Day dawned at length into the dark and lonely prison of the Earl of Beverley--the bright warm day, clear and beautiful, and rosy with the hue of the rising sun. A long ray of light streamed through the high window and painted the opposite wall; then slowly descending, as the orb rose higher in the heaven, rested on the graceful figure and the rich curling hair of the captive, as he still sat at the table, but fast asleep with his head now bent down on his folded arms. The quiet sunshine did not wake him, for he had watched, with anxious thoughts for his only companions, through the greater part of the night; and not till about an hour before morning had slumber fallen upon him. But he was not destined long to know repose; for shortly after dawn a voice was heard in the room, saying, "Is there any one below?"
The sound but not the sense caught his ear; and starting up he gazed round the room. All was vacant, however, and he thought he had been dreaming, when suddenly the question was repeated--
"Is there any one below?"
It seemed to come from the chimney; and approaching, he replied aloud--
"Yes! Who speaks?"
"Who are you? what is your name?" demanded the voice; but, though the tones seemed not unfamiliar to Lord Beverley's ear, he could not of course venture to give his real name to a person he did not see; and he replied--
"That is nothing to any one. Who is he that talks to me?"
"My name is Ashburnham," replied the person, who seemed speaking from some room above; "a prisoner like yourself, if you be one."
"I am, indeed, Ashburnham," answered the earl. "I will not utter my name, lest there should be other ears listening; but I am he whom you joined going to France, and who was taken with you."
"Bad luck indeed!" said Colonel Ashburnham. "Hotham has lied, then, for he told me you were gone."
"He spoke truth there," answered the earl; "but, as ill fortune would have it, I returned last night on business and was arrested by his son, who tore my pass, and vows he will try me as a spy."
"Ay, a curse fall upon him!" cried the other voice. "He respects no rules of honour or courtesy, and, since his father fell ill, has put me in close confinement. If Hotham could know, he would treat you vetter; but I cannot help you, for I am locked in here."
"Hush!" cried the earl; "here are steps coming."
The next moment the key was turned in the lock, the bar taken down, and two soldiers appeared. In a dull and indifferent tone, as if he were bidding the prisoner come to the morning meal, one of the men told Lord Beverley to follow to the colonel's council; and obeying, with very little hope that anything he could say would change the stern purpose of the parliamentary officer, the earl was led along the passage to what seemed a dining-hall on the same floor, in which he found Colonel Hotham seated at a table, with four inferior officers round him. Two wore the garb of the train-bands, the others seemed strangers to the city; for when the prisoners entered they were asking some questions concerning the fortifications. His appearance, however, instantly drew their eyes upon himself; and, walking with a firm step to the end of the table, he gazed calmly over them, scanning the countenance of each of those who seemed assembled to judge him, not at all abashed by the somewhat fierce stare with which one or two of them regarded him.
Colonel Hotham had in general chosen his men well. The two Londoners he had long known as very unscrupulous and fiery zealots in the cause of the parliament; and Captain Marden, one of the officers of the train-bands, whom he had called to his aid, had made himself somewhat remarkable on several occasions by his gloomy fierceness of disposition. He had commanded the party by whom the two unfortunate men mentioned by Falgate had been put to death, and he had seemed only the more morose and dogged after the horrid scene in which he had borne a part. The fourth officer was known as a religious enthusiast, a preacher in one of the conventicles of the city, and, as was generally supposed, as wild and unsparing as the rest, so that Colonel Hotham entertained no doubt that his purposes towards the prisoner would receive the sanction of these men's authority, without scruple or hesitation on their part.
After pausing for a moment, while the earl stood at the end of the table as we have described, the parliamentary commander demanded, in a sharp tone--
"What is your name?"
"Not knowing that you have any authority to ask it," replied the earl, with perfect calmness, "I shall, most undoubtedly, refuse to answer."
"That will serve you little, sir," said one of the men from London; "for if you do refuse, the court will proceed to try you without further ceremony."
"What court?" demanded the earl. "I see five persons sitting round a table, but no court."
"This, sir, is a summary court-martial," replied Colonel Hotham, "called to try a person accused of entering a garrisoned town as a spy."
"With a pass from the governor?" added Lord Beverley.
"But that pass, we have every reason to believe," replied Colonel Hotham, "was obtained by a false representation of your name and quality, and as such was invalid."
"That point will be easily established," replied the earl, "by calling the governor himself. I maintain that he gave it to me with full knowledge of my person; and I therefore require that he be called, to testify as to the the validity of the pass which you, sir, most dishonourably and dishonestly tore to pieces last night."
"The governor is too ill, sir, to give his evidence," said one of the officers from London.
"If, gentlemen, your purpose is to commit a cold, deliberate murder," said the earl, "you may do it without all this ceremony. I am in your hands, have no power to resist you, and no means of obtaining justice; but I will not further your views by recognising this as a court, which is in fact none at all. If Sir John Hotham is too ill to attend, delay the inquiry till he is better. I stand upon the safe-conduct which I received from him; and if you violate it you are murderers, and not men of honour."
"Had he a pass?" demanded the preacher officer of the train-bands, turning gloomily to Colonel Hotham.
"He had, but under a feigned name," replied Hotham.
"What proof have you?" demanded the enthusiast. "Remember, sir, 'whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed!' If you bring not your father to testify, how can we know that this safe-conduct was wrongly obtained?"
Colonel Hotham's cheek turned red, for he loved not such opposition; and he paused for a moment ere he replied, feeling that he was angry, and fearing that he might commit himself.
"I think," he answered at length, in a tone so soft that it betrayed the struggle to keep down his passion--"I think that we can prove that it was obtained under a false name by other witnesses, without disturbing my father, which might be dangerous;" and then, turning to the two guards who remained at the door, he said, "Where is the other prisoner? Let him be brought in. Has the other man been summoned, who is said to know something of these persons?"
"Yes, colonel," replied the man to whom he spoke; "they are both without there--one in one room, and the other in another."
"Bring in the prisoner first," said Colonel Hotham; "we will confront them together, gentlemen."
