CHAT MOSS.
The pursuivant was taken so completely unawares by the sudden appearance
of Guy Fawkes and his companions, that he made no attempt at resistance.
Nor were his attendants less confounded. Before they recovered from
their surprise, Humphrey Chetham seized Viviana in his arms, and darting
through the panel, called to the priest to follow him. Father Oldcorne
was about to comply, when one of the soldiers, grasping the surcingle at
his waist, dragged him forcibly backwards. The next moment, however, he
was set free by Guy Fawkes, who, felling the man to the ground, and
interposing himself between the priest and the other soldier, enabled
the former to make good his retreat. This done, he planted himself in
front of the panel, and with a petronel in each hand, menaced his
opponents.
"Fly for your lives!" he shouted in a loud voice to the others. "Not a
moment is to be lost. I have taken greater odds, and in a worse cause,
and have not been worsted. Heed me not, I say. I will defend the passage
till you are beyond reach of danger. Fly!--fly!"
"After them!" vociferated the pursuivant, stamping with rage and
vexation; "after them instantly! Hew down that bold traitor. Show him no
quarter. His life is forfeit to the king. Slay him as you would a dog!"
But the men, having no fire-arms, were so much intimidated by the fierce
looks of Guy Fawkes, and the deadly weapons he pointed at their heads,
that they hesitated to obey their leader's injunctions.
"Do you hear what I say to you, cravens?" roared the pursuivant. "Cut
him down without mercy."
"They dare not move a footstep," rejoined Guy Fawkes, in a decisive
tone.
"Recreants!" cried the pursuivant, foaming with rage, "is my prey to be
snatched from me at the very moment I have secured it, through your
cowardice? Obey me instantly, or, as Heaven shall judge me, I will
denounce you to my Lord Derby and the Commissioners as aiders and
abettors in Father Oldcorne's escape!--and you well know what your
punishment will be if I do so. What!--are you afraid of one man?"
"Our pikes are no match for his petronels," observed the foremost
soldier, sullenly.
"They are not," rejoined Guy Fawkes; "and you will do well not to compel
me to prove the truth of your assertion. As to you, Master Pursuivant,"
he continued, with a look so stern that the other quailed before it,
"unwilling as I am to shed blood, I shall hold your life, if I am
compelled to take it, but just retribution for the fate you have brought
upon the unfortunate Elizabeth Orton.
"Ha!" exclaimed the pursuivant, starting. "I thought I recognised you.
You are the soldier in the Spanish garb who saved that false prophetess
from drowning."
"I saved her only for a more lingering death," rejoined Guy Fawkes.
"I know it," retorted the pursuivant. "I found her dead body when I
visited her cell on my way hither, and gave orders to have it interred
without coffin or shroud in that part of the burial-ground of the
Collegiate Church in Manchester reserved for common felons."
"I know not what stays my hand," rejoined Guy Fawkes, fiercely. "But I
am strongly tempted to give you a grave beside her."
"I will put your daring to the proof!" cried the pursuivant, snatching a
pike from one of his followers, and brandishing it over his head. "Throw
down your arms, or you die!"
"Back!" exclaimed Guy Fawkes, presenting a petronel at him, "or I lodge
a bullet in your brain."
"Be advised by me, and rush not on certain destruction, good Master
Pursuivant," said the foremost soldier, plucking his mantle. "I see by
his bloodthirsty looks that the villain is in earnest."
"I hear footsteps," cried the other soldier; "our comrades are at hand."
"Then it is time for me to depart," cried Guy Fawkes, springing through
the secret door, and closing it after him.
"Confusion!" exclaimed the pursuivant; "but he shall not escape. Break
open the panel."
The order was promptly obeyed. The men battered the stout oak board,
which was of great thickness, with their pikes, but it resisted every
effort, nor was it until the arrival of a fresh band of soldiers with
lights, mallets, chisels, and other implements suitable to the purpose,
that it could be forced open. This accomplished, the pursuivant,
commanding his attendants to follow him, dashed through the aperture. As
they proceeded singly along the narrow passage, the roof became so low
that they were compelled to adopt a stooping posture. In this manner
they hurried on until their further progress was stopped by a massive
stone door, which appeared to descend from above by some hidden
contrivance, no trace of bolt or other fastening being discernible. The
flag fitted closely in channels in the walls, and had all the appearance
of solid masonry. After examining this obstacle for a moment, the
pursuivant was convinced that any attempt to move it would be
impracticable, and muttering a deep execration, he gave the word to
return.
"From the course it appears to take," he observed, "this passage must
communicate with the garden,--perhaps with the further side of the moat.
We may yet secure them, if we use despatch."
To return to the fugitives. On arriving at the point where the stone
door was situated, which he discovered by the channels in the wall
above-mentioned, Guy Fawkes searched for an iron ring, and, having found
it, drew it towards him, and the ponderous flag slowly dropped into its
place. He then groped his way cautiously along in the dark, until his
foot encountered the top of a ladder, down which he crept, and landed on
the floor of a damp deep vault. Having taken the precaution to remove
the ladder, he hastened onwards for about fifty yards, when he came to a
steep flight of stone steps, distinguishable by a feeble glimmer of
light from above, and mounting them, emerged through an open trap-door
into a small building situated at the western side of the moat, where,
to his surprise and disappointment, he found the other fugitives.
