In spite of the exertions of the magistrates, only a very small sum could be obtained from the inhabitants of the town, upon which another meeting took place at the Bull's Head, and a deputation was formed to wait upon the prince.
Accordingly, a large body of gentlemen proceeded to the prince's head-quarters, and some half-dozen of them, including the two magistrates and Mr. James Bayley, were ushered into the council-chamber, where they found Charles and his secretary.
Mr. Fowden, who acted as spokesman, represented to the prince the utter impossibility of raising the money, and besought that the payment might be excused.
Charles, however, answered sternly:
"Your fellow-townsmen have behaved so badly that they deserve no consideration from me. The subsidy must be paid."
"I do not see how it can be accomplished," said Mr. Fowden.
"If it is not paid by one o'clock, you will incur the penalty," rejoined Mr. Murray. "Meantime, stringent measures must be adopted. I am aware, Mr. Bayley, that you are one of the wealthiest merchants of the town, and I shall therefore detain you as a hostage for the payment. If the money is not forthcoming at the appointed time, we shall carry you along with us."
"Surely your royal highness will not countenance this severity," said Mr. Bayley, appealing to the prince. "I have not slept out of my own house for the last two years, and am quite unable to travel. If I am forced off in this manner I shall have a dangerous illness."
"I cannot part with you, Mr. Bayley," said the prince. "But I will put you to as little personal inconvenience as possible. You shall have my carriage."
"I humbly thank your royal highness for your consideration, but I still hope I may be excused on the score of my age and infirmities."
"You cannot expect it, Mr. Bayley," interposed Mr. Murray. "Your case is not so bad as that of the two magistrates, who will certainly be shot if the money is not forthcoming."
"We have done our best to raise it, but we find it quite impossible," said Mr. Fowden. "The amount is too large. I do not think there is five thousand pounds in the whole town."
"I am sure there is not," added Mr. Walley, with a groan.
"Since you give me this positive assurance, gentlemen," said Charles, "I consent to reduce the amount to half. But I will make no further concession. Meantime, Mr. Bayley must remain a prisoner."
"I pray your royal highness to listen to me," said the old gentleman. "By detaining me you will defeat your object. If I am kept here I can do nothing, but if you will allow me to go free I may be able to borrow the money."
Apparently convinced by this reasoning, Charles spoke to his secretary, who said:
"Mr. Bayley, if you will give the prince your word of honour that you will bring him the sum of two thousand five hundred pounds in two hours, or return and surrender yourself a prisoner, his royal highness is willing to set you at liberty."
"I agree to the conditions," replied the old gentleman.
With a profound obeisance to the prince, he then withdrew with the magistrates.
Accompanied by the rest of the deputation, who had waited outside in the hall, Mr. Bayley returned to the Bull's Head, where a conference was held.
After some discussion, Mr. Bayley thus addressed the assemblage: "You see, gentlemen, the very serious position in which I am placed—and our worthy magistrates are still worse off. The money must be raised—that is certain. Let us regard it as a business transaction. You shall lend me the sum required. I and my friend Mr. Dickenson will give you our promissory notes at three months for the amount."
The proposition was immediately agreed to. The meeting broke up, and in less than an hour the money was brought to Mr. Bayley. Promissory notes were given in exchange, and the sum required was taken to Mr. Murray by the two magistrates, who were thus freed from further responsibility.
Nearly a fortnight had passed since Constance's return to Rawcliffe Hall, and during that interval much had happened. Sir Richard had been laid in the family vault. The interment took place at night, and was witnessed only by the household, the last rites being performed by Father Jerome. Mrs. Butler and her daughter were now inmates of the hall, but the old lady seldom left her chamber. Gloom seemed to have settled upon the mansion. The two young damsels never strayed beyond the park, and rarely beyond the garden. As yet, they had received no tidings of the Highland army, except that it had arrived at Derby. They knew nothing of the retreat, and fancied that the prince was on his way to London. The next news they received might be of a glorious victory—or of a signal defeat. Rumours there were of all kinds, but to these they attached no importance.
It was a dark dull December afternoon, and the principal inmates of the hall were assembled in the library. A cheerful fire blazed on the hearth, and lighted up the sombre apartment. Father Jerome was reading near the window. Mrs. Butler was reciting her prayers, and the two girls were conversing together, when the door opened, and an unexpected visitor entered the room. It was Atherton. Uttering a cry of delight, Constance sprang to her feet, and was instantly folded to his breast.
Before he could answer any questions, Monica rushed up to him, and said:
"Oh! relieve my anxiety. Is Jemmy safe?"
"Safe and well," replied Atherton. "He is in Manchester with the regiment, but Colonel Townley would not allow him to accompany me."
"What am I to understand by all this?" cried Constance.
"All chance of our gaining London is over," replied Atherton. "The prince has retreated from Derby, and is now returning to Scotland."
"Without a battle?" cried Constance.
"Ay, without a battle," he replied, sadly.
"I can scarcely believe what I hear," cried Monica. "I would rather a sanguinary engagement had taken place than this should have happened."
"The prince was forced to retreat," rejoined Atherton. "The Highland chiefs would proceed no further."
"Will Jemmy retire from the regiment?" cried Monica.
"No, he will proceed with it to Carlisle. I shall go there likewise. I have obtained leave from the prince to pay this hasty visit. I must return in the morning. We may yet have to fight a battle, for it is reported that the Duke of Cumberland is in hot pursuit, and Marshal Wade may cut off our retreat."
"I will not say that all is lost," observed Constance. "But it seems to me that the prince has lost all chance of recovering the throne. His army and his friends will be alike discouraged, and the attempt cannot be renewed."
"Such is my own opinion, I confess," replied Atherton. "Nevertheless, I cannot leave him."
He then addressed himself to Mrs. Butler and Father Jerome, who had been looking anxiously towards him, and acquainted them with the cause of his unexpected return. They were both deeply grieved to hear of the prince's retreat.