A pause ensued for the space of about two minutes, during which no one spoke except one of the officers of the train-bands, who said a few words to the other in a low voice, and then the door opened; and turning round his head, the earl, as he had apprehended, beheld the renowned Captain Barecolt marched in amongst some soldiers. As it was not the first time that the worthy officer had found himself in such an unpleasant position, he showed himself very little disturbed by his situation, and walked up to the end of the table with a bold countenance, smoothing down his moustaches, and drawing his beard to a point between his fingers, as if he had not had time to complete his toilet are he was brought from the inn.
The cool self-sufficiency of his air seemed to move the wrath of Colonel Hotham, who instantly addressed him, saying--
"What is your name, fellow?"
"I be not your fellow, sair," replied Barecolt, boldly, "and am not so call. My name vere Captain Jersval, for your service, gentlemen."
"And now speak out, and speak the truth," continued the colonel, while Barecolt bowed ceremoniously round the table; "leave your mumming, sir, and answer. Who is this person, with whom you entered the town yesterday evening? Answer truly, for your life depends upon it."
"Begar, it vere one very difficult thing for me to tell," replied Barecolt in the same unconcerned tone. "First, sair, it cannot alvay be easy to tell who one be oneself; and much more uneasy to tell who de oder man be."
"What does the fool mean?" demanded one of the Roundhead officers; "not always easy to tell who you are yourself! What do you mean, man?"
"Vhy, sair," replied Barecolt, with an agreeable laugh, "one day, not so very long time ago, I met vid one saucy man who to my face--to my very beard, sair--swear I vas one oder man but myself. He swear I vere not Jersval, but Barecole--one Capitaine Barecole, a very great man in dese parts--a famous man, I hear."
"Cease this foolery, sir," cried Colonel Hotham, "and answer my question directly, or prepare to walk out to the water-gate and receive a volley. Who is the person, I say, now standing beside you?"
"Pardi!how de devil should I know?" rejoined Barecolt, with some heat of manner; "I have seen him twice, dat is all; once aboard de sheep vere he was very seek, and once I meet him just half-a-league out of de gate. Ve vere chase hard by a party of vat you call Cavalier malignant, and ride togeder for our lifes."
"That is true, for I saw them," said one of the officers of the train-bands.
"And do you pretend to say you do not know his name?" demanded Colonel Hotham, gazing with the fierceness of disappointment upon the worthy Captain's face.
"Oh, I tink I heard his name on board de sheep," answered Barecolt; "but I cannot be too sure. Let me see. It vas de Colonel de Mery: vas it not dat you told me, sair?" and he turned to the earl with a low bow.
"I answer no questions here, sir," replied Lord Beverley. "This is no lawful court, and the people are not seeking justice, but a pretext for murder."
"Ah! murder--dat be very bad;" cried Captain Barecolt, with a shrug of his shoulders; "men may kill one de oder in fair fight very vell, but murder be very bad indeed! Perhaps dey murder me too!"
"Very likely," answered the earl, drily; but Colonel Hotham exclaimed, "Silence! I have given you an opportunity, sir, of saving your life by telling plainly who this man is. You would not take it, and now we shall soon see who you are yourself. Bring in that Mr. Dry."
Captain Barecolt's countenance fell, for he had remarked the room-door of Mr. Dry open on the preceding night, as he walked somewhat late to bed; and, though he had not been aware at the time that the worthy master of Longsoaken was awake and watching, he doubted not now that his own arrest was owing to that gentleman's good offices. He prepared for the worst, however, and determined to adhere stoutly to his story, thanking his stars that he had alluded to his recontre with Cornet Stumpborough, before Mr. Dry was called.
He was not long kept in suspense, however; for not more than half-a-minute elapsed before Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, entered the room, with his face very pale and his nose very blue, as if recovering from a severe illness; and taking his place at a convenient distance from the renowned captain, replied at once to Colonel Hotham's first question--
"That, worshipful sir?--that is one Captain Barecolt, a notorious malignant, now actually in arms against the authority of the two houses."
"Oh, I tell you so!" cried Barecolt, with a well-feigned look of impatience; "Capitaine Barecole again! Cuss Capitaine Barecole! Now he swear me black in de face dat I vere Capitaine Barecole just as de oder did."
"I will swear, to be sure," replied Mr. Dry; "for, as I have a conscience and a soul to be saved, you are the man. We all know you are very cunning, Captain Barecolt; but if you can cheat in other matters, you cannot cheat in this. I know you well enough, after having been carried along as a captive in bonds, by you and other Amorites like you, for several mortal days."
"What he mean by Amorite?" asked Barecolt, with a look of ignorance; but Colonel Hotham interposed, saying--
"That will do, sir; stand down! You shall hear more as soon as you could wish. Now, worshipful Master Dry, be so good as to look well at that other person, and say if you have seen him before."
Mr. Dry did as he was directed, but the appearance of the earl puzzled him more; for, though the beauty of his features was remarkable, yet, even to those who had seen him often, the black dye with which he had tinged his hair and beard made so great a change that it would have been difficult to recognise him.
"Yes," said the master of Longsoaken, at length--"yes, I am very sure I have seen him before, though I think his hair was of a different colour then. I met him as he was riding up to the house of the malignant Lord Walton, at Bishop's Merton. He staid there all night, I heard, on the day when the house took fire. I am quite sure it is the same, though, his hair is dyed."
"It is," replied Colonel Hotham, in a stern and determined tone, "and I will tell you who he is, gentlemen; for, though he thinks I do not know him, yet I do. I was fool not to recognise him at first. This, sirs, is the noble Earl of Beverley, who has now come into this garrison of Hull as a spy, and deserves death by all the laws of war."
"It is false, sir!" answered the earl, gazing on him fixedly. "Whoever I am, I came not here as a spy."
"Do you mean to deny your name, my lord?" demanded Colonel Hotham.
"I mean to answer no questions, sir," said the earl, "but merely to give you the lie in your teeth, when you assert a falsehood. I stand upon your father's safe-conduct, and call him to witness that he gave it to me."
"The pass I tore was not in favour of the Earl of Beverley," replied the officer; "and that you are he will soon be proved, though I thought fit to call upon these men first. Ask Colonel Jackson to step hither," he continued, speaking to the guard, "and the two other gentlemen in the red room."
