“A terrible position to be placed in!” exclaimed Lord Widdrington. “I wonder you have recovered so soon from the effects of the fright.”
“I thought I should have sunk at the time,” she rejoined. “But fortunately my spirits supported me. I addressed a prayer to Saint Anna, and then felt easier. But deliverance did not come so soon as I expected, and there was an interval of dreadful suspense. You seemed long — long in coming,” she added to Lord Derwentwater. “Ah! when I heard your voice, I knew I was saved.”
“And your response gave me new life,” he said; “for hope was almost extinct within my breast. That cavern was the last place I searched, for though I had noticed the stone steps, I never thought you would venture down them.”
“I can guess all the rest,” said Lord Widdrington. “It must have been a joyful meeting.”
“The adventure was not an agreeable one,” said Anna. “But it has tested his lordship’s affection for me. However, I promise to be more careful in future.”
“Yes, you have had a pretty good lesson, and will do well to profit by it,” said Lord Widdrington.
“My unlucky steed is to blame for it all,” she cried. “Had he not stumbled, nothing would have happened.”
“You have left him at Dunstanborough, I suppose?” observed Lord Widdrington.
“Yes, in charge of your groom,” she replied “Your lordship’s horse carries me capitally.”
“Then pray use him as long as you will! And now let us on, and relieve the anxiety of our friends.”
With this they quickened their pace, and made such good way that dinner was not quite over when they reached Bamborough.
Great rejoicing was manifested on their appearance, and when Anna’s adventure became known, the feeling rose to excitement. Dorothy could not contain herself, but springing from her seat, rushed up to her friend and embraced her.
We need scarcely say that under such unusual circumstances another health was drunk, in addition to the grand toast, which was never omitted.
A great deal of claret was generally drunk at Mr. Forster’s dinners, as we have already remarked, and the custom would probably not have been neglected on the present occasion if the prince had not risen early from table, and proceeded to the drawing-room, where there was music and singing.
The prince retired early, and proceeded to his lodgings in the old fortress, attended by his host, Lord Derwentwater, Lord Widdrington, and several others. It chanced to be a fine moonlight night, and the appearance of the massive keep, partly lighted up by the beams, partly in shadow, was so striking, that his highness remained for some time contemplating the massive pile.
He then mounted the walls to gaze at the sea, which was brilliantly illumined — a broad track of light leading across its unruffled surface to the Farne Islands, and producing a truly magical effect.
Scarcely able to tear himself away from this bewitching scene, the prince, at last, bade his attendants good night, and sought his chamber in the tower.
Though no real danger was apprehended, unwonted precautions were taken for his security. The gates were barred, and watch was kept upon the walls throughout the night.
Colonel Oxburgh and his companions were prepared to act on any sudden emergency, and the colonel had arranged his plans with the two nobles, who had likewise decided upon passing the night in the castle.
CHAPTER VII
An Alarm
MORNING came, and nothing had occurred to cause alarm.
The prince slept soundly in the tower, and was up betimes, and on the walls, enjoying the view, and inhaling the fresh sea-breeze. So well pleased was he that the thought that he must speedily quit the castle pained him. But he did not delude himself with the idea, that, strong as was the fortress, it would be possible to maintain it against a regular attack. Flight, therefore, was his only alternative. A vessel must be procured to convey him to France — and this must be accomplished without delay.
Accordingly, when Lord Derwentwater and Lord Widdrington joined him, he made known his wishes to them. They both endeavoured to dissuade him from his purpose, but finding him resolved, Lord Widdrington undertook to proceed forthwith to Berwick-upon-Tweed, and make all necessary arrangements.
“I have many friends at Berwick — some of them partisans of your majesty,” said Lord Widdrington; “and I doubt not I shall be able to hire a small vessel to convey you to Dunkerque, but it may perhaps be necessary for you to embark from Holy Island, or the Farne Islands, but this will depend, in some measure, on the master of the ship. As soon as I have succeeded in making an arrangement I will return, and let your majesty know what I have done.”
“I should like to start to-night,” said the prince.
“That is allowing very short time for preparation, my liege,” replied Lord Widdrington. “But I will do my best to carry out your majesty’s wishes,”
“I am sorry to give your lordship so much trouble,” said the prince. “But I know you make light of it in your zealous desire to serve me.”
“That is perfectly true, my liege,” rejoined Lord Widdrington. “I only regret that I cannot give stronger proof of my devotion. I heartily wish your majesty would stay where you are, but since you are determined to leave us, I will do my best to expedite your departure.”
As he bent before the prince, the latter passed his arms affectionately round his neck and bade him adieu.
In less than ten minutes the loyal noble, though greatly disliking his mission, was speeding along the road to Berwick-upon-Tweed, followed by a groom.
