When we landed from the ferry at Sandtoft, Martha and Luke were in waiting for us, and after greetings had passed, I asked the maid what accommodation could be found for Mr. Ulceby and his man.
"That is seen to," answered Martha. "We spied you half an hour ago, and mistress ordered rooms to be prepared for your fellow-travellers. Luke will guide them to their quarters, and bring them to supper presently. You will come with me."
"Ay, ay," said Mr. Ulceby. "Right glad shall I be to rest awhile before supper. 'Tis long since my old bones were rattled with such a stretch of riding. So no hurry about supper, my bonny lass."
He shot a look at Martha, who replied by a smile of understanding, as Luke swung on his crutch to lead my companions to their lodging.
On our way to the doctor's I noted the presence of a number of Islonians among the foreigners, who were trooping into the settlement from their day's work afield, and some of them looked curiously at me. Scarce a word passed between me and the maid, for she had some ado to keep up with my long stride. But when she threw open the door of Anna's sitting-room, she found breath to say demurely, "Mr. Vavasour." I had had some shrinking under my eagerness to see my love, lest my scarred face, still partly striped with plaister, should give her fright; but there was no sign of that in her beautiful eyes, as she stood waiting for me as near as might be, with allowance of room for the opening of the door, and with a low, soft cry of pity such as mothers use, she came into my arms. After the long embrace of welcome, she held me off, looking into my face some seconds, and then smiling through her tears, called me her brave soldier, her hero, and I know not what, asking a hundred questions, and laughing and crying in a breath, until the only thing I knew was that she was the loveliest woman in the world, and I the happiest of all men to have her love. At length I remembered I kept her standing, and drew her to a chair, kneeling beside her, and she touched my ugly face softly with her lips, and then broke into a gentle rain of tears. Before we had time to talk together, Martha rapped at the door, announcing supper.
We sat long at table, for the doctor, forgetting his studies awhile, asked many questions as I told my tale, and that was long enough. When I came to relate how Mr. Ulceby had befriended me, Anna could not speak her gratitude, but it shone so brightly in her face that the good man answered her—
"The happiness is on my side, Mistress Goel. I am repaid a hundred-fold for such service as I trust any man would have rendered who happened to have the ability."
She governed the swelling in her throat so far as to rejoin—
"Methinks the good Samaritan would have said much the same."
Supper ended, and the main of my story told, Mr. Ulceby pleaded weariness as a reason for going off to his quarters, whither we went with him, Anna being wishful to assure herself nothing was omitted for his comfort. When we had left him we paced to and fro under the starry sky in talk of the future. Anna did not approve of my entering Mr. Ulceby's service.
"Believe me, Frank, it is not the consideration that you are a gentleman by long descent that weighs with me," she said, "and I hope I am not wanting in thankfulness to this good man who has been so much your friend. I could give him anything else, but not my Frank to be a slave. For that is what it would be. There would not be some things to bear in Mr. Ulceby's counting-house which Virginian slaves endure, but the life would be little better than theirs—for you. You would have to do not only with Mr. Ulceby, but with his clerks and servants; and every one of them would despise you for your ignorance of his little knowledge, or hate you for being a gentleman, or both. And how could you bring your mind or body to sustain the confinement and the weary sameness of mechanical drudgery?"
I need not record what I said on the other part, since I was not fated to the course I would have taken. I put down Anna's words of wisdom for love's sake, though I yet believe that the pride which she disowned had more influence with her than perhaps she knew. And to tell the truth I loved her none the less on that account.
My prudent lady would have me beware lest, in my haste to be honest and desire to prove my gratitude, I should imperil all our future; it might take time to find employment more genial and suitable, but she doubted not it would be found. She would like to speak with Vermuijden, who at this time was in command of the settlement. This led her to say that the Islonian labourers, who had been hired by him, had been so much persecuted by their neighbours that it had been necessary to find them lodging within the pale, where they had come to good terms with the Dutch, and to a particular kindness toward her father and herself. Bess Boswell had left her father and her tribe, and for the present had shelter in Sandtoft. Of these and other matters, which need not be written, we talked until late.
When I went to my chamber I found my sword and pistols laid in readiness by my bedside,—and smiled at the superfluous care of Luke, who, I supposed, had placed them there. Through the open casement of my window came the rustle of leaves and the whisper of the wind among the reeds, and once or twice a faint twitter of some bird dreaming on his perch. The stillness was sweet to ears which had been vexed o' nights with the noise of drunken gamblers, horse-laughs, and oaths and shouting. The holy quietness and my happy thoughts soothed me soon to sleep, from which I was awakened by a great glare of fire through the window. Before I had gathered my wits, I heard a shuffling as of many feet, and as I sprang out of bed and huddled on my clothes, a shot rang, then other shots were fired, and a general hubbub arose. As I opened my door, Doctor Goel came out of the room opposite to mine, candle in hand, and Anna and her maid appeared immediately afterwards. We descended to the parlour together, the uproar without increasing every moment, shouts in Dutch and in English, clash of steel, crash of stones against woodwork, discharge of firearms, roar and crackle of burning, and the trampling of a mob hither and thither. It was the more confounding to me that I had observed on entering the settlement how guns had been placed to command the gates, and the doctor had mentioned other means of defence which had been adopted since the last assault. I said something of this, and Anna answered—
"Do you not hear the cry 'Treachery'? The Islonians have opened the gates, after over-powering the guard."
I blew out the candle, and then drew one of the shutters back a little way, and looked out. By the blaze of some building which I could not see, but which some one said must be the guard-house everything was illumed almost as if by daylight. The thick of the tumult was now at some distance beyond us westward, but men were fighting in twos and threes here and there quite near us. I had said something of rushing out to bring Mr. Ulceby and his man to our company, when a rabble of men and women came up, crying, "The witch!" and in the forefront of them the mad-woman and another old hag capered and yelled like demons. They were guided by some one who knew the doctor's house, for I had no sooner closed and bolted the shutter than they began to smash the window-panes, redoubling their cries. Pressing danger will at times quicken my slow wits, but I was at a non-plus now. The best that I could do, methought, was to stand at bay and hope for some unforeseen deliverance. And in truth that seemed nigh at hand all on a sudden. The rabble screamed and shouted as if they were being driven off. Several shots banged close to our ears. A thundering rap was made at the door, and Sheffield's voice called out—
"Doctor Goel, open; it is I, your friend Sheffield."
