0066
ABOUT ten o'clock on the same day, the high sheriff, accompanied by a score of well-mounted yeomen, armed with various weapons, arrived at Dilston Castle. The gate was open, and without saying a word to the porter, he rode into the court, followed by Jesmond and a groom, leaving the yeomen on guard outside.
Charles Radclyffe who was standing at the entrance of the mansion, came down the steps to meet him, and a formal salutation passed between them.
“You will not be surprised at my visit, Mr. Radclyffe,” said the sheriff. “I have come here in the execution of a painful duty, and desire to discharge it as lightly as I can. Be pleased to tell your brother, Lord Derwentwater, that a certain important person, whom I am aware is his guest, must be delivered up to me.”
“In reply to your demand, Sir William,” replied Charles Radclyffe, firmly, “I have to inform you that there are no guests in the castle and that Lord Derwentwater himself is absent.”
The sheriff looked confounded, and consulted Jesmond by a glance.
The latter shook his head to intimate that the assertion ought not to be credited.
“Excuse me, Mr. Radclyffe,” said the sheriff, “I can understand that you consider yourself justified in denying that the Pretender is here. But I have proof to the contrary. This man beheld him yesterday.”
“I saw him in your company, Mr. Radclyffe,” said Jes-mond. “I heard you and several others address him as your majesty.”
“What have you to say to this, sir?” said the sheriff.
“I might say that the man is mistaken, but I will not,” replied Charles. “I will content myself with stating that the person he beheld, and whom he fancied was the Chevalier de Saint George, is gone.”
“This will be vexatious, if it should turn out correct,” muttered the sheriff.
“Don't believe it, Sir William,” cried Jesmond. “Depend upon it, we shall find him.”
“I have given you my positive assurance, which ought to be sufficient, Sir William,” said Charles Radclyffe. “But if you still entertain any doubts, pray search the house—question the servants—take any steps you think proper.
“I intend to do so, sir,” rejoined the sheriff dismounting, and giving his horse to the groom.
Jesmond likewise dismounted, and followed him.
On the steps the sheriff encountered Newbiggin, and some others of the servants, who corroborated Charles Radclyffe's assertions; and in the entrance hall he found Father Norham, with whom he was acquainted, and whom he respectfully saluted.
“Your reverence knows my business,” he remarked. “Will you aid me?”
“You cannot expect me to do so, Sir William,” replied the priest. “But I will tell you frankly, that no one is concealed here.”
“Has the Pretender fled?” demanded the sheriff.
“ThePretenderhas never been here, Sir William.”
“This is mere equivocation, sir,” cried the sheriff. “I will not be trifled with. I will search the house from top to bottom, but I will find him. Come with me!” he added to Newbiggin.
Attended by the butler, and assisted by Jesmond, he then went upstairs, and peered into a great many rooms, but soon gave up the fruitless search.
“I told you how it would be, Sir William,” observed the priest, amused by his discomfited air, as he returned to the hall. “This is a large house, and if you were to search every room in it you would find it a tedious business. Once more, I tell you the person you seek is not here.”
“Will you tell me whither he is gone?”
“No; you must find that out for yourself, Sir William. You will act wisely if you abandon the quest altogether.”
“No—no! that must not be,” cried the sheriff.
“Certainly not, Sir William,” said Jesmond. “Leave me to make further investigations. I warrant you I'll discover something.”
Receiving permission to do as he pleased, Jesmond proceeded to the stables, and in about ten minutes came back to the sheriff, whom he found in the court-yard.
The smile on his countenance betokened success.
“I've found it all out, Sir William,” he cried. “You won't be disappointed. A large party on horseback left this morning—but the Pretender was not one of them.”
“Then he is here, still?”
“No, Sir William; he went away in Sir John Webb's coach.”
“In a coach!—then we may overtake him!”
“Undoubtedly. The carriage is large and heavy, and doesn't travel more than three or four miles an hour. We shall catch him before he gets to Morpeth.”
