We must now return to Eversden. Months had passed by since Roger and
Stephen had sailed from Bristol, and no news had been received of them.
At length one day Mr Battiscombe made his appearance, having ridden
over from Langton Park, and desired to have a word with the Colonel
alone. He looked graver and sadder than usual.
"I bring you news," he said, "and I beg you to break it to my friend
Willoughby. Our two sons, as you know, sailed in the _Dolphin_. The
owners write me word that so long a time has elapsed since they heard of
her without receiving tidings of her, that they are compelled to give
her up as lost. She had not been heard of at any of the ports up the
Mediterranean. It is within the pale of possibility that the lads may
have escaped, yet surely we should have heard."
"God's will be done," said Mr Willoughby when he heard the account. "I
will not give up all hope of their return, though what has happened to
them it is indeed hard to guess; still there are chances by which they
may have effected their escape."
Though he could not at all times hide his grief, yet he bore up
remarkably well. The only person in the family who would not consent to
believe that Roger and Stephen were lost was Alice Tufnell.
"If it had been known that the _Dolphin_ had gone down, and there was
one survivor who could report that all the rest had perished, we might
then believe that the ship had foundered," she said, talking to Madam
Pauline. "Who can tell but that the _Dolphin_ may have been driven on
the shore of some unknown island, whence the crew have been hitherto
unable to escape? I have read of many such adventures. The ocean is
very wide, and perhaps Roger and Stephen are even now living the lives
of castaways, and engaged, may be, in building a vessel in which they
will some day return home. If I were a man I should like to fit out a
ship and go in search of them."
"My dear, such undertakings appear very easy to the imagination, but
practically the matter is very different," answered Madam Pauline. "It
would be like looking for a needle in a bundle of hay. Supposing that
the two dear lads are still alive, you would not know in what direction
to go. You might sail about the ocean for years and visit every known
and unknown island, and yet not find them. We must have patience and
simply trust in God's mercy to bring them back if He had thought fit to
save their lives."
When, however, not only month after month, but year after year went by,
and the young men did not make their appearance, even Alice began to
lose hope of seeing them. She spoke of them less frequently than
formerly, though a shadow of sadness occasionally crossed her fair brow,
but yet little had occurred to draw out the character of Alice Tufnell.
She was determined and energetic, zealous in all she undertook; at the
same time she was gentle and affectionate to those who had befriended
her, with her sweet and loving disposition and sweet temper. Her voice
was sweet and musical, and Madam Pauline and the Colonel delighted in
hearing her singing. She was now about seventeen, her figure of
moderate height, well rounded and graceful, while her countenance
exhibited the serene and joyous spirit which dwelt within. She
frequently accompanied the Colonel on a small pony, which had been
Roger's, on his walks about the country. Sometimes she attended Madam
Pauline, who, however, did not often extend her perambulations beyond
the grounds or the neighbouring village. Why it was she had scarcely
been able to say, but, when not engaged, Alice frequently made her way
across the Downs to the top of the cliff, sometimes descending to Ben
Rullock's cottage, not that she often found the old man at home, as he
was generally out fishing, or gone away to Lyme, or some other place on
the coast, to do commissions for the villages. Sometimes she would sit
in Roger's favourite nook, at others would pace up and down on the
cliffs, gazing out over the ocean, now blue and calm, and sparkling in
the sunlight, now of a leaden hue, covered with foaming seas which came
roaring up on the beach with a thundering sound. Of course she more
frequently came when the wind was light and the water calm, and she
could sit and gaze at them with satisfaction.
She had one day gone down to old Ben's cottage. Not finding him at
home, she had strolled along the beach till she turned with her face
towards Lyme, when she observed a boat slowly rowing along the shore.
