Thus enjoined, they all quitted the chamber, and Charles was left alone.
Flinging himself into a chair he remained for some time with his face buried in his hands.
When he raised his eyes, he saw Atherton standing beside him.
“I knew not you were here,” said the prince.
“I came to learn your royal highness’s commands,” replied the other. “Something, I fear, has greatly disturbed you.”
“Disturbed me! ay!” cried Charles. “I am forced to retreat.”
“By the enemy?” exclaimed Atherton.
“By my generals,” replied Charles. “We shall advance no further. You may prepare to return to Manchester.”
CHAPTER IV.
HOW THE MANCHESTER REGIMENT WAS WELCOMED ON ITS RETURN.
Charles could not shake off the bitter disappointment he experienced at this sudden and unlooked-for extinction of his hopes. He had made up his mind to march on London, and he thought his Highland army would follow him. But he now discovered his mistake.
He did not go forth again during the day, but shut himself up in his room, and left Lord George Gordon and the Duke of Perth to make all arrangements necessary for the retreat.
They decided to pass through Manchester on the way to Carlisle. The men were kept in profound ignorance of the change of plan, but when they discovered that they were retreating their rage and disappointment found vent in the wildest lamentations. “Had they been beaten,” says the Chevalier de Johnstone, “their grief could not have been greater.” It was almost feared they would mutiny.
On the Manchester Regiment the retreat had a most dispiriting effect. Officers and men had joined on the understanding that they were to march to London, and they were deeply mortified when they found they were to retreat to Scotland.
The men looked sullen and downcast, and so many desertions took place that the ranks were perceptibly thinned. It was certain that two or three of the officers only waited a favourable opportunity to escape.
On the third day the Manchester Regiment, which formed part of the advanced guard, arrived at Macclesfield. Next morning, at an early hour, they proceeded to Manchester. Alarming reports had been spread that the Duke of Cumberland was in hot pursuit with his whole army; but the rumour turned out to be false.
If the officers and men composing the insurgent army expected a reception like that they had previously experienced in Manchester, they were greatly mistaken. No sooner was the town cleared of the invading army, than the Whigs and Presbyterians resumed their influence, and the fickle mob changed with them.
Tumultuous crowds now went about the town shouting “Down with the Pretender! Down with the Jacobites!” Nor did the authorities interfere, but let them have their own way.
In consequence of this license great mischief was done. The mob threatened to pull down Dr. Deacon’s house in Fennel-street, broke his windows, and might have proceeded to frightful extremities if they had laid hands upon him.
Two days afterwards a rumour was designedly spread by the Presbyterians that Marshal Wade had arrived at Rochdale with his army, and would shortly enter Manchester; and this had the effect intended of exciting the mob to further violence. The rumour, however, had no foundation, and the tumult began to subside.
Meantime, the magistrates and many of the important personages who had quitted the town, began to return, thinking the danger was past, and something like order was restored.
The position, however, of the Jacobites was by no means secure, since disturbances might at any time occur, and they were afforded very little protection.
After the lapse of a week, during which reliable intelligence had been received that the Highland army had arrived at Derby without encountering any opposition, and even staunch Whigs had began to think that the intrepid young prince would actually succeed in reaching London, news came that the rebels were retreating without a battle, and were then at Leek on their way back.
At first this news, which appeared improbable, was received with incredulity, but it was speedily confirmed by other messengers.
A consultation was then held by the boroughreeve, constables, and other magistrates, as to the possibility of offering any resistance; but as the militia had been disbanded, and it was doubtful whether Marshal Wade would come to their assistance, the idea was given up.
But after some discussion Dr. Mainwaring and Justice Bradshaw sent the bellman round to give notice that, as the rebels might be speedily expected, all the loyal inhabitants were enjoined to rise and arm themselves with guns, swords, halberts, pickaxes, shovels, or any other weapons, to resist the rebels, and prevent them from entering the town until the arrival of the king’s forces.
In consequence of this notice several thousand persons, armed in the manner suggested, assembled in the open fields beyond Market Street Lane, where they were harangued by Dr. Mainwaring, who urged them to spoil the roads by breaking them up, and throwing trees across them, and promised to send the country folk to their aid.
Having uttered this he left the defence of the town to the inhabitants, and rode off; but he fulfilled his promise, and sent a number of country folk armed with scythes and sickles, but these rough fellows caused such a tumult that another notice had to be given by the bellman commanding the mob to lay down their arms and disperse, and the country folk to return to their domiciles.
These contradictory orders produced considerable dissatisfaction, and were not obeyed.
One party more valiant than the rest marched to Cheadle ford, under the leadership of Mr. Hilton, with the intention of destroying the temporary bridge contrived by the insurgents, but before they could accomplish their task, they were disturbed and ignominiously put to flight by Colonel Townley and the Manchester Regiment.
On arriving at Manchester, Colonel Townley and his men were welcomed by a shower of stones and other missiles from the mob assembled at the top of Market Street Lane. Upon this the colonel called out that if another stone was thrown, and the mob did not quietly disperse, he would fire upon them.
Alarmed by the menacing looks of the soldiers, who were greatly incensed by this treatment on the part of their fellow-townsmen, the mob took to their heels.