“Is he gone in that direction?”
“He is, Sir William. I told you I'd find out something, and you must own that I've managed to put you on the right scent.”
“You have,” cried the sheriff, jumping on his horse. “Follow me, gentlemen!—follow me!”—he called out to the yeomen, who had been waiting all this time outside the gate.
Next minute they were rattling down the avenue, with the sheriff at their head.
We may be sure Jesmond was not left behind.
On arriving at Corbridge, the sheriff found that the carriage had taken the high road to Newcastle, the crossroad by Whittingham and Stamfordham being impracticable, and accordingly he and his troop galloped off in that direction; but when they reached the extensive moor that skirts the town, they discovered that a deviation from the direct course had been made on the left, and that the travellers had crossed, or attempted to cross the moor to Gosforth.
The road chosen was so bad, that it seemed almost certain the carriage would be found buried up to the axle-tree in a bog, and with that confident expectation the pursuers took the same route.
From appearances on the road, it was sufficiently clear that the heavy vehicle had been more than once partially engulfed, and could only have been extricated with difficulty—but it had reached firm ground at last, and had gone on to Gosforth.
About three miles further on the pursuers descried it slowly, rumbling on towards Blagdon Park. Cheered by the sight, they accelerated their pace, and shouting loudly as they went on, soon caused the carriage to stop.
Anxious to make the intended arrest without any appearance of violence, the sheriff ordered a halt of his followers, and rode up to the carriage, attended merely by Jesmond.
Lady Webb and the two women-servants inside had been greatly alarmed by the shouting of the pursuers and sudden stoppage of the vehicle, and Sir John thrust his head out of the window to see what was the matter.
Just then the sheriff came up, and saluting him formally explained his business. Sir John replied rather angrily, and declared in positive terms that there was no one in the carriage beside himself and Lady Webb and their two women-servants.
As the sheriff expressed a doubt, Sir John called to his man-servant to come down and open the door, and immediately got out.
“Now, Sir William—pray satisfy yourself!” he cried.
“I must trouble Lady Webb to alight—and the two women,” said the sheriff.
The injunction was obeyed by her ladyship, though not without strong expressions of displeasure.
As soon as they had all come forth, Jesmond got into the carriage, and looked under the seats, but found only trunks and boxes.
As he emerged with a crestfallen look, he was jeered by Sir John and her ladyship. The sheriff, too, blamed him for the blunder he had made.
“I am certain the Pretender is in the carriage, Sir William,” he said.
“Then find him,” cried the sheriff.
“Ay, find him, fellow, if you can,” added Sir John, derisively.
“He is here,” cried Jesmond, pointing to the footman, a tall, handsome young man.
An exclamation from Sir John was checked by her ladyship, who made a private sign to the footman to hold his tongue.
“You are not making a second blunder, I trust?” said the sheriff.
“No, no! rest easy, Sir William! All right now! I didn't recognise him at first in his disguise. But now I'll swear to him.”
“You will swear that I am the Chevalier de Saint George, whom you call the Pretender?” cried the footman.
“I will,” said Jesmond.
Again Sir John would have interfered, if a look from her ladyship had not kept him quiet.
“You need have no hesitation, Sir William,” said Jesmond. “I will take all consequences on my own head.”
“But your head is nothing,” rejoined the sheriff.
After a moment's consideration, he told Sir John Webb he must turn back, and accompany him to Newcastle.
Sir John protested vehemently against the order, and declared it would put him to the greatest inconvenience.
“I cannot help that,” said the sheriff. “I own I am somewhat perplexed, but a great responsibility rests with me, and I am afraid of committing an error.”
“Then I warn you that you will commit a very great error indeed, if you take me to Newcastle,” said Sir John.
“We are wasting time here,” cried the sheriff. “Your ladyship will be pleased to re-enter the carriage,” he added, in a polite, but authoritative tone to Lady Webb—“and you, Sir John.”
The women servants followed, and the footman was about to shut the door, when the sheriff told him he must get in likewise.