Tears were shed by all the ladies when they were told of the execution of poor Erick Dickson, and they deplored the fate of the faithful Helen Carnegie. Atherton had a long conversation with Constance, but they could not arrange any plans for the future. At last the hour came for separation for the night, and it was in a very depressed state of mind that he sought his chamber.
It was a large apartment, panelled with oak, and contained a massive oak bedstead with huge twisted columns, and a large canopy. Though a wood fire blazed on the hearth, and cast a glow on the panels, the appearance of the room was exceedingly gloomy.
"'Tis the best bedroom in the house, and I have therefore prepared it for you," observed old Markland, who had conducted him to the room. "You will easily recognise the portrait over the mantelpiece. I have not removed it, as I have not received orders to do so."
Atherton looked up at the picture indicated by the old butler, and could not repress a shudder as he perceived it was a portrait of his uncle, Sir Richard.
However, he made no remark, and shortly afterwards Markland quitted the room.
Seating himself in an easy-chair by the fire, Atherton began to reflect upon the many strange events that had occurred to him, and he almost began to regret that he had ever joined the unlucky expedition.
While indulging these meditations, he fell into a sort of doze, and fancied that a figure slowly approached him.
How the person had entered the room he could not tell, for he had not heard the door open, nor any sound of footsteps. The figure seemed to glide towards him, rather than walk, and, as it drew nearer, he recognised the ghastly and cadaverous countenance.
Transfixed with horror, he could neither stir nor speak. For some time the phantom stood there, with its melancholy gaze fixed upon him.
At last a lugubrious voice, that sounded as if it came from the grave, reached his ear.
"I have come to warn you," said the phantom. "You have neglected my counsel. Be warned now, or you will lose all!"
For a few moments the phantom continued to gaze earnestly at him and then disappeared.
At the same time the strange oppression that had benumbed his faculties left him, and he was able to move.
As he rose from his chair, he found that the fire was almost extinct, and that his taper had burnt low.
On consulting his watch he perceived that it was long past midnight. He could not be quite sure whether he had been dreaming, or had beheld a vision; but he felt the necessity of rest, and hastily disrobing himself, he sought the couch, and slept soundly till morning.
He was awake when old Markland entered his room, but he said nothing to him about the mysterious occurrence of the night.
Determined to abide by his plans, and fearing his resolution might be shaken, he ordered his horses to be got ready in half an hour. He did not see Constance before his departure, but left kind messages for her, and for Mrs. Butler and Monica, by Markland.
The old butler looked very sad, and when Atherton told him he should soon be back again, he did not seem very hopeful.
A fog hung over the moat as he crossed the drawbridge, followed by his groom. On gaining the park, he cast a look back at the old mansion, and fancying he descried Constance at one of the windows, he waved an adieu to her.
As it was not his intention to return to Manchester, but to rejoin the retreating army at Preston, he forded the Mersey at a spot known to Holden, and avoiding Warrington, rode on through a series of lanes to Newton—proceeding thence to Wigan, where he halted for an hour to refresh his horse, and breakfast, after which he continued his course to Preston.
On arriving there he found the town in a state of great confusion. The Highland army was expected, but it was also thought that Marshal Wade would intercept the retreat.
To the latter rumour Atherton attached very little credence, but put up at an inn to await the arrival of the prince.
On the evening when Atherton visited Rawcliffe Hall, intelligence was received that the Duke of Cumberland was advancing by forced marches to Manchester, and as it was not the prince's intention to give the duke battle, he prepared for an immediate retreat.
Early on the following morning, therefore, the main body of the army, with Charles at its head, quitted the town, and crossed Salford Bridge on the way to Wigan.
Very different was the departure from the arrival. Those who witnessed it did not attempt to conceal their satisfaction, and but few cheers were given to the prince.
At a later hour the Manchester Regiment commenced its march. Its numbers had again been reduced, several desertions having taken place. Some of the officers went on very reluctantly, and one of them, Captain Fletcher, who had refused to proceed further, was dragged off by a party of soldiers.
Shortly after Colonel Townley's departure an express from the Duke of Cumberland was received by the magistrates, enjoining them to seize all stragglers from the rebel army, and detain them until his arrival. The duke also promised to send on a party of dragoons, but as they had not yet come up, and several regiments had not yet quitted the town, the magistrates did not dare to act.
However, as the rear-guard of the army was passing down Smithy Bank to the bridge, a shot was fired from a garret-window, by which a dragoon was killed, upon which the regiment immediately faced about, and the colonel commanding it was so enraged that he gave orders to fire the town.
In an instant all was confusion and dismay. The men, who were quite as infuriated as their leader, were preparing to execute the order, when they were pacified by the capture of the author of the outrage, and summary justice having been inflicted upon him, the regiment quitted Manchester, very much to the relief of the inhabitants.
On that night the prince slept at Wigan; on the following day he marched with his whole forces to Preston, and here Atherton joined him.
Next day, Charles pursued his march to Lancaster, where he remained for a couple of days to recruit his men before entering upon the fells of Westmoreland.
After quitting Lancaster, the army moved on in two divisions, one of which rested at Burton, and the other at Kirkby Lonsdale, but they joined again at Kendal, and then continued their march over Shap Fells. The weather was exceedingly unpropitious, and the fine views from the hills were totally obscured by mist.
The prince's deportment seemed entirely changed. He had quite lost the spirit and ardour that characterised him on the onward march, and he seemed perpetually to regret that he had turned back. He thought he had thrown away his chance, and should never recover it.
One day he unburdened his breast to Captain Legh, for whom he had conceived a great regard, and said:
"I ought to have gone on at all hazards. The army would not have abandoned me—even if their leaders had turned back. By this time I should have been master of London—or nothing."
In vain Atherton tried to cheer him. For a few minutes he roused himself, but speedily relapsed into the same state of dejection.
Heretofore, as we have stated, the prince had marched on foot at the head of one column of the army, but he now left the command of this division to the Duke of Perth, and rode in the rear, attended by the Marquis d'Eguilles, Sir Thomas Sheridan, Secretary Murray, and Captain Legh.
