The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

“’Tis you who will rue it, not me,” she rejoined. “Unless you are quiet, I will go at once to Lyme, and give information to Captain Macy against both you and Captain Ellesdon.”

  “Zounds! woman!” he cried. “You don’t mean to say you will commit such folly?” Assuming a coaxing tone, he then added, “Hear me, sweetheart! Open the door, and I’ll bring you the handsomest present from St. Malo — I swear I’ll do it.”

  “I’m not to be cajoled,” she replied, in accents that left him no doubt of her fixed determination. “Keep quiet, or I will at once set off for Lyme, and see Captain Macy, and then you know full well what will follow.”

  “Was ever fair plan so absurdly defeated!” groaned the shipmaster. “If I could only give information to the gentlemen; but that’s impossible, with this infernal woman at the door. Since there’s no help for it, I must submit.”

  And throwing himself, dressed as he was, on the bed, he gave utterance to a few more groans, and fell asleep.

  When he awoke, about five o’clock in the morning, the events of the previous night rushed forcibly upon him, and his self-reproaches were so keen, that he started from his bed, and rushed to the door.

  Finding it still locked, he called out lustily for his wife. The summons was quickly answered, for Dame Limbry had sat up all night, and in reply to his demand to be released, she refused, unless he solemnly promised to give up his intended voyage.

  After some little demur, and another attempt at coaxing, which proved unsuccessful, he assented, and gave the required promise, but he added that he must go down to the seaside and inform the gentlemen who were waiting for him, that he was unable to fulfil his engagement. Thereupon, the door was opened, and Limbry prepared to set out at once.

  Rather doubting his design, notwithstanding the solemn promise he had just given, his vigilant spouse would not allow him to go alone, but followed him closely with her daughter, and they were proceeding along the narrow lane leading to the sea, when they met Colonel Wyndham and his servant. The colonel could not fail to be struck by Limbry’s downcast looks, and he was also surprised to see him attended by the two women. But he was too exasperated to heed their presence.

  “Treacherous rascal!” he vociferated. “Art thou not ashamed to look me in the face after breaking thy engagement to Captain Ellesdon and myself? I have been waiting for the boat since midnight. How dost thou attempt to justify thy scandalous conduct? ha!”

  “I cannot justify it, sir,” said Limbry. “I have been made a prisoner in my own house.”

  “An idle story!” exclaimed Colonel Wyndham, incredulously.

  “’Tis the truth,” cried Dame Limbry, stepping forward. “I knew my foolish husband was running his neck into a noose, so I locked him up to save him. Don’t tempt him to sail, or as sure as I’m a living woman, I’ll inform against you all.”

  “Be not afraid, woman, I’ve done with him,” rejoined the colonel. “Take care thy termagant spouse doesn’t get thee into mischief,” he added to Limbry.

  So saying he rode past them, and made his way towards the inn.

  Arrived there, he despatched Peters to Lyme Regis to acquaint Captain Ellesdon with the failure of the scheme, and ask his advice.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XVII.

  THE REVEREND BARTHOLOMEW WESLEY.

  On entering the house the colonel found Charles and his attendants in a state of the greatest anxiety. His looks announced the ill-tidings he brought; and it was scarcely necessary for him to relate what had happened. The king bore the grievous disappointment better than might have been expected, but he could not wholly repress his feelings of vexation.

  “If I had had to do with a man of mettle, master in his own house, as well as master of his ship, I should have been half-way across the English Channel by this time,” he cried. “Fate thwarts me at every turn; but I will not be cast down. We shall hear what Captain Ellesdon says. Perhaps he may be able to find me another vessel.”

  “After what has occurred, I do not think it will be safe for your majesty to remain here,” said Colonel Wyndham. “Limbry’s wife will probably publish all she knows. Besides, I do not like the looks of the ostler. The knave eyed me suspiciously as I gave him my horse just now, and muttered something about my being out all night.”

  “Where would you have me go? What would you have me do?” cried Charles.

  “Perhaps Captain Ellesdon may suggest some plan,” said the colonel. “We shall hear when Peters returns; but my notion is that your majesty should ride on to Bridport. You may have better luck there than here.”