Finding Sir John was about to resist the intrusion, Jesmond pushed the young man in, vociferating in a mocking voice:
“Room for his majesty, King James the Third!”
Irritated to the last point, Sir John would certainly have resented the insult if Lady Webb had not held him fast.
She could not, however, prevent him from putting his head out from the window, and shouting to the sheriff:
“Where is this farce to end, Sir William?”
“Most likely at the Tower of London,” was the sarcastic reply.
“Make no rejoinder, Sir John,” said Lady Webb. “You'll have the laugh against him by-and-by.”
The coach was then turned round, and guarded by the troop of yeomen, proceeding slowly towards Newcastle.
Very different was the progress of the prince and his party from that made by the occupants of the coach. While the latter were crawling along the highway, the others were flying across the country, as if chasing the deer.
Over broad wide moors they speeded—across valley, and through wood—past ancient castles, and along the banks of rushing streams—allowing nothing to stop them—not even the Piets' wall, through a gap in which they dashed—till after traversing many a wild and waste such as only can be seen in Northumberland, they came in sight of the great German Ocean, and the rugged coast that bounds it.
Sixteen miles and upwards had been accomplished in a marvellously short space of time, but then all were well mounted. Throughout this long stretch, Anna, who we have said rode splendidly, kept by the side of Lord Derwentwater, and as he led the way, she shared any risk he might run.
A pretty sight it was to see them together, and drew forth the admiration of those who followed in their course. Somehow or other, they got ahead, and the Prince and Dorothy Forster, who were next behind, made no effort to come up with them. The rest of the party kept well together.
At length a point was reached from which, as we have just mentioned, the broad expanse of the ocean could he surveyed. On the right was Camboise Bay, spreading out with all its rocky headlands as far as Tynemouth and South Shields. On the left was Druridge Bay with Coquet Island in the distance. Behind them a few miles off was Morpeth, with the ruins of its castle, and its old church, and beyond Morpeth lay the wild district they had traversed.
As yet they had made no halt, Lord Derwent water's intention being to stop at Widdrington Castle, which could now be descried about a mile off, beautifully situated near the coast. It was a picturesque structure, surrounded by fine timber, and though of great antiquity, seemed in excellent repair.
Lord Widdrington was a devoted partisan of the House of Stuart, and it was therefore certain that his castle would be thrown open to the prince, and that his highness might tarry there as long as he pleased if he deemed it as safe as Bamborough.
After contemplating the fine old structure with delight for a few minutes, the prince moved on, and followed by the whole party rode down the eminence, and entered the park.
They had not gone far, when they met the noble owner of the mansion.
Lord Widdrington chanced to be riding about his grounds at the time, and seeing the party enter the lodge-gate, he hastened towards them.
How great was his astonishment when he learnt who was his visitor! He instantly flung himself from his horse to pay homage to him whom he regarded as his king.
But the prince was as quick as himself, and anticipating his design, dismounted and embraced him, expressing the greatest delight at beholding him.
Lord Widdrington had quite the air of a country gentleman. About five and thirty, he was well-made, though somewhat robust, with good features, lighted up by grey eyes, and characterised by a frank, manly expression. He wore a blue riding-dress trimmed with silver, a blonde peruke and riding-boots.
By this time Lord Derwentwater had come up, and explanations were quickly given as to the position in which the prince was placed.
Lord Widdrington looked grave, and after a few moments' deliberation said:
“Your majesty must be certain that nothing would gratify me more than to receive you as my guest, but your safety is the first consideration. I am bound, therefore, to state, that in case of pursuit, you would not be as safe here as at Bamborough.”
“Such is my own opinion,” remarked Lord Derwentwater.
“There are a hundred hiding places in the old castle,” pursued Lord Widdrington; “and besides, a boat can be always in readiness, so that your majesty could be taken to Lindisfarne, where you might be concealed for a month.
“Whatever course you advise, my lord, I will adopt,” said the prince. “But I must not be deprived of the power of retreat.”