The early part of the day passed without any incident worth narrating. The prince did not quit the castle, but breakfasted in his tower, and later on, visited the keep attended by Lord Derwentwater and the two young ladies, and thus obtained a more perfect notion than he had hitherto formed of the strength of King Ida’s castle.
From the summit of the lofty structure he looked down upon the islands that studded the sea in front of him, and was amazed by the multitude of sea-birds that covered their rocks and precipices, and occasionally rose in clouds, uttering shrieks and cries that could be distinctly heard where he stood.
The sea was calm now, but Anna described its terrific appearance in a storm when tremendous waves were dashed against those rocks, and columns of spray were thrown up through their fissures to a prodigious height.
The islands consisted of two groups, and the more distant of them seemed entirely whitened by sea-birds. The Home Island, as the nearest of the Farne Islands is designated, is not much more than a mile from the mainland, and on that bright, sunshiny day looked close at hand. Dorothy pointed out Prior Castell’s Tower, which served as a beacon.
While the prince was examining the little bay almost shut in by rocks that formed an entrance to the Home Island, he observed a boat come forth. It was large and roomy, strongly built and well calculated for a rough sea, and seemed to contain a dozen men armed with muskets or fowling-pieces.
The appearance of this boat and its crew excited some misgiving on the part of those who watched it, especially when they found it was steering direct for the castle.
Lord Derwentwater was preparing to descend to the court and give the alarm, when the boat, which had now got within a quarter of a mile of the shore, suddenly changed its course, and turned off on the left.
Its movements were anxiously watched in the apprehension that the men might be landed, but it went on, and after rounding Beadnell Point was lost to view. The prince then breathed more freely.
“I thought those men were about to attack the castle,” he said. “But it seems they had no such design.”
“I am not so sure of that, my liege,” observed Lord Derwentwater. “They were evidently reconnoitring the place, but something caused them to change their plans, and steer off. Yet a rumour that your majesty is here can scarcely have reached yonder remote island.”
“The island is not so remote as your lordship supposes,” remarked Dorothy. “Boats are constantl
y passing to and fro over the Fairway, as the strait is called, and it is highly probable the islanders have heard the news. But I should have thought they were more likely to aid his majesty than to attack him.”
“They may be stimulated by the hope of a reward,” said the prince. “But be that as it may, I am glad they have given up the attempt.”
“We may have another visit from them, so it will be well to be on our guard,” observed Lord Derwentwater. “Next time they may approach by land.”
“I shall be glad when our carriage arrives,” said Anna. “I hope no accident has occurred.”
“You need not be uneasy,” said Derwentwater. “Sir John and Lady Webb would probably pass the night at Morpeth, and in that case they could not be here till late in the afternoon.”
Just then a noise was heard at the entrance to the roof of the keep, and Lord Widdrington made his appearance, accompanied by Mr. Forster and Colonel Oxburgh.
Everybody seemed surprised to see his lordship, and no one more so than the prince.
“What! so soon returned from Berwick?” exclaimed his highness. “Have you succeeded in your errand?”
“Perfectly, my liege,” replied Lord Widdrington. “I have hired a sloop now in Berwick harbour, which was to sail this evening for London. But I have induced Captain Hawker of the Saint Abbs, as the sloop is called, to alter his plan. In a word, he has engaged to take your majesty to Dunkerque.”
“You have rendered me a great service,” said the prince. “But where am I to go on board the sloop? — at Berwick?”
“No, my liege,” replied Lord Widdrington. “Since there is almost a certainty of fine weather, Captain Hawker will weigh anchor at nine o’clock, and fire a gun to let you know when he gets off the castle.”
The prince signified his approval of the arrangement.
“A boat shall be ready to take you to the sloop, so that your majesty may embark immediately,” said Forster.
Again the prince expressed his satisfaction, but he asked Mr. Forster if he had noticed the boat containing the armed men, that had crossed the Fairway, apparently to reconnoitre the castle.
“Those men were only fishermen, my liege,” replied the squire. “I felt sure they would move off, and so they did. It is not by those poor fellows that your majesty’s departure will be hindered.”
CHAPTER VIII
How the Sheriff and his Troop were cared for
EARLY in the morning, Captain Wogan with his brother, and Mr. Talbot and his brother, set forth on horseback to patrol the country, and proceeded towards Dunstanborough stationing themselves at various points commanding the road.
They did not return till late in the afternoon, and then they brought no alarming intelligence. There were no signs whatever of the approach of the enemy. They had seen Sir John Webb’s carriage in the distance, but it came on so slowly that they had not waited for it.
Half an hour afterwards the carriage arrived, and then the prince learnt what had happened, and was greatly amused by Sir John’s description of the arrest made by the sheriff.
It appeared that the supposed royal prisoner was taken to Newcastle, where the mistake was quickly discovered, and the man set at liberty. Sir John was likewise allowed to proceed on his journey.
