He then tore himself away, but when he reached the door of the chapel, he turned to take a last look at her.
She was again kneeling at the altar, and did not see him.
Meanwhile, the yeomen had been taken to the butler’s pantry, where they lost no time in discussing the plentiful repast prepared for them, and having washed down the viands with some jugs of strong ale, re-mounted their horses.
Refreshments and wine were likewise served in the entrance-hall, of which the Jacobite gentlemen partook.
Before going forth each drank the king’s health in a large goblet of claret, and each drew his sword and devoted it to the king’s service.
Soon after this the court was empty, and the various horsemen, who had lately filled it, were seen speeding along the chestnut avenue, with the Earl of Derwentwater at their head, mounted on his dapple-grey steed.
CHAPTER IX
Mad Jack Hall of Otterburn
HALTING at Corbridge, the earl and his companions drew their swords, and proclaimed James the Third.
Here half a dozen gentlemen joined them, and they obtained some further recruits as they went on.
One of the chief partisans of the Stuarts in the county was Mr. Hall, of Otterburn, in Redesdale. A man of ancient family and considerable property, but of eccentric character and ungovernable temper, he was known by the name of “Mad Jack Hall of Otterburn.”
Under ordinary circumstances it was difficult to get on with a person so quarrelsome, and he was therefore left out of many Jacobite meetings; but it being now necessary that every friend of the cause should be mustered, Squire Hall was far too important to be omitted. Lord Derwentwater had therefore resolved to visit Otterburn, and see what could be done with the crazy laird. He mentioned his design to Colonel Oxburgh and the others, who entirely approved of it.
About four o’clock in the afternoon, after riding for the most part across the country, they entered a wild district, erstwhile the scene of many a Border foray; and after tracking it for some miles reached the picturesque village of Otterburn, where the famous battle was fought.
Before them rose the still proud pile that had so stoutly resisted the attack of the Scots. Through the valley flowed the now clear Otter, once been dyed red with blood, while its banks were covered with slain.
The approach of the party had evidently been observed, for as they drew near the castle, a tall man sallied forth from the gateway, and greeted them with a loud shout.
Lord Derwentwater and those with him at once recognised the Laird of Otterburn, and were glad to find him at home.
In age, Squire Hall might be forty-five — perhaps not quite so much — but his deep red complexion seemed to indicate that he drank hard, and his countenance had certainly a wild expression. But his deportment was quite that of a gentleman. He wore a green riding-dress laced with silver, a black riding-wig, and a small three-cornered hat, likewise bound with silver lace, and had a sword by his side.
That he understood what had brought the party to Otterburn was clear, as also, that he was quite ready to join them, for he took off his hat, and shouted at the top of a stentorian voice, “Long live King James!”
The shout was repeated by the new-comers, and so lustily that all the villagers rushed to their doors.
After cordially greeting Lord Derwentwater and those with him, all of whom were friends, the squire led the whole party into the court-yard of the castle, and then told them they must not think of leaving him till the morrow.
“Don’t imagine you will incommode me,” he said. “There is plenty of room in the old castle. To-day we will drink the king’s health. To-morrow we will muster our forces, and prepare to fight his enemies. Forster, I hear, is at Rothbury, and if I hadn’t joined your lordship, I should have joined him.”
Very well satisfied with their hearty reception, the earl and his friends with the whole troop dismounted, and were shortly afterwards installed in various parts of the castle.
That beds were found for all of them — or even half — we do not pretend to say; but in some way or other they were accommodated.
Later on in the day a substantial dinner was served in the old banqueting- hall.
A great deal of wine was drunk that night, as was generally the case at Otterburn, and it would have been strange indeed if a quarrel had not occurred between the choleric laird and some of his guests.
For a time, Squire Hall appeared in remarkably good humour. He proposed a great number of Jacobite toasts, all of which were drunk with enthusiasm, but at length he propounded a plan for taking Newcastle by surprise, and its absurdity being pointed out to him by Colonel Oxburgh he flew into a violent rage, and told the colonel he was not fit to command a regiment.
The colonel immediately arose to leave the table, and Lord Derwentwater insisted that the squire should at once withdraw the offensive observation. Instead of doing so, the squire sprang from his chair, drew his sword, and dared Colonel Oxburgh to meet him; but while gesticulating fiercely he fell to the ground, and could not get up again. In this state he was carried off to bed, and next morning he had forgotten all about the occurrence.
CHAPTER X
The Race on Simonside
AFTER a capital breakfast, the whole party — now increased by Squire Hall and half a dozen men — rode from Otterburn to Simonside, one of the loftiest and most striking hills in Northumberland. The summit of this remarkable eminence is a complete plateau, and the views commanded from it on all sides are extraordinarily fine, the whole range of the Cheviots being visible on the west, and the German Ocean on the east.
As the party were riding across this wide plain, with the intention of descending the north side, and proceeding to Rothbury, Squire Hall, who had been tolerably quiet during the morning, proposed to ride a race with Charles Radclyffe for twenty guineas.
“We will ride from here to Rothbury,” he said; “and whoever gets there first, shall be deemed the winner.”