Lord George Gordon commanded the rear-guard, and was more than a day's march behind the van—great fears being entertained lest the retreating army should be overtaken by the Duke of Cumberland, who was in full pursuit. At length, these apprehensions were realised.
The duke came up with the rear-guard at Clifton, near Penrith, and immediately attacked it, but was most vigorously and successfully repulsed by Lord George; and little doubt can be entertained that if Charles, who was at Penrith, had sent reinforcements, the duke would have been defeated, and perhaps might have been taken prisoner.
Be this as it may, the pursuit was checked, and Charles reached Carlisle without further interruption.
End of the Third Book.
BOOK IV.
CARLISLE.
On the prince's march south, three companies of Highlanders had been left at Carlisle under the command of Colonel Hamilton, but it was now proposed to strengthen the garrison by the addition of the Manchester Regiment, in case the town should be besieged by the Duke of Cumberland.
To this plan Colonel Townley raised no objection, as his men were disinclined to proceed further, and he doubted whether they could be induced to cross the Border. He was therefore appointed commander of the town garrison, while Colonel Hamilton retained the governorship of the citadel.
The Scottish army did not remain more than a day in Carlisle, and none of the men wished to be left behind.
On the contrary, it was sorely against their inclination that the three companies of the Duke of Perth's regiment remained with Colonel Hamilton.
On the morning of the prince's departure from Carlisle, the Manchester Regiment, now reduced to a hundred and twenty men, was drawn up on the esplanade of the old castle. With it was Colonel Townley, now commandant of the garrison. On the glacis, also, were ranged the three companies of Highlanders who were to be left with Colonel Hamilton.
Already the greater portion of the Scottish army had quitted the town, but Charles remained behind to bid adieu to his devoted adherents. Apparently he was much moved as he thus addressed the officers and men of the Manchester Regiment:
"I am loth to leave you here, but since it is your wish not to cross the Border, I do not urge you to accompany me to Scotland." Then addressing the Highland companies, he added: "Scotsmen, you must remain here for a short time longer. Should the town be besieged, you need have no fear. The castle can hold out for a month, and long before that time I will come to your assistance with a strong force."
This address was received with loud cheers, both by Englishmen and Scots.
Colonel Townley then stepped forward and said:
"Your royal highness may rely upon it that we will hold the place till your return. We will never surrender."
"I will answer for my men," added Colonel Hamilton. "The Duke of Cumberland and Marshal Wade shall batter the castle about our ears before we will give it up."
"I am quite satisfied with this assurance," rejoined the prince. Then turning to Captain Legh, he said to him: "Will you remain, or accompany me to Scotland?"
"Since your royal highness allows me the choice, I will remain with the regiment," replied Atherton. "I think I can best serve you here."
Charles looked hard at him, but did not attempt to dissuade him from his purpose.
"I leave you in a perilous post," he said; "but I am well aware of your bravery. I hope we shall soon meet again. Adieu!"
He then mounted his steed, and waving his hand to the two colonels, rode off.
Surrounded by walls built in the time of Henry the Eighth, Carlisle, at the period of our history, boasted a fortress that had successfully resisted many an attack made upon it by the Scots.
Situated on an eminence, and partly surrounded by a broad, deep moat, fed by the river Eden, the citadel, strongly garrisoned and well provided with guns and ammunition, would seem to be almost impregnable. At the foot of the western walls flowed the river Caldew, while the castle overlooked the beautiful river Eden.
On the summit of the keep floated the prince's standard, and from this lofty station remarkably fine views could be obtained. On one side could be noted the junction of the Caldew and the Eden that takes place below the castle, and adds to the strength of its position. The course of the Eden could likewise be traced as it flowed through fertile meadows, to pour its waters, augmented by those of the Caldew, into the Solway Firth.
From the same point of observation could likewise be descried the borders of Dumfries, with the Cheviot Hills on the right, while on the other side the view extended to the stern grey hills of Northumberland. Looking south, the eye ranged over a sweeping tract in the direction of Penrith. Of course the keep looked down upon the ancient cathedral which closely adjoined the castle, and upon the town with its old gates and bulwarks.
Though the walls had become dilapidated, and were of no great strength, yet, from its position and from its castle, it would seem that Carlisle was able to stand a lengthened siege; and such was the opinion of Colonel Townley, who considered it tenable against any force that could be brought against it by the Duke of Cumberland.
One important matter, however, could not be overlooked. The inhabitants were hostile, and were only controlled by the garrison. In Carlisle, as in all Border towns, there was an hereditary dislike of the Scots, and this feeling had been heightened by the recent events.
Immediately after the prince's departure, Colonel Townley examined the walls, and caused certain repairs to be made. Guns were mounted by his direction, and chevaux de frise fixed at all the gates and entrances.
A house from which the prince's army had been fired upon was likewise burnt, to intimidate the inhabitants; and notice was given that any violation of the commandant's orders would be severely punished. A sallying party was sent out under the command of Captain Legh to procure forage and provisions, and returned well supplied.
Amongst the most active and efficient of the officers was Tom Syddall, who had now been raised to the post of adjutant, and rendered the colonel great service. As the number of men ran short, Parson Coppock, whose military ardour equalled his religious zeal, abandoned his gown and cassock, and putting on military accoutrements, acted as quarter-master to the regiment.
The greatest zeal and activity were displayed both by the officers and men of the corps, and Colonel Townley seemed almost ubiquitous.
Colonel Hamilton lacked the spirit and energy displayed by the commandant of the town, and was content to remain quietly shut up within the walls of the castle, leaving the more arduous duties to Colonel Townley, who discharged them, as we have shown, most efficiently. Moreover, though he kept the opinion to himself, Colonel Hamilton felt that the garrison would be compelled to capitulate, unless it should be reinforced.
By the end of the third day all possible preparations for the siege had been made by Colonel Townley, and he now deemed himself secure.