"How comes it you are here?" he exclaimed, in a reproachful tone. "I
kept the wolves at bay thus long, to enable you to make good your
retreat."
"Miss Radcliffe is too weak to move," replied Humphrey Chetham; "and I
could not persuade Father Oldcorne to leave her."
"I care not what becomes of me," said the priest. "The sooner my painful
race is run the better. But I cannot--will not abandon my dear charge
thus."
"Think not of me, father, I implore you," rejoined Viviana, who had sunk
overpowered with terror and exhaustion. "I shall be better soon. Master
Chetham, I am assured, will remain with me till our enemies have
departed, and I will then return to the hall."
"Command me as you please, Miss Radcliffe," replied Humphrey Chetham.
"You have but to express a wish to insure its fulfilment on my part."
"Oh! that you had suffered Mr. Catesby to tarry with us till the
morning, as he himself proposed, dear daughter," observed the priest,
turning to Viviana.
"Has Catesby been here?" inquired Guy Fawkes, with a look of
astonishment.
"He has," replied Oldcorne. "He came to warn us that the hall would be
this night searched by the officers of state; and he also brought word
that a warrant had been issued by the Privy Council for the arrest of
Sir William Radcliffe."
"Where is he now?" demanded Fawkes, hastily.
"On the way to Chester, whither he departed in all haste, at Viviana's
urgent request, to apprise her father of his danger," rejoined the
priest.
"This is strange!" muttered Guy Fawkes. "Catesby here, and I not know
it!"
"He had a secret motive for his visit, my son," whispered Oldcorne,
significantly.
"So I conclude, father," replied Fawkes, in the same tone.
"Viviana Radcliffe," murmured Humphrey Chetham, in low and tender
accents, "something tells me that this moment will decide my future
fate. Emboldened by the mysterious manner in which we have been brought
together, and you, as it were, have been thrown upon my protection, I
venture to declare the passion I have long indulged for you;--a passion
which, though deep and fervent as ever agitated human bosom, has
hitherto, from the difference of our rank, and yet more from the
difference of our religious opinions, been without hope. What has just
occurred,--added to the peril in which your worthy father stands, and
the difficulties in which you yourself will necessarily be
involved,--makes me cast aside all misgiving, and perhaps with too much
presumption, but with a confident belief that the sincerity of my love
renders me not wholly undeserving of your regard, earnestly solicit you
to give me a husband's right to watch over and defend you."
Viviana was silent. But even by the imperfect light the young merchant
could discern that her cheek was covered with blushes.
"Your answer?" he cried, taking her hand.
"You must take it from my lips, Master Chetham," interposed the priest;
"Viviana Radcliffe never can be yours."
"Be pleased to let her speak for herself, reverend sir," rejoined the
young merchant, angrily.
"I represent her father, and have acquainted you with his
determination," rejoined the priest. "Appeal to her, and she will
confirm my words."
"Viviana, is this true?" asked Chetham. "Does your father object to your
union with me?"
Viviana answered by a deep sigh, and gently withdrew her hand from the
young merchant's grasp.
"Then there is no hope for me?" cried Chetham.
"Alas! no," replied Viviana; "nor for me--of earthly affection. I am
already dead to the world."
"How so?" he asked.
"I am about to vow myself to Heaven," she answered.
"Viviana!" exclaimed the young man, throwing himself at her feet,
"reflect!--oh! reflect, before you take this fatal--this irrevocable
step."
"Rise, sir," interposed the priest, sternly; "you plead in vain. Sir
William Radcliffe will never wed his daughter to a heretic. In his name
I command you to desist from further solicitation."
"I obey," replied Chetham, rising.
"We lose time here," observed Guy Fawkes, who had been lost for a moment
in reflection. "I will undertake to provide for your safety, father.
But, what must be done with Viviana? She cannot be left here. And her
return to the hall would be attended with danger."
"I will not return till the miscreants have quitted it," said Viviana.
"Their departure is uncertain," replied Fawkes. "When they are baulked
of their prey they sometimes haunt a dwelling for weeks."
"What will become of me?" cried Viviana, distractedly.
"It were vain, I fear, to entreat you to accept an asylum with my father
at Clayton Hall, or at my own residence at Crumpsall," said Humphrey
Chetham.
"Your offer is most kind, sir," replied Oldcorne, "and is duly
appreciated. But Viviana will see the propriety--on every account--of
declining it."
"I do; I do," she acquiesced.
"Will you entrust yourself to my protection?" observed Fawkes.
"Willingly," replied the priest, answering for her. "We shall find some
place of refuge," he added, turning to Viviana, "where your father can
join us, and where we can remain concealed till this storm has blown
over."
"I know many such," rejoined Fawkes, "both in this county and in
Yorkshire, and will guide you to one."