Charles Radclyffe instantly accepted the challenge; but the Earl of Derwentwater very reluctantly allowed the match to take place, and only consented from the fear of causing a fresh quarrel with the squire.
Without loss of time, the two gentlemen were placed together, and started at once by the earl. Both were well mounted — both excellent horsemen — but Charles Radclyffe was much the lighter weight, though undoubtedly the squire had the stronger horse.
It was a very pretty sight, to see them as they scoured over the plain, accompanied by the whole troop. The earl’s dapple-grey being fleeter than either of the contending steeds, he could have easily led them, had he thought proper, but he did not make the attempt. Nor did he go beyond the edge of the hill.
On looking down the steep slopes, he called to the others to stop, but neither of them heeded him. Both dashed headlong down the hill, and all the lookers-on thought they would come rolling to the bottom.
If ever Squire Hall merited the epithet applied to his name, it was on that day, and Charles Radclyffe appeared little less crazy — the general impression being that both would break their necks. But somehow, the horses kept their feet. The squire shouted lustily, as he continued his mad descent, and Charles was equally excited.
To the astonishment of all the beholders they got down in safety, and were soon afterwards seen crossing the bridge; being then so close together, that it was impossible to say who had won the race.
The Earl of Derwentwater and his companions took an easier and more secure route down. As they approached the old bridge over the Coquet leading to the charming little town, they met the two crazy riders coming to meet them, and inquired who had won.
“We can’t settle the point, my lord,” replied the squire; “it seems to have been a dead-heat. We shall have to ride the race over again.”
“Not on Simonside Hill,” replied Lord Derwentwater, laughing. “Have you heard where Mr. Forster has fixed his head-quarters? I see nothing of him or his troop.”
“His head-quarters a
re now at Wanny Crags,” replied the squire. “He has gone there to meet some friends.”
“Does he return to Rothbury?” demanded the earl.
“That seems doubtful,” replied Charles Radclyffe. “No one can answer for his movements. Probably, he will proceed to Warkworth to meet Lord Widdrington.”
“Then we must follow him,” said the earl.
Fain would Lord Derwentwater have tarried for a day at Rothbury, which offered many attractions to him, but wishing to effect an immediate junction with Forster, he only halted long enough to allow his men to refresh themselves at the comfortable little hostel near the church, where they found good ale.
To reach Wanny Crags, they had again to cross Simonside, and the deciding race was run on the summit, and won by Squire Hall, who was extraordinarily proud of the achievement.
CHAPTER XI
Wanny Crags
ON descending the south side of the hill the earl and his troop passed through a thick forest, and then entered upon a moor, in the midst of which could be seen a remarkable cluster of rocks. These were Wanny Crags, and on the highest of them floated the king’s banner, showing that the insurgents had taken up a position there.
On a nearer approach to this singular station, Forster and his men could be descried, grouped like bandits on the rocks; while a great cleft served as a stable for their horses.
As the earl drew nigh this natural fortress, Forster came down from the lofty point he had occupied and bade him welcome, expressing the greatest satisfaction at beholding him and his friends, and adding, that no doubt now they were come, all would go well.
“You do not mean to pass the night among these rocks, I presume?” said the earl.
“I came hither in the hope of gaining some recruits,” replied Forster, “but have been disappointed. If your lordship had not joined me, I should have returned to Rothbury. But now I think it will be best to proceed to Warkworth. The castle is in our hands, and Lord Widdrington will be there to-morrow with a troop of horse. I hope we shall soon be strong enough to besiege Newcastle.”
“Nothing can be decided upon till our forces are organised, and we can ascertain what assistance we are likely to receive from Scotland,” said Lord Derwentwater. “From what you say, we shall be able to hold a consultation with Lord Widdrington to-morrow, and can be guided by his advice.”
Just then, a sentinel stationed on the highest crag, called out that a troop of horse-militia was coming across the moor on the road from Morpeth, and after Charles Radclyffe had examined the party through a spy-glass he declared it was Sir William Lorraine, and the party he had brought with him to Dilston.
“I recognise Sir William perfectly,” he said.
“And so do I!” cried Squire Hall, taking the spy-glass from him. “And I am quite certain he is now on his way to Otterburn to arrest me. Leave me to deal with him. Let the men conceal themselves behind the rocks, so that he may not suspect the presence of so large a party.”
Since no harm could be done by humouring the eccentric squire, Lord Derwentwater and Mr. Forster complied with his request, and as he rode off they concealed their men as he had suggested.
As soon as Sir William Lorraine — for he it undoubtedly was — came in sight of Wanny Crags, he was made aware by the flag that a party of insurgents must be posted there.
But this discovery did not prevent him from going on, as he had no idea the rebels were in any force, and did not imagine they could muster more than a dozen at the outside.
As Squire Hall advanced, he recognised him, and called out to him to stop, but the injunction being disregarded he repeated it more authoritatively.
“You are my prisoner, sir,” he cried. “I hold a warrant for your arrest.”
“I don’t think you are likely to execute the warrant, Sir William,” rejoined the squire, laughing disdainfully.