"Yes, open, doctor," said I, "but say nothing of me. God sends devils on His good errands sometimes."
As the doctor groped his way to the door, I stepped out into the passage, and back to the other end of it, so as to see with little chance of being seen. When the door opened to give Sheffield entrance, I caught a glimpse of some of his men well armed, and, beyond them, of the baffled crowd.
"All in darkness, doctor?" said Sheffield, and called for a lantern, which one of his men handed to him.
I screened myself within a doorway. When he and the doctor had entered the parlour, I drew near enough for eavesdropping, and heard my lord's mocking speech.
"Yes, Mistress Goel, it is I, the slighted, scorned, rejected Sheffield, who come to your aid. A warning reached me that another attack in force was about to be made on the settlement, most unfortunately too late for me to obtain military strength sufficient to disperse the rioters; but hearing a rumour that some of the wretches intended especial mischief to you under cover of the general assault, I rode with such of my own knaves as were within call to your rescue. My devotion is proof even against your disdain, beautiful Anna. Come, I have a horse saddled for your riding, and I and my stout fellows will conduct you to a safe asylum."
"Have you a horse for my father, my lord? And for my friend Martha?"
"I' faith, no, my charmer. I could not at a moment's notice provide for a whole household, but I will leave two or three musketeers for their defence."
"Thank you, my lord, I will share their protection and my father's danger."
"Not so, madame; I leave not one of my troop, unless you ride with me. Think what you do. The howling devils outside will tear you limb from limb, or burn you over a slow fire. They have sworn you shall not escape them this time."
"But they will not dare to do me hurt, or if they dare, will not be able, as long as my lord Sheffield and his men defend me."
"There you are utterly mistaken. We could not hold out against them here. Half a dozen of us might suffice as an escort perhaps, when once we have crossed the ferry. The rest of my men shall return to guard your father and your maid."
"I will not leave them, my lord."
"But, by Heaven, you shall, if I have to drag you off by main force."
And then I heard the clanking of spurred heels and a movement of other feet, the doctor's voice crying, "Hold! Stand back, sir," and in the same instant my love cried, "Frank!"
"As well call upon one of the damned!" cried Sheffield, with a hideous laugh.
Now, although I was in a white heat of fury, I remembered that the men outside might hear any loud noise in the room, in spite of the uproar around them, and, if they were brought in on me, there would be little likelihood of saving my love. Nor did I wish to do murder, if I could rescue her without it, so I drew no weapon as I rushed into the room. As I entered, Sheffield thrust the doctor violently aside, and seized Anna round the waist, his back being toward me. Whether he heard my step, or something in Anna's face caused him to turn round, I know not, but he faced about, and for a moment stood as if terror-struck; but, recovering himself with amazing coolness, he pulled a pistol from his belt. Quick though he was, I was quicker. Catching his right hand with my left, I struck him a blow with my right, which, in turning to avoid, he received on the side of his head, and fell all his length as stiffly as a nine-pin falls. I held up my hand to enjoin silence while I bent over him, and saw that he had been stunned.
I was in some perplexity what was next to be done, when some one touched my shoulder, and on turning round I saw Bess Boswell. She whispered rapidly—
"Follow me as silently as you can, women first, men in the rear, doing just as I do."
She took up the lantern and led the way to the back of the house, hiding the light under some part of her dress as we came to the kitchen door, when she zig-zagged from one bit of shadow to another, now of a pile of wood, now of a bush, now of a tree, for there was a great glare of red light over all the settlement by this time.
We gained the stockade without being followed—or so we hoped—and then, one by one, we slipped through the gap, hidden by the willows which Luke had used to find so convenient. On the other side of the fence we were in sheltering darkness, and in some measure secure. Then Bess let us know what she would be at.
"There was a boat hereabout yesterday; if you can get by water to Belshaw, that will give you a good start, for there's no crossing the fen just now, and the mob must go a long roundabout to catch you, even if they see you."
"How did you come to our aid just in the nick of time?" I asked.
"I heard what the mob were shouting as they made for the doctor's house, and was running to be there before them, when I saw Lord Sheffield and his men ride up and drive the crowd back. I felt sure that meant mischief. When he had posted his men and gone in alone, I walked up boldly and told the fellows I was required to attend a lady. They grinned and let me pass. I bolted and barred the door behind me, making as little noise as I could. When I had done that, I perceived you, for I can see like a cat. So I waited to know what your game might be, ready to play it according to your lead. Now we must find the boat quick."
Bess it was who found it, and a pair of oars and a pole. We got in as quickly and quietly as possible in the darkness—all but Bess, who stooped to push us off.
"Come with us," said Anna.
"Nay, the load is heavy enough for one pair of oars," she answered, "and I may be of service best by staying here."
"Not so; come with us, Bess, I beg," said I, speaking in fear of what might befall her if she remained, the Mulgrave men and the mob knowing, as they were like to do, that it was by her means we had got away.
She stepped into the stern, gave a thrust of the pole against the bank, and I plied the oars with my best strength and skill. As soon almost as we shot out of the darkness into the glare, a loud voice, which I knew was Boswell's, shouted—
"There they go—the witch and the murderer of Lord Sheffield! A fortune to the man that takes him dead or alive!" and at the same time the fence became alive with figures, which for an instant stood black against the light, and then dropped into the darkness where we had been a minute before, reappearing swiftly, some on one bank, some on the other.
Our Islonians were too well accustomed to wading and swimming to be hindered long by water, and they scrambled up the banks at a great rate and ran after us, firing and throwing stones as they ran, until the order was shouted—
"Run ahead, you fools, and then stand and fire."
"Cower low," said I to my company in the boat, pulling with all my might, the sweat pouring down my face.
All obeyed but Bess, who stood up in the stern with the pole in her hands.
We had sped some furlongs under a continual rain of stones and bullets, and whether any one was seriously hurt I did not know, nor even whether I myself had been hit or not, when we were delivered from those of our pursuers who were on my right hand, by their plunging into a bog. Another furlong, and we might escape the others by turning into the Belshaw stream.
