With Marlborough to Malplaquet: A Story of the Reign of Queen Anne

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER III

  THE FIRE AT BINFIELD TOWERS

  The fight stopped even more suddenly than it had begun, and the twocombatants stood away from each other, with hanging heads but withfists still clenched.

  Fairburn took a glance around on the destruction, a thing he was ableto do by the glare from some burning wreckage which had now got wellinto a blaze. Then his eyes wandered down to the two boys with theirbruised and bleeding countenances, and finally up into Mr. Blackett'sface.

  "So this is the kind of thing your Tory and your Jacobite is capableof!" he remarked with stinging scorn to his richer rival.

  "Don't you think, Mr. Fairburn," answered the Squire with dignifiedcalmness, restraining himself marvellously well, "don't you think thatinstead of vilifying a cause as far above your comprehension as themajority of its advocates are above you in breeding, in education, instation, it would be more sensible to give me your help in attendingto these poor misguided fellows lying wounded on all sides?"

  Fairburn winced; his rival had certainly the advantage in thecontroversy, and none knew it better than the two boys. George did notfail to observe the little flush of satisfaction that for an instantlit up his antagonist's countenance, and, like his father, he toowinced.

  However, not another needless word was said, while the two men andtheir sons, with the help of some of the Fairburn colliers who werestill on the spot, gave attention to the wounded and extinguished theburning rubbish. Then the Blacketts, father and son, raising theirhats to the Fairburns, took their departure.

  It may well be supposed that this series of unhappy incidents did nottend to narrow the breach between the two colliery owners and theirpeople. Fairburn, unlike his old self, was greatly incensed, andtalked much of prosecutions and so forth. But nothing came of it, theman's sound native sense presently leading him to adopt George'sopinion. Said the boy, "Where would be the good, father? Their sidegot most of the broken heads anyhow, and that's enough for us." It wasa youngster's view of the case, but it had its merits.

  So Fairburn grumbled and rebuilt his few wrecked sheds, his grumblingsdying out as the work proceeded. George's own thoughts were bitterenough, however, so far as Matthew Blackett was concerned. He couldnot get it out of his head that the young squire, as the folks aroundstyled Matthew, was at the bottom of the riot and indeed secretly itsringleader.

  A month or two passed away, and spring came. One day the elderFairburn, on his return from London in his collier, made a greatannouncement.

  "I've got you a grand place, my lad," he said. "It is in the office ofMr. Allan, one of the finest shipping-merchants in London. 'Tis a verygreat favour, and will be the making of you, if you prove to be thelad I take you to be. You are now fifteen, and it is time you wentfrom home to try your fortune; in fact, you'll be all the better awayfrom here--for certain reasons I need not go into. You are a luckylad, George,--I wish I had had half your chance when I was in myteens."

  The son knew very well from his father's tone and manner that it wasuseless to argue the matter with him. To London he would have to go,and he prepared to face the unwelcome prospect like a man.

  Yet, to add to his chagrin and disappointment, there came to him justat that time the news that young Blackett was proposing to enter thearmy as soon as he was old enough. The Squire was anxious that his sonshould have a commission, and as he was wealthy, and his party was nowdecidedly winning in the political race, there would not only be nodifficulties in Matthew's way, but a fine prospect of advancement forthe youth.

  "Who would have thought that that lanky weakling would choose asoldier's trade!" George Fairburn said to himself. "I had quiteexpected him to go to Oxford and become either a barrister or abishop. He's a lucky fellow! And I--I am--well, never mind; it's sillyto go on in this way. I don't like Blackett, but I am bound to confesshe's got good fighting stuff in him."

  When William III was on his deathbed he is reported to have said, "Isee another scene, and could wish to live a little longer." His keenpolitical foresight was soon confirmed. It was in March, 1702, hedied; in the May of the same year war was proclaimed, the combinationof powers known as the Grand Alliance on the one side, Louis XIV, theGrand Monarque, on the other. The nations belonging to the GrandAlliance were at first England, Holland, and the Empire; at laterdates Sweden, Denmark, and most of the States of Germany came in, astrong league. But it was needed. Louis was the most powerfulsovereign in Europe, and France the richest nation. To its resourceswere added those of Spain and her dependencies; for the most part, atany rate, for there were portions even of Spain which would havepreferred the Archduke Charles to Philip of France, and it was thecause of Charles that England and the other members of the Alliancewere espousing. Thus began the war known in history as the War of theSpanish Succession, which for several years gave work to some of themost remarkable generals in European story.

  Of these great soldiers, John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, orrather, as he was at the outbreak of the war, the Earl of Marlborough,was at once the most gifted with military genius and the mostsuccessful. He was now fifty-two years of age, and one of the leadingmen at the Court of Queen Anne. He had seen a fair amount of militaryservice, and had earned the praise of William III, a judge of thefirst order in such matters. But the England of that day could not beblamed if it failed to foresee the brilliancy of fame with which itsgeneral would ere long surround himself.