  “My horse has cast a shoe,” said Lord Wilmot, rising to quit the room. “If we are going to start immediately, I must send him to a smith.”

  So saying, he went out, and proceeding to the stable, gave the ostler the necessary instructions. Like Colonel Wyndham, he was struck with the man’s inquisitive manner, and declined to have any conversation with him.

  “I can’t make these folks out,” thought Reuben. “There’s the strangest goings on with them I ever knew. ’Tis my belief they’re a pack of malignants trying to escape; but I’ll soon find it out.”

  Thus ruminating, and considering what reward he should obtain for giving information against his mistress’s guests, he took Lord Wilmot’s horse to a blacksmith, named Seth Hammet, whose smithy was in the lower part of the village. Bidding the smith good morrow, he told him he had brought him a job.

  Seth Hammet, who was a sharp-looking young man, thanked him, but being of an inquisitive turn, he added, “You’ve got some gentlefolks at the inn, I think?”

  “Ay, ay,” replied Reuben, not desiring to take him into his confidence. “This horse belongs to one of them.”

  “A fine horse,” observed Hammet, looking at him admiringly. “But they all seem well mounted. Where do they come from?”

  “I don’t happen to know,” replied Reuben, in a tone meant to signify that he did not feel inclined to tell. “Somewhere in Devonshire, I believe.”

  “Well, I can easily find out,” observed Hammet, with a knowing look.

  “I should like to know how?” rejoined Reuben, surprised.

  “I’ll show you presently,” said the smith.

  “If there’s witchcraft in it, I won’t have anything to do with it,” said Reuben.

  “Bless you! there’s no witchcraft in it. ’Tis the simplest thing possible, as you’ll see. Two of your guests have been out all night.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Reuben.

  “Because I saw them return, not half an hour ago. The servant rode on to Lyme. I’m sure of it, for I heard his master tell him to go on to Captain Ellesdon’s house.”

  “Ah, indeed!” exclaimed the ostler, surprised.

  “Yes, you didn’t know that, Reuben,” said the smith. “Now let us proceed to business.”

  Thereupon, he took up the horse’s feet, and examined the shoes, twice over, very deliberately.

  After the second examination, he said, with a grin:

  “Now, Reuben, I can tell you something that will surprise you. This horse has only three shoes on, as you know. Each shoe has been put on in a different county — Somerset, Stafford, Worcester.”

  “Did you say Worcester?” cried Reuben.

  “Look here,” replied Hammet, lifting up one of the horse’s fore-feet. “That shoe came from Worcester. Now, don’t you think I’m a conjurer?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” replied Reuben.

  But it seemed as if something had suddenly struck him, for he said rather hastily, “I can’t stay any longer. I want to see our minister, Mr. Wesley; I’ll come back for the horse presently.”

  So saying, he ran off to Mr. Wesley’s dwelling, which was at no great distance, but he found that the minister was at prayers with his family, and knowing from experience that the reverend gentleman’s discourses were rather lengthy, he would not wait, but went on to the inn.

  During his absence Harry Peters, who had galloped there a
nd back, had returned from Lyme, and was now with the king. Peters had seen Captain Ellesdon, who was quite confounded to hear of the failure of the plan, having persuaded himself that his majesty was then on the way to St. Malo.

  “Never in my life have I seen a man so greatly troubled as the captain appeared,” said Peters. “He humbly tenders his advice to your majesty not to make any longer stay in Charmouth. He would have ridden over to offer his counsel in person, and urge your immediate departure, had it been safe to do so. Rumours, he says, are sure to be bruited abroad, which will infallibly lead to strict search and pursuit by Captain Macy.”

  Captain Ellesdon’s counsel so completely coincided with the opinion previously expressed by Colonel Wyndham and his other adherents, that the king determined to act upon it, and preparations were made for his immediate departure. Juliana had retired to rest in a chamber provided for her by Dame Swan, but she had been astir for some time, and was now in the hostess’s room, quite ready to start.

  Dame Swan was with her, when a maid-servant entered and informed her mistress that Reuben, the ostler, desired to speak with her, and she went out to him.