While I was saying so to myself—for my panting would not suffer me to say it aloud—the doctor groaned. A minute later a sting in my left arm nearly forced me to let go the oar. Soon after Martha made a moaning cry.
"Crouch, Bess—crouch," I tried to say, but knew not whether she heard. She took no heed if she did, and as at last we neared the mouth of the smaller stream, she struck something in the water; what I could not see, for we were now surrounded by the darkness. Again she struck. Then she turned and said, "Ease a little."
A great yell rent the night from the Idle bank, as our enemies discovered that we had left them in the lurch. Even if they crossed the Idle, they could not hope to pursue us further over the swamps which bordered our little river.
I pulled slowly awhile to make sure of being beyond their reach before stopping to know what hurt had been taken by us. We could not see, for our lantern had burned out, or been smothered in the folds in which Bess had enwrapped it. Anna, who sat nearest me, affirmed she had suffered nothing worse than a few bruises; the doctor had a wound in the left shoulder, which was bleeding freely, he said; Martha had been struck on the head with a stone, but now felt better; Bess assured me she had no serious injury, which I could scarce believe, exposed as she had been. Well it was for the rest of us that she had risked herself so boldly. Twice, in spite of the ready pole, some of our pursuers had swum out from the bank to lay hold of our craft, and had gone under with cracked crowns. All would have been over with us if they had clutched the gunnel.
Something of this I was saying, when Bess cried, "Cease rowing a moment."
As she spoke, a hoarse sound of cheering came to our ears, and as it died away we caught a faint noise of dipping oars, which grew more distinct while we listened.
"Some of them are following in a boat," said Bess. "Hand me your pistols, and row on."
"Look to the priming," said I, as I passed the weapons and bent again to the oars. There could be no going fast, for the stream twisted about sharply at this part, and the darkness was thickened by alders and willows which leaned over the water, so that I had to feel my way slowly, lest I ran the boat aground. Happily, I knew every bend and shallow well, having been out on the stream duck-shooting scores of times, though never in such gloom as now. My hope was that our pursuers might be less familiar with its windings, in which case they might stick on a shoal, or foul a bush long enough to give me time to cross a "broad," which lay a little ahead.
Out on open water, a boat rowed by three or four men would be sure to overtake us, unless we had a long start of them; but if I could cross the "broad" before they came up with us, I had some hope of winning the race; for the remainder of the stream twisted about in a manner full of difficulty to those who did not thoroughly know its course. Just as the channel widened, and I was revolving in my mind by what dodge I might elude our pursuers, they broke out into loud curses, and I guessed what had happened to them. The stream forked a little way behind us, and one branch soon ran shallow over a bed of pebbles. If one pushed over this, one came to a bed of weeds which was quite impassable. Our pursuers, I imagined, had come to the shallow, and I hoped they would go forward. We could hear they were disputing and quarrelling. So I was assured of the long start I wanted, and pulled cheerily across the mere, rousing the waterfowl by thousands, to the astonishment of Anna, who had never heard such a thunderous flapping of wings and such a tumult of screaming, quacking, and cackling.
We gained the entrance to the further stream in safety, and I felt confident we should reach Belshaw before the other boat could come up with us. Not that we should be out of danger there, since it was more than likely some of the mob would go round by the embankment and the road, if they had an inkling of our destination, but they could not possibly arrive for an hour or so, which would give us time either to go elsewhere, or to take shelter and send a message to Belton, where there were many stout fellows who would come to the rescue, if they could be brought to believe that "t' young squire" still lived and stood in danger. So I said, encouraging my friends, and as I spoke the sky began to redden a little in the east. In half an hour we were in sight of Drury's place, and a few minutes more brought us to the landing. Nothing could we see or hear of the other boat, and everything was peaceful enough, except Drury's pigs, which were clamouring for their breakfast.
When we looked to our hurts we were astonished at the slightness of them. My shoulder had been struck by a bullet on the rebound, which had penetrated but a little way and was easily removed; Anna had escaped with a few bruises; Martha's cut on the head was nasty, but not serious. We had a laugh over the doctor's wound, which could not be discovered, nor was there a spot of blood anywhere on his clothing. He must have been splashed with water, which he had imagined was his own blood. Bess had had very much the worst injuries, her hands and arms and face being bruised and cut badly, but the doctor shook his head chiefly at a bruise on her breast. How she had kept firm grip on pole and pistol after that sickening blow—nay, how she had held up at all, he declared he did not understand. She smiled and said he had not been used to doctoring gipsies. While Doctor Goel attended to us, I sent a lad to bring such of my old servants and neighbours as might be willing to help me against the mob, which I felt sure would appear shortly. Boswell would stir them on with all his craft, I knew. Happily, it had already been made known that it was not I who had been buried in the Belton churchyard, and my friends were ever talking of me, Dame Drury assured me. Her husband begged me to go away, and when he found I would not budge, he growled at the risk he ran of losing property, and perhaps of seeing his house in flames, in a quarrel which was none of his. Dame Drury took a more cheerful view of the matter, being sure that "t' young squire" would not see them come to harm in the end. She bustled about to get breakfast for us, and while we were eating it, she told me that "cousin John was all of a dither" in his great desire to see me, and begged the young lady would honour him by going with me to his chamber. He lay fully dressed, as his custom was, on his couch, trembling with eagerness, and, to my amazement, he half rose from his bed to greet Anna, to whom he spoke with a courtly grace peculiar to him above all the men I have ever known.
In answer to his inquiries, I ran over the main events of the last month, and let him know how things stood with us at present. A great hurrahing rose outside, and when I went to the window I saw about fifty men, all, or nearly all, armed with guns and poles. On sight of me they cheered madly again, and again. They were Beltonians, full of friendliness for me, and more than willing for a fray.
"Tell us what you want with us, Mister Frank," some one called out.
"Tell off three men," I replied, "one to watch on the upper road, one on the lower road, and one at the landing-place to watch the river. If any one sees the mob coming, let him fire as a signal. I'll tell the rest my tale and what help I ask of you."
Three men marched off at once to do my bidding.