  Map Of Western Europe In The Time Of Queen Anne. Theshading represents the dominions of Louis XIV.]

  He was known as a brave and an able officer, not much more, exceptthat he was known also to be a great miser. His wife, Sarah Jennings,now the Countess of Marlborough, was in high favour with the newQueen; indeed, she was at that time the most influential subject inthe kingdom.

  To Marlborough, then, was given the command of the combined Englishand Dutch forces.

  It needs no telling that the declaration of war, a war in which thegreater part of Europe would most likely be involved, caused no smallconsternation among those whose business was with the sea and withshipping. Fairburn's business necessitated that his single brig shouldbe constantly running to and from London, and it was early rumouredthat French cruisers and privateers were prowling about the North Seaand the Channel. A schooner of considerable size, belonging to SquireBlackett, had, indeed, been chased, off the Norfolk coast, and hadescaped only by the fact that it was lightly laden--it was returningin ballast to the Tyne--and by its superior sailing qualities. Suchthings brought home to every collier the realities of the situation.George's mother grew alarmed.

  "Who knows," said the good woman, "whether the same Frenchman may notstill be on the watch, and seize the _Ouseburn Lassie_ and her cargo;and, worse than all, my dear boy on board of her?"

  Her husband was not without his fears either, but George laughed atthe notion of capture by a French vessel.

  "I'll go and have a talk with old Abbott, the skipper," he said, "andsee what he thinks about it."

  "Well, George, my lad," the old salt said when the boy questioned himon the point, "it's like this. It's not impossible we may get aFrenchy down on us. But we shan't strike our colours if there's theleast chance of doing anything by a bit of fighting. The master's aman of peace, but between you and me"--the old fellow sank his voiceto a whisper--"I've got stowed away, unbeknown to him, four tidylittle guns; real beauties they are, if small. You shall help me touse 'em on the Mounseers, if they won't leave us alone."

  To a lad of George Fairburn's stamp such a prospect was glorious."I'm quite ready to go, mother," he announced, "on the brig's very nexttrip." Mother and father made no reply, but the former turned away tohide her tears. The lad must go and begin his new life. For a few daysall was bustle and preparation, George in the seventh heaven ofdelight. The long voyage in a grimy and uncomfortable collier had noterrors for him; he was too much accustomed to coal dust for that. Andwas there not a chance that before the Thames was reached he might seea brush with a Frenchman?

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bsp; The last evening at home for him came, and he took a stroll to get afinal look at the familiar surroundings. It was now the very heart ofsummer, the weather glorious: could any boy be sad at such a time,even though there was before him the parting from home, from anindulgent and much-loved mother, from a just and honourable as well asaffectionate father? George whistled and sang as he wandered acrossthe fields, careless whither his footsteps led him.

  As fate would have it, he was proceeding generally in the direction ofMr. Blackett's great house, Binfield Towers, a mansion almost entirelyhidden by thick woods from the public gaze. George knew these woodswell, with their acres of bluebells and their breadths of primroses inthe Spring, and their wealth of dogroses in June. He turned into thefootpath that crossed the plantations, and presently found himselfgazing at the mansion a hundred yards away. The place was almost new,the style that was known in later days as Queen Anne's. But Georgeknew nothing of architectural styles, and was idly counting themultitude of windows when he was startled by a cracked old voicecalling to him from the other side of the fence that separated thewood from the grassplots in front of the house.

  "For God's sake, come along and help, my good lad," cried an old manin livery, beckoning him frantically.

  "What's the matter?" George asked quickly.

  "The house is on fire," was the reply, "and there's nobody at home butthe women folk, except old Reuben, and he's just about as much use asme, and that's none at all, I reckon."

  "Where's Mr. Blackett?" the lad asked as he cleared the fence at abound, and stood by the old man's side on the lawn.

  "Gone off to a party, and young Master Matthew with him. Run and dowhat you can, for Heaven's sake, and I'll follow."

  George bounded across the grass like a hare, and bolted into the housewithout ceremony, for he now perceived smoke issuing from several ofthe front windows. In the hall he found old Reuben, the aged butler,whom Mr. Blackett still provided with a home, doing what he could tostay the progress of the flames, by throwing upon the burningstaircase little pailfuls of water brought by the maid servants. But,in truth most of the women were screaming, and those who were not werefainting.

  "I'm almost moidered with it all," the old fellow cried helplessly, towhich the superannuated gardener, who now came wheezing in, added,"Aye, we're both on us moidered."

  George glanced at the futile old couple, then cast his eye upwards, tothe various stretches of the grand staircase which could be seen fromthe well below. Almost every length of the banisters was blazing, andthe cracked and broken skylight above caused a fierce upward draught.