"My horses are at your service," said Humphrey Chetham. "They are tied
beneath the trees in the avenue. My servant shall bring them to the
door," and, turning to his attendant, he gave him directions to that
effect. "I was riding hither an hour before midnight," he continued,
addressing Viviana, "to offer you assistance, having accidentally heard
the pursuivant mention his meditated visit to Ordsall Hall, to one of
his followers, when, as I approached the gates, this person," pointing
to Guy Fawkes, "crossed my path, and, seizing the bridle of my steed,
demanded whether I was a friend to Sir William Radcliffe. I answered in
the affirmative, and desired to know the motive of his inquiry. He then
told me that the house was invested by a numerous band of armed men, who
had crossed the moat by means of a plank, and were at that moment
concealed within the garden. This intelligence, besides filling me with
alarm, disconcerted all my plans, as I hoped to have been beforehand
with them--their inquisitorial searches being generally made at a late
hour, when all the inmates of a house intended to be surprised are
certain to have retired to rest. While I was bitterly reproaching myself
for my dilatoriness, and considering what course it would be best to
pursue, my servant, Martin Heydocke, son to your father's old steward,
who had ridden up at the stranger's approach, informed me that he was
acquainted with a secret passage communicating beneath the moat with the
hall. Upon this, I dismounted; and fastening my horse to a tree, ordered
him to lead me to it without an instant's delay. The stranger, who gave
his name as Guy Fawkes, and professed himself a stanch Catholic, and a
friend of Father Oldcorne, begged permission to join us, in a tone so
earnest, that I at once acceded to his request. We then proceeded to
this building, and after some search discovered the trap-door. Much time
was lost, owing to our being unprovided with lights, in the subterranean
passage; and it was more than two hours before we could find the ring
connected with the stone door, the mystery of which Martin explained to
us. This delay we feared would render our scheme abortive, when, just as
we reached the panel, we heard your shrieks. The spring was touched,
and--you know the rest."
"And shall never forget it," replied Viviana, in a tone of the deepest
gratitude.
At this juncture, the tramp of horses was heard at the door; and the
next moment it was thrown open by the younger Heydocke, who, with a
look, and in a voice of the utmost terror, exclaimed, "They are
coming!--they are coming!"
"The pursuivant?" cried Guy Fawkes.
"Not him alone, but the whole gang," rejoined Martin. "Some of them are
lowering the drawbridge, while others are crossing the plank. Several
are on horseback, and I think I discern the pursuivant amongst the
number. They have seen me, and are hurrying in this direction."
As he spoke, a loud shout corroborated his statement.
"We are lost!" exclaimed Oldcorne.
"Do not despair, father," rejoined Guy Fawkes. "Heaven will not abandon
its faithful servants. The Lord will deliver us out of the hands of
these Amalekites."
"To horse, then, if you would indeed avoid them," urged Humphrey
Chetham. "The shouts grow louder. Your enemies are fast approaching."
"Viviana," said Guy Fawkes, "are you willing to fly with us?"
"I will do anything rather than be left to those horrible men," she
answered.
Guy Fawkes then raised her in his arms, and sprang with his lovely
burthen upon the nearest charger. His example was quickly followed by
Humphrey Chetham, who, vaulting on the other horse, assisted the priest
to mount behind him. While this took place, Martin Heydocke darted into
the shed, and instantly bolted the door.
It was a beautiful moonlight night, almost as bright as day, and the
movements of each party were fully revealed to the other. Guy Fawkes
perceived at a glance that they were surrounded; and, though he had no
fears for himself, he was full of apprehension for the safety of his
companion. While he was debating with himself as to the course it would
be best to pursue, Humphrey Chetham shouted to him to turn to the left,
and started off in that direction. Grasping his fair charge, whom he had
placed before him on the saddle, firmly with his left arm, and wrapping
her in his ample cloak, Guy Fawkes drew his sword, and striking spurs
into his steed, followed in the same track.
The little fabric which had afforded them temporary shelter, it has
already been mentioned, was situated on the west of the hall, at a short
distance from the moat, and was screened from observation by a small
shrubbery. No sooner did the fugitives emerge from this cover, than loud
outcries were raised by their antagonists, and every effort was made to
intercept them. On the right, galloping towards them on a light but
swift courser, taken from Sir William Radcliffe's stables, came the
pursuivant, attended by half-a-dozen troopers, who had accommodated
themselves with horses in the same manner as their leader. Between them
and the road leading to Manchester, were stationed several armed men on
foot. At the rear, voices proclaimed that others were in full pursuit;
while in front, a fourth detachment menaced them with their pikes. Thus
beset on all sides, it seemed scarcely possible to escape. Nothing
daunted, however, by the threats and vociferations with which they were
received, the two horsemen boldly charged this party. The encounter was
instantaneous. Guy Fawkes warded off a blow, which, if it had taken
effect, must have robbed Viviana of life, and struck down the fellow who
aimed it. At the same moment, his career was checked by another
assailant, who, catching his bridle with the hook of his pike, commanded
him to surrender. Fawkes replied by cleaving the man's staff asunder,
and, having thus disembarrassed himself, was about to pursue his
course, when he perceived that Humphrey Chetham was in imminent danger
from a couple of soldiers who had stopped him, and were trying to
unhorse his companion. Riding up to them, Guy Fawkes, by a vigorous and
well-directed attack, speedily drove them off; and the fugitives, being
now unimpeded, were enabled to continue their career.
The foregoing occurrences were witnessed by the pursuivant with the
utmost rage and vexation. Pouring forth a torrent of threats and
imprecations, he swore he would never rest till he had secured them, and
urging his courser to its utmost speed, commanded his men to give chase.