“I would not advise you to offer resistance, sir,” said Sir William. “And since there is no chance of escape you had better surrender at discretion,”
“I surrender!” exclaimed the squire. “I defy you and all your men to arrest me.”
So saying, he wheeled round, and galloped back as fast as he could to Wanny Crags.
The magistrate followed with the whole of his troop. He would not allow them to fire, or the career of the fugitive would soon have been checked.
The squire called out loudly as he drew near the crags, and in answer to the cry, forty or fifty armed insurgents suddenly appeared at various points; while an equal number of horsemen, headed by Lord Derwentwater and Mr. Forster, came from behind the rocks.
Confounded by this unexpected sight, and instantly comprehending the snare into which he had fallen, the magistrate would have fled, but before he could stir, his bridle was seized by Squire Hall, who exclaimed:
“You threatened to arrest me, Sir William. Now you are my prisoner.”
While the magistrate was hesitating, Lord Derwentwater called out:
“Bid your men lay down their arms instantly, Sir William, or we shall fire upon them.”
“Hold! my lord!” exclaimed the squire. “I am very much mistaken if these worthy fellows are not inclined to join us. Save your lives,” he added to the militiamen, “and shout for James the Third!”
“Long live King James!” cried the whole of the troop.
“Ah, traitors! ah, rebels! is it thus you support your king?” cried the magistrate.
“Harkee, Sir William!” cried the squire. “I would recommend you a little more prudence. If you try to take our recruits from us we shall make short work with you. Gentlemen,” he added, to the others, “you are now on the right side. Let neither threats nor persuasions lure you from it.”
“Do you propose to detain me, my lord, if I consent to deliver up my arms?” said the magistrate to Lord Derwentwater.
“No, Sir William,” replied the earl. “I am anxious you should take back tidings of your own defeat to Morpeth. You cannot conceal it, since you will not have your militiamen with you.”
With a deeply mortified look Sir William then delivered his sword to Squire Hall, by whom it was handed to Lord Derwentwater, after which the magistrate rode off by himself, and returned to Morpeth.
A very curious scene now took place, as the late enemies fraternised, and professed the greatest regard for each other. All the militiamen seemed now to be ardent Jacobites.
Greatly rejoiced at obtaining such an unexpected reinforcement, the two leaders did all in their power to conciliate the new recruits, and were by no means sparing in promises.
The party did not remain much longer at Wanny Crags, but proceeded to a hill called the Waterfalls, from the circumstance of a spring running in two different directions. Here they halted for a couple of hours at a large farm- house.
Thence they marched to Warkworth, their road lying for the most part along the banks of the beautiful river Coquet.
CHAPTER XII
Warkworth Castle
NEXT day, the two insurgent chiefs, who were lodged with all their followers in Warkworth Castle, were joined by Lord Widdrington with thirty horsemen.
His lordship would have brought double that number of men, but horses and equipments for them were wanting. Plenty of raw undisciplined infantry could be found, but cavalry were required.
On the whole, however, the prospects of the insurgents were very encouraging. They had plenty of friends at Alnwick and Morpeth, and an insurrection would undoubtedly have taken place in Newcastle, had it not been checked by the sudden arrival of Sir Charles Hotham’s regiment of foot from Yorkshire.
From accounts received from every quarter it was certain that the whole country was in a most disturbed state, and reinforcements, though on a somewhat small scale, were constantly arriving. The insurgents had not been many hours in Warkworth when their numbers were augmented by a hundred horse.
Immediately on the arrival of Lord Widdrington at Warkworth, the first business of the insurgent leaders was to collect all t
heir forces in the courtyard of the castle, and proclaim King James.
A large concourse likewise assembled, and great enthusiasm prevailed. No locality could have been better chosen for the ceremonial, which produced a very striking effect, and no ill omen attended it. On the contrary, everything appeared auspicious. The day was fine, and the proud old castle looked its best, and seemed to smile upon the scene.
After the proclamation had been made — amid loud flourishes of trumpets and beating of drums, accompanied by the shouts of the assemblage — the royal banner was placed on the Lion Tower.
Later on in the day, a banquet was given in the great baronial hall in the keep, at which all the insurgent officers assisted.
The entertainment was intended to celebrate the appointment of Mr. Forster as General of the Northumbrian forces, which had taken place that day at the recommendation of the Earl of Derwentwater and Lord Widdrington, the only persons who could have opposed him.
But they both felt that the commander of the English army must not be a Roman Catholic, and therefore withdrew their own claims, and supported the High Tory squire, who was generally very popular in the county, and to whom objections on the score of religion could not be raised. However deficient Mr. Forster might be in military knowledge and skill, it was thought he would be saved from any grave error by Colonel Oxburgh, whom he proposed to have constantly near him.
The banquet passed off very well, and the best feeling towards the new commander was manifested on all hands.
Some little disturbance was made by the Laird of Otterburn, but it was quickly set right, and General Forster put more constraint upon himself than he had been accustomed to do in former days at Bamborough.
Next day, the castle began to assume the appearance of a garrison.
The court-yard was filled with recruits, who were continually arriving, and Colonel Oxburgh and Captain Wogan were entirely occupied in examining them.
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