On the following day Captain Legh was sent with a message to the governor, and found the castle in a good state of defence. The court-yard was full of Highland soldiers; a few cannon were planted on the battlements, and sentinels were pacing to and fro on the walls.
Colonel Hamilton was on the esplanade at the time, conversing with Captain Abernethy and some other Scottish officers, and Atherton waited till he was disengaged to deliver his message to him; but before the governor could send a reply, a small party of horse, with an officer at their head, could be seen approaching the city from the Penrith Road.
Evidently they were English dragoons. After reconnoitring for a few moments, Colonel Hamilton gave his glass to Atherton, who thought they must be coming to summon the city to surrender.
"No doubt of it," replied the governor. "I wonder what Colonel Townley's answer will be?"
"A scornful refusal," rejoined Captain Legh, surprised.
"That is all very well now," remarked the governor, shrugging his shoulders; "but we shall have to capitulate in the end."
"Does your excellency really think so?"
"I do," replied Hamilton.
The answer returned by Colonel Townley was such as Atherton had anticipated. He positively refused to surrender the city, and declared he would hold it to the last extremity.
On the following day the Duke of Cumberland appeared before the town with his whole army, and immediately began to invest it on all sides. He continued his siege operations for nearly a week, during which a constant fire was kept up from the walls and from the larger guns of the castle, and frequent sallies were made by the garrison. One of these, headed by Captain Legh, was attended with some little success. He drove the enemy from their trenches, and nearly captured the Duke of Richmond.
Hitherto, the besieged party had sustained very little damage, and had only lost a few men. The duke had not indeed opened fire upon them, because he had not received some artillery which he expected from Whitehaven.
Colonel Townley, therefore, continued in high spirits, and even Colonel Hamilton acquired greater confidence. One morning, however, they were startled by perceiving a six-gun battery, which had been erected during the night. Colonel Townley did not lose courage even at this sight; but the governor was seriously alarmed.
"We shall be compelled to submit," he said; "and must make the best terms we can."
"Submit! never!" cried Colonel Townley. "We had better die by the sword than fall into the hands of those cursed Hanoverians. The duke will show us no mercy. Oh that we could but get possession of those guns!"
"Give me twenty well-mounted men and a dozen led horses, and I will bring off a couple of the guns," cried Atherton.
"The attempt were madness," cried Colonel Townley.
"Madness or not, I am ready to make it," rejoined Captain Legh.
Half-an-hour afterwards the north gate, which was nearest the battery, was suddenly thrown open, and Captain Legh, mounted on a strong horse, and followed by twenty well-mounted men, half of whom had spare horses furnished with stout pieces of rope, dashed at a headlong pace towards the battery. The attack was so sudden and unexpected that the enemy was quite taken by surprise. Only an officer of artillery and half-a-dozen artillerymen were near the battery at the time, and before they could fly to their guns, Captain Legh and his party were upon them, and drove them off. A desperate effort was made to carry off two of the guns, but it was found impossible to move the heavy carriages.
The Duke of Cumberland, who was at a short distance with his aide-de-camp, Colonel Conway, planning and directing the operations, witnessed the attack, and instantly ordered Conway with a troop of horse to seize the daring assailants.
But the latter dashed off as hard as they could to the gate, and gained it just in time. All got in safely with the exception of their leader, who was captured by Colonel Conway and led back to the duke.
William, Duke of Cumberland, second surviving son of the reigning sovereign, was at this time a handsome young man of twenty-four.
Strongly built, but well proportioned, he had bluff and rather coarse but striking features. Young as he was, the duke had gained considerable military experience. He had fought with his father, George the Second, at the battle of Dettingen, in 1743, and in May, 1745, he engaged Marshal Saxe at Fontenoy, and sustained a most crushing defeat—highly prejudicial to English renown.
Though thus defeated by the superior military skill of Marshal Saxe, the duke displayed so much gallantry and personal courage during the action, that he did not lose his popularity in England, but was very well received on his return; and on the outbreak of the rebellion in the same year, followed by the defeat of General Cope at Preston Pans, the attack on Edinburgh, and the march of the young Chevalier at the head of the Highland army into England, he assumed the command of the royal forces, and prepared to drive the rebels out of the kingdom. But instead of doing this, to the general surprise, he allowed the Scots to continue their advance as far as Derby, and it will always remain doubtful whether, if the prince had marched on to London, his daring attempt would not have been crowned by success. A contemporary historian unquestionably thought so, and emphatically declares: "Had the adventurer proceeded in his career with the expedition which he had hitherto used, he might have made himself master of the metropolis, where he would have been certainly joined by a considerable number of his well-wishers, who waited impatiently for his approach."2But when the prince commenced his retreat the duke immediately started in pursuit, though he made no real efforts to overtake him; and, as we have seen, he was repulsed by Lord George Gordon at Clifton, near Penrith. Again, instead of pursuing the rebels into Scotland, he sat down to besiege Carlisle. The duke was surrounded by his staff when Captain Legh was brought before him by Colonel Conway.
"Who is this rash fellow, who seems anxious to throw away his life?" demanded the duke.
"I thought I knew him, for his features seem strangely familiar to me," replied Colonel Conway. "But I must be mistaken. He gives his name as Atherton Legh, captain of the Manchester Regiment."
"Atherton Legh! ha!" cried the duke. Then fixing a stern look upon the young man, he said:
"You had better have remained faithful to the Government, sir. Now you will die as a traitor and a rebel."
"I am prepared to meet my fate, whatever it may be," replied Atherton, firmly.
"I might order you for instant execution," pursued the duke. "But you shall have a fair trial with the rest of the garrison. It must surrender to-morrow."
"Your royal highness is mistaken—the garrison can hold out for a week."
"'Tis you who are mistaken, Captain Legh," rejoined the duke, haughtily. "I have just received a letter from Colonel Hamilton, offering me terms of submission."