Skirting a sluice, communicating between the Irwell and the moat,
Humphrey Chetham, who, as better acquainted with the country than his
companions, took the lead, proceeded along its edge for about a hundred
yards, when he suddenly struck across a narrow bridge covered with sod,
and entered the open fields. Hitherto Viviana had remained silent.
Though fully aware of the risk she had run, she gave no sign of
alarm--not even when the blow was aimed against her life; and it was
only on conceiving the danger in some degree past, that she ventured to
express her gratitude.
"You have displayed so much courage," said Guy Fawkes, in answer to her
speech, "that it would be unpardonable to deceive you. Our foes are too
near us, and too well mounted, to make it by any means certain we shall
escape them,--unless by stratagem."
"They are within a hundred yards of us," cried Humphrey Chetham,
glancing fearfully backwards. "They have possessed themselves of your
father's fleetest horses; and, if I mistake not, the rascally pursuivant
has secured your favourite barb."
"My gentle Zayda!" exclaimed Viviana. "Then indeed we are lost. She has
not her match for speed."
"If she bring her rider to us alone, she will do us good service,"
observed Guy Fawkes, significantly.
The same notion, almost at the same moment, occurred to the pursuivant.
Having witnessed the prowess displayed by Guy Fawkes in his recent
attack on the soldiers, he felt no disposition to encounter so
formidable an opponent single-handed; and finding that the high-mettled
barb on which he was mounted, by its superior speed and fiery temper,
would inevitably place him in such a dilemma, he prudently resolved to
halt, and exchange it for a more manageable steed.
This delay was of great service to the fugitives, and enabled them to
get considerably ahead. They had now gained a narrow lane, and, tracking
it, speedily reached the rocky banks of the Irwell. Galloping along a
foot-path that followed the serpentine course of the stream for a
quarter of a mile, they arrived at a spot marked by a bed of osiers,
where Humphrey Chetham informed them there was a ford.
Accordingly, they plunged into the river, and while stemming the
current, which here ran with great swiftness, and rose up above the
saddles, the neighing of a steed was heard from the bank they had
quitted. Turning at the sound, Viviana beheld her favourite courser on
the summit of a high rock. The soldier to whom Zayda was intrusted had
speedily, as the pursuivant foresaw, distanced his companions, and chose
this elevated position to take sure aim at Guy Fawkes, against whom he
was now levelling a caliver. The next moment a bullet struck against his
brigandine, but without doing him any injury. The soldier, however, did
not escape so lightly. Startled by the discharge, the fiery barb leaped
from the precipice into the river, and throwing her rider, who was borne
off by the rapid stream, swam towards the opposite bank, which she
reached just as the others were landing. At the sound of her mistress's
voice she stood still, and allowed Humphrey Chetham to lay hold of her
bridle; and Viviana declaring she was able to mount her, Guy Fawkes, who
felt that such an arrangement was most likely to conduce to her safety,
and who was, moreover, inclined to view the occurrence as a providential
interference in their behalf, immediately assisted her into the saddle.
Before this transfer could be effected, the pursuivant and his
attendants had begun to ford the stream. The former had witnessed the
accident that had befallen the soldier from a short distance; and, while
he affected to deplore it, internally congratulated himself on his
prudence and foresight. But he was by no means so well satisfied when he
saw how it served to benefit the fugitives.
"That unlucky beast!" he exclaimed. "Some fiend must have prompted me to
bring her out of the stable. Would she had drowned herself instead of
poor Dickon Duckesbury, whom she hath sent to feed the fishes! With her
aid, Miss Radcliffe will doubtless escape. No matter. If I secure Father
Oldcorne, and that black-visaged trooper in the Spanish garb, who, I'll
be sworn, is a secret intelligencer of the pope, if not of the devil, I
shall be well contented. I'll hang them both on a gibbet higher than
Haman's."
And muttering other threats to the same effect, he picked his way to the
opposite shore. Long before he reached it, the fugitives had
disappeared; but on climbing the bank, he beheld them galloping swiftly
across a well-wooded district steeped in moonlight, and spread out
before his view, and inflamed by the sight he shouted to his attendants,
and once more started in pursuit.
Cheered by the fortunate incident above related, which, in presenting
her with her own steed in a manner so surprising and unexpected, seemed
almost to give her assurance of deliverance, Viviana, inspirited by the
exercise, felt her strength and spirits rapidly revive. At her side rode
Guy Fawkes, who ever and anon cast an anxious look behind, to ascertain
the distance of their pursuers, but suffered no exclamation to escape
his lips. Indeed, throughout the whole affair, he maintained the reserve
belonging to his sombre and taciturn character, and neither questioned
Humphrey Chetham as to where he was leading them, nor proposed any
deviation from the route he had apparently chosen. To such remarks as
were addressed to him, Fawkes answered in monosyllables; and it was only
when occasion required, that he volunteered any observation or advice.
He seemed to surrender himself to chance. And perhaps, if his bosom
could have been examined, it would have been found that he considered
himself a mere puppet in the hands of destiny.