  Displeased by his manner and looks, Dame Swan said to him very sharply, “Why are you not in the stable, Reuben, helping the young man to get ready the horses? If you have aught to say to me, it can be said at a more convenient opportunity, when the guests are gone.”

  “No, it cannot,” replied the ostler. “No opportunity like the present. Hear what I have to say, and be warned. I will not saddle or bridle the horses — neither will I suffer your guests to depart. They are malignants. I have proof of it.”

  “Fie upon you, Reuben!” cried his mistress. “You have been drinking strong waters on an empty stomach, and your brain is confused.”

  “I have only drunk my customary pot of cider,” he rejoined; “and my brain is clear enough to convince me that Charles Stuart is now in this house.”

  “What do I hear?” cried Dame Swan, putting the best face she could on the matter. “Out on thee, for a false knave! Dost want to injure my house by thy lies? There are none but gentlefolks here — men true to the Commonwealth. Go to the stable at once, and bring round the horses, or thou shalt quit my service.”

  “I do not design to remain in your service, misguided woman,” he rejoined; “and I warn you not to let these malignants depart. I am now going to the Reverend Bartholomew Wesley, and will bring him back with me.”

  “A fig for thy minister!” she rejoined.

  But as soon as he was gone she flew to the parlour in which Charles and the others were assembled, and informed them of the danger. On this, the whole party hastened to the stable.

  Fortunately, Harry Peters had got the horses ready, so that in another minute they were all mounted — all, except Lord Wilmot, whose horse had not been brought back. Careless accompanied his lordship to the smithy.

  As Dame Swan assisted Juliana to take her seat on the pillion behind, the king bade her adieu, and putting his arm round her neck, kissed her heartily.

  He then rode off with his attendants towards Bridport, Lord Wilmot and Careless being left behind.

  They had not been gone long, when a short, stout personage entered the inn, and greeted the hostess, though in rather a singular manner. He was arrayed in a black gown with Geneva bands, and a close-fitting black velvet skull-cap, that set off his ruddy visage. This was the Reverend Bartholomew Wesley, an ancestor we may remark of the renowned John Wesley. His countenance had a strange sarcastic expression, though he put on an air of mock respect.

  “I scarce know how to approach you, Margaret, you are grown such a mighty grand dame,” he said, with an affected reverence.

  “Eh day! what’s the meaning of this foolery?” she cried.

  “You must be a maid of honour, at least,” pursued the minister. “Nay, nay, you can’t gainsay me. Charles Stuart slept at your house last night, and kissed you when he went away. ’Twas a great honour, no doubt — a very great honour — and you may well be proud.”

  “I should be proud, if I thought it was the king who had kissed me,” she rejoined, sharply. “But the guests who slept in my house last night were plain country gentlemen, and it’s no business of yours to meddle with them.”

  “Slept, quotha!” cried Wesley, lifting up his hands. “Why, not one of the party has been a-bed except the young damsel, and two of them have been out all night. You see I’m well informed, Margaret!”

  “I know who has told you these shameful falsehoods— ’tis that false, mischief-making knave, Reuben Rufford.”

  “Reuben is an honest man, and of the right leaven. You will have to render an account of your guests, dame.”

  “I tell you my guests were all strangers to me. How can I give an account of them? They paid their lawful reckoning, and that’s more than everybody does. All you desire is to get me into trouble — but I’m not afraid. Out of my house with you!”

  “Woman! woman! listen to me!”

  “No, I won’t listen to you any longer. Out of my house, I say; or I’ll find some one to kick you out.”

  Not knowing to what extremities the indignant dame might resort, the minister deemed it prudent to retreat, but he shook his clenched hand at her as he went out.

  On coming forth he was joined by Reuben, and they went down to the smithy together. Seth Hammet told them that the gentleman had taken away his horse not many minutes ago, whereupon they both upbraided him for his want of zeal.

  “Dolt! we should have captured the malignant, had you deprived him of the means of flight,” said Wesley.

  “I did resist,” rejoined Hammet; “but he had a friend with him, and they forced me to deliver up the horse. However, I was right well paid for the job, for one of them flung me a pistole.”

  “Which way did they go? To Bridport?” demanded the minister.