The name he mentioned was familiar to the ear of Lord Beverley, who remembered that Colonel Jackson was in the hall where he had had his first interview with Sir John Hotham, but, owing to the disguise which he had assumed, had not recognised him on that occasion. He could little hope, however, that the parliamentary officer would fail to do so now, when his attention was particularly drawn to the examination, and the matter was but too soon decided. Three gentlemen were one by one introduced into the room, and told to examine the earl and state who he was; and each, though with apparent reluctance, pronounced the words, "Lord Beverley."
"The case is clear, gentlemen," said Colonel Hotham. "The Earl of Beverley, under a feigned name and with an invalid pass, has introduced himself into this garrison. It is for you to say, whether, under these circumstances, he is or is not a spy, and subject to the invariable law of such cases."
"Remembering always," rejoined the earl, "that you have no proof that the safe-conduct was invalid, Colonel Hotham having torn it, so that it has never been beneath your eyes; and not forgetting that, even supposing this to be a lawfully-constituted court-martial--which I deny, he having no authority to summon one--he has refused to call the only witness I judged necessary to my defence."
He spoke calmly and firmly, with his cheek perhaps a shade paler than it usually was, but with no other visible sign of emotion, while the countenance of Colonel Hotham, on whom his eyes were fixed, worked with many mingled passions which resisted control.
"This is all vain and foolish!" cried the latter; "I will tell the earl that I have authority, which I should not scruple to exercise, to put him to death at once, but that I have thought it better to give him the chance of this investigation."
"Young man," said the military preacher, addressing Hotham in a solemn tone, "if you give a man in bonds a chance, it should be a fair one. Such has not been afforded the prisoner. Why did you tear the paper? Why do you now refuse to confront him with the witness he calls?--and if that witness be too ill, why not wait till he be well, as he requires? Why not, if not to doom him to death at your pleasure? I will go no farther in this--I wash my hands of this blood."
"Well, then, we will put it to the vote," cried Colonel Hotham, fiercely; "and look to yourself, Captain Marsh. He that puts his hand to the plough must not turn back. Look to yourself, I say."
"I will," replied the old officer of the train-bands, "and I am not to be frightened from a righteous course by loud words or frowning brows. I fear not what man can do unto me."
"Pshaw!" cried Colonel Hotham, turning away. "Your verdict, sir, upon these two men--guilty or not guilty?"
"Guilty," said the Londoner to whom he spoke, without a moment's pause.
"Guilty," said the other, on the colonel's left, answering a mere look.
"I doubt," replied Captain Marden of the train-bands, when Hotham turned to him.
"But I do not," rejoined that officer; "and I say guilty too--so there are three voices against two. They are condemned. Take them hence to the water-gate, call out a file of men, and the rest--as yesterday. I spare you the rope, Lord Beverley, in consideration of your rank. You shall die as a soldier."
"And you as a murderer!" shouted Barecolt, rushing towards him so suddenly, that he caught him by the throat with both hands before any one could interpose.
The two parliamentary officers drew their swords; the guards were rushing up from the door; but, under the strong pressure of Captain Barecolt's fingers, Colonel Hotham was turning black in the face, and might have been strangled before he could have been delivered, when suddenly a voice was heard exclaiming, "Halt! Not a man stir! Guard the door!" and all was silence.
Captain Barecolt slightly relaxed his grasp, the parliamentary officers drew back, and Sir John Hotham, with an excited and angry countenance, and evidently in great pain, walked up the room and took his place at the head of the table.
"What is all this?" he demanded. "Unloose my son, sir! What is the meaning of this, Colonel Hotham?"
"Pardi!I will unloose him, now you be come, gouverneur," replied Barecolt, taking away his hands and drawing back; "but, begar, if you had not come, he be strangle!"
Colonel Hotham sank in a chair, gasping for breath, and one of the officers from London took upon him to reply: "This is a court-martial, Sir John, summoned to try----"
"And by whose authority?" demanded the governor, fiercely; "who dares to summon a court-martial in Hull but myself?"
"But you were ill, sir," replied the officer, "and Colonel Hotham judged it expedient to summon us."
"He did! did he?" cried the governor. "Colonel Hotham, give up your sword. You are under arrest. Remove him, wards; take him away! This is no court--all its proceedings are illegal, and shall so be dealt with. Gentlemen, you are dismissed. Away! We have had too much of you."
Some of those present were inclined to remonstrate; but the old man who alone had interfered in behalf of the earl said aloud, "You are quite right, Sir John. The court and all its proceedings were illegal and iniquitous."
Colonel Hotham, too, strove to make himself heard; but the governor exclaimed, in a loud and angry tone, "Away! have I not said it? Guards, clear the room, and take that young man away. Place a sentry at his chamber-door; he is under arrest."
Sir John Hotham had not come alone, for the further end of the hall displayed a considerable party of the train-bands; and, muttering some very unpleasant observations on his father's conduct, Colonel Hotham was removed, while the rest of the body whom he had chosen to constitute a court-martial retired slowly and sheepishly, leaving the governor with two prisoners, Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, and a party of the guard.
Sir John Hotham gazed alternately at Lord Beverley, Captain Barecolt, and Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, with not a little of that irascibility which is common in the complaint from which he was suffering still evident in his countenance, and ready to fall upon any one who said a word to provoke his wrath. As several of the guard were in the room, Lord Beverley thought it most prudent to remain perfectly silent; and the governor at length began the conversation by exclaiming, "And who the devil is this fellow?" At the same time he pointed to Mr. Dry, with no very placable looks.
"I am a poor, God-fearing man, worshipful sir," began the personage of whom he spoke; but Captain Barecolt interrupted him before he could say more.
"He is von of de greatest rogue in all de Christendom," he said, turning to the governor; "I know he very vell. He sheat de king, he sheat de parliament, he sheat everybody. He be von grand imposture."
"The devil he is!" exclaimed the governor. "Is this true, sir?" And he looked to Lord Beverley for an answer.
"Perfectly, Sir John," replied the earl. "I have heard a good deal of this gentleman from various quarters; and I know that he carried off a young gentlewoman from her friends, and brought her hither to Hull, with very sinister views indeed."
Mr. Dry held up his hands and showed the whites of his eyes; but the governor exclaimed, "Ay, by ----!" and he added a very unsanctified oath: "I recollect the scoundrel now. He came here two or three days ago; he came here making a great noise about this girl, and asking for warrants, and I know not what: he declared that she was his ward. Take him by the ears, fellows, and turn him out of the town. We want no such vagabonds amongst us."