In other and calmer seasons, he might have dwelt with rapture on the
beautiful and varied country through which they were speeding, and which
from every knoll they mounted, every slope they descended, every glade
they threaded, intricacy pierced, or tangled dell tracked, presented new
and increasing attractions. This charming district, since formed into a
park by the Traffords, from whom it derives its present designation, was
at this time,--though part of the domain of that ancient family,--wholly
unenclosed. Old Trafford Hall lies (for it is still in existence,) more
than a mile nearer to Manchester, a little to the east of Ordsall Hall;
but the modern residence of the family is situated in the midst of the
lovely region through which the fugitives were riding.
But, though the charms of the scene, heightened by the gentle medium
through which they were viewed, produced little effect upon the iron
nature of Guy Fawkes, they were not without influence on his companions,
especially Viviana. Soothed by the stillness of all around her, she
almost forgot her danger; and surrendering herself to the dreamy
enjoyment generally experienced in contemplating such a scene at such an
hour, suffered her gaze to wander over the fair woody landscape before
her, till it was lost in the distant moonlit wolds.
From the train of thought naturally awakened by this spectacle, she was
roused by the shouts of the pursuers; and, glancing timorously behind
her, beheld them hurrying swiftly along the valley they had just
quitted. From the rapidity with which they were advancing, it was
evident they were gaining upon them, and she was about to urge her
courser to greater speed, when Humphrey Chetham laid his hand upon the
rein to check her.
"Reserve yourself till we gain the brow of this hill," he remarked; "and
then put Zayda to her mettle. We are not far from our destination."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Viviana. "Where is it?"
"I will show it to you presently," he answered.
Arrived at the summit of the high ground, which they had been for some
time gradually ascending, the young merchant pointed out a vast boggy
tract, about two miles off, in the vale beneath them.
"That is our destination," he said.
"Did I not hold it impossible you could trifle with me at such a time as
this, I should say you were jesting," rejoined Viviana. "The place you
indicate, unless I mistake you, is Chat Moss, the largest and most
dangerous marsh in Lancashire."
"You do not mistake me, neither am I jesting, Viviana," replied the
young merchant, gravely. "Chat Moss _is_ the mark at which I aim."
"If we are to cross it, we shall need a Will-o'-the-wisp to guide us,
and some friendly elf to make firm the ground beneath our steeds,"
rejoined Viviana, in a slightly-sarcastic tone.
"Trust to me and you shall traverse it in safety," resumed Humphrey
Chetham.
"I would sooner trust myself to the pursuivant and his band, than
venture upon its treacherous surface," she replied.
"How is this, young sir?" interposed Guy Fawkes, sternly. "Is it from
heedlessness or rashness that you are about to expose us to this new
danger?--which, if Viviana judges correctly, and my own experience of
such places inclines me to think she does so,--is greater than that
which now besets us."
"If there is any danger I shall be the first to encounter it, for I
propose to act as your guide," returned Humphrey Chetham, in an offended
tone. "But the treacherous character of the marsh constitutes our
safety. I am acquainted with a narrow path across it, from which the
deviation of a foot will bring certain death. If our pursuers attempt to
follow us their destruction is inevitable. Viviana may rest assured I
would not needlessly expose so dear a life as hers. But it is our best
chance of safety."
"Humphrey Chetham is in the right," observed the priest. "I have heard
of the path he describes; and if he can guide us along it, we shall
effectually baffle our enemies."
"I cry you mercy, sir," said Viviana. "I did not apprehend your meaning.
But I now thankfully resign myself to your care."
"Forward, then," cried the young merchant. And they dashed swiftly down
the declivity.
Chat Moss, towards which they were hastening, though now drained, in
part cultivated, and traversed by the busiest and most-frequented
railroad in England, or the world, was, within the recollection of many
of the youngest of the present generation, a dreary and almost
impassable waste. Surveyed from the heights of Dunham, whence the
writer has often gazed upon it, envying the plover her wing to skim over
its broad expanse, it presented with its black boggy soil, striped like
a motley garment, with patches of grey, tawny, and dunnish red, a
singular and mysterious appearance. Conjecture fixes this morass as the
site of a vast forest, whose immemorial and Druid-haunted groves were
burnt by the Roman invaders; and seeks to account for its present
condition by supposing that the charred trees--still frequently found
within its depths--being left where the conflagration had placed them,
had choked up its brooks and springs, and so reduced it to a general
swamp. Drayton, however, in the following lines from the Faerie Land,
places its origin as far back as the Deluge:--
----Great Chat Moss at my fall
Lies fall of turf and marl, her unctuous mineral;
And blocks as black as pitch, with boring augers found,
There at the General Flood supposed to be drown'd.
But the former hypothesis appears the more probable. A curious
description of Chat Moss, as it appeared at the time of this history, is
furnished by Camden, who terms it, "a swampy tract of great extent, a
considerable part of which was carried off in the last age by swollen
rivers with great danger, whereby the rivers were infected, and great
quantities of fish died. Instead thereof is now a valley watered by a
small stream; and many trees were discovered thrown down, and lying
flat, so that one may suppose when the ground lay neglected, and the
waste water of brooks was not drained off into the open valleys, or
their courses stopped by neglect or desolation, all the lower grounds
were turned into swamps, (which we call _mosses_,) or into pools. If
this was the case, no wonder so many trees are found covered, and, as it
were, buried in such places all over England, but especially here. For
the roots being loosened by too excessive wet, they must necessarily
fall down and sink in so soft a soil. The people hereabouts search for
them with poles and spits, and after marking the place, dig them up and
use them for firing, for they are like torches, equally fit to burn and
to give light, which is probably owing to the bituminous earth that
surrounds them, whence the common people suppose them firs, though Caesar
denies that there were such trees in Britain."