That must be old Ben's, and he probably has Toby with him, and they
appear to have a passenger. It was curiosity perhaps which tempted her
to linger for the arrival of the old man, to hear the news from Lyme, as
it reached that place generally a day or two sooner than Eversden. She
waited, now stooping to pick up a shell, now to mark with a stick she
carried in her hand how far the sea had risen on the beach. Looking up
as the boat drew near, she observed that the passenger had risen; as he
did so he lifted his hat, but he again sat down as old Ben and Toby
pulled rapidly in for the beach, up which they ran the bows of the boat.
The stranger then stepping out advanced towards her, and once more
bowed.
"Miss Alice Tufnell?" he said in a tone of inquiry.
"That is my name," she answered, looking at him with a somewhat doubtful
expression. He was a young man, tallish and thin, with a complexion
burnt to a dark brown, his countenance showing that he had undergone
toil, if not probably also sickness and suffering.
"How do you know my name?" she asked.
"What, Alice! what, Miss Tufnell! don't you remember Stephen
Battiscombe!" exclaimed the stranger.
"Is it possible?" she exclaimed, putting out her hand and gazing at his
face. "I knew you were not lost; I always said so. And Roger, my dear
brother Roger, why has he not come with you? Where is he?" she asked in
an anxious tone.
"He is serving with the brave Captain Benbow. Though he longed to come
and see you all, yet he would not quit his ship till she arrives in the
Thames, and not then unless there is time to come down here and return
before the Captain again puts to sea. Roger is wedded to a sailor's
life, notwithstanding the dangers he has already run in following it;
but he bade me give his best and truest love to you, Miss Alice, and his
father and uncle and aunt."
Mistress Alice lingered for some time on the beach, so interested in
listening to what Stephen was telling her, that she forgot he might
desire to be proceeding homewards to relieve the anxiety of his own
family. At length, however, Stephen suggested that they should proceed
towards Eversden, when she led the way by the narrow path up the cliff.
They then walked on, somewhat slowly it must be confessed, which was but
natural, that Stephen might have time to narrate some of his adventures
since the loss of the _Dolphin_. Madam Pauline was the first person
they met, and she uttered an exclamation of surprise as she saw Mistress
Alice approaching with a strange young gentleman, with whom she appeared
on terms of intimacy.
"Who do you think he is, aunt?" asked Alice.
"Roger; no, he cannot be Roger; surely he must be Stephen Battiscombe!"
"You are right in your conjecture, my dear Madam Pauline," said Stephen;
and the little French lady, seizing both his hands and looking into his
face kindly, then hurried him off to see the Colonel and Mr Willoughby,
to whom he had to narrate, as briefly as he could, his and Roger's
adventures, and give the messages which his friend had sent by him. Mr
Willoughby was anxious to see Roger before he again sailed, but his
difficulty was to know where to find him.
"I must write to Master Handscombe," he observed; "he will ascertain
when the _Benbow_ frigate comes into port, and will easily convey a
message on board desiring him to come, and requesting the Captain to
give him leave."
After partaking of some refreshment served to him by the fair hands of
Mistress Alice, Stephen set off to return home. Next morning he came
back to Eversden. He omitted in his hurry, he said, to pay old Ben
Rullock for bringing him from Lyme. He invited Mistress Alice to
accompany him to the beach.
"It is a path I have often trod alone of late," she answered, "and I
know not why I should hesitate in accompanying you."
As Madam Pauline did not forbid her, she accompanied Stephen. Their
conversation was probably interesting to themselves, but it need not be
recorded. Stephen, of course, had a vast deal to tell her of his
adventures, which she had not hitherto heard. This made them linger on
the way, and sit down on the top of the cliffs, that they might converse
more at their ease.
Certain it was that Madam Pauline considered it her duty to chide
Mistress Alice for being away so long from home, although Stephen took
the blame on himself by saying that he had to wait for some time to see
old Ben, who was out in his boat, but he promised to try and keep better
time in future. Day after day, on some excuse or other, he returned to
Eversden. His father, he said, had written to his friend Mr Kempson at
Bristol, who would, he believed, restore him to his position in the
counting-house, while he hoped, from the encouragement he had before
received, that he should soon make a satisfactory income, which would
enable him to set up house for himself. He did not venture to say who
would share his fortune with him, or to hint that Mistress Alice might
be interested in the matter.
