The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “I know nothing of it,” the earl said. “My kinsman will tell you.”

  “I do not need his assurances,” King Charles said coldly. “He, at least, is proved to be a traitor, and methinks, my lord earl, that the preachers who are so fond of holding forth to me upon the wickedness of my ways might with advantage bestow some of their spare time in conversing with you upon the beauty and godliness of straightforwardness. General Leslie, you will arrest at once, on his leaving our presence, Colonel Alan Campbell, and will cause a court of inquiry to sift this matter to the bottom. And hark you, my lord of Argyll, see you that no more of your kinsmen practice upon the life of my faithful Colonel Furness. This is the third time that he has been in jeopardy at your hands. I am easy, my lord earl, too easy, mayhap, but let no man presume too far upon it. My power is but limited here, but remember the old saying, ‘Wise men do not pull the tails of lions’ whelps.’ The day may come when Charles II. will be a king in power as well as in name. Beware that you presume not too far upon his endurance now.” So saying, the king turned from Argyll, and bidding Harry follow him, and tell him the story of the defeat of the English troops, left the earl standing alone, the picture of rage and mortification.

  “You had best beware, Master Furness,” the king said. “He needs a long spoon they say, who sups with the deil. The Earl of Argyll is the real king of Scotland at present, and it is ill quarreling with him. You have got the best of it in the first three rubbers, but be sure that Argyll will play on till the cards favor him. And if you are once in his power, I would not give a baubee for your life. The proud earl treats me as a master would teach a froward pupil, but I tell you, Master Furness, and I know you are discreet and can be trusted, that as surely as the earl brought Montrose to the block, so surely shall Argyll’s head roll on the scaffold, if Charles II. is ever King of England. But I fear for you, Master Furness. I can help you here not at all, and the lecture which, on your behalf, I administered to the earl—and in faith I wonder now at my own courage—will not increase his love for you. You will never be safe as long as you remain in Scotland. What do you say? Will you south and join one or other of the Royalist bodies who are in arms there?”

  “Not so, your majesty. With your permission, I will play the game out to the end, although I know that my adversary holds the strongest cards. But even did I wish to leave, it would be as hazardous to do so as to stay here. So long as I am with my regiment I am in safety. I could not gain England by sea, for the Parliament ships bar the way, and did I leave my regiment and go south with only a small party, my chance of crossing the border alive would be but small. No, your majesty, I have the honor to command a king’s regiment, and whether against Cromwell in the field, or against Argyll’s plots and daggers, I shall do my duty to the end.”

  When, upon his return to the camp, Harry told his friends the purport of the interview between himself and Argyll, of Alan Campbell being put under arrest and the earl openly reproved by the king, Donald Leslie raised his hands in despair.

  “If you get through this, Furness,” he said, “I shall for the rest of my life be convinced that you have a charmed existence, and that your good genius is more powerful than the evil one of Argyll. The gossips say that he is in alliance with the evil one himself, and I can well believe them. But I beg you, in all seriousness, to confine yourself to the camp. So long as you are here you are safe. But once beyond its limits your life will not be worth a straw.”

  Jacob added his entreaties to those of Leslie, and Harry promised that until the decisive battle was over he would keep among his men, unless compelled by duty to appear at court.

  Four days afterward a soldier entered Harry’s tent, and handed him a missive. It was as follows: “Upon receipt of this, Colonel Furness will proceed to Leith and will board the vessel, the Royalist, which has just arrived from Holland. There he will inspect the newly arrived recruits, who will be attached to his regiment. He will examine the store of arms brought by her, and will report on their state and condition.—David Leslie, commanding his majesty’s armies.”