"Friends and neighbours," I began, "we have no time to waste, so I will be brief. As you know, it was given out that I was dead, and a man was buried under my name in our churchyard; but I had been kidnapped and carried off to Melwood Priory. There my enemy cut and carved my face to make me look the picture of the man who had been buried as Frank Vavasour. And I was marked on the chest as he had been marked. See"—and I threw open my vest. "This devilish bit of cunning was done to make me pass as a man who was under sentence of transportation to Virginia as a slave. But why? Because I loved a young lady on whom Lord Sheffield had set his fancy." Here I had to stop while my hearers groaned and eased their feelings with some strong language. "My lord thought it would punish me for my presumption, and also leave the lady at his mercy, if I were so disposed of. But I broke my prison." The men hurrahed until I held up my hand. "After all, I was caught, and taken to Hull to lie in prison until the ship was ready to sail. There God sent me a friend, who delivered me, and only last evening I came to Sandtoft to see my lady. In the night, as I dare say you know, an attack was made on the settlement. I believe it was egged on by my Lord Sheffield. Certain I am that his agents stirred up some foolish people to mob my lady as a witch, on purpose that he might come with some of his retainers to carry her off to Normanby House, under pretence of rescue. He did not know I was on the spot. When I stepped forth to save her from his clutches, he drew pistol. Now I give you my word that, though I had sword by my side and pistol in my belt, I touched neither. I knocked him down, and he fell stunned."
"Same as if a horse had kicked him, I warrant," said a voice.
"Now they give out that I killed him."
"Mighty good riddance!" shouted another voice.
"Well, I didn't wish to kill him, and I don't believe I did; but if I did, I am willing to give myself up——"
"Nay, that you shan't!" came from several parts of the group.
"I am willing to give myself up to the coroner, or any one who has a just right to try me, but not into the hands of my enemies, who have been the tools of my Lord Sheffield, for it is too much their interest to have my life."
"Mustn't be taken to torture chamber!" a voice called out.
Torture chamber was the people's name for the dungeon in Castle Mulgrave, where the Lord President of the Council of the North was wont to examine prisoners. From that chamber men had come with maimed limbs and shaken wits, men whose only crime was their unwillingness to give the testimony which his lordship desired.
"I don't think there is much fear of that with so many brave fellows to stand by me; but if I should be taken or killed, I beg you to defend this lady and her father until they are under the roof of the Vicar of Crowle."
So saying, I drew Anna forward to the window. My words had taken the colour out of her face and set her trembling, but she spoke with a clear voice—
"Oh, I am sure you will not let him be killed or taken!"
The sight of her pale face, and the sound of her sweet tones uttered from quivering lips, roused the men to the highest pitch, and they answered with one voice—
"Never—never!"
So I went to work about our defence, placing twenty men round the house, under such shelter as we could find or make with bundles of reeds from Drury's stack, or anything that came handy. Twenty more I disposed in a half circle about fifty yards away, facing the road by which the enemy must come. Five of our best shots I appointed to guard the approach by the river, strictly charging them not to leave their post; and the remainder of our men, twelve in number, I sent to the higher ground overlooking the road, so as to be ready to take our enemies on the flank.
After our disposition had been made, we were reinforced by sixteen men, whom I sent to join the twelve on the higher ground; bidding them hide themselves until they heard three blasts from a horn, when they were to fire and charge down the hill. I had meant to take the command of this part of my force myself; but as young Mell came in the last company, and he was both cool-headed and courageous, I entrusted him with it. We had ample time for our preparations, for we saw nothing of an enemy before seven o'clock, when there came in sight a big, disorderly crowd—about a hundred men in number as near as I could reckon—armed with poles, crossbows, slings, knives, and a few guns. Two or three women accompanied the band.
A little way up the slope, above my semicircle of men, stood an old pollard willow, which I climbed as a post of observation, keeping my body in the shelter of its trunk, and having my face well shielded among the young shoots. I could see no Mulgrave livery in the crowd, so I concluded Boswell held the earl's men in reserve. The mob came along in a straggling fashion, and did not appear to look for any kind of defence outside the house, or to note our preparations, so well were my men covered. When they came within fifty or sixty paces, I cried, "Halt, or we fire."
The foremost of them stood and stared; but those behind pressed them forward. Some of them espied me, and sent a shower of bolts and stones about my head. At the same moment my men fired, and a dozen of the enemy fell. This, or some command from the middle of the crowd, brought them to a stand long enough for my men to reload and prime. There was no howling or yelling on the part of the others, which assured me of the presence among them of men who understood something of discipline, I heard a low buzz of talk among them, and then Boswell came to the front.
"Give me a hearing, you men of Belton. We have no quarrel with you. We want the murderer of my Lord Sheffield," he shouted.
"And the witch!" bawled and screamed a score of voices.
"And the witch," added Boswell.
"Steady, men. Don't let him draw your fire," said I. "There's a rush coming. Shoot, and retire."
The words were scarce out of my mouth, when the mob hurled a volley of shots, stones, and bolts, very much at random, and made forward at a run. Again more than a dozen of them dropped under my men's fire; but the rest continued the charge, breaking into shouts of triumph as they saw my Beltonians run to cover. Their shouts changed to yells and curses, as they received a well-directed fire from the second ring, and I hoped they would turn and run. But they came on, more enraged than daunted by their losses, and we were quickly engaged in a hand-to-hand fight, in which, strange to say, I had little active share, for four of my men gave me to understand they were my bodyguard, and they stuck to me so closely that I could not make play with my stout ash pole. So I made the best use of my eyes and ears, and it was well that I was compelled to do so, for while we were being swept to and fro, smiting and stabbing in a wild medley, some twenty-five or thirty horsemen came galloping along the lower road—Mulgrave men—with long muskets.
I blew my horn thrice, and the sound almost stopped the fight round the house. Up rose the trusty Mell and his men, and one half of them fired. Before the Mulgrave fellows could handle their pieces, four or five saddles were empty and two or three horses were down. The second half of Mell's men fired, while their comrades were reloading, with equal effect. The earl's retainers were not valiant enough to await a third volley, but fled helter-skelter the way they had come, all but those who could neither ride nor run. Mell followed them out of my view, and our scrambling struggle, which had slackened for the last few minutes, went on again fiercely.
There was a sort of method in the fighting of the Boswell party: they tried hard to drive or draw us to the rear of the house. Seeing this, I and my bodyguard worked round toward the front, and as we were doing so we heard a shot and a cry, "This way, Belton men!" The voice was John Drury's, I could swear. We rushed round, and for an instant stood as if thunderstricken, for, sure enough, there was John Drury at the landing-place, bare-headed, his face of a death-like pallor, raising gun to shoulder.