All this time no news had been received of Roger. Mr Willoughby had
written to Mr Handscombe, who was still in London. He replied that the
_Benbow_ frigate had not yet arrived, though she was long overdue, but
the merchants to whom her freight was consigned had received notice of
her having left Cadiz. Except from the account sent them through
Stephen, they had not heard of her being in the channel. They spoke of
the heavy gale which had occurred in the North Sea, and fears were
entertained that she might have met with some disaster. This made the
family at Eversden very anxious. Mr Handscombe wrote other news,
however, to Mr Willoughby. He spoke of the extreme unpopularity of the
king, especially among the Dissenters. Notwithstanding his promise not
to support the Popish system, and to allow the right of free worship to
all his subjects, he had already introduced innovations. The man who
had governed Scotland with fire and sword, and murdered through his
agents numberless persons for adhering to their religious principles,
was, it was said, likely to commence a similar system of terrorism in
England. Large numbers of Londoners, ever opposed to tyranny, were
ready to revolt as soon as a leader should come forward. That leader
had already been found, and only waited for an opportunity to carry out
the proposed project, and to dethrone the Popish king. It was hoped
that numbers in all parts of the country, especially in the western
counties, would follow their example as soon as the signal was given,
and the man to whom all looked as their leader had made his appearance
on the scene. Mr Handscombe mentioned no names, he only spoke of
reports, nor did he say whence the expected chief was likely to come;
but Mr Willoughby was fully convinced that rebellion on a large scale
was in prospect. He did mention the contents of this part of his letter
to his brother-in-law. He felt sure that the Colonel would take no part
in any proceeding of the sort, and might, from his loyal principles,
feel himself called upon to support King James by sending notice of any
information he might obtain, if not by taking more active measures. Mr
Willoughby, however, rode over the next day to Langton Hall, and had a
long consultation with Mr Battiscombe, who would, he knew, cordially
support the cause calculated to overthrow the Papal system with which
the country was threatened. They had a long and interesting discussion,
at which his elder sons as well as Stephen were allowed to be present.
Stephen had now to set off for Bristol, Mr Kempson having agreed to
receive him, but begged that he might pay one more visit to Eversden to
bid his friends farewell. He rode over on a good horse that he might
have a longer time to spend there. He found Mistress Alice about to set
off on her favourite walk to the cliffs. As Madam Pauline was engaged
up-stairs, and the Colonel was out in the fields, he did not hesitate to
offer to accompany her, and she did not forbid him. They had just
reached the Downs when they saw three vessels, one of large size and two
others of smaller dimensions, standing in for the land. They watched
them with much interest, Alice wondering what they could be, as ships of
large burden seldom came near that part of the coast, Stephen observed
that he knew something about the matter. "His father had received
notice that morning that the Duke of Argyll, with a large force, had
landed in Scotland, that the Highlands were in revolt, and that the Duke
of Monmouth had sailed from the Texel. There can be little doubt," he
added, "therefore, that the ships we see belong to him, although they
are fewer in number than I should have expected."
"Then is there to be a rebellion in this part of the country?" asked
Alice, in a tone of considerable anxiety. "Will the scenes I have read
of in the time of Cromwell be again enacted?"
"I fear it is the only way by which we can get our rights, my sweet
Alice," answered Stephen. "I would that war could be averted, but
better to have war than to be tyrannically treated, our religious and
civil rights trampled on as they have been for many years past; but, for
my own part, I am ready to draw the sword in defence of our freedom."
"But can our freedom thus be secured?" asked Alice. "All the blood shed
in former years gained nothing, and in the end the king, who has just
died, was more securely seated on the throne than his father had been.
You belong to a peaceable profession, and whatever is done, I entreat
you not to engage personally in warlike undertakings."
"I thought, Mistress Alice, that you were a heroine, and would have been
ready to gird on my sword and bid me go forth and fight in a noble
cause," said Stephen, in a half playful, half serious tone.