"I warn you, worshipful sir; I warn you," cried Mr. Dry while two of the guards took him by the arms, "that these are two malignants and prelatic conspirators. Did not false witnesses rise up against----"
"Away with him!" shouted Sir John Hotham before he could finish the sentence; "away with him! and if he continues to bawl, put him in the stocks and let him bawl there."
The soldiers removed Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, without further resistance; for he, like Erasmus, was not of the stuff from which they make martyrs, and the name of the stocks had a great effect upon him. The governor then directed the rest of the soldiers to quit the room, but to wait in the passage without, adding, "I will examine into the case of these gentlemen myself."
As soon as the room was clear he turned to the Earl of Beverley, saying, "This is an unfortunate affair, my lord. You see how things go. What can I do?"
"Why, methinks, Sir John," rejoined the earl, approaching the governor, and speaking in a whisper, "the only thing for you to do is, to throw open the gates at once to his majesty's forces and declare your loyalty. A few hours would bring the army hither."
"Impossible! impossible!" cried Hotham aloud, with an impatient look. "You know not what you talk of, sir. Everything is changed since you were here. This place is full of people sent down from the parliament. It will be as much as I can do to get you out safely, and unless my son had given me cause to shut him up, I could not even do that. He cannot be kept in long, however, for ere noon I shall have remonstrances enow, and your only safety is in immediate departure. You shall have a new pass without delay, and then the sooner your back is turned on Hull the better."
"But what shall I say to the king?" demanded the earl, willing to make one more effort for the grand object of his coming; "he fully expects----"
"Expects what cannot be done!" exclaimed the governor, impatiently. "Give my humble duty to his majesty, and say I will lose no opportunity to do him service, but that I am no longer master in Hull. Tell him he had better withdraw his troops as soon as may be, for if they come before the walls the cannon must be fired on them, which I would fain avoid. But say, sir--say that my heart is with him, and that it is against my will I close the gates."
As he spoke, he drew the inkstand closer, and wrote a fresh pass for the earl, looking up and adding, "But I will send people with you to see you clear of the gates. On my life, I scarce know what contempt these men will show to my orders; and as likely as not that they would stop you and hang you in the streets if you had not a guard."
"Begar, den, de sooner we vish them good morning de better!" cried Captain Barecolt.
"But, Sir John, there is another matter," said Lord Beverley, as the governor put his signature to the paper. "You have here in bonds my friend and the king's faithful servant, Colonel Ashburnham. I do beseech you, for my sake, and for your loyalty's sake, set him free also."
"Nay, I know not how that may be," replied Sir John Hotham: "the parliament have written to my son, I hear, to send him up to Westminster."
"But your son is not governor of Hull," answered the earl "if the mandate came to him, not to you, there can be no cause why you should know or recognise it. If you miss this opportunity of sending him away with us, you may regret it when you have no longer the power to show such an act of courtesy."
"True, true!" replied Sir John Hotham: "I have promised him his freedom, and he shall have it, if the devil himself keep the gates. Stay here a minute--stay here!" and rising from his chair he limped away, and left Captain Barecolt and the earl alone in the hall.
A few minutes passed in explanations between the two Cavaliers; but then they began to be somewhat impatient for the governor's return, as they were but too well aware that their situation was still full of danger and difficulty. Minute after minute passed, however, without his coming; and a considerable degree of noise in the house, the moving about of many feet, and a good deal of bustle and confusion, did not tend to quiet their apprehensions.
"By heaven, my lord!" cried Barecolt, at length, "I fear your lordship has gone farther than that worthy gentleman of old times who sacrificed himself for his friend; for I've a great notion that you have sacrificed me also for this good colonel, who was the original cause of all our mishap. I would have let him take his chance and get out as he could."
But, while the renowned captain was thus remonstrating, the door again opened and Sir John Hotham reappeared, followed by Colonel Ashburnham. "Quick, quick!" cried the governor, "you must lose no more time, but all get away together. Here is already a deputation to remonstrate, but I have shut the fellows up in a room above, and they shall wait long enough before they see me."
"But we must provide a horse for my good friend here," said Lord Beverley, who was shaking Ashburnham by the hand.
"That's all done, that's all done!" said Sir John Hotham: "his horse and yours are both waiting in the court, and a party of men to see you safe out of the town, and to ensure that you speak with no one as you go. We must treat you as enemies, my lord, though we could wish you were friends."
"But my horse!" cried the renowned Captain Barecolt: "I have left him at the inn."
This intelligence somewhat discomposed Sir John Hotham; but it was at length determined that Barecolt should have a fresh pass made out in his own name, and should be left with this security, to find his way out of Hull as best he might; and the whole party, issuing forth into the court, left Sir John Hotham to account for his conduct, in the matter of their liberation, to the partisans of the parliament in the town. In taking leave of him, also, we need only remind the reader that these very events, not long afterwards, brought his head to the block.
Parties of the royalist army were moving in every direction round Hull, and from time to time saker and falconet, and such other artillery as the garrison had been able to muster on the walls, were discharged at the adventurous Cavaliers who approached too near, when Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, having been permitted by the guard who had him in charge to gather his baggage hastily together at the "Swan," and to saddle his horse, issued forth from the gates, leaving behind him, in the hands of Mrs. White, in part payment of his bill, the horse on which Arrah Neil had ridden thither. Not that Mr. Dry had come unprovided with the needful means of meeting any expenses he might incur; far from it, for he was a wealthy man, and for many years had never known what even temporary want was; but he loved barter, and generally gained by; and though he was indeed obliged to dispose of the nag to the good landlady at a loss, yet this loss, as he contrived it, was less than would have been incurred by any other process.
However, when he stood without the gates and saw them closed behind him; when he beheld, wherever he turned, some body of horse or foot at the distance of less than a mile: and, more than all, when he heard a cannon boom over his head from above, the heart of Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, sank, and he felt a degree of trepidation he had never known in life before. What to do he could not tell; but after much deliberation he resolved to stay where he was till the royalist troops were withdrawn, calculating justly that they would not approach so near as to do him any harm, and that the troops within would not issue forth while the others were in sight.