About fifty yards down stream were three boats filled with men. Some of them fired at us as we ran up to John, but did no hurt to any of us, while his shot brought down its man. Two of our men, who had disengaged themselves from the hurly burly, now loaded their guns and fired on the boats. To my unspeakable relief, Mell and his men ran up to our assistance, and poured such a steady fire on them as quickly drove them out of range.
Leaving four men with John to guard against their return, the rest of us ranged ourselves in line at a little distance from the scuffling mass, and I shouted—
"This way, friends, and leave the rascals to us."
Most of our men obeyed promptly, and as soon as they had got out of the throng reloaded their guns. We were now the stronger party, about sixty, with firearms. The others had more men disabled than we, so that in numbers we were nearly equal; but they were at a disadvantage in the matter of weapons, and not a little disheartened by rough handling and the discomfiture of the horsemen, as I gathered by the curses which I overheard on "the mongrel curs."
So when I bade them throw down their weapons, they pitched poles, knives, crossbows, guns to the ground. They showed some surprise at my picking them out one by one, bidding each go about his business, but to take his part in carrying off their wounded men. In this way I let go all but Boswell and thirteen gipsy fellows, whom I had securely bound and laid far apart one from another, Boswell I bestowed safely in an outhouse under the watch of two guards. My purpose in this was to learn the truth about Jim Ulceby's death. As soon as the prisoners had been dealt with, I sent some of my men to Crowle to ascertain whether Mr. and Mrs. Graves were at the vicarage; some to Sandtoft to learn how things stood there, and particularly to inquire for Mr. Ulceby; and some to Butterwick to glean what tidings they might of the action of the earl with regard to his son's death. Doctor Goel, assisted by Anna and her maid, had attended to the half-dozen of our men whose injuries demanded a surgeon's care, and Dame Drury, with her grumbling husband's help, was busy supplying food and drink to our good friends. Now I had leisure to question John concerning the marvel of his rising from the bed on which he had lain helpless so long.
"I know no more than you," he answered. "I lay at the window, in a bad humour enough that I was as useless as a log, looking out over the fen, and I saw boats on the river. The men you had posted at the landing-place had disappeared—gone to join their comrades in the fray, I suppose. I called out, but nobody heard, and the boats drew nearer and nearer; if they were not beaten back you would be taken unawares by a fresh attack. Without thinking about the wonder of it, I sprang off my bed, rushed downstairs, took my cousin's gun, and ran out. 'Twas the will of Heaven, a miracle on your behalf, and on mine."
I feared his strength, so suddenly restored, might as suddenly fail, but it did not. So far as we could see, he was hale and vigorous, and as active as any man among us. The doctor cheered us by saying that in a number of such recoveries, which were well attested, the cure had been lasting. I spoke of my astonishment on seeing John move as if to rise when I took Anna to his chamber.
"Now you speak of it, I remember that," said John; "and it makes my restoration to accord with ancient precedent. An angel was sent to heal me. 'Tis a miracle in proper form and order."
Though he spoke so lightly, the shining in his eyes were eloquent of feeling too deep for words.
In the course of the day, our scouts returned with the information that the vicar of Crowle had returned to his parish; that the Dutch had driven off the invaders of their settlement, and Mr. Ulceby would shortly arrive; that the old earl was said to be half mad with rage and grief, and had issued proclamation of a hundred pounds reward for my apprehension and of severe punishment for any person who should aid or harbour me. As President of Council he declared me an outlaw for having resisted the King's authority with violence, plotted against the life of the royal commissioner, and murdered Lord Sheffield. Orders had been given that all ports were to be watched, and all outgoing vessels to be searched, and these orders were being carried north, south, east, and west with all speed. Warrants had been issued for the arrest of Doctor Goel, his daughter and servants. Mr. Ulceby and his man rode up while we held debate over these tidings.
The first thing, it seemed to me, was to send away the Beltonians, who might be held the less blamable for protecting me and my friends, if they could prove they had dispersed on hearing the terms of the earl's proclamation. With a good deal of difficulty, I prevailed on the brave fellows to leave us. The next question was how to convey my lady and her father and servant to a place of safety, and Mr. Ulceby proposed they should ride with him to Hull, where he would put them aboard one of his own ships bound for Amsterdam; and the doctor now being free to return to Holland, it was so agreed. Anna besought me to go along with them, but as I was sure that my being with them would be likely rather to hinder their escape than to favour mine, I did not consent. John Drury promised to accompany them as far as Hull, and to bring me word when they were out of Humber. My lady would fain have had Bess go with her, now that she had cut herself off from her own people, but Bess would not, and said she had already engaged to render certain services to Dame Drury, for which she was to receive food and shelter.
"But what is your intent?" asked John, turning to me.
"To hide in a retreat not far away, which is impossible of access to any one who does not know the road, and it needs wary walking, even when one does know it, for it winds through quaking bog and mire-pits and hidden pools."
"You mean Lindum," said Bess. "No one knows the way but the hermit."
"You are mistaken, Bess," I answered. "Daft Jack knows it well, and so do I. I spent a week there last autumn, and promised the hermit I would spend another with him this year. I shall be in safety there, and when the hue and cry is over, I will make my way to Holland."
"I think your plan is admirable," said John. "It is the last place in the world your enemies will think of, and if they find you are there by any chance, they will be much at a loss to get at you. I will remain here in readiness to join you when it is prudent to break cover. Has the hermit pigeons, do you know?"
"Flocks of them."
"Then you have but to bring a few to Messic Mere, or send them by your host, and I shall be provided with messengers in case of need. I will be on the water early on Wednesday, and every day after, until I see or hear from you."
Then arose question what to do with our prisoners, and in particular with Boswell. On going to look into the outhouse in which he had been confined, I found the place empty. When the Beltonians withdrew I forgot Boswell, and he had contrived to escape. This hastened our proceedings. With so wily an enemy at liberty, and perhaps spying upon us, it was needful to be as quick and crafty as we knew how to be. In dealing with the other men, we took counsel with Bess, who bade me and John talk roughly to them of our intent to shoot them, and while we were threatening, up came she to make intercession for them, and to promise on their behalf that they would take no part against us, if we spared their lives. She swore them to this in words which the gipsies consider most binding. So I bade her release them at a time when I hoped the travellers would be well on their way. Mr. Ulceby gave up for the present the endeavour to ascertain the truth concerning his son's death, John Drury vowing to search out the matter on his return.