"And so I would if I were convinced the cause was noble, right, and
just, with a prospect of success."
"I promise you, Mistress Alice, not to draw sword unless in a righteous
cause," said Stephen. "Will that satisfy you?"
"If the cause is righteous; but who is to settle that?" said Alice
gravely.
While they were speaking the ships stood off the coast, the wind flowing
northerly, and soon again were lost to sight.
"Perhaps after all that may not be the squadron which has been looked
for," said Stephen. "Then you have uselessly been made anxious."
"I trust it may be so," said Alice.
And they continued their walk discoursing on subjects far more
interesting to themselves than politics. Stephen spoke of his expected
career at Bristol, and hoped, he said, to pay occasional visits to
Langton and the spot endeared to him more than his paternal home.
Though neither wished to return, they remembered that Madam Pauline and
the Colonel might naturally complain were they long absent, and they at
length bent their steps homeward. As they approached the manor house
they were met by a loud shout; presently Roger came rushing out towards
them. He greeted Alice as a sister, and shook Stephen warmly by the
hand.
"I have just arrived from London town," he exclaimed. "We only got into
the Thames a week ago. I scarcely expected to get leave, but Master
Handscombe pressed the point with the Captain, and undertook that I
should return in ten days, so that my holiday will be a very short one,
and I must make the most of it."
Alice and Stephen expressed their delight at seeing him, and inquired
the cause of his delay. He then described to them the gale in which the
frigate had lost her masts, and their strange encounter with the French
Captain Bart. Stephen required very little pressing to stop for the
evening meal, which was soon to be placed on the table. He mentioned to
Mr Willoughby that he and Alice had seen some strange vessels in the
offing. Mr Willoughby seemed deeply interested at the account, and
became very thoughtful.
"It agrees with the message which Roger brought me down from London, and
which I would have you carry to your father, for he would intrust
nothing to him in writing. The future man is on his way, and whether
our slavery is to continue or freedom is to be obtained depends on the
preparations made for his reception. If the gentlemen and yeomen of the
West rise to a man, success would be secured; pray say that I shall be
glad to have some conversation with your father without loss of time."
As the days were long, Stephen had broad daylight with which to return.
Roger accompanied him, as the two young men had naturally much to talk
about. Stephen again spoke of the vessels they had seen off the coast.
He was convinced that they portended something of importance, and he
proposed to Roger to ride into Lyme the next morning to learn any news
the people of that town might have obtained on the subject. Roger
gladly consented to accompany him, remarking, however, that he did not
feel deeply interested in the matter. "Captain Benbow says that a
sailor should stick to his ship and look after his men, and not trouble
himself with affairs on shore, and I intend to follow his example."
On getting back to Eversden, Roger had so much to talk about that he
kept the family, who were eager to listen to him, up to a later hour
than usual. Notwithstanding, he was on foot at an early hour, and
mounting his father's horse, he in a short time joined Stephen on the
road to Lyme. The road was somewhat circuitous, hilly, and rough, so
that it took them nearly two hours to reach the high ground above the
town, whereupon they gazed across it over the blue sea. Stephen
exclaimed, "Why, those must be the very three ships I saw yesterday
evening; then I was not wrong in my conjecture, they must be the ships;
they have, probably, troops and stores on board, and perhaps the Duke is
with them. Let us ride on and ascertain."
Riding down into the valley, on the sides and at the bottom of which the
town is built, the houses in outskirts being scattered somewhat
irregularly about, they proceeded to the "George Inn," where they put up
their horses, and to their surprise they found that no one was at all
certain as to the object of the vessels in the offing; they were said to
be Dutch, but they showed no colours. It was supposed that they were
about to proceed along the coast; still there was some excitement. A
boat had been seen to land at Seaton, some way to the east, and had put
some persons on shore; who they were, and where they had gone, no one
knew. Unable to gain any definite information in the town, Roger and
Stephen walked down towards the Cob, where they saw a boat pulling out
towards the ships.