"I am indeed surprised to hear it," said Atherton. "Your royal highness may credit me when I affirm that the citadel is in a very good state of defence, has plenty of arms and ammunition, and ought to hold out for a month."
"That may be," rejoined the duke. "But I tell you I have received a letter from the governor, asking for terms. However, I will only accept an unconditional surrender."
"Colonel Townley, the commander of the city garrison, will hold out to the last," said Atherton.
"Colonel Townley is a brave man, and may die sword in hand; but hold the town he cannot. His regiment does not number a hundred men. You see I am well informed, Captain Legh. To-morrow you will see your colonel again."
"I shall be glad to see him again—but not here," replied Atherton.
"Take the prisoner hence," said the duke to Colonel Conway. "Let him be well treated—but carefully watched."
Colonel Conway bowed, and Atherton was removed by the guard.
Shortly after the incident just related, fire was opened from the battery, but not much damage was done; it being the duke's intention to alarm the garrison, rather than injure the town. A few shots were directed against the castle, and struck the massive walls of the keep. The fire was answered by the besieged—but without any effect.
At this juncture it was with great difficulty that the inhabitants could be kept in check, and, with the small force at his command, it became evident to Colonel Townley that he must surrender.
Calling his officers together, he thus addressed them:
"Our position is most critical. Outside the walls we are completely blockaded, and inside the inhabitants are against us. One means of escape has occurred to me; but it is so hazardous, that it ought scarcely to be adopted. A sortie might be made by a small party of horse, and these might succeed in cutting their way through the enemy. If a couple of barges could be found, the rest might manage to float down the Eden."
"That plan has occurred to me, colonel," said Captain Dawson. "But it is impracticable, since all the barges and boats have been destroyed. Possibly a few men might escape by swimming down the river—but in no other way."
"No," said Colonel Townley; "we are so completely environed that escape is impossible, unless we could cut our way through the enemy, and this cannot be done, since there are no horses for the men. I will never abandon my gallant regiment. Since Colonel Hamilton has resolved to surrender, it is impossible for me to hold out longer—though I would a thousand times rather die with arms in my hand than submit to the mercy of the Duke of Cumberland."
Several plans were then proposed, but were rejected, as none seemed feasible; and at last a muster was made of the regiment, and Colonel Townley's resolution being communicated to the men, was received by them with the greatest sorrow.
Later on in the day, Colonel Townley repaired to the citadel, where he had a conference with the governor, and endeavoured to induce him to change his purpose, but in vain.
On the following morning the besieged town of Carlisle presented a singular spectacle. The inhabitants, who had hitherto been kept in awe by the garrison, assembled in the streets, and did not attempt to hide their exultation; while the Highlanders in the castle, and the officers and men of the Manchester Regiment, looked deeply dejected, and stood listlessly at their posts. The cause of all these mingled feelings of ill-concealed satisfaction on one side, and deep dejection on the other, was, that the garrison had declared its intention to surrender by hanging out the white flag. The men still stood to their arms—the engineers and artillerymen remained upon the walls—the gates of the city were still guarded—but not a gun had been fired. All was terrible expectation.
Colonel Hamilton, Captain Abernethy, Colonel Townley, and some of the officers of the Manchester Regiment, were assembled on the esplanade of the castle, when Captain Vere, an officer of the English army, attended by an orderly, rode towards them. As the bearer of a despatch for the governor, he had been allowed to enter the city.
Dismounting, Captain Vere marched up to the governor, and, with a formal salute, delivered a missive to him, saying, "This from his royal highness."
The governor took the letter, and, walking aside with Colonel Townley, read as follows:
"'All the terms his royal highness will or can grant to the rebel garrison of Carlisle are, that they shall not be put to the sword, but be reserved for the king's pleasure.'"
"The king's pleasure!" exclaimed Colonel Townley. "We have nothing but death to expect from the usurper. But go on."
"'If they consent to these conditions, the governor and the principal officers are to deliver themselves up immediately; and the castle, citadel, and all the gates of the town are to be taken possession of forthwith by the king's troops."
"I cannot make up my mind to this," cried Colonel Townley.
"Unfortunately there is no help for it," observed Colonel Hamilton. "But hear what follows: 'All the small arms are to be lodged in the town guard-room, and the rest of the garrison are to retire to the cathedral, where a guard is to be placed over them. No damage is to be done to the artillery, arms, or ammunition.' That is all."
"And enough too," rejoined Colonel Townley. "The conditions are sufficiently hard and humiliating."
"Gentlemen," said the governor, addressing the officers, "'tis proper you should hear the terms offered by the duke."
And he proceeded to read the letter to them.
Murmurs arose when he had done, and a voice—it was that of Adjutant Syddall—called out:
"Reject them!"
"Impossible," exclaimed Hamilton.
Thinking he had been kept waiting long enough, Captain Vere then stepped forward and enquired, "What answer shall I take to his royal highness?"
Colonel Townley and his officers were all eagerness to send a refusal; but the governor cried out, "Tell the duke that his terms are accepted."
"In that case, gentlemen," said Captain Vere, "you will all prepare to deliver yourselves up. His royal highness will at once take possession of the town."
With this, he mounted his horse, and rode off, attended by his orderly.
About an hour afterwards, the gates being thrown open, Brigadier Bligh entered the town with a troop of horse, and rode to the market-place, where, in front of the guard-room, he found Colonel Hamilton, Captain Abernethy, Colonel Townley, and the officers of the Manchester Regiment, a French officer, and half a dozen Irish officers.
They all yielded themselves up as prisoners, and the brigadier desired them to enter the guard-room, and when they had complied with the order, placed a guard at the door.
The Highlanders, the non-commissioned officers and privates of the Manchester Regiment, with a few French and Irish soldiers, who were drawn up in the market-place, then piled their arms, and retired to the cathedral, where a strong guard was set over them.
Crowded with these prisoners, the interior of the sacred building presented a very singular picture. Most of the men looked sullen and angry, and their rage was increased when the sound of martial music proclaimed the entrance of the Duke of Cumberland with his whole army into the town.
