On came the enemy with determination. Fiercely the battle raged--again
and again the foot advanced up to the embankment, each time retreating
from the storm of bullets, case shot, and round shot poured into them,
leaving the ground strewed with their comrades, some in the calm of
death, others struggling in vain efforts to rise and escape from the
field.
Again we thought that the fight for that day was over, when we
distinguished a horseman riding along the broken ranks of the Cavaliers,
waving his sword, as if to lead them on. He advanced, but not a foot
would they budge. They had that day gained a lesson they could not so
easily forget.
At length, losing patience, the Cavalier, who we had no doubt was the
Prince himself, rode round to where his cavalry were posted. The
advance was sounded, and now the horse, drawn up in the rear, urged
forward the foot with lances and pistol shots at their backs.
"They must come on this time," cried Lancelot; "if they don't, they'll
get cut down by their friends in the rear."
"Then I hope that such will be their fate," said Dick. "See, the poor
fellows are advancing. I pity them, for they well know how they will be
treated by Colonel Blake."
As the enemy got within range of our firearms they were received with
showers of musket balls and case shot, which went through and through
their closed ranks, striking down dozens at a time, but still, urged on
by their officers--who, to give them their due, fought with the most
heroic bravery--they advanced close up to our lines. Here they were met
by pistols, pikes, and spears, and then, staggering, they broke and
fled, followed by showers of missiles, until they were beyond our reach.
A loud shout rose all along our line, in which we in the tower joined
right heartily, but our troops were too wearied with the ceaseless
exertions they had made during the whole of the afternoon to pursue the
fugitives; indeed, it would have been the very thing the Prince would
have desired, as he would have been down upon them with his cavalry, and
although they might have retreated to the lines, many a valuable life
would have been sacrificed, and no advantage gained.
Colonel Blake therefore contented himself with the brilliant success he
had achieved. He had shown those haughty Cavaliers that the garrison of
Lyme was not to be so easily overcome as they had thought, and had
taught them what they were to expect should they again venture to assail
us.
Such was the termination of the first day of the siege. Descending from
our tower with the satisfaction of having faithfully fulfilled our
promise, we went down the lines to view more nearly the battle-field.
The whole ground was strewed near and far off with the bodies of men and
horses. Parties were at once sent out to bring in any who might be
still living, and to bury the dead while the rays of the setting sun
gleamed on the white tents of the Royalist camp, which could be seen in
the distance.
Few doubted that another day would see a fresh attack made on our
entrenchments, but some were sanguine enough to believe that the Prince,
after the lesson he had received, would retire. I asked my father what
he thought. He answered--
"The Royalists will not go away without further attempts to reduce the
town, for they know too well that if they do they will leave a vigilant
enemy in their rear, under whose standard thousands of honest Puritans
will gladly gather to destroy the enemies of our country's freedom."
The next morning it was seen that the Cavaliers were busy erecting
batteries and throwing up earthworks on all the neighbouring heights, so
that they might command our forts and batter down our houses.
Notwithstanding the preparations made for the destruction of the town,
Colonel Blake urged the garrison to resist to the bitter end, assuring
them that ere that should come Parliament would send them relief.
I cannot attempt to give a detailed account of the siege. Soon after
his first repulse, Prince Maurice opened fire from his great guns placed
on all the heights commanding the town, from the effects of which not
only the houses but our forts suffered. In a short time the fort at the
Cob was knocked to pieces by a battery which had been thrown up at Holme
Bush, which also swept the bay, so as to render it dangerous for any
vessel to enter the harbour in the day time. Information was also
received that the Cavaliers were busy throwing up another battery at
Colway Hill, in front of Colway House, and into this battery they were
seen dragging some of their largest ordnance. As it commanded Davies
Fort, which was the key of our defences, the Colonel ordered a large
body of men to strengthen that fort as rapidly as possible. Volunteers
were not lacking, and Lancelot and I were allowed to help. We called
for Dick Harvey on the way, and when the men saw three young gentlemen,
the sons of the three principal persons in the place, labouring away as
hard as any one, it encouraged them to still greater exertions, and in a
few hours a bank twelve feet thick had been thrown up, which it was not
likely the shot from the enemy's guns could penetrate. Colonel Blake
passing while we were thus occupied, patted me on the head.
"Well done, young comrade," he said in a kind tone. "If we had a
garrison of a few hundred boys like you, we might hold the place against
all assailants, without the help of more veteran troops."
The earthworks had been completed, and Lancelot and I were standing on
the top, surveying with no little pride the portion we had assisted in
throwing up, when I saw a puff of smoke issue from Colway Hill, followed
by a thundering report, and a round shot plunged into the bank close
beneath our feet.