"If we had been a little sooner we should have been able to go in her
and ascertain what those vessels really are," observed Stephen.
"We shall know soon enough when the boat returns," observed Roger.
But the morning went by, and still the boat did not come back to the
shore. This seemed to have created some suspicions in the minds of the
authorities. They then proceeded to the Church Cliffs, to the west of
the town, from which lovely spot, as they walked up and down, they could
observe the vessels. Here they found a number of persons, who all
offered various surmises as to the character of the strangers. Among
the persons present were the Mayor and other authorities of the town.
The former suggested that a gun should be fired to recall the boat,
when, it was thought, if she had been retained for any particular
reason, a friendly signal would be made.
"An excellent idea, Mr Mayor," answered another member of the
Corporation. "But to confess the truth, we have not a grain of powder
to fire a musket; we must wait patiently till the boat comes back."
The day passed by, till towards evening the post arrived. On this the
Mayor and several of the Corporation hurried to the post-house. The
post had brought a weekly _News-Letter_, in which it was stated that
three ships had lately sailed from a port in Holland, and were supposed
by the English ambassador to be bound either for England or Scotland,
and that the Duke of Monmouth was aboard.
"What if those three ships out there are those spoken of!" exclaimed the
Mayor. "We shall have an invasion, rebellion, and much fighting in
these parts. My friends, we must call out the borough militia, we must
oppose the landing, we must turn the tide of war from our own town to
some other part of the coast."
This speech was highly applauded by the loyal part of the inhabitants.
The drum was immediately beat to summon the lieges to defend the town.
A very few answered to the call; instead of doing so, their Captain
mounted his horse, and galloped off to carry the information to London.
The Mayor, finding that he had gone, with several other members of the
Corporation quietly slipped out of the town, and in a short time the
whole place was in a state of confusion. No one had been able to say
what was about to take place. Seven boats were now seen approaching the
beach west of the Cob. Roger and Stephen went down to meet them.
"Come," said Stephen, "let us go down and meet them. We shall soon know
all about the matter."
"But, surely, you will not join them whether the Duke is there or not,
till you understand what are their intentions," said Roger.
"If the Duke comes, as I believe he will, to oppose the Papists and
establish civil and religious liberty, I am bound to aid him with my
life's blood," answered Stephen, enthusiastically.
In a short time the boats got near the beach, and from the largest a
tall graceful man of handsome countenance, dressed in purple, with a
star on his breast and a sword by his side, stepped on shore, when about
eighty-three other persons, many of them by their dress being gentlemen,
landed at the same time. As soon as all were on shore, the Duke, in a
loud voice, his countenance beaming with satisfaction, exclaimed,
"Silence, my friends. Let us now return thanks to God for having
preserved us from the dangers of the sea, and especially from the ships
which would have prevented our progress." Kneeling down on the sand,
all the rest imitating his example, he lifted up his voice in a prayer
of thanksgiving, though some of those who might have joined him were
silent. The Duke then rising, with a cheerful countenance, drew his
sword, and, ordering his men to fall into their ranks, advanced towards
the town. Numbers now rushed forward to welcome him and kiss his hand,
so that it was with difficulty at times that he could make his way.
Among the most eager was Stephen, who, in spite of what Roger had said,
hurried up to the Duke and offered his services. The townsmen now came
up shouting, "A Monmouth! A Monmouth! Protestant religion." Amid a
considerable concourse the Duke made his way to the Church Cliff, where
his blue standard with the motto, "Pro religione et libertate." This
done, some temporary tables were formed, at which several writers took
their seats with books before them, ready to enter the names of those
who were willing to enlist under his standard. The volunteers flocked
in rapidly, and the number of the force was soon increased by sixty
stout young men, for whom arms were provided, chiefly from those stored
in the Town-Hall for the use of the militia. The two principal leaders
next to the Duke were Lord Grey of Wark, who had landed with a musket on
his shoulder, a pair of pistols in his girdle, and, far more important
to the cause, a Scotch gentleman, a soldier of experience, Fletcher of
Salton, who, taking command of the men, at once ordered some to take
possession of the forts, others to guard the avenues, and the remainder
to get the arms and ammunition from on board ship, including four
field-pieces--the only heavy guns brought with them.