Attended by General Hawley, Colonel Conway, Colonel York, and a large staff of officers, the duke was received with acclamations by the townspeople who had come forth to meet him. Riding on to the citadel, he dismounted with his staff, and, entering a large room recently occupied by the governor, ordered the prisoners to be brought before him. After charging them with rebellion and treason, he told them they would be sent under a strong guard to London, there to take their trial.
When he had finished, Colonel Townley stepped forward, and said:
"I claim to be treated as a prisoner of war. For sixteen years I have been in the service of the King of France, and I now hold a commission from his majesty, which I can lay before your royal highness if you will deign to look at it."
"But you have received another commission from the son of the Pretender, and have acted as colonel of the rebel regiment raised by yourself in Manchester," interposed General Hawley. "Your plea is therefore inadmissible."
"I have as much right to the cartel as any French officer taken by his royal highness at the battle of Fontenoy," rejoined Townley.
"As a liege subject of his majesty, you are not justified in serving a prince at war with him," said the Duke of Cumberland, sternly. "I cannot entertain your plea. You will be tried for rebellion and treason with the rest of the prisoners."
Seeing it would be useless to urge anything further, Colonel Townley stepped back.
The only person allowed the cartel was the French officer.
The prisoners were then removed, and ordered to be kept in strict confinement in the castle until they could be conveyed to London.
Some deserters from the king's army were then brought before the duke, who ordered them to be hanged, and the sentence was forthwith carried out on a piece of ground at the back of the castle.
The prisoners passed the night in strict confinement in the castle, their gloom being heightened by the sound of the rejoicings that took place in the town at the Duke of Cumberland's success.
On the following morning, at an early hour, three large waggons, each having a team of strong horses, were drawn up near the gates of the castle. These were destined to convey the prisoners to London. The foremost waggon was assigned to Colonel Townley, Captain Dawson, Captain Deacon, and Captain Legh. The rest of the officers of the Manchester Regiment were similarly bestowed. A strong mounted guard accompanied the conveyances, having orders to shoot any prisoner who might attempt to escape.
As the waggons moved slowly through the streets towards the south gate, groans and execrations arose from the spectators, and missiles were hurled at the prisoners, who no doubt would have fared ill if they had not been protected.
The Duke of Cumberland remained for two days longer at Carlisle, when having received a despatch from the king enjoining his immediate return, as an invasion from France was apprehended, he posted back to London, taking Colonel Conway with him, and leaving the command of the army to General Hawley, who started in pursuit of Prince Charles.
End of the Fourth Book.
BOOK V.
JEMMY DAWSON.
The prisoners were treated very considerately on their journey to London. Whenever the waggons stopped at an inn, their occupants were allowed to alight and order what they pleased, and as they had plenty of money, they were served with the best the house could afford. At night they sometimes slept in the waggons, sometimes at an inn, if sufficient accommodation could be found. In the latter case, of course, a guard was placed at the doors.
Passed in this way, the journey might not have been disagreeable, if it had not been for the indignities to which they were occasionally exposed. None of the officers felt any great uneasiness as to their fate. Despite what the Duke of Cumberland had said to Colonel Townley, they were led to expect that they would be treated as prisoners of war, and regularly exchanged.
Entertaining this conviction, they managed to keep up their spirits, and some of them led a very jovial life.
A great change, however, had taken place in Colonel Townley's deportment. He had become extremely reserved, and associated only with Captain Deacon, Captain Dawson, and Atherton. The two latter would have been far more cheerful if they had obtained any tidings of those to whom they were tenderly attached.
On the third day after leaving Carlisle, the prisoners arrived at Lancaster, and on the following day they were taken to Preston. Here the feeling of the inhabitants was so strong against them that they had to be protected by the guard.
At Wigan, where the next halt was made for the night, Atherton remarked that John Holgate, the host of the Bear's Paw, the inn at which they stopped, looked very hard at him. He thought he knew the man's face, and subsequently remembered him as a tradesman in Manchester.
In the course of the evening Holgate found an opportunity of speaking to him privately, and told him not to go to bed, but to leave his window slightly open—as something might happen. Having given him these directions, Holgate hastily left him.
On entering his room, which was at the back of the house, Atherton found it looked into the inn-yard, where the waggons were drawn up, and as some men were going in and out of the stables with lanterns, he perceived that several of the troopers were preparing to take their night's rest in the waggons.
Immediately beneath the window, which was at some height from the ground, a sentinel was posted.
Having made the observations, Atherton withdrew, leaving the window slightly open, as he had been enjoined, and put out the light.
In about an hour all became quiet in the yard—the troopers had got into the waggons, and no doubt were fast asleep, but he could hear the measured tread of the sentinel as he paced to and fro.
Another hour elapsed, and the sentinel being still at his post, Atherton began to fear that Holgate might fail in his design. But his hopes revived when the footsteps could no longer be heard, and softly approaching the window he looked out.
The sentinel was gone. But in his place stood another person, whom Atherton had no doubt was the friendly landlord.
Having intimated his presence by a slight signal, Holgate retreated, and Atherton instantly prepared to join him. Emerging from the window as noiselessly as he could, he let himself drop to the ground, and achieved the feat so cleverly, that he was only heard by Holgate, who immediately took him to the back of the yard, where they clambered over a low wall, and gained a narrow lane, along which they hastened.
"I think you are now safe," said Holgate. "At any rate, you will be so when we reach our destination. I have brought you this way because it would have been impossible to elude the vigilance of the sentinel placed in front of the house. I have given the man who was stationed in the yard a pot of ale, and he has retired to the stable to drink it."
"You have proved yourself a good friend to me, Holgate," said Atherton; "but I fear you are running great risk on my account."