  “I think so,” replied Hammet. “They rode up Stonebarrow Hill, and seemed to be making for Moorcomblake.”

  “They have fled, but they shall not escape,” said Wesley. “We will hie unto Mr. Butler of Commer. He is the nearest justice of peace, and when he has heard our statement, he will despatch his warrants to raise the country for the apprehension of the Malignant Prince, and those traitors to the Commonwealth who were with him last night at Dame Swan’s hostelry.”

  Thereupon, they all set off for Mr. Butler’s residence, which was at no great distance from Charmouth, and on arriving there they were quickly admitted to the presence of the justice.

  Now Mr. Butler was secretly a Royalist, though he prudently concealed his opinions, and on hearing Reuben Rufford’s statement, he assumed a very severe countenance, and said,

  “I know your mistress, Dame Swan, to be a very honest woman, and I also know you to be an arrant knave, having had several complaints made against you. I attach not the slightest credence to your statement. I do not believe that Charles Stuart is in this part of the country, and I therefore refuse to issue a warrant for his apprehension.”

  Mr. Wesley made an effort to move him, but the justice continued inflexible, and the applicants, who had made certain of success, left in high dudgeon.

  But they were determined not to be baffled, and at the minister’s instance, Reuben and Hammet set off at once for Lyme Regis, for the purpose of laying the matter before Captain Macy.

  “I shall be greatly surprised,” said Wesley, “if the captain, who is keen and clear-sighted, very different from this dull-witted, prejudiced justice, does not immediately discern the truth.”

  They were not long in getting to Lyme Regis, and very soon found Captain Macy — a fierce and zealous Republican soldier — who listened to all they had to narrate with the utmost interest and attention.

  As Mr. Wesley anticipated, he took a very different view of the case from Justice Butler.

  “You have done well in coming hither,” he said; “and if the young man, Charles Stuart, be captured, as with Heaven’s grace he will be, ye shall both be amply reward
ed. I will start in pursuit of him at once, Ye say that he and his attendants are gone towards Bridport.”

  “The person, whom I believe to be Charles Stuart, is gone in that direction,” said Reuben. “You will know him, inasmuch as he hath a fair young damsel seated on a pillion behind him.”

  “Two of his companions took a different course,” remarked Hammet. “But no doubt they will rejoin him.”

  “Charles Stuart is the prize I aim at,” cried Captain Macy. “Him will I follow.”

  “Him will you assuredly capture, provided you loiter not by the way, captain,” said Reuben.

  “’Tis not my custom to loiter,” rejoined Captain Macy. “Thou shalt go with me. I may need thee.”

  Not five minutes afterwards, he was riding at a rapid trot, at the head of a dozen men, across the hard sands to Charmouth. Mounted on a stout trooper’s horse, Reuben rode beside him, and it was a great satisfaction to the spiteful ostler, when the detachment was drawn up before the little inn, and Dame Swan was summoned forth to speak to Captain Macy.

  The interrogation did not last many minutes, the captain stating that he would question her further on his return. He was detained a little longer by Mr. Wesley, who wished to have a few words with him, and declared it to be his firm conviction that Charles Stuart had passed the night at Dame Swan’s hostel.

  After this, Captain Macy gave the word, and the troop trotted off, in the same order as before, on the road to Bridport.

  “Heaven grant the king may escape them!” ejaculated the hostess as she returned to her room. “I wonder I didn’t sink to the ground when that stern officer spoke to me. I trembled in every limb. This is all that wicked Reuben’s doing. I saw the villain with the troopers. May heaven requite him!”

  * * *

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  HOW THE KING FLED FROM BRIDPORT HARBOUR.

  Unconscious of the danger by which he was threatened, and not fearing pursuit, Charles soon slackened his pace, and rode slowly up the side of Stonebarrow Hill towards Moorcomblake. From this elevated point an extensive view over the Vale of Marshwood was obtained, while on the right rose the beacon-crowned summit of the Golden Cap. Charles halted for a short time to contemplate this fine prospect, still hoping that his friends would overtake him; but they came not, and he went on. By this time, he had shaken off his disappointment, and completely recovered his spirits; conversing as gaily as usual with Juliana, and seeming greatly to enjoy the ride.