Roger had stood aloof, for he very well knew that were he to join, it
would be, in the first place, in direct opposition to his uncle's
wishes, and besides he had also engaged to serve with Captain Benbow on
board a Royal ship, to which he expected shortly to be appointed. He
was anxious, therefore, to return home as soon as possible, but he was
unwilling to go without first ascertaining whether Stephen had made up
his mind to remain with the Duke. He had some little difficulty in
finding him among the crowd flocking round the standard, but at length
he got up to him and took him by the arm.
"I am loth to leave you," he said, "but go I must. Tell me, will you
return to Langton and consult your father before joining the Duke? and
if so, we should be on the road, for the day is waning, and little more
can be done this evening."
"I would rather ask you, Roger, if you have made up your mind not to
join the noble cause. I tell you that I have resolved to throw in my
lot with the Duke. You know not what I sacrifice by so doing, should
success fail to attend our enterprise; but it must succeed, and ere many
days are over, the Duke will be at the head of an army sufficient to
drive James of York from his usurped throne."
"I tell you I am sorry that you have so decided," answered Roger. "Am I
then to bear any message to your father except to say that you will not
return home?"
"Yes, tell him that I have joined the Duke; and I am well assured that
my brothers will, as soon as they hear of his landing, hasten to his
standard."
"Have you any other message?" asked Roger.
"Yes, one which I know I can confide to you," answered Stephen in a low
voice, not free from agitation; "it is to Alice. Tell her that I know I
am acting contrary to her advice, and it grieves me deeply to do so, as
it may appear that I am regardless of her wishes, but that I consider
everything must be sacrificed to the cause of duty, and that no more
sacred cause exists than the one in which I am engaged."
"I will carry out your wishes," said Roger with a sigh. "It seems to me
as if we two had changed places; you used once to act the part of my
Mentor, now I am urging my advice on you, though, alack! you appear but
little inclined to follow."
"It is impossible, Roger, for I have already signed my name as one of
the Duke's adherents, and I cannot desert him."
Roger, all his expostulations useless, wishing his friend farewell,
hurried back to the inn, where he was just in time to prevent his horse
from being taken possession of by some of the Duke's zealous adherents,
who were eager at once to form a body of cavalry.
"Quick, young gentleman, and mount," whispered the landlord; "they have
already secured all the steeds they could find at the `Pig and Whistle,'
and will be here anon."
Roger threw himself into the saddle. As he galloped off he heard shouts
calling him back, but using whip and spur he was soon out of the town,
nor did he pull rein till he was beyond reach of any pursuers. At the
first hamlet through which he passed, several of the people seeing him
riding fast, inquired if anything unusual had happened. Without
considering that his prudent course would have been to keep silence, he
replied, "Yes, the Duke of Monmouth landed this evening at Lyme, and I
saw his standard set up in the market-place; what he is going to do,
however, is more than I can say."
"Hurrah! At last he has come to free us from our Popish tyrants and
taxes," cried one of the villagers; and another raised the shout of "A
Monmouth! A Monmouth! We will go to him and fight for him if he wants
us."
Roger rode on, and at the next village gave the same information with a
like result. No sooner had he told the people that the Duke had landed,
than nearly all were eager to join him. Roger had promised Stephen to
ride straight for Langton Hall to inform Mr Battiscombe of what had
occurred. He was delayed here and there by having to answer numerous
interrogations, and at length he reached the Hall, by which time it was
nearly dark. He told a servant to hold his horse while he went into the
hall where the family were assembled at supper.
"What brings you here, Master Roger, and what has become of Stephen?"
asked Mr Battiscombe.
"He has joined the standard of the Duke of Monmouth, who landed this
afternoon, and he bade me ride on and tell you, being assured that you
would approve of his proceeding."