"I don't mind that," replied the other. "The moment I saw you, I determined to liberate you. I dare say you've forgotten the circumstance, but I haven't. You saved me from being drowned in the Irwell—now we're quits. I'm going to take you to the old Manor House in Bishopsgate Street. It belongs to Captain Hulton, who is in the king's army, but he is away, and my aunt, Mrs. Scholes, who is his housekeeper, has charge of the house. She is a staunch Jacobite. I have seen her and told her all about you. You may trust her perfectly."
Proceeding with the utmost caution, they soon came to Bishopsgate Street, in which the old Manor House was situated.
Taking his companion to the back of the premises, Holgate tapped at a door, which was immediately opened by a very respectable-looking middle-aged woman, who curtsied to Atherton as she admitted him. Holgate did not enter the house, but with a hasty "good-night," departed, and the door was closed and bolted.
Mrs. Scholes then took Atherton to the kitchen, and explained that she meant to put him in the "secret room" in case the house should be searched.
"You will be indifferently lodged, sir," she said; "but you will be safe, and that's the chief thing."
Atherton entirely concurred with her, and without wasting any further time in talk, she led him up a back staircase to a bedroom, from which there was a secret entrance through a closet, to a small inner chamber. The latter was destined for Atherton, and scantily furnished as it was, he was very well content with it, and slept soundly in the little couch prepared for him.
Next morning, when the prisoners were mustered, the greatest consternation was caused by the discovery that Captain Legh was missing. It was quite clear that he had got out of the window, and it was equally clear that the sentinel must have neglected his duty, or the prisoner could not have escaped; but no suspicion attached to the landlord.
Of course the departure of the waggons was delayed, and strict search was made for the fugitive throughout the town. A proclamation was likewise issued, announcing that any one harbouring him would be liable to severe penalties. But the notice had no effect.
In consequence of some information received by the officer in command of the escort that two persons had been seen to enter the Manor House in Bishopsgate Street late at night, the house was strictly searched, but the secret chamber was not discovered, nor was anything found to indicate that the fugitive was concealed there.
At Warrington, where the visitors were conveyed next day, a meeting took place between Jemmy and Monica, who had come over from Rawcliffe Hall to see her unfortunate lover. She was accompanied by Father Jerome.
Jemmy was alone in a little parlour of the inn at which the waggons had stopped, when Monica was admitted by the guard, who immediately withdrew, and left them together.
Springing forward, Jemmy clasped her to his heart.
So overpowered were they both, that for some minutes they could not give utterance to their feelings, but gazed at each other through eyes streaming with tears.
"Alas! alas!" cried Monica, at length. "Is it come to this? Do I find my dearest Jemmy a prisoner?"
"A prisoner of war," he replied, in as cheerful a tone as he could assume. "I am sure to be exchanged. We shall be separated for a time, but shall meet again in another country. You imagine we shall all be put to death, but believe me the Elector of Hanover has no such intention. He dare not execute us."
"Hush! Jemmy—not so loud. I have been wretched ever since the retreat from Derby took place, for I foresaw what it would come to. I have never ceased to reproach myself with being the cause of your destruction."
"You have nothing to reproach yourself with, dearest girl," he rejoined, tenderly. "'Tis a pity the prince did not march to London. 'Tis a still greater pity the regiment was left at Carlisle."
"Yes, you have been sacrificed, Jemmy—cruelly sacrificed. I shall never think otherwise."
"Such imputations, I am aware, are laid to the prince's charge, but he doesn't deserve them—indeed he doesn't. He is the soul of honour. No one believed the Duke of Cumberland would stop to besiege the town; and those best informed thought it could hold out for a month. However, fortune has declared against us. But I won't allow myself to be cast down." Then lowering his tone, he added, "You know that Atherton has escaped?"
"Yes, I know it," she rejoined. "And so does Constance. Oh, that you had been with him, Jemmy!"
"I shall find means to follow—never doubt it," he rejoined. "But it won't do to make the attempt just yet, for we shall be much more strictly watched than before. But I have a plan, which I mean to put in practice when an opportunity offers, and I hope it will succeed."
"Can I aid you, Jemmy?" she asked, anxiously.
"No," he replied. "But don't be surprised if you see me some night at Rawcliffe Hall."
"Now, indeed, you give me fresh spirits," she cried. "Heaven grant I may see you soon! But there may be danger in your coming to Rawcliffe, and you mustn't run any needless risk on my account."
"The first use I shall make of my liberty will be to fly to you, dearest girl. Of that you may be quite sure. But we are talking only of ourselves. You have scarcely mentioned Constance or your mother. How are they both?"
"They have been full of anxiety, as you may easily imagine. But Constance has somewhat revived since she heard of Atherton's escape, and the tidings I shall be able to give her of you will make her feel more easy. As to my mother, whatever she may suffer—and I am sure she suffers much—she is perfectly resigned. Father Jerome is without. Will you see him?"
"No. I will devote each moment to you. Ah! we are interrupted!" he exclaimed, as the guard came in to say that the time allowed them had expired.
Again they were locked in each other's arms, and when they were forced to separate, it seemed as if their hearts were torn asunder. Even the guard was moved by their distress.
Nevertheless, Monica returned to Rawcliffe Hall in far better spirits than she had quitted it in the morning. She had now some hopes that her lover would escape.
Shortly after her departure Jemmy was obliged to take his place in the waggon, and for some time felt very wretched; but at length he consoled himself by thinking that his separation from the object of his affections would not be long.
The waggons proceeded so slowly on their journey to London, that before they reached Dunstable news was received of the defeat of General Hawley, at Falkirk, by the prince. These tidings caused great alarm throughout the country, as the opinion generally prevailed that after the siege of Carlisle the rebellion had been completely suppressed.
Though the prisoners rejoiced at the prince's success, they felt that their own peril was considerably increased by the event, and that in all probability the severest measures would now be adopted against them.
Hitherto, such strict watch had been kept that Jemmy Dawson had found no means of executing his plan of escape.
On the third day after Atherton's escape at Wigan, as Constance and Monica, who had been tempted forth by the fineness of the weather, were walking in the park, a young man, in a plain country dress that gave him the appearance of a farmer, made his way towards them.