During a subsequent disturbance Ensign Syddall was taken prisoner, but was rescued by his comrades.
CHAPTER V.
A FRESH SUBSIDY DEMANDED.
On the arrival of the prince with the main body of the army, comparative tranquillity was restored. But it was evident that the feeling of the inhabitants was totally changed. There were no joyful demonstrations — no bonfires — no illuminations.
Charles returned to his former residence at the top of Market Street Lane; the Duke of Perth, Lord Tullibardine, Lord George Murray, Lord Pitsligo, and the other Scottish nobles and chiefs repaired to the houses they had previously occupied; and the men billeted themselves in their old quarters. But so unfriendly were the inhabitants to the Manchester Regiment that it was with difficulty that the officers and men could find quarters.
As night drew on, and a tendency to riot was again manifested, the bellman was sent round to warn the inhabitants that not more than two persons would be allowed to walk together in the streets after dark, unless guarded by the prince’s troops, and that any attempt at tumult or disturbance would be severely punished.
In addition to this, pickets of men patrolled the streets throughout the night, so that the town was kept tolerably quiet.
On the same evening about eight o’clock a meeting of the principal inhabitants took place at the Bull’s Head — a warrant having been sent to the magistrates by the prince’s secretary, Mr. Murray, commanding them, on pain of military execution, to raise a subsidy of five thousand pounds from the town by four o’clock on the following day.
“What is to be done?” demanded Mr. Walley. “I fear it will be impossible to raise the large sum required by the appointed time — and if we fail we are to be held responsible with our lives. You must help us, gentlemen.
”
And he looked round at the assemblage, but no offer was made.
“Surely you won’t allow us to be shot?” cried Mr. Fowden.
“This is a mere threat,” said old Mr. James Bayley, an eminent merchant of the town. “The prince cannot be in earnest.”
“You are mistaken, Mr. Bayley,” rejoined Mr. Fowden. “It is no idle threat. The prince is so highly offended by the reception given him that he has laid this heavy tax upon the town — and he will have it paid.”
“The contributions must be levied by force,” observed Mr. Walley. “We shall never get the money in any other way.”
“Such a course will render you extremely unpopular,” observed Mr. Bayley.
“Better be unpopular than be shot, Mr. Bayley,” rejoined Mr. Fowden. “Try to place yourselves in our position, gentlemen. Will you help us to pay the money in case we should be driven to extremity?”
But no answer was made to the appeal, and the magistrates were in despair.
At this moment the door opened, and Colonel Townley, attended by Captain Dawson, Captain Deacon, and Ensign Syddall, entered the room.
The magistrates rose in consternation, wondering what was the meaning of the visit.
“Pardon my intrusion, gentlemen,” said the colonel, saluting them. “But I think I can help you out of a difficulty. I am aware that five thousand pounds must be raised from the town by to-morrow afternoon. Feeling certain you will never be able to accomplish this task unassisted, I beg to offer you my aid. You shall have a party of men, under the command of these officers, to go round with you, and help you to make the collection.”
“We gladly accept your offer, colonel,” cried both magistrates eagerly.
“The plan will relieve you from all personal responsibility,” said Colonel Townley, “and will secure the contributions.”
The magistrates were profuse in their thanks, and it was then arranged that the party should commence their rounds at an early hour next morning.
CHAPTER VI.
A FALSE MESSAGE BROUGHT TO HELEN.
Helen Carnegie had not accompanied her lover in the march to Derby, but had been persuaded by Beppy Byrom to remain with her at Manchester. Thinking that an immediate engagement with the Duke of Cumberland was inevitable, the sergeant consented to the arrangement; but he missed his faithful companion sadly. He had become so accustomed to having her by his side that it seemed as if he had lost his right hand. He tried to occupy his thoughts by strict attention to his duty — but it would not do. So miserable did he feel at the separation, that he was half reconciled to the retreat from Derby by the thought that he should soon see her again.
Helen suffered quite as much — perhaps more. Independently of being constantly near her lover, it had been her pride and pleasure to be with the Highland army, and when the troops moved off without her, she felt as if her heart would break; and she would certainly have followed, if she had not been restrained by Beppy. Familiar as she was with all the various incidents of a march, she pictured them to herself with the greatest distinctness, and spoke of all that the sergeant was doing.
“Oh! he win miss me sairly,” she cried. “He win want me to cheer him up, when his spirits are low. I ought not to have left him. And what if he shouldna come back!”
“Don’t make yourself uneasy, Helen,” said Beppy. “He is certain to return. Papa says the prince’s army will be forced to retreat.”
“Na! na! that win never be!” cried Helen. “The prince win never turn back! The Highlanders may be all kilt, but turn back! — never!”
The rumour, however, at length reached Manchester that the prince was actually retreating, and Helen’s delight at the thought of seeing her lover again quite overcame her vexation at what she looked upon as a disgrace.
But the regiment to which the sergeant belonged, and which was commanded by the Chevalier de Johnstone, did not reach Manchester till late in the day, and Erick having a great deal to do on his arrival, could not present himself to Helen.