“'Tis therein especially that Bamborough has the advantage over this mansion, my liege,” said Forster, who had come up. “I will answer with my life that you shall not fall into the hands of your enemies.”
“And I dare not assert as much, since I might not be able to make good my words,” said Lord Widdrington.
“That decides me,” cried the prince. “I shall take up my quarters at Bamborough.”
“I trust your majesty will tarry awhile, and accept such hospitality as I am able to offer you,” entreated Lord Widdrington.
“How say you, my lord?” cried the prince, appealing to Lord Derwentwater. “Shall I stay? I am in your hands.”
His lordship thought an hour's halt might be risked, so the whole of the party dismounted, and were conducted to a large antique dining-hall, adorned with portraits of the family, commencing with Gerard de Widdrington, who flourished in the time of Edward the Third.
Here a goodly repast was served with remarkable promptitude. Of course, the viands were cold, but those who partook of them were too hungry to care for that—for they had breakfasted but slightly before starting,—and even the two fair damsels had gained a good appetite by the ride.
Claret there was in abundance, and a goblet was devoted to a young pair of whose recent betrothal Lord Widdrington had just heard. The health of King James was drunk at the close of the repast, which was not prolonged beyond an hour. At the expiration of that time the horses were brought round.
After glancing round the entrance-hall, which was panelled with oak, and decked with trophies of the chase and ancient weapons, and admiring the carved oak staircase, the prince went forth, and mounted his steed—Lord Widdrington holding the bridle. With graceful gallantry, his lordship next assisted the two fair equestrians to the saddle. This done, he mounted his own horse, with the purpose of attending the prince to Bamborough. Moreover, he had ordered half a dozen well-armed men to follow at the rear of the troop.
With this additional force the party proceeded on its way—though not at the same rapid pace as heretofore.
No longer feeling any uneasiness, the prince greatly enjoyed the ride along this remarkable coast, which, besides being studded with ancient castles, commands unequalled sea-views.
The day was fine, with a fresh breeze blowing from the North Sea. Many vessels were in sight, giving life to the picture.
Before them lay Warkworth Castle, finely situated on a peninsula, at the mouth of the lovely river Coquet, and the sight of the tall grey towers of this imposing structure so full of historical recollections, greatly moved the prince.
“From that proud castle of the Percys I should like to be proclaimed,” he cried aloud.
“Your wish shall be gratified, my liege, that we promise you,” rejoined Lord Widdrington and Mr. Forster, who overheard the exclamation.
And they fulfilled their promise, but not till a later date.
An ancient stone bridge across the Coquet brought the prince in front of the castle, and he paused for a few minutes to gaze at it. Fain would he have visited the Hermitage, but the wish could not be gratified, and he rode on through the little town. No interference was offered to the party since Lord Widdrington and Mr. Forster were at its head.
To Warkworth quickly succeeded a still finer castle—Alnwick; and the prince was again lost in admiration of the second magnificent feudal structure reared on a height above the town, and lording it over the surrounding country.
Guessing his highness's thoughts, Lord Widdrington said:
“Had your majesty these two castles, with Dunstan-borough and Bamborough, and all four well garrisoned, you might hold your own till an army could be raised, that should win you your kingdom.”
“Bamborough is yours already, my liege,” added Forster. “And doubt not the others will be gained.”
Several fresh objects interested the prince as he rode on. Amongst them was Howick Tower, now destroyed.
Soon afterwards Dunstanborough Castle could be descried on the right. As the prince advanced, it was easy to perceive that the enormous pile was in ruins, but it still looked strong, and its position on a ridge of rocks overlooking the sea was strikingly grand.
Several towers and a large portion of the walls were left; but that the castle could be rendered capable of defence seemed very doubtful to the prince, though both Lord Widdrington and Mr. Forster were of a different opinion.
“If your majesty had time to inspect the stronghold, I would convince you of its importance,” said Lord Widdrington. “Ruined as it is, it is so immensely strong that I would undertake to hold it for a month, and with a few large guns it would command the sea.”