It was not easy to find horses for the party going to Hull. Mr. Ulceby and his man had their roadsters, and John was to take my Trueboy, who was much too frisky after his long idleness, though John had seen to it that he had some exercise every day, to be ridden by a novice. Drury had two horses, one a decent nag, on which the dame went to market, and this we saddled for Anna. The other was too old and heavy for our use, but John caught a sober steed which had carried one of the Mulgrave troopers, and induced the doctor to mount him, taking Martha on pillion. They trusted to doing better in Belton.
Leave-taking had to be short, and for once I was glad that so it must be, for my love was more despondent than I had ever known her.
"To go over sea and leave you, encompassed with so many perils and pursued by enemies so bitter and cunning and cruel, nearly breaks my heart," said she. "Be persuaded to come with us, Frank."
"That will I not, sweetheart, for there will be sharp watch kept for me at the port; and if you and your father are seen with me, there will be small hope of your gaining your country, whereas now you may be protected by a man well known."
I tried to comfort her by reminding her how marvellously I had been helped and delivered hitherto; but she took no cheer, saying that I had never before been in such evil plight; again and again entreating me to go with them, so that I was driven to be hard with her, for, indeed, every minute of delay was dangerous. Thus it fell that we parted hurriedly at the last, and she rode away very sorrowful.
When she had passed out of my sight, I made haste to prepare for my journey, Bess and the dame assisting me. They found clothing for me in which I looked like a marshman, and put more plaister on my face, the better to disguise me. I took gun, pistols, pole and knife, flint and tinder, a pair of cleat-boards, and a good supply of powder, and thought I had all I could need; but the dame would have me take a pasty and a bottle of wine.
"Nay, dame," said I, "there is no occasion to carry victual for my short journey."
"Call yourself a marshman, and don't know how short journeys turn out to be long ones! Many a man has rued he did not take meat and drink with him when he set out to cross fen."
So, not to vex the kind soul, I added her provision to my load, and set off within an hour of sunset for the hermitage of Richard Bland, who was commonly called by the few who knew him "the Wizard" or "the Madman" of Lindholme.
There is no need for me to make a long story of how I fared across the fen to Messic Mere, and, borrowing a punt belonging to Hollings (without the owner's leave, not daring to show myself), poled up the river Torne to within half a mile of Wroot, and then struck northward over the quaking bog to Lindholme. I missed the right turn more than once, and had some pretty tough work to do in getting on the track again, and some narrow escapes from hidden pools and mire-pits; but I reached Lindholme before darkness fell.
It is an island of gravelly limestone, surrounded by a sea of bog, soft as sponge and full of water, on which I should not have ventured, although I knew the course to take, but for my present peril. For nine months of the year, Lindholme was then as much cut off from the rest of the world as if it had been a lonely rock in mid-ocean, for ever beaten by stormy waves. In the winter it was accessible by flat-bottomed boats, and during a hard frost one might walk over, or go on skates. The islet is about three-quarters of a mile long and an eighth of a mile wide. Toward the northern end it rises into a small hill, near the foot of which there is a spring of clear, sweet water. How it comes to pass that there is such a spring, when all the water in the bog around it is as brown as October ale, I do not understand. At the time of which I write, a grove of oaks grew north of the hill, and a pretty thick plantation of willows and alders occupied the southern tongue of the island. The hermit inhabited a stud-bound house with three rooms, roughly but curiously furnished. A little way off stood a row of buildings—three low hovels of stone and half a dozen wooden huts of different sizes. Here lived the hermit's servants—a man and his wife and their son, a big lad of sixteen or seventeen years of age. Here, too, were kept the hermit's farm-stock—a small bull and four cows, a dozen sheep, and a large number of poultry.
Bland, or rather his man and boy, cultivated abut one half of the soil of his domain with plough and spade, getting amazingly heavy crops of corn and pulse.
The hermit was of middle stature, perhaps five feet eight inches, strongly built, not remarkable but for his face, which was strangely irregular, as though it had not been finished in the making. His nose was not to be described as Roman, or aquiline, or by any term commonly used in speaking of that feature. A child might make one like it in modelling a face in clay. His mouth was large, the lower lip hanging. The eyebrows projected far over his eyes, which had a peculiar look, due, as one found on close observation, to the fact that the pupil of one was of a bluish grey and that of the other almost black. His abundant dark hair and great beard were streaked with silver.
Rumour assigned various causes for his lonely life, as that he had been crossed in love; that he had been betrayed by a friend; that he had sold himself to the devil. I had made acquaintance with him on Messic Mere one day, when we happened to meet as both of us were fishing for pike, and we fell into anglers' talk. He asked me to his house, promising me rare sport in fowling, and he made good his word during a week which I spent with him. We were much too busy by day, and sometimes by night, for discourse on anything but our sport, and, when not so engaged, we were too sleepy for conversation, so I knew no more of him than that he was an accomplished sportsman, and, as one saw by his fields and barn and stacks and livestock, a good farmer, though his way of doing things was new and strange to me.
As I now drew near the hermitage, the dogs rushed out, a mastiff and a nondescript more like a lurcher than any breed I knew. At first, they came on furiously, but quickly knew me and changed their fierceness for welcoming bark. Bland came to his door, seeming surprised by their friendliness to a stranger, but he too knew me as soon as I spoke, and received me with all kindness. He looked with some curiosity at my plaistered face and marshman's attire, but he asked no question, making me welcome to share his evening meal. I judged it best to tell him I had fled from pursuit, and that a price was set on my head, and a ban laid on any one who might aid and harbour me. He laughed a loud, sharp laugh, which scarcely changed his countenance.
"You are none the less welcome for all that," said he. "Here we defy the mad world's law. Eat your supper, and afterwards you shall tell me as much as you choose."
When my host had heard the reason of my flight, he again assured me of my welcome.