But, though vast masses of the bog had been carried off by the Irwell
and the Mersey, as related by Camden, the general appearance of the
waste,--with the exception of the valley and the small stream,--was much
the same as it continued to our own time. Its surface was more broken
and irregular, and black gaping chasms and pits filled with water and
slime as dark-coloured as the turf whence it flowed, pointed out the
spots where the swollen and heaving swamp had burst its bondage. Narrow
paths, known only to the poor turf-cutters and other labourers who dwelt
upon its borders, and gathered fuel with poles and spits in the manner
above described, intersected it at various points. But as they led in
many cases to dangerous and deep gulfs, to dismal quagmires and
fathomless pits; and, moreover, as the slightest departure from the
proper track would have whelmed the traveller in an oozy bed, from
which, as from a quicksand, he would have vainly striven to extricate
himself,--it was never crossed without a guide, except by those familiar
with its perilous courses. One painful circumstance connected with the
history of Chat Moss remains to be recorded--namely, that the attempt
made to cultivate it by the great historian Roscoe,--an attempt since
carried out, as has already been shown, with complete success,--ended in
a result ruinous to the fortunes of that highly-gifted person, who, up
to the period of this luckless undertaking, was as prosperous as he was
meritorious.
By this time the fugitives had approached the confines of the marsh. An
accident, however, had just occurred, which nearly proved fatal to
Viviana, and, owing to the delay it occasioned, brought their pursuers
into dangerous proximity with them. In fording the Irwell, which, from
its devious course, they were again compelled to cross, about a quarter
of a mile below Barton, her horse missed its footing, and precipitated
her into the rapid current. In another instant she would have been borne
away, if Guy Fawkes had not flung himself into the water, and seized her
before she sank. Her affrighted steed, having got out of its depth,
began to swim off, and it required the utmost exertion on the part of
Humphrey Chetham, embarrassed as he was by the priest, to secure it. In
a few minutes all was set to rights, and Viviana was once more placed on
the saddle, without having sustained further inconvenience than was
occasioned by her dripping apparel. But those few minutes, as has been
just stated, sufficed to bring the pursuivant and his men close upon
them; and as they scrambled up the opposite bank, the plunging and
shouting behind them told that the latter had entered the stream.
"Yonder is Baysnape," exclaimed Humphrey Chetham, calling Viviana's
attention to a ridge of high ground on the borders of the waste. "Below
it lies the path by which I propose to enter the moss. We shall speedily
be out of the reach of our enemies."
"The marsh at least will hide us," answered Viviana, with a shudder. "It
is a terrible alternative."
"Fear nothing, dear daughter," observed the priest. "The saints, who
have thus marvellously protected us, will continue to watch over us to
the end, and will make the path over yon perilous waste as safe as the
ground on which we tread."
"I like not the appearance of the sky," observed Guy Fawkes, looking
uneasily upwards. "Before we reach the spot you have pointed out, the
moon will be obscured. Will it be safe to traverse the moss in the
dark?"
"It is our only chance," replied the young merchant, speaking in a low
tone, that his answer might not reach Viviana's ears; "and after all,
the darkness may be serviceable. Our pursuers are so near, that if it
were less gloomy, they might hit upon the right track. It will be a risk
to us to proceed, but certain destruction to those who follow. And now
let us make what haste we can. Every moment is precious."
The dreary and fast darkening waste had now opened upon them in all its
horrors. Far as the gaze could reach appeared an immense expanse, flat
almost as the surface of the ocean, and unmarked, so far as could be
discerned in that doubtful light, by any trace of human footstep or
habitation. It was a stern and sombre prospect, and calculated to
inspire terror in the stoutest bosom. What effect it produced on Viviana
may be easily conjectured. But her nature was brave and enduring, and,
though she trembled so violently as scarcely to be able to keep her
seat, she gave no utterance to her fears. They were now skirting that
part of the morass since denominated, from the unfortunate speculation
previously alluded to, "Roscoe's Improvements." This tract was the worst
and most dangerous portion of the whole moss. Soft, slabby, and
unsubstantial, its treacherous beds scarcely offered secure footing to
the heron that alighted on them. The ground shook beneath the fugitives
as they hurried past the edge of the groaning and quivering marsh. The
plover, scared from its nest, uttered its peculiar and plaintive cry;
the bittern shrieked; other night-fowl poured forth their doleful notes;
and the bull-frog added its deep croak to the ominous concert. Behind
them came the thundering tramp and loud shouts of their pursuers. Guy
Fawkes had judged correctly. Before they reached Baysnape the moon had
withdrawn behind a rack of clouds, and it had become profoundly dark.
Arrived at this point, Humphrey Chetham called to them to turn off to
the right.