“There are some extraordinary caverns beneath the castle, where any amount of arms and ammunition sent from France could be stored,” observed Forster.
“Obtain possession of the place as soon as you can,” remarked the prince. “It ought to belong to us.”
“Itshallbelong to your majesty,” said Lord Widdrington.
During the ride along the coast, Lord Derwentwater had not deemed it necessary to pay especial attention to the prince, since Lord Widdrington was better able than himself to furnish any information his highness might require.
The enamoured earl, therefore, felt at liberty to devote himself exclusively to the object of his affections. To enjoy greater freedom, the young pair separated themselves from the troop, and pursued their course along the turf that skirted the road—halting, occasionally, to gaze at the sea.
Attracted by Dunstanborough Castle, they galloped towards the grand old ruin, and after a brief survey of the gateway and towers were hastening back across the plain, when Anna's horse stumbled and fell. Before the earl could dismount and come to her assistance, she had regained her feet, but her horse had sprained his shoulder so badly that he could scarcely move.
Deeming it the best thing that could be done, Lord Derwentwater proposed to ride as quickly as he could after the party, and bring back another horse for her.
“Dare you remain here alone till I return?” he said.
“I am not in the slightest degree afraid,” she replied.
“I shall not be away many minutes,” he cried, dashing off at full speed.
By this time, the party had disappeared, but he soon overtook them, and in less than five minutes returned with one of Lord Widdrington's grooms.
But Anna was not there. The poor disabled horse had never stirred from the spot. But its mistress was gone.
Lord Derwentwater gazed anxiously in every direction, but could see nothing of her. Thinking she might have gone to the castle, he hurried thither, followed by the groom, dashed through the gateway, and through an inner gate into the court.
Here he gazed distractedly around, but could see no one. Nor was any answer returned to his cries.
Meanwhile, the prince and his attendants had proceeded tranquilly on their way to Bamborough Castle, which is not more than an hour's ride from Dunstanborough.
But nearly double that time was consumed on the present occasion, for the prince made several halts, being greatly struck by the imposing aspect and commanding position of the old stronghold.
No uneasiness was felt at the non-appearance of the earl and his betrothed. It was known that an accident had befallen the young lady's horse—and all were aware that a groom had gone back with his lordship to Dunstanborough—but no importance was attached to this circumstance.
On his arrival at Bamborough the prince was ceremoniously received by Mr. Forster who had ridden on in advance with Dorothy. He was first ushered into the hall of the modern mansion which was thronged with servants, who bowed reverently as he appeared, and everything looked so cheerful and comfortable, and so like the abode of a country squire—all the doors were wide open—there were so many dogs about—and such an air of free and easy hospitality pervaded the place—that he would fain have taken up his quarters there, had it been judged prudent.
Mr. Forster would have readily acceded to his highness's wishes, and have assigned him the best rooms in the mansion, but Lord Widdrington and Colonel Oxburgh declared that he must be lodged in the old castle. There he might sleep in security—surrounded by lofty walls, and protected by strong gates. In the daytime there was comparatively little danger.
Quite reconciled to the arrangement, the prince was shortly afterwards conducted by his host to the lower ward of the castle, and thence to one of the towers, the chambers within which were comfortably furnished, and with this accommodation he was very well content.
As a guard to his highness, it was next arranged that Colonel Oxburgh should occupy the lower chamber of the same tower, and that the adjoining fortifications should be tenanted by Captain Wogan and the rest of the troop, together with some of Mr. Forster's retainers on whose courage and fidelity perfect reliance could be placed.
These arrangements made, the prince walked round the walls of the castle, attended by his host, Lord Widdring-ton, and Colonel Oxburgh, and was greatly struck by the strength of its position.
Though the sea was tolerably calm, the waves came dashing against the precipitous rock on which the edifice was reared. The Fame Islands looked close at hand, and Holy Island could be seen looming in the distance on the left.