She had been in quest of him, but had encountered Captain Lindsay, who addressed her more boldly than ever, and to escape his persecutions she was compelled to return.
As evening came her anxiety increased, and she was in all the agony of expectation, when a message came from her lover.
It was brought by Rollo, who informed her that the sergeant had just arrived with his regiment, and wished to see her immediately.
“Where is he?” asked Helen. “Why does he not come to me, himself?”
“He would come, if he could,” replied Rollo; “but he is busy with the men in St. Ann’s Square. Come with me and I will take you to him.”
Wholly unsuspicious of ill, Helen instantly prepared to accompany the messenger, and they quitted the house together.
The night was dark but clear, and, as they crossed the churchyard, she perceived a tall Highland officer advancing towards her, and guessing who it was, she stopped, and said to Rollo, “What is Captain Lindsay doing here?”
“How should I know?” rejoined the other. “He won’t meddle with us. Come on. I’ll take care of you.”
“I don’t feel sure of that,” she cried. “I shall go back.”
“No, you won’t,” said Rollo, seizing her arm, and detaining her.
“Ah! you have basely betrayed me,” she cried. “But Sergeant Dickson will punish you.”
Rollo replied by a coarse laugh, and the next moment Captain Lindsay came up.
“Free me from this man,” she cried.
“He is acting by my orders, Helen,” said Lindsay. “This time I have taken such precautions that you cannot escape me.”
“You cannot mean to carry me off against my will, Captain Lindsay,” she cried. “I winna believe it of ye.”
“I hope you will come quietly, Helen,” he said, “and not compel me to resort to force. But come you shall.”
“Never!” she rejoined. “Ye ken fu’ weel that I am Erick Dickson’s affianced wife. ‘Twad be an infamy if ye were to tae me frae him.”
“I care not,” replied Lindsay. “I am determined to make you mine. Fleet horses and trusty men are waiting outside the churchyard to bear you off. In half-an-hour you will be far from Manchester, and out of Erick’s reach.”
“If ye hae the heart o’ a man, Rollo, ye will not aid in this wicked deed,” cried Helen.
But Rollo shook his head, and she made another appeal to Captain Lindsay.
“Let me gae for pity’s sake,” she cried. “I wad kneel to you, if I could.”
“No, no, Helen,” he rejoined. “I don’t mean to part with you. But we waste time. Bring her along.”
Finding all entreaties unavailing, and that she could not extricate herself from Rollo, who was a very powerful man, the unfortunate girl uttered a loud shriek; but her cries were instantly stifled by Captain Lindsay, who took off his scarf, and threw it over her head.
But her cry had reached other ears than they expected. As they were hurrying her towards the spot where the horses were waiting for them, a well-known voice was heard, exclaiming:
“Haud there, ye waur than rievers. When I saw the horses outside the kirkyard, and noticed that one on ’em had a pillion, I suspected something wrang; but when I heard the cry, I felt sure. Set her down, ye villains!” cried Sergeant Dickson, rushing towards them.
“Heed him not, Rollo,” said Captain Lindsay. “Place her on the pillion and ride off with her. Leave me to deal with the noisy fool.”
And, as he spoke, he drew his sword, planted himself in Dickson’s way, while Rollo moved off with his burden.
“Ye had better not hinder me, captain,” cried the half-maddened sergeant, drawing a pistol. “Bid that dastardly ruffian set her down at once, or I’ll send a bullet through your head.”
“You dare not,” said Lindsay, contemptuously.
“I will not see her stolen from me,” cried the sergeant, furiously. “Set her down, I say.”
But finding his cries dis
regarded, he fired, and Captain Lindsay fell dead at his feet.
On hearing the report of the pistol, Rollo looked round, and seeing what had happened, instantly set down Helen and fled. Extricating herself from the scarf, Helen rushed towards the spot where the unfortunate officer was lying. Her lover was kneeling beside the body.
“Wae’s me, Helen!” he exclaimed. “Wae’s me, I hae kilt the captain.”
“Ye canna be blamed for his death, Erick,” she rejoined. “He brought his punishment on himsel.”
“I shall die for it, nevertheless, lassie,” he rejoined.
“Die! you die, Erick, for savin’ me frae dishonour!” she cried.
“Ay, ay, lass. He was my superior officer, and by the rules of war I shall die. No escape for me.”
“Oh! if you think sae, Erick, let us flee before ye can be taken,” she cried. “Come wi’ me.”
“Na! na!” he rejoined, gently resisting her. “I maun answer for what I hae done. Leave me, lassie; gae back to the young leddy. Tell her what has happened, and she will take care of you.”
“Na, Erick, I winna leave you,” she rejoined. “If ye are to dee, I’se e’en dee wi’ ye. Och!” she exclaimed, “here they come to tak ye! Get up, lad, and flee!”
As a file of soldiers could be seen approaching, the sergeant rose to his feet, but did not attempt to fly.
Immediately afterwards the soldiers came up. With them were two or three men bearing torches, and as these were held down, the unfortunate officer could be seen lying on his back, with his skull shattered by the bullet.
The sergeant averted his gaze from the ghastly spectacle.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 710