"Come down, youngsters!" shouted my father, who had just before entered
the fort. "More of those iron balls will be coming in this direction.
You must not run the risk of losing your lives when you cannot advance
our good cause." We unwillingly obeyed, but we had not gone far before
a succession of reports showed that the enemy had already got several
guns into position, and had not the fort been strengthened, it would
soon have been rendered untenable. Numerous successive attacks were
made, but were repulsed as the first had been.
Poor little Audrey and Cicely were in a great state of alarm while the
firing continued, naturally fearing that the whole town would soon be
battered down.
At length, however, the Royalists drew off, and we were left in quiet
for nearly a week. The time was spent in strengthening the
fortifications and drilling the volunteers. We had spies in the camp of
the Cavaliers, who managed under cover of the night to come into the
town with information of what they were about. One piece of news they
brought caused Governor Ceely and my friend Dick much anxiety. It was
that Mr Harvey, Dick's father, who, having been absent from the town
when the Cavalier army arrived before it, had been unable to join us,
was made prisoner, and was now in the camp. Dick was afraid that the
Prince would hang him, as he had others, and talked much with Lancelot
and me of a plan for rescuing him; still, for a long time we could
strike out nothing feasible. Dick, like a good son, was ready to run
every risk, and I was ready to assist him if I could obtain my father's
leave, as was also Lancelot.
We took Audrey and Cicely into our councils. Audrey proposed that she
and Cicely should go to the camp and try to bribe the guards to let Mr
Harvey escape.
"Bad as the Cavaliers may be, they won't injure two young girls, and
Prince Maurice, who is a gentleman, would be sure to treat us with
courtesy," observed Audrey. "You, Lancelot, and Dick might, in the
meantime, during the night, row along the coast, and landing, obtain a
horse, with which you can wait outside the Royalists' camp, until Mr
Harvey, being free, finds you and gallops off."
"No, no, such a plan I can never agree to," exclaimed Lancelot. "I
would sooner trust you two girls in a den of lions than amongst those
Malignants. We must devise some other plan; I am sure that our fathers
would not consent. Mr Harvey was taken without arms, and nothing can
be proved against him."
This conversation took place on the 6th of May, 1644, and good reason I
had for remembering the date. The weather had hitherto been fine, but
soon after midday it began to blow hard from the southward, and the seas
came rolling into our little harbour. Lancelot, who had gone away,
returned in a hurry, accompanied by Dick, and asked him to assist in
hauling up his boat, which ran a chance of being dashed to pieces, as
Tom Noakes, who had charge of her, was likely to be engaged on the
lines. We all three hurried down. When we got there, we found a number
of men, who, as the enemy were quiet, had left their posts in order to
secure their craft from the tempest. Evening was approaching, and as
the gale was rapidly increasing there was no time to be lost. We found
the boat tumbling and tossing about at her moorings, exposed to great
risk of being run down by the smaller vessels which were standing in for
shelter. To get on board was the difficulty, as no other boat was at
hand, so Lancelot, pulling off his clothes, and swimming through the
foaming sea, was soon on board.
"Stand by, to haul her up as she comes in," he shouted out, as he cast
off the moorings. Then springing aft, he seized an oar. It was well
that he did so, for just then a vessel which had rounded the Cob came
tearing up under her foresail, the man at the helm apparently not seeing
the boat in the way.
Lancelot shouted lustily and plied his oar, the craft just scraping the
stern of the boat as she luffed up to come to an anchor. We were on the
east shore, the most exposed side of the harbour, it should be
understood. Dick and I stood by to seize the boat as she struck the
beach. Lancelot, leaping on shore, slipped into his shirt and hauled
away likewise, but with our united strength we could scarcely have
succeeded, had not Martin Shobbrok come to our aid. Fortunately there
were some rollers near at hand, and by their means we at length got the
boat hauled up out of harm's way.
Never had I seen our harbour in a state of greater confusion. The
smaller craft continued to stand in sometimes two or three together,
many of them running foul of one another before they could bring up, and
others being driven on shore.
The larger vessels outside were getting down fresh anchors, and several
making sail were endeavouring to beat out of the bay, to obtain an
offing where they could ride out the gale.
A large number of the townsmen were engaged in securing the vessels,
when sounding high above the roar of the tempest a rapid fusillade was
heard in the direction of the lines, while shot after shot from the
enemy's batteries came hurtling into the town.
"The soldiers would be at their suppers at this hour," exclaimed Martin.
"I fear me much that the place has been surprised, and if so, it will
go hard with us. Hasten to your homes, young gentlemen, and await the
issue; I must to my post."
