Boscobel; or, the royal oak: A tale of the year 1651
Page 81
CHAPTER IX.
THE GORGE OF THE AVON.
They had now gained an eminence, at that time nothing more than a baredown, but now covered with streets, squares, and terraces, and formingthe charming suburb of Clifton. From this lofty point the whole of thecity could be descried, bathed in moonlight, and presenting a verystriking picture.
After a few minutes' rest, Dame Gives seemed to have recovered fromthe fatigue of the steep ascent, and walked on briskly over theelastic turf. Though they were on a very lofty elevation, they hadnot as yet reached the crown of the hill, which was then surmountedby a watch-tower, but they walked to this point, and avoidingthe watch-tower, entered a wide open space, partly surrounded byearthworks, which had once formed a Roman camp.
A most remarkable scene now lay before them, the picturesque effect ofwhich was heightened by the moonlight. From the giddy height they hadattained they looked down upon the Avon, flowing in its deep channelbetween two walls of rocks, evidently riven asunder, ages ago, by someconvulsion of nature. This marvellous chasm, than which nothing canbe grander, is known as the Gorge of the Avon. Bushes and small treesspringing from the interstices of the lofty and shelving rocks addedmaterially to its beauty. In appearance the uplands on either side ofthe gorge were totally different. The heights on which the king and hiscompanions stood were wild, and only covered with patches of gorse,while those on the opposite side were crowned with the thickets in themidst of which Abbots Leigh was situated. Divided for long centuries,as we have said, these towering cliffs have been once more united by alight and beautiful bridge suspended over the abyss at such a heightthat the tallest ship can pass beneath it.
From the lofty point on which Charles stood the course of the Avonfrom Bristol to the rocky gorge could be distinctly traced in themoonlight, except in places where the river was obscured by a slighthaze that gathered over it. The upper part of the cliffs was illuminedby the moon, but her beams could not penetrate their mysterious andgloomy depths. Lower down, where the chasm widened, and the cliffs werefurther apart, the river could be seen rushing on to join the Severn. Astrange and fascinating picture, which the king contemplated with greatinterest.
Meanwhile, the troopers had gained the summit of the hill, andconcealed themselves behind the watch-tower.
"There is the boat!" exclaimed Pope, pointing to a dark objectdistinguishable in the river about three hundred yards from theentrance of the gorge.
Charles listened intently, and, in the deep stillness that prevailed,felt sure he heard the plash of oars.
"'Tis the boat, no doubt," he cried.
"Shall we go down to meet it?" inquired Pope.
Charles signified his assent.
"Your majesty will please to be careful," continued Pope. "The descentis somewhat perilous."
"You hear what he says, fair mistress," remarked Charles to Dame Gives.
Struck by her extreme paleness, he added:
"Let me help you to descend."
But she thankfully declined the gracious offer.
Pope then led them along the edge of the precipitous cliffs, tillhe arrived at a spot where the bank was not quite so steep, and wasfringed with bushes.
"Here is the path, my liege," he exclaimed. "Follow me, and proceedcautiously, I beseech you. A false step might prove fatal."
He then plunged amid the bushes, and was followed by Charles. Closebehind the king came Dame Gives.
Their movements had been watched by the troopers, who carefully markedthe spot where they commenced the descent, and in another minute werecautiously following them.
The path taken by Pope brought those whom he conducted among the rockslower down, and here Charles gave a helping hand to Dame Gives, andsaved her from the consequences of more than one unlucky slip; butnothing worse occurred, and they all reached the bottom of the cliff insafety.
They were now at the entrance of the gorge, and the river, confinedby the rocks, was sweeping rapidly past them through its narrow deepchannel.
Charles was gazing at the darkling current and at the towering cliffs,that filled him with a sense of awe, when Pope called out that the boatwas at hand.
Next moment it came up, and Captain Rooker, who had been rowing, leapedashore and made it fast to the stump of a tree. Careless did not land,but helped Dame Gives into the boat, and Charles was about to follow,when shouts were heard, and the two troopers rushed towards them.
Jumping into the boat, Charles ordered Rooker to set her free. But theskipper paid no attention to the command.
"Thou art taken in the toils, Charles Stuart," he cried. "As aninstrument in accomplishing thy capture, I shall receive my reward."
"Be this the reward of thy treachery, villain," cried Careless.
And drawing a pistol from his belt, he shot him through the head.
As the traitor fell to the ground, Pope unloosed the rope, and setthe boat free, jumping into it, as he pushed it from the bank. At thesame moment, Charles seized the oars, and propelling the boat into themiddle of the stream it was swept down by the rapid current.
Unluckily, it had to pass near the troopers, and they shouted to theking, who was now plying the oars, to stop; but as he disregarded theorder, they both discharged their carabines at him, and he must havebeen killed, if Dame Gives had not suddenly risen, and placing herselfbefore him, received the shots. The devoted young woman fell backmortally wounded into the arms of Careless, who was seated near her.
"Are you much hurt?" he cried, in accents of despair.
"Hurt to death," she rejoined, faintly. "I have not many moments leftof life. I knew this would be, and am prepared for it. Farewell forever!"
Uttering these words, she breathed her last sigh, and her head declinedupon Careless's shoulder.
"She has died for me!" exclaimed Charles. "'Tis a sad and suddenending, but she anticipated her doom."
"Anticipated it, sire! How mean you?" cried Careless.
"I will explain hereafter, if we escape," said Charles.
Several more shots were fired by the troopers, but no one was hurt. Thecurrent swept the boat down so rapidly that those within it were soonout of reach of harm.
"What will you do?" said Charles to Careless.
"I know not," rejoined the other, distractedly. "But I will never resttill I have avenged her. But think not of me, my liege. Save yourself.If you go further down the river, you will most assuredly fall intosome new danger."
"If I might venture to advise your majesty," said Pope, "I wouldrecommend you to land as soon as possible, and return at once to AbbotsLeigh."
"Thy advice is good," rejoined Charles. "But what is to be done withthe unfortunate victim of this treacherous design? How is she to bedisposed of?"
"Leave her to me, sire," replied Careless. "Again, I implore you tosave yourself. Return to Abbots Leigh, as Pope suggests. If she couldspeak," he added, solemnly, looking at the lifeless figure, which hestill held in his arms, "she would urge you to take this course!"
"If you will consent to keep Pope with you, to assist you in yourmournful task, I will go--not otherwise," said Charles.
"Be it so, my liege," replied Careless.
During this colloquy, the boat was carried rapidly through the gorge,and had now reached the point where the chasm grew wider and the cliffswere further apart.
Looking out for a favourable point to land, Charles drew near the leftbank of the river, and Pope, jumping ashore, quickly fastened the boatto a tree.
Charles followed, but for some time could not make up his mind todepart.
At last, however, he yielded to the entreaties of Careless, whobesought him earnestly to go, urging that his stay would only endangerhimself, and ascending the cliffs, he made his way alone through thewoods to Abbots Leigh.
End of Book the Sixth.
Book the Seventh
TRENT.