One point, indeed, he did not foresee. The Earl of Beverley and Colonel Ashburnham had passed out while he was at the inn, but the redoubtable Captain Barecolt was still behind; and, as the evil fate of Mr. Dry would have it, just after he had remained under shelter of the archway to one hour and a quarter by the great clock, holding his horse by the bridle all the time, the gate behind him suddenly began to clank and rattle in the painful operation of giving exit to that great hero.
Mr. Dry started up and looked behind him, lifting his foot towards the stirrup at the same moment; and as soon as he beheld Captain Barecolt, he scrambled into the saddle as well as he could; but, alas! that renowned officer was already mounted, and Mr. Dry had to perform an operation which was difficult to him. He had got his left foot in the stirrup; he had swung himself up into the saddle; but before his right foot could find its place of repose (and Mr. Dry did not venture to spur on till it had), the gates were closed behind Captain Barecolt, and he himself was by the Puritan's side.
"Ha, ha! old drybones!" said that officer, "have I caught thee at length?"
"What want you with me, man of Belial?" demanded the master of Longsoaken, with the cat-in-a-corner courage of despair. "Get you gone upon your way, and let better men than yourself follow theirs."
"Nay, good faith!" answered Barecolt, stretching out his left hand and grasping Mr. Dry's rein: "I always love that better men than myself should bear me company, and such is to be thy fate, O Dry! so do not think to escape it; for, as sure as my name is de Capitaine Jersval, if you attempt any one of all those running tricks which you know so well how to practice, I will slit your weasand incontinent. It matters not two straws to me whether I have you alive or dead, but have your corpus I will, as the prisoner of my bow and spear, as you would call it. Come, use your spurs, or I must spur your beast for you. You see that party of honest Cavaliers there on the hill--terrible malignants, every one of them, that would have a pleasure in roasting you by a slow fire, like a tough old goose, and basting you with those strong waters that you love so well. To them we are going, so spur on with the alacrity which your good luck deserves. What! you will not? Oh, then, I must make you!" and drawing his sword, he pricked Mr. Dry's horse so close to that worthy gentleman's thigh, that he started and rose in the stirrups.
The poor beast darted on in an instant, and in so doing shook Mr. Dry a good deal; but whether the concussion elicited a brilliant thought from his brain or not, he exclaimed immediately after--
"Harkye, Captain Barecolt! I have a word for ye. Do not let us ride so fast. I have an offer to make. Listen a moment."
Mr. Dry understood the peculiar genus of captain to which Barecolt belonged, but he did not understand the exact variety. He knew that, with most adventurous soldiers like himself, the food for which they hungered was gold. Drink might do much, dice might do much, fair ladies might do more; but gold, gold was paramount--an attraction not to be resisted. Mr. Dry loved gold, too, and overvalued its importance; but he felt a strong internal conviction that, if carried at once to the quarters of Lord Walton, life, which was the grand means of getting and enjoying gold, would be of a very short duration. He saw a noose dangling from a cross-tree before his eyes, and he wisely calculated that it would be better to sacrifice some portion of the less valuable commodity to save the more valuable; and therefore he prepared to tempt his companion's cupidity--not without a faint hope of cheating him after all, but with the resolution of giving anything that might save his life.
A sudden thought, too, had struck Captain Barecolt, which he proceeded to follow out, as will be seen presently; but its first effect was to make him draw in his rein, and also check the horse of Mr. Dry, over which he exercised supreme command; and as he did so, he said in a dry and bantering tone--
"Well, worshipful Mr. Dry, speak what you have to speak. As you will not have leisure to use your tongue much more on earth, it would be hard to deny you a few words. You are going to the gallows, Mr. Dry--you are going to the gallows; and though I cannot promise that you shall swing as high as Haman, yet you shall have as decent an execution as time and circumstances permit, and plenty of room for your feet.
"Nay," said Dry, with a sort of sobbing sigh, "you would not be so barbarous, so unchristian, especially when I am willing to pay ransom. Listen, captain--listen, noble Captain Barecolt: if you will not take me and put me into the hands of yonder men of Belial, I will--I will go as far as a hundred pounds."
"Men of Belial, sirrah!" cried Barecolt, turning upon him fiercely. "How dare you call his majesty's forces men of Belial. Those very words shall cost you five hundred pounds, if you would save your life."
Though the captain's words were fierce, yet they served to show that he was not quite inaccessible, and Mr. Dry began at once to higgle about his ransom; but Barecolt showed himself as hard a bargainer as he was himself; and as he perceived that every step they took in advance increased the trepidation of the worthy man of Longsoaken, he used the screw thus afforded him to squeeze Mr. Dry very painfully. Now he pushed on his horse--now he slackened his pace--now he pointed out a party of Cavaliers approaching very near; and, discovering exactly what Mr. Dry had upon his person, he took care to make his demand much more, in order that he might have the opportunity of keeping him in his hands till the sum was paid, which was indeed the principal object he had in view.
Some difficulties, totally independent of Mr. Dry's natural reluctance to part with his money, even to save his life, occurred in the course of the negotiation. Barecolt was well aware, from what he had seen of the king's conduct, that if the prisoner were taken to the camp, instead of mounting a ladder, he would more likely regain his liberty very speedily; and the worthy Puritan, on the contrary, was terrified at the very thought of approaching the royal quarters, his consciousness of offences grave and manifold presenting instant death to his imagination as the only result. What then was to be done with him while he remained in the custody of Captain Barecolt? That valiant gentleman proposed that he should assume a false name, and pass as a friend of his in the camp; but Mr. Dry, remembering that he was known to many in Lord Walton's troop, rejected this idea as totally inconsistent with his own safety.
"You might as well hang me at once," he said.
"That might be pleasant enough," answered Barecolt, "were it not that you have only a hundred and fifty pounds about you, Master Dry. However, let me see: if we take this little hollow way to the left, methinks it will lead us to the hamlet just below the old church. I could stow you away in that building, as a young friend of mine was once served by some of your people, while I send for some of my own men to keep guard over you, and I go and report myself."
"No, not there! not there!" cried he of Longsoaken, turning paler than ever. "No, no! But there is an alehouse farther on, where we could find accommodation. They are good and pious people there."