"Follow singly," he said, "and do not swerve a hair's breadth from the
path. The slightest deviation will be fatal. Do you, sir," he added to
the priest, "mount behind Guy Fawkes, and let Viviana come next after
me. If I should miss my way, do not stir for your life."
The transfer effected, the fugitives turned off to the right, and
proceeded at a cautious pace along a narrow and shaking path. The ground
trembled so much beneath them, and their horses' feet sank so deeply in
the plashy bog, that Viviana demanded, in a tone of some uneasiness, if
he was sure he had taken the right course?
"If I had not," replied Humphrey Chetham, "we should ere this have found
our way to the bottom of the morass."
As he spoke, a floundering plunge, accompanied by a horrible and
quickly-stifled cry, told that one of their pursuers had perished in
endeavouring to follow them.
"The poor wretch is gone to his account," observed Viviana, in a tone of
commiseration. "Have a care!--have a care, lest you share the same
fate."
"If I can save you, I care not what becomes of me," replied the young
merchant. "Since I can never hope to possess you, life has become
valueless in my eyes."
"Quicken your pace," shouted Guy Fawkes, who brought up the rear. "Our
pursuers have discovered the track, and are making towards us."
"Let them do so," replied the young merchant. "They can do us no farther
injury."
"That is false!" cried the voice of a soldier from behind. And, as the
words were uttered, a shot was fired, which, though aimed against
Chetham, took effect upon his steed. The animal staggered, and his rider
had only time to slide from his back when he reeled off the path, and
was ingulfed in the marsh.
Hearing the plunge of the steed, the man fancied he had hit his mark,
and hallooed in an exulting voice to his companions. But his triumph was
of short duration. A ball from the petronel of Guy Fawkes pierced his
brain, and dropping from his saddle, he sank, together with his horse,
which he dragged along with him into the quagmire.
"Waste no more shot," cried Humphrey Chetham; "the swamp will fight our
battles for us. Though I grieve for the loss of my horse, I may be
better able to guide you on foot."
With this, he seized Viviana's bridle, and drew her steed along at a
quick pace, but with the greatest caution. As they proceeded, a light
like that of a lantern was seen to rise from the earth, and approach
them.
"Heaven be praised!" exclaimed Viviana: "some one has heard us, and is
hastening to our assistance."
"Not so," replied Humphrey Chetham. "The light you behold is an _ignis
fatuus_. Were you to trust yourself to its delusive gleam, it would lead
you to the most dangerous parts of the moss."
And, as if to exhibit its real character, the little flame, which
hitherto had burnt as brightly and steadily as a wax-candle, suddenly
appeared to dilate, and assuming a purple tinge, emitted a shower of
sparks, and then flitted rapidly over the plain.
"Woe to him that follows it!" cried Humphrey Chetham.
"It has a strange unearthly look," observed Viviana, crossing herself.
"I have much difficulty in persuading myself it is not the work of some
malignant sprite."
"It is only an exhalation of the marsh," replied Chetham. "But, see!
others are at hand."
Their approach, indeed, seemed to have disturbed all the weird children
of the waste. Lights were seen trooping towards them in every direction;
sometimes stopping, sometimes rising in the air, now contracting, now
expanding, and when within a few yards of the travellers, retreating
with inconceivable swiftness.
"It is a marvellous and incomprehensible spectacle," remarked Viviana.
"The common folk hereabouts affirm that these Jack-o'-lanterns, as they
term them, always appear in greater numbers when some direful
catastrophe is about to take place," rejoined the young merchant.
"Heaven avert it from us," ejaculated Viviana.
"It is an idle superstition," returned Chetham. "But we must now keep
silence," he continued, lowering his voice, and stopping near the
charred stump of a tree, left, it would seem, as a mark. "The road turns
here; and, unless our pursuers know it, we shall now quit them for ever.
We must not let a sound betray the course we are about to take."
Having turned this dangerous corner in safety, and conducted his
companions as noiselessly as possible for a few yards along the cross
path, which being much narrower was consequently more perilous than the
first, Humphrey Chetham stood still, and, imposing silence upon the
others, listened to the approach of their pursuers. His prediction was
speedily and terribly verified. Hearing the movement in advance, but
unable to discover the course taken by the fugitives, the unfortunate
soldiers, fearful of losing their prey, quickened their pace, in the
expectation of instantly overtaking them. They were fatally undeceived.
Four only of their number, besides their leader, remained,--two having
perished in the manner heretofore described. The first of these,
disregarding the caution of his comrade, laughingly urged his horse into
a gallop, and, on passing the mark, sunk as if by magic, and before he
could utter a single warning cry, into the depths of the morass. His
disappearance was so instantaneous, that the next in order, though he
heard the sullen plunge, was unable to draw in the rein, and was
likewise ingulfed. A third followed; and a fourth, in his efforts to
avoid their fate, backed his steed over the slippery edge of the path.
Only one now remained. It was the pursuivant, who, with the prudence
that characterized all his proceedings, had followed in the rear. He was
so dreadfully frightened, that, adding his shrieks to those of his
attendants, he shouted to the fugitives, imploring assistance in the
most piteous terms, and promising never again to molest them, if they
would guide him to a place of safety. But his cries were wholly
unheeded; and he perhaps endured in those few minutes of agony as much
suffering as he had inflicted on the numerous victims of his barbarity.