"Stay with me as long as suits you—the longer the better, so far as I am concerned. Now that our work of harvesting is over, I am free to enjoy myself in your company all day long, and what sport Lindholme can give you already know."
Thanking my cordial host, I settled down to life in Lindholme, until it might be possible to make a dash for freedom and safety abroad.
On the Wednesday, Bland would not hear of my venturing to Messic Mere, as I had engaged to do, but he went himself and brought John Drury to Lindholme, and conducted him to the Mere again in the evening.
John gave me the comforting news that my lady and her father had got away to sea without let or hindrance. Mr. Ulceby sent me word that he would have a vessel of some sort ready to convey me to Holland, whenever it might be prudent for me to try to leave England. John feared that it would be long before I might do so, for heaven and earth would be moved to secure my capture, and he highly commended the wisdom of my host in disallowing me to leave my retreat. He thought it more than likely Boswell might have spied on me and guessed my destination.
"If so," he added, "the fellow will keep the knowledge to himself, until he gives up hope of taking you single-handed. He will endeavour so to do, rather than share the reward with others. Remember the offer is equal for taking you 'dead or alive!' So prithee be on thy guard, my friend."
Some of the earl's officers had visited Belshaw, but could not learn anything from the women, and John's cousin knew nothing.
John had called at the Crowle vicarage to assure my aunt I was in no present danger. There he heard news of Dick Portington, who had been to London and the Bath with Ryther and his daughter for some time; and it was commonly reported that Dick and Mistress Ryther were to be married at Christmas. So it was not probable that Dick and I should be on the old terms of close friendship any more.
We had some talk of the defeat of King Christian at Lutter, of which John had heard in Hull, and of the purpose of King Charles to enroll a body of volunteers to go to the assistance of his uncle and the cause of Protestantism.
"If we could but smuggle you out of the Isle," said John, "here might be an opening for you."
But of smuggling me away there seemed to be no chance just now. After we had agreed on a plan of communication, John returned, and I resigned myself with such composure as I could muster to a sojourn at Lindholme for an uncertain time, which I must pass as best I could.
There was certainly plenty of such diversion as fowling affords, for at that time the birds were more abundant all over the Isle than in these days, and round about Lindholme more numerous than anywhere else, but difficult to come by on account of the rottenness of the bog and the height and thickness of the reeds. I have seen the surface of the ground for a couple of roods blackened with brent geese, when it was impossible to get within shot of them, and though flocks of hoopers (which some call whistling swans) came to feed every evening of my stay at Lindholme, returning to the seashore every morning, the only manner of getting a shot was to find some spot beneath their line of flight, where the ground would bear a man's weight, and there was cover in which to hide, and such spots were bad to find. We often heard the dunbirds (redheads, our marshmen call them) working all night within half a mile of us, and might have had good sport, if we could have got near to them in the morning twilight, when they head up together ready to fly to their day quarters; but that could only be done when rain had fallen so heavily that there was water sufficient to float a punt. So, though game was plentiful, there was occasion for judgment and skill in taking it, which gave zest to our diversion, and the hermit and I spent most of the day in the open air, sometimes venturing on to the bog where he had not dared to go alone. Of an evening we sat over the fire awhile, he smoking his pipe and often drinking rather freely of brandy-wine, until such time as he thought good to climb into his hammock in the inmost room. At such times he talked very strangely, when he had loosened his tongue by drinking, and one of his themes was the madness of the world.
"'Tis a mad world, Mr. Vavasour," he would say, "consider it how you will. The desires and pursuits of ninety-nine out of a hundred men are so lunatical that we should die of laughing at one another, if we were not all mad together. One man sets his heart on acquiring twenty thousand pounds; he might just as wisely toil to accumulate twenty thousand red pebbles. Nay, that would be better, for he might heap up his pebbles without lying and cheating or harm to any of his neighbours. He gets no more good of his pounds than if they were pebbles, unless you can reckon the envy of his equally foolish associates as an advantage. He eats no better than I, sleeps no better, has no enjoyment which is not mine, and at last he dies, leaving his pebbles—his pounds I mean—to be the subject of heart-burning and wrangling among his heirs. Another idiot is bent on learning, which means that he loads his memory with a pack of stuff which is mainly false, and none of it of use for any conceivable purpose. He reads what was written ages ago by the flatterers of some man called great, or by those who took pleasure in defaming him, or by those who were too cross and stupid to understand him. He reads of prodigies which never happened, of monsters which never existed, speeches which were never spoken, accounts of battles derived from persons who did not see them. He is crammed with idle tales and fond inventions; and other men, addicted to the same follies, give him a cloak and a cap, and call him doctor. And the most outrageous part of the farce is that the men who are appointed to teach poor folk to be chaste and just and kind, are required to be well versed in tales about gods and goddesses, which are so full of impurity and wickedness that no one would dare to English them for the reading of the common people. 'Tis a mad world."
Thus he would go on by the hour when the humour took him, and had it all his own way with me, for if I put in a word of objection, he overwhelmed me with a torrent of eloquence, or nimbly skipped off in some new direction.
One evening he strove to show me that Daft Jack was the sanest man in our part of the world.
"He is free from the madness of gathering money, being content to live as the birds and beasts do, without care for the morrow, as your religion bids you to live. He has no wish to be talked about after he is dead and buried, which madmen dignify by calling it desire for fame. He has not racked his brain over books filled with lies and vain imaginations; but he knows the whereabout and the ways of fish and fowl, and how to find and use every herb and root which is good for food. His bit of orchard is well kept and tilled, and if you were to put him down in any quarter of the world, he would know how to get a living. And to crown all, he accepts without murmur the name of fool, which madmen give him."
"Not quite so," I interjected, remembering what the high and mighty Tunstall had to suffer through calling him so. This led to my telling the story, which provoked the hermit to one of his queer fits of laughter—laughter which did not pucker his face or show in his eyes, but came from his throat like the noise from a gun.
A few days later, my host spoke freely of his own history, telling me that his relatives had obtained possession of his estate on the allegation of his lunacy, and had attempted to shut him up in a bedlam. He had contrived to effect his escape with money, which sufficed to stock his farm in a small way; but he had long lived in fear of being seized and carried off to a madhouse. Now he had lost the fear, having been unmolested for some years. So, at least, he said; but from the vehemence with which he spoke of the matter, and from some of his actions, I doubted whether his assurance was as perfect as he affirmed. He sometimes made the round of the island at night, gun in hand, preferring to go alone, and on his return, he looked with great carefulness to the bolts and bars of the door. That he should have such fastenings in a place so remote and inaccessible had appeared strange to me, but at first I set it down to force of habit.