"For which reason I will have nothing to do with them," answered the profane captain. "No, but I know of a tavern just a mile from Beverley, where you can be lodged safely, Mr. Dry; and as, if you are taken and hanged, I lose five hundred good pounds, you may be quite sure that I will take as much pains to keep your neck out of the halter as I will to guard against your escape. We will talk about the means of getting the money from Bishop's Merton hereafter; so now come on quick. We shall turn the flank of that party we saw upon the hill in five minutes, without their seeing us, if we keep in the hollow way; and should we meet any stragglers, you must either keep a silent tongue in your head or curse and swear like a trooper."
"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Mr. Dry, turning up his eyes.
"Phoo!" cried Captain Barecolt, "I know you would trample on the cross as the Dutchmen do in Japan, to save your life;" and after the assertion of this undeniable fact he hurried forward, nor drew a rein till they reached the village, and the inn which he had mentioned.
They found three or four of the inferior followers of the court in possession of the public-house; but, though two of them were known to the politic captain, they were not personages whom he chose to trust; and, conveying Mr. Dry to an upper room, he bestowed a small piece of silver upon one of the boys of the place, to run up to Beverley and bring down one Corporal Curtis from his troop. In the mean while, he informed Mr. Dry that it would be as well if he would give up into his secure keeping, to be duly accounted for at an after period, all his worldly goods and chattels, including his tawny-sheathed steel-mounted sword; and, though that worshipful person submitted with but an ill grace to the law of necessity, the pitiless captain employed very searching measures to ascertain that he retained nothing, either on his person or in his saddle-bags, but a decent change of apparel. When this was done, as Corporal Curtis had not yet appeared, Captain Barecolt called for a pottle of good wine, the cost of which he disbursed from Mr. Dry's store, noting it carefully down in a small, dirty memorandum-book, as he sagely remarked that he would have to reckon with that gentleman when they parted. The last cup was in the pottle-pot, and the gallant officer was seriously thinking of calling for more, when a tall, athletic man was ushered in, having some resemblance to Barecolt himself, into whose hands the captain consigned Mr. Dry, with a positive and loud injunction not to lose sight of him even for a moment, and to shoot him through the head if he attempted to escape.
Corporal Curtis promised to obey, saying drily, with a nod at their companion, that he remembered the march from Bishop's Merton; and Barecolt, leaving him in such good hands, mounted his horse and rode off to Beverley. He was kept there for many hours before he could obtain a private audience of Lord Walton; but at the end of that period he was closeted with the young nobleman for a long time, and when their conference was at an end they walked away together to the quarters of Major Randal, where another long private conversation took place. What passed might be difficult as well as tedious to tell; but in the end, towards five o'clock of the afternoon, Captain Barecolt returned to the village, where he had left his captive, accompanied by two stout troopers selected by himself from his own troop; and ascending to the chamber of Mr. Dry, he announced to him, in a tone that admitted of no reply, that he must mount and accompany him at once towards Bishop's Merton.
"I have determined, most worshipful sir," he said, as soon as he had sent Corporal Curtis out of the room, "to see you safe on your way till we are within half-a-day's march of Longsoaken. You will then have the goodness to give an order for the payment of your ransom to one of my friends, who will rejoin us when he has received it, and then I will set you free."
"How do I know you will do that?" demanded Dry, of Longsoaken, in a sullen tone.
"By making use of your common sense, Mr. Dry," replied Captain Barecolt. "Could I not hang you now if I liked it? Can I not hang you now if it pleases me? Will I not hang you now if you affect to doubt the honour of a gentleman and a soldier? So no more on that score, but descend, mount, and march--as you needs must."
There was no remedy And Mr. Dry obeyed, with vague hopes indeed of making his escape by some fortunate accident on the way. He argued that, in the distracted state of the country, it was barely possible for Captain Barecolt to pass across a great part of England without either encountering some force of the opposite party or pausing in some town which had espoused the parliamentary cause, and he believed that in either case his liberation must take place. But he little knew the forethought of that great stratagetic mind. Barecolt had furnished himself with correct information regarding the views and feelings of all the places he had to pass; and, instead of taking his way by Coventry and Worcester, he led his little troop direct to Nottingham, Derby, and Shrewsbury, almost in the same course that the king followed shortly after; and at every halting-place Mr. Dry found himself so strictly watched that his hopes declined from hour to hour. He was never left alone, even for a moment, Captain Barecolt himself, or one of the three soldiers who accompanied him, remaining with him night and day. The only chance that seemed left was in meeting with some friends as the party approached Bishop's Merton; but when Mr. Dry remembered that he was totally unarmed, his heart, never the most firm or most daring, felt inconceivably low at the thought of a struggle; and the sanguinary and ferocious conversation of his captor, the list of slain that his arm had sent to their long account, the bloody battles he had seen, and the dire deeds he had done, made him tremble for the result of any attempt to escape.
At length familiar objects began to greet the eyes of Mr. Dry. He saw places and things which he had often seen before, and knew that he must be within one day's journey of Bishop's Merton; and the very feeling revived in some degree his fainting courage. "Surely," he thought, "the people here must have retained their devotion to the good cause." But, alas! as he rode one morning into a town where he had often bought and sold, he beheld a party of Lord Hertford's horse sitting jesting with the girls in the market-place; and the conversation which he heard as he went along showed him that times had changed, and that people had changed with them.
On leading him up, as had been the inviolable custom since they set out, to a high room in the inn, Captain Barecolt, with a stern tone and countenance, told Corporal Curtis to set a soldier at the door, and to suffer no one to enter. Then waving his captive to a seat, he took a stool opposite, and after a solemn pause addressed him thus:--
"Now, worshipful Master Dry, doubtless you have been puzzling the small wits that God has given you to discover how it happens that an officer like myself, high in the king's confidence, has been induced to traverse so great an extent of country, solely for the purpose of receiving from a mechanical and trading person like yourself the pitiful sum of five hundred pounds, which might have been transmitted by various other means; and it is but fitting that you should know the worst. I and other persons of high rank and station have been made acquainted how, on the death of a poor old man, one Sergeant Neil, you rifled his cottage, and possessed yourself, amongst other things, of sundry papers appertaining to a young lady, who for some years has gone under the name of Arrah Neil, and was supposed to be his grand-daughter.--Don't interrupt me. Having brought you thus far, it is necessary to tell you, that besides an order upon some wealthy man at Bishop's Merton for the five hundred pounds before mentioned, which I shall send on by one of my troopers, it is necessary to your safety and liberation that you should furnish Corporal Curtis with an exact statement of where the said papers are to be found in your house at Longsoaken, and with an order to your people there to aid and assist my said corporal in searching for and finding those documents, expressly stating that you have immediate need of them--don't interrupt me--which indeed is the exact truth; for you must know that I have authority, under the hand of competent persons, in case you should show any reluctance to deliver up property belonging to other people, which you have stolen, to hang you upon the branch of a convenient tree in Wilbury Wood, as one taken in arms in open rebellion, otherwise in flagrant delict, worshipful Master Dry. While dinner is getting ready, therefore, you will be good enough to think deliberately over these particulars, and make up your mind as to whether you will like the state of suspense at which I have hinted better than a surrender of that which is not yours."