  The duty was one of mere routine. Harry showed the note to Jacob, and said, “You may as well come with me, Jacob. Your drilling is over for the day, and you can aid me looking through the stores. Mike,” he said, “we shall be back to supper. We are only going down to the port.” The two officers buckled on their swords, and at once started on foot for the port, which was but half a mile distant. Mike looked anxiously after his master. Since the day when danger had first threatened him he had scarce let him out of his sight, following close to his heels like a faithful dog. His present business seemed assuredly to forbode no danger. Nevertheless, the lad felt restless and anxious when he saw his master depart. A few minutes later he went to William Long’s tent. “Master Long,” he said, “will you see that my master’s servant gets supper in readiness at the usual hour. He has gone down to the port to inspect some recruits just arrived from Holland, by order of General Leslie, and said he would return by supper. I know that it is foolish, but since the affair with Alan Campbell I am never easy when he is not near. In this case, I do not see that there can possibly be any lurking danger. Argyll could not know of his proceeding to the port, nor would he venture to attack him there where the streets swarm with our soldiers. Nevertheless, I would fain go down and assure myself that all is well.”

  William Long at once promised to look after the supper, and Mike hurried away after Harry and his companion. These had, however, too far a start to be overtaken, and when he reached the wharf he saw a boat rowed by two men, and having two sitters in the stern. It was already some distance from shore, and appeared to be proceeding toward a vessel which lay at anchor several hundred yards further out from the shore than the others.

  “Can you tell me,” he asked a sailor, “whether that ship lying there is the Royalist?”

  “That is the name she goes by today,” the sailor said, “for as I rowed past her this morning on my way from fishing, I saw the name newly painted on her stern. They have put it on her boat too, which you now see rowing toward her, and which has been lying by the pier all day, in readiness to take out any one who might wish to go off to her.”

  “But have they changed her name, then?” Mike asked. “What have they been doing that for?”

  “She has been called the Covenant for the last two years,” the sailor said. “But I suppose Johnny Campbell, her master, thought the other more suited to the times.”

  The name of the captain at once aroused Mike’s uneasiness to the fullest.

  “Tell me,” he said, “good fellow, did that ship arrive this morning from Holland?”

  “From Holland!” repeated the sailor. “No. She came down the coast from the north three days ago, with beasts for the army.”

  Mike stood for a moment thunderstruck. Then, without a word to the sailor, he turned and ran back at full speed through the town up to the camp. At a headlong pace he made his way through the camp until he stopped at the tent of General Leslie. He was about to rush in without ceremony when the sentinel stopped his way.

  “Please let me pass,” he panted. “I would see the general on a matter of the utmost importance.”

  The sentries laughed.

  “You don’t suppose,” one of them said, “that the general is to be disturbed by every barefooted boy who wants to speak to him. If you have aught to say, you must speak first to the lieutenant of the guard.”

  “Every moment is of importance,” Mike urged. “It is a matter of life and death. I tell you I must see the general.” Then at the top of his voice he began to shout, “Sir David Leslie! Sir David Leslie!”

  “Silence there, young varmint, or I will wring thy neck for thee!” exclaimed the soldier, greatly scandalized, seizing Mike and shaking him violently. But the boy continued to shout out at the top of his voice, “Sir David Leslie! Sir David Leslie!”

  CHAPTER XXII

  KIDNAPPED

  Unable to silence Mike’s shouts, th
e scandalized guards began dragging him roughly from the spot, cuffing him as they went. But the door of the tent opened, and General Leslie appeared.

  “What means all this unseemly uproar?” he asked.

  “This malapert boy, general, wished to force his way into your tent, and when we stopped him, and told him that he must apply to the lieutenant of the guard if he had aught of importance which he wished to communicate to you, he began to shout like one possessed.”

  “Loose him,” the general said. “Now, varlet, what mean you by this uproar?”

  “Forgive me, sir,” Mike pleaded, “but I come on an errand which concerns the life of my master, Colonel Furness.”

  “Come within,” the general said briefly, for by this time a crowd had gathered round the tent. “Now,” he went on, “what is it you would tell me?”

  “I would ask you, sir, whether an hour since you sent an order to my master that he should forthwith go on board the ship Royalist to inspect recruits and stores of arms just arrived from Holland?”