It was indeed an appalling moment. Three of the wretched men had not yet
sunk, but were floundering about in the swamp, and shrieking for help.
The horses, as much terrified as their riders, added their piercing
cries to the half-suffocated yells. And, as if to make the scene more
ghastly, myriads of dancing lights flitted towards them, and throwing an
unearthly glimmer over this part of the morass, fully revealed their
struggling figures. Moved by compassion for the poor wretches, Viviana
implored Humphrey Chetham to assist them, and, finding him immovable,
she appealed to Guy Fawkes.
"They are beyond all human aid," the latter replied.
"Heaven have mercy on their souls!" ejaculated the priest "Pray for
them, dear daughter. Pray heartily, as I am about to do." And he recited
in an audible voice the Romish formula of supplication for those _in
extremis_.
Averting her gaze from the spectacle, Viviana joined fervently in the
prayer.
By this time two of the strugglers had disappeared. The third, having
freed himself from his horse, contrived for some moments, during which
he uttered the most frightful cries, to keep his head above the swamp.
His efforts were tremendous, but unavailing, and served only to
accelerate his fate. Making a last desperate plunge towards the bank
where the fugitives were standing, he sank above the chin. The
expression of his face, shown by the ghastly glimmer of the fen-fires,
as he was gradually swallowed up, was horrible.
"_Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine_," exclaimed the priest.
"All is over," cried Humphrey Chetham, taking the bridle of Viviana's
steed, and leading her onwards. "We are free from our pursuers."
"There is one left," she rejoined, casting a look backwards.
"It is the pursuivant," returned Guy Fawkes, sternly. "He is within
shot," he added, drawing his petronel.
"Oh, no--no!--in pity spare him!" cried Viviana. "Too many lives have
been sacrificed already."
"He is the cause of all the mischief," answered Guy Fawkes, unwillingly
replacing the petronel in his belt, "and may live to injure you and your
father."
"I will hope not," rejoined Viviana; "but, spare him!--oh, spare him!"
"Be it as you please," replied Guy Fawkes. "The marsh, I trust, will not
be so merciful."
With this, they slowly resumed their progress. On hearing their
departure, the pursuivant renewed his cries in a more piteous tone than
ever; but, in spite of the entreaties of Viviana, nothing could induce
her companions to lend him assistance.
For some time they proceeded in silence, and without accident. As they
advanced, the difficulties of the path increased, and it was fortunate
that the moon, emerging from the clouds in which, up to this moment, she
had been shrouded, enabled them to steer their course in safety. At
length, after a tedious and toilsome march for nearly half a mile, the
footing became more secure, the road widened, and they were able to
quicken their pace. Another half mile landed them upon the western bank
of the morass. Viviana's first impulse was to give thanks to Heaven for
their deliverance, nor did she omit in her prayer a supplication for the
unfortunate beings who had perished.
Arrived at the point now known as Rawson Nook, they entered a lane, and
proceeded towards Astley Green, where perceiving a cluster of thatched
cottages among the trees, they knocked at the door of the first, and
speedily obtained admittance from its inmates, a turf-cutter and his
wife. The man conveyed their steeds to a neighbouring barn, while the
good dame offered Viviana such accommodation and refreshment as her
humble dwelling afforded. Here they tarried till the following evening,
as much to recruit Miss Radcliffe's strength, as for security.
At the young merchant's request, the turf-cutter went in the course of
the day to see what had become of the pursuivant. He was nowhere to be
found. But he accidentally learned from another hind, who followed the
same occupation as himself, that a person answering to the officer's
description had been seen to emerge from the moss near Baysnape at
daybreak, and take the road towards Manchester. Of the unfortunate
soldiers nothing but a steel cap and a pike, which the man brought away
with him, could be discovered.
After much debate, it was decided that their safest plan would be to
proceed to Manchester, where Humphrey Chetham undertook to procure them
safe lodgings at the Seven Stars,--an excellent hostel, kept by a worthy
widow, who, he affirmed, would do anything to serve him. Accordingly,
they set out at nightfall,--Viviana taking her place before Guy Fawkes,
and relinquishing Zayda to the young merchant and the priest. Shaping
their course through Worsley, by Monton Green and Pendleton, they
arrived in about an hour within sight of the town, which then,--not a
tithe of its present size, and unpolluted by the smoky atmosphere in
which it is now constantly enveloped,--was not without some pretensions
to a picturesque appearance. Crossing Salford Bridge, they mounted
Smithy-Bank, as it was then termed, and proceeding along Cateaton-street
and Hanging Ditch, struck into Whithing (now Withy) Grove, at the right
of which, just where a few houses were beginning to straggle up Shude
Hill, stood, and still stands, the comfortable hostel of the Seven
Stars. Here they stopped, and were warmly welcomed by its buxom
mistress, Dame Sutcliffe. Muffled in Guy Fawkes's cloak, the priest
gained the chamber to which he was ushered unobserved. And Dame
Sutcliffe, though her Protestant notions were a little scandalized at
her dwelling being made the sanctuary of a Popish priest, promised, at
the instance of Master Chetham, whom she knew to be no favourer of
idolatry in a general way, to be answerable for his safety.