The varieties of hue which Mr. Dry's countenance had assumed while he listened to this long oration cannot be described here, for the very attempt would require us to go through almost every shade that ever graced a painter's pallet. Captain Barecolt had three times told him not to interrupt him, but it was a very unnecessary caution, as that worthy gentleman was too much confounded and thunderstruck to be able to utter a word; and when at length his captor rose, and, going to the door, conversed with the soldier for a few minutes, he remained in a state of impotent rage, bitterness, and disappointment, which had the curious effect of making him bite his under lip well-nigh through with his teeth.
Captain Barecolt was inexorable, however; the dinner was served; and Mr. Dry, though he could with difficulty be brought to eat a mouthful, drank a good deal. The dinner was over, and Captain Barecolt called for writing materials, which were laid before the unfortunate Mr. Dry. He paused, and his hand shook; but the captain was wonderfully calm and composed. He enjoyed the operation very much.
"First, if you please, worshipful Master Dry," he said, "the order on some responsible citizen of Bishop's Merton for five hundred pounds, to be paid at sight; and you will be good enough to eschew the word 'ransom,' putting in that it is for your private necessities."
Mr. Dry wrote as he was directed, and then Captain Barecolt, having examined the paper, placed another sheet before him, saying, "Now for the order to your steward, housekeeper, and all others of your people at Longsoaken, to aid and assist Mr. Curtis: eschew the word 'corporal,' and merely style him 'your friend'--to search for, &c. &c."
Mr. Dry again paused, and Captain Barecolt added, "Remember, I do not press you. I have orders not to press you. If you sign, well; we will go on to a certain cave you know of in Wilbury Wood, where I will keep you company till my men return, and as soon as I find that all which is required comes safe to hand, I will instantly set you free without let or hindrance. But if you refuse to sign, I am not to press you--no, not in the least: I am only to hang you in Wilbury Wood as a terror to all offenders. No, I do not press you in the least, Mr. Dry. Act as in your judgment you shall think it expedient."
Mr. Dry took the pen once more, and with a wavering and uncertain hand wrote down the order, very nearly in the terms which Captain Barecolt had dictated. He then stopped a moment, dipped the pen in the ink, gazed in the officer's face, and then added his name.
"Hal ha! ha!" cried Captain Barecolt, taking the paper with a mocking laugh. "Here is a man who prefers giving up things that don't belong to him to being hung in a nice cool wood. What an extraordinary taste!" and walking to the door he put his head out, saying, "Saddle the horses."
"Devil!" cried Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, setting his teeth hard; and at the same time, by a rapid but silent movement, he drew a long, sharp-pointed knife off the table, and hastily put it in his pocket.
"Come, Mr. Dry," said Barecolt, turning round, "we shall soon part if your people obey your orders and your correspondent pays the money; so we may as well have another tankard to drink to our next merry meeting. It will make but a small item in your bill. Holloa, there! Bring another tankard, and mind it be of the best."
But when the wine came Mr. Dry refused to drink, saying sullenly that he had had enough to quench his thirst for a week. Captain Barecolt laughed again, for the writhing of his victim was pleasant to him; and taking up the large jug of wine he replied, "We have not had you long enough amongst us, Mr. Dry: you should really bear us company a little longer, to learn to drink deep. This is the way a truesoldadodiscusses a stoup of good Bordeaux," and setting the brim to his lips, he never took it away till the tankard was empty.
"Now, to horse! to horse!" he cried, and making Mr. Dry go down and mount before him, he sprang lightly upon horseback, seeming all the more brisk and active for his liquor.
After some little shaking of hands and bidding good-bye between Captain Barecolt and his men and the troopers of Lord Hertford, in the streets, the captain's little party rode out of the town, and were soon in the midst of fields and lanes again. Then came a wide, bare common, extending for three or four miles on every side; and as they crossed it, a large old wood appeared lying straight before them, and falling into deep waves of brown foliage, with misty dells between.
"Ay, there is old Wilbury Wood, Master Dry," said Captain Barecolt; "you know it well, I dare say."
"You seem to know it well too," answered the Puritan, eyeing him askance.
"To be sure I do," replied the renowned captain; "and while the men are gone upon their errand, I will tell you how. Keep your curiosity cool till then, Master Dry, and you shall be satisfied."
"I have no curiosity about it," growled the Puritan.
"Well, then, you shall hear, whether you have curiosity or not," answered the captain; and on they rode, following a somewhat lonely and unfrequented path into the heart of the wood. The old trees rose around them in wild groups and strange fantastic forms; the hares bounded away in the underwood, and the squirrels, crossing the path, ran gaily up the trees, while a jay flew on before and scolded them from a bough overhead.
"I think this should be the turning," said the gallant captain, at length. "Does not this lead to the cave, Master Dry?"
"Seek it yourself if you want it," said his companion.
"You are discourteous, knave!" said Barecolt, giving him a blow on the ribs that made the worthy gentleman's breath come short. "Learn to be civil to your betters;" and turning his horse up the path, at the mouth of which he had stopped, he led his little party with unerring sagacity to a high rocky promontory in the wood, in the base of which appeared a hollow, some ten or twelve feet deep. He there dismounted and made Mr. Dry do the same, and, seeing him safely lodged in the cave, he gave one of the papers to Corporal Curtis, saying, "Take Jukes with you, and do as I told you, corporal. Avoid the town, and be back before dark; for if they do not give up the papers, I shall want you to help to hang our friend there."