  The general looked at him in astonishment.

  “I sent no such order,” he said. “No ship has arrived from Holland of that or any other name. What story is this that you have got hold of?”

  “My master received such an order, sir, for I heard him read it aloud, and he started at once with his major to carry out the order. Knowing, sir, how great, as you are doubtless aware, is the enmity which the Earl of Argyll bears to my master, I followed him to the port, and there learned that the ship called the Royalist had not come from Holland, but is a coaster from the north. I found, moreover, that she was but yesterday named the Royalist, and that she was before known as the Covenant, and that she is commanded by a Campbell. Then it seemed to me that some plot had been laid to kidnap my master, and I ran straight to you to ask you whether you had really ordered him to go on board this ship.”

  “This must be seen to at once,” the general said; for having been present at the scene when Harry produced Cromwell’s letter, he knew how deadly was the hatred of the earl for the young colonel. “Without there!” he cried. A soldier entered. “Send the lieutenant of the guard here at once.” The soldier disappeared, and the general sat down at his table and hastily wrote an order. “Lieutenant,” he said, when the officer entered, “give this letter to Captain Farquharson, and tell him to take his twenty men, and to go on the instant down to the port. There he is to take boat and row out to the ship called the Royalist. He is to arrest the captain and crew, and if he see not there Colonel Furness, let him search the ship from top to bottom. If he find no signs of him, let him bring the captain and six of his men ashore at once.”

  As soon as he heard the order given Mike, saluting the general, hurried from the tent, and ran at full speed to the camp of Harry’s regiment. There he related to Donald Leslie and William Long the suspicious circumstances which had occurred, and the steps which the general had ordered to be taken.

  “This is bad news, indeed,” Captain Leslie exclaimed; “and I fear that the colonel has fallen into the hands of Argyll’s minions. If it be so Farquharson is scarce likely to find the Royalist at anchor when he arrives at the port. Come, Long, let us be stirring. I will hand over the command of the regiment to Grahame till we return. While I am speaking to him pick me out ten trusty men.”

  He hurried off, and in five minutes was hastening toward the port, with William Long, Mike, and ten men. Such was the speed they made that they reached the quay just at the same time with Captain Farquharson and his men.

  Mike gave a cry of despair. The Royalist had disappeared. He ran up to a sailor who was still sitting on an upturned basket, smoking as he had left him before.

  “Where is the Royalist?” he exclaimed.

  “Halloo! young fellow, are you back again? I thought you had gone off with a bee in your bonnet, so suddenly and quickly did you run. The Royalist? ay, she hoisted her sails two minutes after her boat reached her. I was watching her closely, for I wondered whether she had aught to do with your sudden flight. Methinks that something strange has happened on board, for I saw what seemed to be a scuffle, and certainly the sun shone on the gleam of swords. Then, too, instead of heaving her anchor, she slipped the cable, and a Scotch captain must be in a hurry indeed when he does that.”

  “Where is she now?” Mike asked.

  “Over there, full four miles away, making across the Forth for the northern point of land.”

  “Is she a fast ship?” Captain Leslie, who had come up, inquired.

  “She has the name of being the fastest sailer in these parts.”

  “There is nothing here would catch her?” Donald Leslie asked. “Would a rowboat have a chance of overtaking her?”

  “Not this evening,” the sailor said, looking at the sky. “The wind is rising now, and it will blow a gale before morning.”

  “Tell me, my man,” Leslie asked, “and here is a gold piece for your pains, where you think she is likely to put in?”

  “That will all depend,” the sailor replied, “upon what errand she is bound. I must know that before I can answer you.”

  Leslie looked at William Long. The latter said:

  “It were best to tell this honest fellow the facts of the case. Look you, my man, the two king’s officers who have gone on board are ill friends with the Campbells, and we doubt not that these have kidnaped and carried them off.”