Of the other denizens of the islet I saw little. The man was a sturdy fellow of a hangdog look, and spoke mumblingly, so that I could not make out one word in a dozen. The woman was of appalling ugliness, and so unwomanlike as never to speak except when spoken to, and not always then. Their son combined the qualities of sire and dam, a lout so clumsy and hideous that he seemed hardly human, but of immense bodily strength. All three gave a sullen obedience to the hermit, often making surly answer to his commands, but appearing to go in dread of him. It was evident they looked on me with disfavour, though why I had no guess, and I did not give myself the trouble to learn.
A month lagged slowly by, Bland and I spending our days mainly in shooting, and the short time between supper and bed in converse, or, rather, in his talking and my listening. Toward the end of the month he began to drink deeply, and to talk more wildly than ever. One evening, after I had listened with my utmost patience to his railing on this and that folly of mankind, or what he accounted such, he turned to the subject of love, which he reckoned the veriest madness of all, which had been artfully turned by priests and lawmakers for their profit, and the subjection of their fellows to the institution of marriage; of which he said many vile and abominable things, confounding the divine affection of the soul with the instinct that leads animals to pair, until my gorge rose, and I cried—
"Hold! I will not sit to listen to this foul raving."
Such fury seized him at my words as I hope I may never see again. He sprang to his feet, his eyes glaring, his every limb trembling.
"Dare you call me madman?" he shouted. "You whom I have sheltered and fed, lumpish mooncalf, unlettered bumpkin! Out of my house, or I will make an end of you!"
As he turned, foaming at the mouth with rage, to reach his gun, I deemed it best to put the door between us.
At length I saw that the hermit was a madman, whose mind was possessed with the belief that he alone, of all human creatures, had his right wits, and the rest of the world was mad. Some touch of his infirmity I have seen in others, but nothing so colossal.
'Twas a keen and frosty night, the beginning of a spell of bitter weather, as I surmised from the silence on the fen. Many birds, which stay on the marshes till Christmas, or later in mild winters, I had seen in flight during the last two or three days, and many more must have taken their departure, for there to be such extraordinary quietude. On the morrow it would be easy to return to Belshaw over the frozen bog, but it would be foolhardy to venture now, for the thin crescent of the moon was low down in the west. I did not choose to rouse Bland's servants to ask for anything, so I paced up and down the hill ten or twelve times to warm myself, and then lay down in the barn, pulling hay over me, and waited for the dawn. When it came, I tried Bland's door, and found it unbarred, so I stepped lightly in, and gathered my belongings together without arousing him, or at least without his giving any sign of being disturbed. I had no occasion to enter the inner room, all my property being in the outer one. So I turned my back on Lindholme, uncertain where to hide my head now, but intending to take counsel with John and Bess.
When I reached Belshaw, soon after seven o'clock, for one could go swiftly over the ground made firm by the frost, the sight of Dame Drury's face told me bad news, for her eyes were swollen with weeping. She broke into such crying and sobbing, when I asked what was amiss, that she could scarcely tell me her doleful tidings. Late last night a troop of musketeers had surrounded the house, and some of them had entered and laid hold of Bess, whom they had strapped behind one of their number, and carried her off to Castle Mulgrave. They had made no secret of what was intended to be done with her; she was to be "questioned" of her knowledge of my doings and present abode, as the fellows had plainly said with many a coarse and brutal jest. While I sat with my head in my hand, trying to think of what I should do, John came to me.
"Nay, be not so utterly downcast, my friend," said he. "This is none of Boswell's doing. Not even he can be such an unnatural fiend as to give up his daughter to the torment of the rack, or even to look on while she is tortured. He must have influence enough with the earl to save her from that."
"You take too much for granted," I replied, "We don't know that Boswell is in the earl's service, or that his utmost effort on her behalf would have a feather's weight. I can trust to no such peradventure as that."
"But you can do nothing," urged John. "If Boswell's standing with the earl avails nothing, what is yours? What can you offer to induce him to spare poor Bess?"
"Thanks, ten thousand thanks for the enlightening word," I cried, grasping John's hand. "I will offer him Frank Vavasour."
"But Frank Vavasour is not his own to offer. There are the rights of a dear lady far away to be considered."
"If I know her, John, she would not think her property in me worth a bad farthing, if I left Bess to the torture, if I did not do all that may be done to save her. Give order for Trueboy to be saddled and another horse. Come with me to Castle Mulgrave; we can talk as we ride."
Dame Drury brought us something to eat and drink, while the horses were saddled, and in a few minutes we were on our way. As we rode, I told John how I had been driven from Lindholme, and we spoke of what was to be the manner of procedure at the castle. My first thought had been that John might deal with the earl, promising to give me up on condition of the deliverance of Bess; but he had a word to say which changed the face of affairs.
"A week after you took refuge in Lindholme, I thought we had been foolish not to pay better attention to the proclamation issued by the earl. Here it is. You see the description is of your appearance as it was before that villain meddled with your face, and we might have shipped you off under the eyes of men who had that description in their hands. I should have ventured across to Lindholme to speak with you on this; but feared I might lead the way for your pursuers, and waited also for the slackening of the hue-and-cry."
"Thank Heaven for your delay. This may mean the salvation of Bess, and better terms for me than I had any hope of when we set off. The earl and those nearest him may know nothing of my mutilation. I will take the chance to negotiate with the earl myself. I know him as you do not. If my scheme prove good, Bess will be handed over to you within an hour. What will come of me, remains to be seen. You will let every one know where I am, and stir up all the help for me that can be found, I know right well. Squire Stovin, Parson Graves, Mr. Ulceby, and whomsoever else you can think of. Here we are! Take Trueboy. I must not ride up to the castle, but enter as a marshman should."
We both alighted and gripped hands.
"God give you good luck!" said John. "I dare not gainsay you, my friend, for you are doing what I hope I should do, if I were in your place. Be sure I will not rest until all is done that may be done, to snatch you from beneath the old lion's paw."