Turning from the sea, the prince contemplated for awhile the square massive keep, and then descended to the court.
Here they were met by the butler, who brought the welcome intelligence that dinner was served. Though it was judged expedient that the prince should lodge within the castle, it was not thought necessary that he should dine there.
“If I am not able to entertain your majesty as well as I could desire,” said Mr. Forster, “I trust you will excuse me on the ground that I have had little time for preparation. I cannot give you a banquet such as we partook of yesterday at Dilston.”
“Make no apologies,” said the prince. “I am no epicure, and care not how plain the fare may be. Apropos of the feast of yesterday! where is Lord Derwentwater?”
Mr. Forster could not answer the question, but the butler being applied to, said that neither his lordship nor the young lady with him had arrived.
“This is strange!'' exclaimed the prince.
“Your majesty need not feel uneasy,” laughed Forster. “They will be here presently. Is it your pleasure to wait dinner for them?”
His highness did not deem that necessary, but thought some one ought to go in quest of them.
“That will I,” cried Lord Widdrington.
And hieing at once to the stable, he called for his horse, and attended by a couple of grooms, set off towards Dunstanborough.
He had got more than half way thither, when he thought he descried them in the distance, but as night was now coming on, he did not feel quite sure. In another minute, however, all doubts were removed. The persons he beheld were Lord Derwentwater and his betrothed.
Presently, the parties met, and Lord Widdrington exclaimed:
“I am greatly rejoiced to see both of you safe and sound, for we began to fear that something must have happened.”
“Something very extraordinaryhashappened,” rejoined Lord Derwentwater.
“Your lordship will scarcely credit me when I tell you that I have been lost in a cavern underneath Dunstan-borough Castle,” said Anna.
“Lost in a cavern!” exclaimed Lord Widdrington in astonishment. “How came that to pass?”
“You shall hear,” she replied. “I was left by myself for a short time near the castle—Lord Derwentwater having ridden off to bring me another horse, my own having got injured by a fall—when I thought I would take a peep at the ruins which were close at hand. Foolishly acting upon the impulse, I flew thither—meaning to get back in a few minutes—and never stopped till I got into the court. After gazing at Queen Margaret's Tower and Lilburne's Tower, I looked round the walls, when my eye fell upon a cavity at a little distance from me. Within the hollow was a flight of steps, leading, as I fancied, to some vault or dungeon, and prompted by curiosity, I hastily descended them. The steps brought me to an arched passage, and still under the influence of curiosity I ventured on, and soon found that other passages branched off on the right and left. Into one of these I turned and advanced a few yards, and inadvertently stepping forward—for I could now see nothing—slipped down a rapid descent, that landed me in what I knew to be a spacious cavern. At first, I was not so much alarmed, because I fancied I could extricate myself from the difficulty. But I could not remount the place down which I had fallen, and being now greatly frightened, I endeavoured to find another exit. But the attempt was fruitless. My outstretched hand only encountered a wall of rock, and I soon became so perplexed and confused that I could not even find my way back to the spot I had just quitted.”
“A terrible position to be placed in!” exclaimed Lord Widdrington. “I wonder you have recovered so soon from the effects of the fright.”
“I thought I should have sunk at the time,” she rejoined. “But fortunately my spirits supported me. I addressed a prayer to Saint Anna, and then felt easier. But deliverance did not come so soon as I expected, and there was an interval of dreadful suspense. You seemed long—long in coming,” she added to Lord Derwent-water. “Ah! when I heard your voice, I knew I was saved.”
“And your response gave me new life,” he said; “for hope was almost extinct within my breast. That cavern was the last place I searched, for though I had noticed the stone steps, I never thought you would venture down them.”
“I can guess all the rest,” said Lord Widdrington. “It must have been a joyful meeting.”
“The adventure was not an agreeable one,” said Anna. “But it has tested his lordship's affection for me. However, I promise to be more careful in future.”