  “The Campbells are an ill crew to deal with,” the sailor said, “and I do not love them myself. If it be as you say, they might be landed either at Anstruther, near which is a hold belonging to Andrew Campbell of Glencoulie, or at St. Andrews, or at Leuchars, a little bay north of that town, whence they might take them to Kilbeg Castle, also held by a Campbell. It is a lonely place ten miles inland, and their friends would be little likely to look for them there. Besides, the Royalist might land them and sail away without any being the wiser, while at the other ports her coming would be surely noticed.”

  “Think you that we can obtain horses on the other side?”

  “You might obtain four or five,” the sailor said, “of Tony Galbraith, who keeps the inn there, and who lets horses on hire to those traveling north.”

  “If a storm comes on,” Leslie asked, “which way is it likely to blow, and will the Royalist be like to make the bay you name?

  “Ah! that is more than I can tell,” the sailor replied. “Methinks ’twill blow from the west. In that case, she might be able to make her way along the shore; she might run into port for shelter; she might be blown out to sea.”

  “At any rate,” Leslie said, “our first step is to cross. Get us a stout sailing boat. Be not sparing of promises.”

  The man at once went off to a group of sailors, but these at first shook their heads, and looked toward the sky. Its aspect was threatening. The wind was getting up fast, and masses of scud flew rapidly across it. Leslie went up to the group.

  “Come, lads,” he said, “five pounds if you put us across.”

  The offer was too tempting to be rejected, and the men hurried down and began to prepare a large sailing boat. Leslie and Lieutenant Long had a hasty consultation, and agreed that, seeing the difficulty there would be in obtaining horses, it was useless to take more than ten men in all. Accordingly, as soon as the boat was in readiness, the two officers, Mike, and seven soldiers took their places in her. The sails were closely reefed, and she at once put out into the Firth. Every minute the wind rose, until, by the time they were half across, it was blowing a gale. The boat was a stout one, but the waves broke freely over her, and four of the soldiers were kept at work baling to throw out the water she took over her bows. Once or twice they thought that she would capsize, so furious were the gusts, but the boatmen were quick and skillful. The sheets were let go and the sails lowered until the force of the squall abated, and at last, after a passage which seemed rapid even to those on board, anxious as they were, she entered the little port.

  Hurrying to the inn, they found that six hors
es were obtainable. These they hired at once. The host said that he could send to some farms, not far distant, and hire four more, but that an hour or so would elapse ere they came. Leslie and William Long had already decided that the prisoners would most probably be taken to Kilbeg Castle, as being more secluded than the others. They now agreed that they themselves with Mike and three soldiers should start at once, to intercept them if possible between the sea and the castle. When the other horses arrived two of the soldiers were to ride with all speed to Anstruther, and two to St. Andrews, and were there to keep sharp watch to see if the Royalist arrived there, and landed aught in the way either of men or goods.

  The point to which they were bound lay fully forty miles away. They determined to ride as far as the horses would carry them, and then, if able to obtain no more, to walk forward. Night was already setting in, and a driving rain flew before the gale.

  “We shall never be able to keep the road,” Leslie said, “Landlord, have you one here who could serve as guide? He must be quick-footed and sure. Our business is urgent, and we are ready to pay well.”

  A guide was speedily found, a lad on a shaggy pony, who had the day before come down from the north with cattle. While the horses were being prepared the party had taken a hasty supper, and Leslie had seen that each of the soldiers had a tankard of hot spiced wine. So quickly had the arrangements been made that in half an hour after their arrival at the port the party started from the inn. The ride was indeed a rough one. The country was heavy and wild. The rain drenched them to the skin in spite of their thick cloaks, and the wind blew at times with such violence that the horses were fain to stop and stand huddled together facing it to keep their feet. Hour after hour they rode, never getting beyond a walk, so rough was the road; often obliged to pause altogether from the force of the gale. Twice they stopped at inns at quiet villages, knocked up the sleeping hosts, and obtained hot wine for themselves and hot gruel for their horses. Their pace grew slower as the animals became thoroughly knocked up, and at last could not be urged beyond a walk.