His back was turned to Master Dry; and as he uttered these words aloud, he winked upon the corporal significantly with one small eye.
"They will obey my order," said Dry.
"I trust they will," rejoined Barecolt, solemnly. "You, James, take this to Bishop's Merton, and get the money. You may tell Master Winkfield, on whom it is drawn, that Master Dry wants it sadly. So he does, poor man! Look about the town, too, before you return, and see what is going on. I heard this morning that they are turning loyal; and if so, I may honour them with a visit myself some day."
The men rode away, and Captain Barecolt, after having secured the horses to two trees, took his pistols from the saddle and rejoined his prisoner in the cave. There seating himself on the ground, with his long legs stretched out across the mouth of the excavation, he beckoned Mr. Dry with a commanding air to seat himself also. It was easy to perceive that Captain Barecolt had been rendered somewhat more grand in his own opinion by the last stoup of wine, which he had tossed off with no more ceremony than if it had been a gill; and his captive, feeling that it might be dangerous to oppose him even in a trifle, instantly seated himself on the ground, being at the time somewhat weary with a ride of more than thirty miles that morning.
Captain Barecolt first began by examining the priming of his pistols, the muzzles of which every now and then swept Mr. Dry's person in a manner that made him very uncomfortable; but when this operation was finished and the pistols were replaced in his belt, the royalist officer turned his looks upon Mr. Dry with a sort of compassionate contempt that was extremely irritating. "Ah! Master Dry, Master Dry!" he said, "both you and I know this wood very well. You often used to come here when you were an apprentice boy with old Nicholas Cobalter; and many a pound of sugar and salt you hid away in that corner, just behind where you are now sitting; many an ounce of pepper you laid in the nook just over your head, till you could dispose of your pilferings."
Mr. Dry said nothing, but gazed at Captain Barecolt from under his bent brows, with a look of hatred and fear, such as might be supposed to pass over his countenance if he had seen the infernal spirit.
"Ay," continued the officer, in a somewhat maudlin and sentimental tone, "those were pleasant days, Mr. Dry, especially when you used to take a walk in this wood with buxom Mrs. Cobalter, when her husband went to London town; and she used to say, if ever he died you should be her second, because you were tender of her feelings, and connived at her dealing with the pottle-pot more freely than her husband liked."
"And who the devil are you?" cried Mr. Dry, furiously, forgetting all his sanctity in the irritating state of apprehension and astonishment to which he was reduced.
"Ay, those were merry times, Master Dry," continued Barecolt, without noticing his intemperate question, and fixing one eye upon his companion's face, while the other rolled vacantly round the cave, as if searching for memories or ideas. "Yes, Master Dry, no one would have thought to see you the master of Longsoaken in those days. But it all came of the widow, and your stepping in, by her help, into all that old Cobalter left. Fair or foul, Master Dry, it matters not--you got it, and that made a man of you."
"And who in the fiend's name are you?" demanded the Puritan, almost springing at his throat.
"I will tell you, Ezekiel Dry," answered Barecolt, bending forward and gazing sternly in his face--"I will tell you. I am Daniel Cobalter--ay, little Daniel, the old man's only nephew--his brother's son, whom with the widow's aid you cheated of his uncle's inheritance, and left to go out into the world with five crown-pieces and a stout heart; and, now that I have you here face to face in Wilbury Wood, what have you to say why I should not blow your brains out for all that you have done to me and mine?"
Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, shrank into nothing, while Barecolt continued to gaze upon him as sternly as if he could have eaten him alive. A moment after, however, the gallant captain's face relaxed its awful frown, and with a withering and contemptuous smile he went on:--"But set your mind at ease, worm! You are safe in my scorn. I have done better for myself than if I had been tied down to a mechanical life. But take warning by what has happened, and do not let me catch you any more at these tricks, or I will put my boot heel upon your head and tread your brains out like a viper's. There--sit there, and be silent till the men come back; for, if I see you move or hear you speak, you will raise choler in me."
The gallant captain rose, and stood for a minute in the mouth of the cave, then returned again and seated himself, looking at Dry with a sneering smile. "Now art thou hammering thy poor thin brains to find how Daniel Cobalter has become Captain Barecolt; but if thou twistest the letters into proper form, thou wilt find that I have not taken one from any man's name but my own. This is no robbery, Dry."
"Nay, I see! I see!" said the Puritan.
"Ay! dost thou so?" rejoined Barecolt; "then see and be silent;" and he leaned his head upon his hand and gazed forth from the mouth of the cave. Presently, Captain Barecolt's head nodded and his breath came more heavily. Dry, of Longsoaken, gazed at him with his small eyes full of fierce and baleful light; but his face did not grow red or heated with the angry passion that was evidently working within him; on the contrary, it was as white as that of a corpse. "Ruin!" he muttered in a low voice to himself--"ruin!" and at the same time he put his right hand into his pocket, where he had concealed the knife.
But Captain Barecolt suddenly raised his head. "You moved!" he said sternly.
"It was but for my ease," answered Dry in a whining tone; "this ground is very hard."
"Sit still!" rejoined the captain, frowning, and then resumed the same attitude. In two or three minutes he breathed hard again, and then he snored, for he had drunk much wine and ridden far. For a few minutes Mr. Dry thought he was feigning sleep, and yet it seemed very like reality--sound, heavy, dull.
"It must be speedily, or not at all!" he thought to himself; "the other men may soon be back. Softly! I will try him;" and rising, he affected to look out of the mouth of the cave. Captain Barecolt slept on.
Ezekiel Dry trembled very much, but he quietly put his hand once more into his pocket and drew forth the knife. He grasped it tight; he took a step forward to the sleeping man's side. Barecolt, accustomed to watch, started and was rising; but ere he could gain his feet the blow descended on his right breast, and, leaving the knife behind, Dry darted out of the cave.
The blood gushed forth in a stream; but with a quick and firm hand Barecolt drew a pistol from his belt, cocked it, took a step forward, levelled, and fired. Dry, of Longsoaken, sprang up a foot from the ground, and fell heavily upon the forest grass, his blood and brains scattered around.
"Ha!" cried Barecolt; "ha, Master Dry! But I feel marvellous faint--very faint: I will sit down;" and, resuming his seat, he leaned back, while his face became as pale as ashes and the pistol fell from his hands.