Martin, without waiting to see what we should do, taking his musket,
which he had placed near the boat, hurried away, as did all the men
engaged in securing the vessels. We followed, eager to know what was
taking place. The sound of bursting hand-grenades, the reports of
muskets and pistols, the shouts and shrieks which reached our ears,
showed us that the fight was raging much nearer than usual.
"There's no doubt about the enemy being in the town," cried Lancelot.
"We may as well die fighting as be killed like rats in a hole. Come on,
lads!"
We dashed forward through the market square, in a street leading from
which towards the lines we could see, by the bright and rapid flashes,
that hot fighting was going on. A party from the harbour had come up
just in time to stop the entrance into the square, and with loud shouts
they pressed onwards, while from the windows of every house there burst
forth bright flashes from arquebuse, musket, and pistol. To force our
way in that direction was impossible, so, led by Lancelot, we made a
wide circuit, until we reached the neighbourhood of the lines, where we
found a furious fight was also raging.
We met on our way several wounded men supported by mourning parties of
women, who had ventured up, even to the scene of the conflict, for the
sake of succouring those who had been struck down. Still, the fight in
the centre of the town continued, and at length we learned from one of
the wounded men that a large body of Cavaliers had forced their way into
the town, when Colonel Blake, closing in on their rear, had cut them
off, but though Malignants as they were, like gallant men they were
fighting desperately.
Meanwhile another party outside were endeavouring to drive back the
garrison and rescue them. The darkness increased, the south wind
bringing up a thick fog, which prevented our assailants from seeing
their way. Often the hand-grenades they intended for us were thrown
among their own companions, while our people plied them with every
weapon which could be mustered. The bullets came pinging against the
wall above where we were standing, but in our eagerness we boys heeded
not the risk we were running.
"Let us fight too!" exclaimed Lancelot, and we made our way on to the
trenches, where not only the soldiers, the volunteers, and the townsmen
were fighting, but women, with muskets in their hands, were firing away,
encouraging their companions with shouts and cheers. Lancelot had got
hold of a musket belonging to one of the garrison who had fallen, and
had taken his powder-horn and shot-belt. Dick and I, after hunting
about, succeeded in finding a couple of horse-pistols, but scarcely had
we fired them than the din in front of us ceased, though the report of
firearms to the right and left of us still continued. We could hear the
tramp of men and the cries and groans of the wounded in front, but the
uproar towards the market-place was quelled. No shots were heard, no
clashing of swords, no shouts and shrieks.
"The enemy have retreated! The Malignants are flying!" was the cry
passed along the lines.
Still, we could scarcely believe it possible. But an hour had passed
since the attack had commenced, and our little garrison had driven back
once more the well-equipped troops of Prince Maurice.
The storm raged fiercely during the night, and many fearing that another
attack might be made, the greater portion of the garrison remained under
arms, ready for any emergency.
Not until morning was the full extent of the Cavaliers' loss discovered.
Within the lines well-nigh four hundred men lay stark and stiff where
they had fallen, struck down by the fire from the houses and the fierce
onslaught in front and rear, few prisoners having been taken.
Outside the trenches a hundred more strewed the ground, among them many
officers of distinction, including Colonel Blewett, a gallant gentleman,
greatly esteemed by Maurice. We knew this, because early in the morning
the Prince sent a herald to request that he might be restored if a
prisoner, or that his body might be given up if dead.
A prisoner he was not, for every officer who had come inside the lines
had been slain. The Colonel answered that the body should be restored
if found, provided our people were not injured while searching for it
and burying the dead. Before long the body of the Cavalier was
discovered where he had fallen, at the entrance of the town, leading on
his men. It was placed with all decency in a coffin, and Colonel Blake
sent word that it was ready to be delivered up, and that he hoped, in
return, his friend Mr Harvey would be set at liberty.
The Prince, to the indignation of the garrison, replied that they might
keep the body, and refused to give up Mr Harvey. The coffin was,
notwithstanding, carried to the lines opposite Holme Bush, when a signal
was made to the heralds to come for it. Colonel Blake stood by to
receive them.
"Have you any orders to pay for the shroud and coffin?" he asked.
"We have received none," was the answer.
"Take them, notwithstanding," answered the Colonel, curling his
whiskers, as was his wont when angered. "We are not so poor but that we
can afford to give them to you."
The body was taken up by the men sent to fetch it, and slowly they
wended their way back to the camp. An officer approached while the flag
of truce was flying. He was one with whom Colonel Blake was acquainted.
"Here, friend," he said, "you see the weakness of our works. We trust
not to them. Tell Prince Maurice that should he desire to come in, we
will pull down a dozen yards, so that he may enter with ten men abreast,
and we will give him battle."
"Not so," answered the Royalist, stung by the reproach to the military
prowess of his party. "We will take our own time, but will come ere
long."
The Colonel replied by a scornful laugh.