From the first moment when they beheld this personage their suspicions were excited, but as he drew nearer they perceived it was Atherton. Constance would have hurried forward to meet him, but feeling the necessity of caution she restrained herself. Presently, he came up, and thinking he might be noticed by some observer, he adopted a very respectful and distant manner, consistent with the character he had assumed, and took off his hat while addressing them.
"Of course you have heard of my escape," he said. "I did not attempt to communicate with you, for I had no one whom I could trust to convey a message, and I did not dare to write lest my letter should fall into wrong hands. For two days I was concealed in the old Manor House at Wigan, and most carefully attended to by the housekeeper, who provided for all my wants. I had some difficulty in getting away, for the house was watched, but on the second night I ventured out, and soon got clear of the town. Before I left, Mrs. Scholes procured me this disguise, without which I should infallibly have been captured, for my uniform must have betrayed me. Even thus attired, I have had more than one narrow escape. If I can only get into the house unobserved I shall be perfectly safe."
"You must wait till night and all shall be ready for you," rejoined Constance. "As soon as it grows dark Markland shall come out into the park."
"He will find me near this spot," replied Atherton.
"But what will you do in the interim?" asked Constance, anxiously.
"Give yourself no concern about me," he rejoined. "You may be sure I will not expose myself to any needless risk. Adieu!"
With a rustic bow he then moved off, and the two damsels returned to the hall.
Constance's first business was to summon Markland and tell him what had occurred.
The old butler did not manifest much surprise at the intelligence, for when he had first heard of Atherton's escape he felt certain the young gentleman would seek refuge at the hall, and he had already made some quiet preparations for his concealment. He therefore expressed the utmost readiness to carry out his young mistress's instructions, and declared that he could easily manage matters so that none of the servants should be aware that Captain Legh was hidden in the house.
"Even if he should remain here for a month," he said, "with common caution I will engage he shall not be discovered."
"I am very glad to hear you speak so confidently, Markland," she rejoined; "for I feared it would be impossible to conceal him for more than a day or two."
Having made all needful arrangements, Markland stole out quietly as soon as it became dark, and found Atherton at the spot indicated.
"You are so well disguised, sir," he said, "that if I hadn't been prepared I should certainly not have known you. But don't let us waste time in talking here. I must get you into the house."
The night being very dark their approach to the hall could not be perceived. On reaching the drawbridge Markland told his companion to slip past while he went into the gate-house to speak to the porter, and by observing these instructions, Atherton gained the court-yard unperceived.
The butler then gave orders that the drawbridge should be raised, and while the porter was thus employed, he opened the postern and admitted Captain Legh into the house. Having first satisfied himself that no one was in the way, Markland then led the young man along a passage to his own room on the ground floor.
All danger was now over. The small room into which Atherton had been ushered looked exceedingly snug and comfortable. Thick curtains drawn over the narrow window facing the moat prevented any inquisitive eye from peering into the chamber. A bright fire burnt on the hearth, and near it stood a table on which a cold pasty was placed, with a bottle of claret.
"I have prepared a little supper for you, sir," said Markland. "Pray sit down to it. I'll take care you shan't be disturbed. You will please to excuse me. I have some other matters to attend to."
He then went out, taking the precaution to lock the door, and Atherton partook of the first quiet meal he had enjoyed for some time.
Old Markland did not return for nearly three hours, and when he unlocked the door, he found Atherton fast asleep in the chair. Great havoc had been made with the pasty, and the flask of claret was nearly emptied.
"I have got a bed ready for you, sir," he said. "It isn't quite so comfortable as I could wish, but you will make allowances."
"No need of apologies, Markland. I could sleep very well in this chair."
"That's just what I mean to do myself, sir," replied the butler, laughing.
With this, he took Captain Legh up a back staircase to a disused suite of apartments, in one of which a bed had been prepared, while a wood fire blazing on the hearth gave a cheerful air to the otherwise gloomy-looking room.
"I have had this room got ready as if for myself, sir," observed Markland; "but as I have just told you, I mean to sleep in a chair below stairs. I wish you a good-night, sir. I'll come to you in the morning."
So saying, he quitted the room, and Atherton shortly afterwards sought his couch, and slept very soundly.
Next morning, the old butler visited him before he had begun to dress, and opening the drawers of a wardrobe that stood in the room, took out two or three handsome suits of clothes—somewhat old-fashioned, inasmuch as they belonged to the period of George the First, but still attire that could be worn.
"These habiliments belonged to your father, Sir Oswald," said Markland; "and as you are about his size, I am sure they will fit you."
"But are they not out of fashion, Markland?" cried Atherton. "People will stare at me if I appear in a costume of five-and-twenty years ago."
"Well, perhaps they might," rejoined the butler; "but there can be no objection to this dark riding-dress."
"No, that will do very well," said Atherton, in an approving tone, after he had examined it.
"You will find plenty of linen in this drawer—laced shirts, solitaires, cravats, silk stockings," continued the butler; "and in that cupboard there are three or four pairs of jack-boots, with as many cocked-hats."
"Bravo!" exclaimed Atherton. "You have quite set me up, Markland. But now leave me for a short time, that I may try the effect of this riding-dress."
The butler then withdrew, but returned in about half an hour with a pot of chocolate and some slices of toast on a tray.
By this time Atherton was fully attired, and everything fitted him—even to the boots, which he had got out of the cupboard.
"Why, I declare, you are the very image of your father!" exclaimed Markland, as he gazed at him in astonishment. "If I had not known who you are, I should have thought Sir Oswald had come to life again. If any of the old servants should see you, you will certainly be taken for a ghost."
"That's exactly what I should desire," replied Atherton; "and should it be necessary, I shall endeavour to keep up the character. However, I don't mean to qualify myself for the part by eating nothing, so pour me out a cup of chocolate."
The butler obeyed, and Atherton sat down and made a very good breakfast.
Before he had quite finished his repast, the butler left him, and did not reappear.