  "It's at the top the water should be poured down," George cried,taking in the situation in an instant. "I'll see if I can get up." Andin spite of the shouts of the old fellows, and the redoubled shrieksof the maids, the lad skipped up two or three of the flights thatzigzagged up the staircase well.

  At the second floor, however, he was almost overwhelmed by a greatmass of smoke mingled with flame that shot suddenly out of the longcorridor running right and left. Blinded, choked, scorched, Georgestaggered back, tripped, and with a clatter fell down the six or eightsteps he had mounted of that flight, and lay for a moment on the broadcarpeted landing half-dazed. But speedily recovering himself, heperceived that the portion of the stairs from which he had just fallenwas now blazing fiercely.

  "It is useless!" he cried to himself, as he turned to descend to theservants below.

  Then, before he had made two steps agonizing shrieks rang out fromsomewhere above, and he stopped dead, almost appalled.

  "Miss Mary and Mrs. Maynard!" he heard the old men shout from below,and the cries of the women servants grew frantic, as the little bandgazed terror-stricken upwards. George, too, cast his eyes aloft, andthere, to his utter dismay, were dimly seen through the smoke a coupleof female forms peeping from the topmost corridor.

  He knew well enough by sight Mr. Blackett's little daughter of elevenand her governess, a stately old lady, said to be an impoverishedrelative of the Squire himself. The little pony chaise in which thetwo were wont to drive about the neighbourhood was, indeed, familiarto every soul in the district.

  "We had forgotten them, we had forgotten them!" came a voice justbelow him, and there stood old Reuben, who had pulled himself up thesteps a little way. "They are lost!" the aged servant moaned. "Ohdear, oh dear!" And the poor old fellow blundered down the stepsagain, weeping like a child.

  "Is there any other staircase up to the top of the house?" the boycalled after him.

  "Only that in the servants' wing," was the reply, "and that is gonealready. God help us all!"

  "Any long ladders about? And the stablemen, where are they all?"

  "Coachman with the Squire, the grooms gone off to the town for an houror two." Reuben shook his head sorrowfully.

  George waited no longer. With a bound he darted up the stairs again,and in a moment had reached the spot where the fire was fiercest.Without hesitation he dashed on, watching his chance after a big gustof smoke and flame had surged across the well. Through the fire herushed, protecting his face with his arms, and stumbling blindly on.The worst was soon passed, and the next instant he had gained the topof the staircase.

  "Save her--_her_!" Mrs. Maynard cried piteously, "leave _me_, and seeto _her_, for mercy's sake!"

  George caught the girl in his arms and prepared to make a dash downthe staircase. But he drew back in dismay. A big piece of the burningbanister below them fell with a crash and a shower of sparks to thebottom of the well.

  "It is impossible!" he cried. "Let us see what can be done from one ofthe windows." And the three ran to the end of the corridor farthestaway from the fire. Into a room George dashed, and threw up thewindow. It was Mary's playroom, and it was in this place that she andher governess had been till now too much frightened by the flames andsmoke to make a dash for safety.

  Alas! there was no way of escape. The height from the ground was toogreat; to leap meant certain death. George gazed frantically down andaround, to see if any help was arriving. Not a soul was to be seen.Smoke was pouring from almost every window. The ladies were speechlesswith alarm when they saw the look of despair on the boy's face.

  "Don't leave us!" Mary pleaded piteously.

  "No, no!" cried George. "We'll find a way yet." But cheerfully as hespoke, in his heart he almost despaired.

  It was but a few seconds the three had been in the playroom, but whenthey looked out into the corridor again, to their horror they found itblazing, the flames leaping towards them with astonishing bounds,carried along by the evening breeze that had sprung up. The sightseemed to drive Mrs. Maynard demented. With a shriek she darted away,sped along the burning passage, and before the boy and girl couldrealize the situation, she had dashed down the blazing staircase. Thesound of a crash and a fearful scream reached their ears, tellingtheir own tale. The girl clung to George, her head sank, and shefainted.

  Desperate now, the lad placed her on the floor, and, thrusting hishead from the window, perceived that he could clamber up the two orthree feet of rain spout that ran close by, and gain a position on theroof just overhead. If he could gain that, he thought he might run toa further wing of the building that seemed at present untouched by thefire. But the girl, what of her? He cast his eyes about and descriedtwo or three skipping ropes in a corner. Hastily he tied them end toend, fastened a portion round Mary's waist, his movements hastened bythe burst of flame that just then shot into the room. Then clamberingdesperately to the roof, the rope in his teeth, he got a footing onthe parapet, and began to haul up the fainting girl.

  Hand over hand he hauled up the cord and its burden. The child wasdangling between earth and sky when suddenly a great shout came frombelow. George glanced down, and there, running with up-turnedhorror-stricken face, was Matthew Blackett. Help at last! But had itcome too late?