands on my mouth, Istrove to suppress the sound.

  "What's that noise?" demanded one of the dragoons. There wasinstant silence in the room, though I felt my heart thumpingviolently against my ribs. Had I not stood in the centre of the cask,I felt certain the barrel would have shaken.

  "Ho, there!" shouted one of the soldiers, bringing his tankard downwith a crash upon the oak table. "Come hither, rascal!"

  I heard Master Anthony shuff
ling down the stoneflagged passage.

  "What do yonder casks hold, sirrah?" demanded the dragoon.

  "They are empty, sir," replied the landlord, in a trembling voice.

  "Empty, thou lying rogue? I heard someone sneeze!"

  "'Twas I, sir. A bad cold, I assure you," pleaded the landlord.

  "You are getting light-headed in your cups, Dick!" exclaimed anotherhalf-tipsy trooper. "But I'll swear there's good liquor in thosecasks."

  Master Anthony vehemently protested that they were empty. Then, to myhorror, I heard another man exclaim:

  "Stand aside, you knock-kneed ale-seller! A pistolbullet will showwhether you speak the truth."

  "Wouldst spoil a good man's casks?" protested the landlord; but hiswords were of no avail, and I heard the dragoon cock his pistol.

  There were, I remember, four of these casks in a row, and three wereoccupied by us, while one of the two middle ones was empty. There wasa chance that the empty one would be the target of the rebel'spistol, but directly I heard the sound of the pistol being cocked, Isqueezed myself close to one side of the cask, so that my body wasclear of the centre. Then I braced myself up, resolving, even if Iwere hit, to endeavour to suppress a cry lest I and my companionsshould be discovered.

  It seemed ages ere I heard the report, and with a splintering of wooda hole was drilled through the cask where I stood, the bullet passingclose to my knees, and burying itself in the opposite side.

  "The old rascal is right, the cask is empty," said one of the men,with a laugh.

  "I'll wager a tankard of cider that you'll not nick my mark,"exclaimed the soldier who had fired.

  "Done cried the other. I tell you, you've lost already."

  "A truce to this foolery," interrupted another, evidently a sergeant."We must needs be back in the camp outside Basing ere dark, and 'tiswell over a good twenty miles. To horse! To horse, I say!"

  Grumbling and swearing, the soldiers trooped out of the inn, and forthe present our peril was past.

  At dusk three men in rustic garb emerged from the Red Lion. One setoff at a swinging pace down the lane leading to Clanfield, the secondstrode with awkward gait along a pathway over the hills towardsHorndean, and the third, carrying a load of faggots, turned off downthe Havant road. 'Twas the parting of the three staunch comrades.

  My love-locks had been shorn close to my head, a rough smock covereda suit of worn clothes that would ill become even a farmer, while thefaggots I bore served a twofold purpose. They formed a fittingcomplement to my disguise as a countryman, while in the centre of thebundle reposed my trusty sword, which I would not part with under anycircumstances.

  I had thought to return under cover of darkness to the thicket on thedowns where I had buried the iron box containing the deeds and otherdocuments relating to my home. But on further consideration I came tothe conclusion that 'twould be best to let the box remain till a moreconvenient season.

  So, shouldering my burden, I took a long last look in the directionof the distant ruined castle, and then set off resolutely along thesouthern road.