“Yes, you have had a pretty good lesson, and will do well to profit by it,” said Lord Widdrington.
“My unlucky steed is to blame for it all,” she cried. “Had he not stumbled, nothing would have happened.”
“You have left him at Dunstanborough, I suppose?” observed Lord Widdrington.
“Yes, in charge of your groom,” she replied. “Your lordship's horse carries me capitally.”
“Then pray use him as long as you will! And now let us on, and relieve the anxiety of our friends.”
With this they quickened their pace, and made such good way that dinner was not quite over when they reached Bamborough.
Great rejoicing was manifested on their appearance, and when Anna's adventure became known, the feeling rose to excitement. Dorothy could not contain herself, but springing from her seat, rushed up to her friend and embraced her.
We need scarcely say that under such unusual circumstances another health was drunk, in addition to the grand toast, which was never omitted.
A great deal of claret was generally drunk at Mr. Forster's dinners, as we have already remarked, and the custom would probably not have been neglected on the present occasion if the prince had not risen early from table, and proceeded to the drawing-room, where there was music and singing.
The prince retired early, and proceeded to his lodgings in the old fortress, attended by his host, Lord Derwent-water, Lord Widdrington, and several others. It chanced to be a fine moonlight night, and the appearance of the massive keep, partly lighted up by the beams, partly in shadow, was so striking, that his highness remained for some time contemplating the massive pile.
He then mounted the walls to gaze at the sea, which was brilliantly illumined—a broad track of light leading across its unruffled surface to the Fame Islands, and producing a truly magical effect.
Scarcely able to tear himself away from this bewitching scene, the prince, at last, bade his attendants good night, and sought his chamber in the tower.
Though no real danger was apprehended, unwonted precautions were taken for his security. The gates were barred, and watch was kept upon the walls throughout the night.
Colonel Oxburgh and his companions were prepared to act on any sudden emergency, and the colonel had arranged his plans with the two nobles, who had likewise decided upon passing the night in the castle.
Morning came, and nothing had occurred to cause alarm. The prince slept soundly in the tower, and was up betimes, and, on the walls, enjoying the view, and inhaling the fresh sea-breeze. So well pleased was he that the thought that he must speedily quit the castle pained him.
But he did not delude himself with the idea, that, strong as was the fortress, it would be possible to maintain it against a regular attack. Flight, therefore, was his only alternative. A vessel must be procured to convey him to France—and this must be accomplished without delay.
Accordingly, when Lord Derwentwater and Lord Wid-drington joined him, he made known his wishes to them. They both endeavoured to dissuade him from his purpose, but, finding him resolved, Lord Widdrington undertook to proceed forthwith to Berwick-upon-Tweed, and make all necessary arrangements.
“I have many friends at Berwick—some of them partisans of your majesty,” said Lord Widdrington; “and I doubt not I shall be able to hire a small vessel to convey you to Dunquerque, but it may perhaps be necessary for you to embark from Holy Island, or the Fame Islands, but this will depend, in some measure, on the master of the ship. As soon as I have succeeded in making an arrangement I will return, and let your majesty know what I have done.”
“I should like to start to-night,” said the prince.
“That is allowing very short time for preparation, my liege,” replied Lord Widdrington. “But I will do my best to carry out your majesty's wishes.”
“I am sorry to give your lordship so much trouble,” said the prince. “But I know you make light of it in your zealous desire to serve me.”
“That is perfectly true, my liege,” rejoined Lord Widdrington. “I only regret that I cannot give stronger proof of my devotion. I heartily wish your majesty would stay where you are, but since you are determined to leave us, I will do my best to expedite your departure.”
As he bent before the prince, the latter passed his arms affectionately round his neck and bade him adieu.
In less than ten minutes the loyal noble, though greatly disliking his mission, was speeding along the road to Berwick-upon-Tweed, followed by a groom.