“The sheriff was very much mortified by the great blunder he had made,” remarked Sir John. “But I don’t think he will give up the pursuit, and I fear your majesty may expect a visit from him at Bamborough.”
“I hope I shall be gone before he makes his appearance,” said the prince. “To- night I set sail for France.”
“Since such is the case, I have only to wish your majesty a safe and speedy voyage,” said Sir John. “And I sincerely trust nothing may occur to interfere with your departure.”
A plan to be adopted in the event of any sudden emergency having been decided upon, the prince agreed to dine at the mansion, and the whole of the party assembled as before, with the addition of Sir John and Lady Webb.
All the servants had received their orders, so no apprehension was entertained of a surprise. The prince was not in very good spirits, and Dorothy, who sat next to him, did her best to cheer him.
The repast was about half over, when a servant hastily entered the room, and informed his master that the sheriff had arrived with a large posse of men.
On this the prince immediately arose, and in pursuance of the plan previously arranged passed through a window into the garden, where a servant was waiting to conduct him by a private entrance to the castle. No one else attended his highness.
The company remained at table; the prince’s chair being instantly removed, and the vacancy filled up. All this was the work of a few moments.
Shortly afterwards, the sheriff was ushered into the room, and seemed greatly surprised by the sight of so large a party, for which he was evidently unprepared.
While he was hesitating what to do, Mr. Forster arose, and greeting him in a friendly manner, said:
“I hope you are come to dine with me, Sir William. I shall be very glad of your company, I assure you.”
“But I have business of importance, sir,” cried the sheriff.
“We will discuss that after dinner,” said Forster.
“I am very sorry to interrupt you, sir, but—”
“Nay, I will take no refusal,” cried Forster, leading him to the table.
At a sign from Forster a chair was then brought, and placed next his own, and the sheriff was almost forced into it.
Jesmond, who had entered the dining-room at the same time as his superior officer, stationed himself behind the chair, wondering what would happen next, but not venturing to interfere.
“What will you take, Sir William — some venison? There is a fine haunch at the other end of the table.”
“You ought to take a prisoner, Sir William,” whispered Jesmond.
“So I will presently,” replied the sheriff in the same tone. “But I will begin with the venison. Is the Pretender here?”
“I don’t see him, Sir William,” replied the official, looking round inquisitively at the guests. “But I can’t quite distinguish the features of the persons at the bottom of the table. Stay! there is some one rather like him next to Sir John Webb.”
“Be quite sure you are right,” said the sheriff. “It won’t do to make a second mistake.”
Meantime, the venison was brought, and proved so good that the sheriff made no objection to a few more slices. At the same time he very readily accepted Mr. Forster’s challenge to a glass of claret.
He was now in a much better humour, and partook of several other dishes, and repeatedly emptied the goblet which was constantly replenished by the butler.
The generous wine did its duty, and he almost forgot his errand. He had no one now to remind him of it, for Jesmond had been lured to the sideboard by the butler, and a flask of claret proffered him. He did not decline the attention. Since his chief was enjoying himself, he did not see why he should not follow his example.
But it was not merely Mr. Forster who was attentive in the extreme to his unwelcome guest. Lord Derwentwater and Lord Widdrington, with both of whom Sir William Lorraine was well acquainted, though political and religious differences kept them apart — these two proud nobles, we say, quite unbent, and were excessively complaisant, inviting him to take wine, and conversing very familiarly with him.
Sir John Webb pursued the same course, and as he drank a glass of wine with the sheriff, he gave him a knowing look, just to remind him of the recent adventure. Sir William laughed very good-humouredly.
Thus the dinner went on, and the sheriff became yet more cheerful, as was naturally to be expected, for he had now drunk a good deal of claret.
With the removal of the cloth, the ladies disappeared, for they knew what was likely to occur, and then an immense bowl of punch was placed before the host for the delectation of such as preferred that pleasant beverage to claret.
Unfortunately for himself, Sir William yield
ed to the seduction. At that precise juncture he meant to have assumed an authoritative air, preparatory to carrying out the business that brought him thither; but a bumper of punch caused him to postpone it to a later moment.
Jesmond was no longer there to watch over him, and incite him by his observations.
That vigilant official had been taken to the butler’s pantry, where he, too, had his share — somewhat more than his share of a strong bowl of punch. Punch was his weakness, as well as that of the sheriff, and he found the temptation irresistible.
It must not be supposed that while their leader was thus cared for, the yeomen were neglected. On the contrary they were very well attended to. They were told that the sheriff had ordered them to dismount, and they very readily obeyed. Their horses were accommodated in the squire’s roomy stables, and they themselves were conducted to the spacious servants’ hall, where all that was left — and it was no slight matter — of the abundant dinner was set before them, together with as much strong ale as they chose to drink. They were not served with punch, like their betters, but they were offered usquebaugh, and we may be sure they did not refuse the stimulating liquor, which nearly resembled whisky, pretty freely.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 730