All that day we enjoyed unusual quiet, for the Royalists had not the
heart again to attack us, though we were well aware they would do so
should occasion favour them.
Day after day and week after week went by, still our garrison held out.
Our provisions were running short, as was our ammunition, and should
that fail us--notwithstanding all the heroic efforts which had been
made--we should be compelled to yield.
My friend Dick was still very anxious about his father.
"I have an idea!" exclaimed Lancelot. "You, Dick, are like your sister
Mildred. Probably the Prince is not aware she is not in the town. What
say you to dressing up in her clothes, and taking Ben with you? he can
pretend to be your brother. He looks so young, no one would think of
injuring him more than they would you, supposing you to be a girl. You
can steal out at night; go boldly to the Prince, and say you wish to see
your father. He will scarcely refuse you. You can then tell Mr Harvey
your plan, and he is a man of wealth; the chances are he'll find the
means of bribing his guards. I meantime will sail along the shore, and
landing, arrange as I proposed about a horse, which I will have ready at
the foot of Charmouth Rise."
We kept our plan secret. I had some doubt whether I was acting rightly,
but I trusted that my father would not blame me. Audrey and Cicely were
delighted, and soon rigged up Dick, so that the keenest eye would not
have discovered that he was a boy.
That very night Lancelot, accompanied by Tom Noakes, who had charge of
his boat, put out of the harbour, and favoured by a light breeze, stood
along the shore. We slipped out and crept along past the sentries,
making our way to the east of Colway Hill. Every moment we expected to
be discovered, but a thick fog favoured our design, and we got away,
creeping along hedges and under banks, until we were clear outside the
enemy's entrenchments as well as our own.
Proceeding northward, we reached a wide-spreading tree on the top of a
high bank, where we sat down to rest and consult as to our future
course. The moon rising and the fog blowing off, we saw spread out
before us the white tents of the Cavalier army, covering a wide extent
of ground. We agreed that it would be wise to wait until daylight,
lest, approaching the camp, we might be shot by the sentries. Dick
produced some food which he had brought in his pocket. We ate it with
good appetites. We then stretched ourselves on the sward, not supposing
that we should go to sleep, but in spite of our anxiety we dropped off.
When we awoke it was broad daylight.
It was fortunate we were not discovered, for Dick's dress looked so
draggled and dirty that no one would have taken him for a young lady. I
set to work to brush and clean him, and make him more presentable. We
had resolved to walk boldly on unless challenged, until we could reach
the Prince's tent, when Dick would ask leave as if his request was sure
to be granted to see his father as though on family matters. If
refused, we would wait about the camp until we could find an opportunity
of gaining our object. We came sooner than we expected on a sentry, who
at once challenged us.
"You won't stop us, my good man," answered Dick, going up and slipping a
silver crown into his hand. "We have come to see our father, and surely
you would not interfere with two young children like us, who can do no
harm to anyone."
The man, a fresh recruit, who knew nothing about military discipline,
having pocketed the coin, was easily persuaded to allow us to proceed.
The next sentry Dick managed in the same way. We advanced, Dick holding
my hand, until we were within the camp. Several persons spoke to us,
but did not seem to think it necessary to interfere with our progress,
and at length, by dint of inquiring the way we found ourselves standing
before a large tent, occupied we were told, by Prince Maurice.
We were waiting for leave to enter, when the curtain was drawn aside,
and a Cavalier in cuirass and plumed hat, a light moustache, his locks
curling over his shoulders, came forth.
"Who are you, my pretty maiden?" he asked, looking at Dick.
"An' it please you, sir, I've come to see my father, who, we have heard,
is a prisoner in the camp, though why or wherefore he is detained we
cannot tell, for no more peaceable gentleman is to be found in the south
of England. We wish to deliver some messages to him, and learn how he
fares. Have we your permission, for you are, I opine, the general of
this army?"
The Prince, for that such he was we knew by the way the officers who
stood round addressed him, smiled as he replied--
"Say, who is your father?"
"Master Harvey, your highness," answered Dick.
"You have an arrant rebel for a father, then, I fear," said the Prince.
"Please, your highness, I know nothing of politics; all I desire is to
have a few words with my father, whom I am bound to honour, whether
Royalist or Roundhead, and then to quit the camp and return home."
The Prince, after exchanging a few words with one of the gentlemen
standing by, handed a piece of paper, on which he had written a few
lines, to Dick.
"Take this, maiden," he said; "it will gain your object. But,
understand, after you have seen your father, for your own sake, without
loss of time, you must return home."
Thankful that we had so easily accomplished the first part of our
enterprise--accompanied by one of the officers, who undertook to show us
the way--we set off for the cottage in which we were told Mr Harvey
with other prisoners were confined.