The early part of the day passed without any incident worth narrating. The prince did not quit the castle, but breakfasted in his tower, and, later on, visited the keep attended by Lord Derwentwater and the two young ladies, and thus obtained a more perfect notion than he had hitherto formed of the strength of King Ida's castle.
From the summit of the lofty structure he looked down upon the islands that studded the sea in front of him, and was amazed by the multitude of sea-birds that covered their rocks and precipices, and occasionally rose in clouds, uttering shrieks and cries that could be distinctly heard where he stood.
The sea was calm now, but Anna described its terrific appearance in a storm when tremendous waves were dashed against those rocks, and columns of spray were thrown up through their fissures to a prodigious height.
The islands consisted of two groups, and the more distant of them seemed entirely whitened by sea-birds. The Home Island, as the nearest of the Fame Islands is designated, is not much more than a mile from the mainland, and on that bright, sunshiny day looked close at hand. Dorothy pointed out Prior Castell's Tower, which served as a beacon.
While the prince was examining the little bay almost shut in by rocks that formed an entrance to the Home Island, he observed a boat come forth. It was large and roomy, strongly built and well calculated for a rough sea, and seemed to contain a dozen men armed with muskets or fowling-pieces.
The appearance of this boat and its crew excited some misgiving on the part of those who watched it, especially when they found it was steering direct for the castle.
Lord Derwentwater was preparing to descend to the court and give the alarm, when the boat, which had now got within a quarter of a mile of the shore, suddenly changed its course, and turned off on the left.
Its movements were anxiously watched in the apprehension that the men might be landed, but it went on, and after rounding Beadnell Point was lost to view. The prince then breathed more freely.
“I thought those men were about to attack the castle,” he said. “But it seems they had no such design.”
“I am not so sure of that, my liege,” observed Lord Derwentwater. “They were evidently reconnoitring the place, but something caused them to change their plans, and steer off. Yet a rumour that your majesty is here can scarcely have reached yonder remote island.”
“The island is not so remote as your lordship supposes,” remarked Dorothy. “Boats are constantly passing to and fro over the Fairway, as the strait is called, and it is highly probable the islanders have heard the news. But I should have thought they were more likely to aid his majesty than to attack him.”
“They may be stimulated by the hope of a reward,” said the prince. “But be that as it may, I am glad they have given up the attempt.”
“We may have another visit from them, so it will be well to be on our guard,” observed Lord Derwentwater. “Next time they may approach by land.”
“I shall be glad when our carriage arrives,” said Anna. “I hope no accident has occurred.”
“You need not be uneasy,” said Derwentwater. “Sir John and Lady Webb would probably pass the night at Morpeth, and in that case they could not be here till late in the afternoon.”
Just then a noise was heard at the entrance to the roof of the keep, and Lord Widdrington made his appearance, accompanied by Mr. Forster and Colonel Oxburgh.
Everybody seemed surprised to see his lordship, and no one more so than the prince.
“What! so soon returned from Berwick?” exclaimed his highness. “Have you succeeded in your errand?”
“Perfectly, my liege,” replied Lord Widdrington. “I have hired a sloop now in Berwick harbour, which was to sail this evening for London. But I have induced Captain Hawker of theSaint Abbs, as the sloop is called, to alter his plan. In a word, he has engaged to take your majesty to Dunquerque.”
“You have rendered me a great service,” said the prince. “But where am I to go on board the sloop?—at Berwick?”
“No, my liege,” replied Lord Widdrington. “Since there is almost a certainty of fine weather, Captain Hawker will weigh anchor at nine o'clock, and fire a gun to let you know when he gets off the castle.”
The prince signified his approval of the arrangement.
“A boat shall be ready to take you to the sloop, so that your majesty may embark immediately,” said Forster.
Again the prince expressed his satisfaction, but he asked Mr. Forster if he had noticed the boat containing the armed men, that had crossed the Fairway, apparently to reconnoitre the castle.
“Those men were only fishermen, my liege,” replied the squire. “I felt sure they would move off, and so they did. It is not by those poor fellows that your majesty's departure will be hindered.”