"Would that I could join him myself!" exclaimed Mr Battiscombe.
"But I can, and I can," cried out two of his other sons, rising from
their chairs as they spoke. "We will join him this very night; and you
will return with us, Roger, of course."
"I am bound homewards," answered Roger. "I could not take such a step
without consulting my uncle and father."
"For so glorious a cause we ought not to hesitate for a moment,"
exclaimed one of the young Battiscombes; "but if you will not go with us
we must set out without you."
"Better wait till to-morrow morning," said Mr Battiscombe. "Employ
this evening in preparing your arms, and collecting such articles as you
may require."
After Roger's sturdy refusal to join the Duke, the young Battiscombes
treated him with unusual coldness, barely indeed with civility; he,
therefore, wishing them good-evening, mounted his horse and made his way
towards the manor-house.
"Have you heard anything more about the ships Alice saw last night?"
asked his father.
"Yes," answered Roger, and he described who had landed from them.
"Stephen has joined the Duke, and wanted me much to do the same, but I
declined till I had consulted you."
"You acted wisely, Roger," said his uncle. "It may be that he will gain
the day, it may be that he will lose it; but certain it is that he who
brings civil war into a land brings a heavy curse."
"And has Stephen actually joined the Duke of Monmouth?" exclaimed Alice,
turning pale. "I urged him not to join so desperate a cause as that
which the Duke's must be when he comes to oppose constituted authority."
"But he does not consider it desperate," said Roger, "but a right noble
cause; and judging by the enthusiasm exhibited by the people, if the
Duke has brought arms to put into their hands, and officers to drill
them, he may speedily have a large army under his command."
"That remains to be seen," observed the Colonel. "I had hoped not to
witness another civil war in our country."
Mr Willoughby had all the time kept silence. Although, perhaps,
thankful that his son had not joined Monmouth's standard, he rejoiced
that the Duke had safely landed and that the people showed enthusiasm in
his cause. His belief was that the whole of the west of England would
quickly be up in arms, that the army of James would melt away, and that
a bloodless victory would be obtained over the tyrant. He made a remark
to that effect to the Colonel.
"I wish no ill to the Duke of Monmouth," he answered. "If he succeeds
he will be called the deliverer of our country, if he fails he will be
branded as a traitor. It all depends on the prudence with which he
acts, no less than on the purity of his views. If his cause is so
intrinsically just, he is likely to obtain general support. If not,
should he fail, he will be guilty of the ruin and destruction of those
who engage with him. Undoubtedly the Duke, like you and others,
believes that the whole of the west country, including the noblemen and
gentlemen, will rise in his favour, that a rising will take place in
London, that the Duke of Argyll will be successful in Scotland, and that
the rebellion will be organised in Ireland; but all this remains to be
proved, and it appears to me that the Duke, before he ventured on
English ground, should have thoroughly assured himself that these events
would occur."
Such were the opinions of a large number of the upper classes who were
not unfavourable to the Duke, but were unwilling to hazard their lives
and fortunes by taking an active part in an enterprise which had been
commenced, as they considered, without due and sufficient preparation.
The older men had witnessed and the younger ones had heard too much of
the horrors of civil war to desire again to see it commence, unless they
could be satisfied that the cause they advocated would be speedily and
entirely triumphant. The large majority of Protestants would gladly
have seen the Popish king driven from the throne, but even that event
might be purchased at too high a price, and thus they thought it prudent
to remain neutral in the coming struggle.
Before retiring to bed the Colonel summoned Roger to speak to him in
private. Having commended him for the prudence with which he had acted,
he added, "Now, my lad, I wish you to give me your word of honour that
you will not be tempted by any persuasions to join the Duke. I know the
enthusiastic spirit which animates your friend Stephen, who fully
believes that he is engaged in a righteous cause, regardless of all the
consequences of failure. He acts with the approval of his father,
therefore I do not blame him; but I think it probable that he will
endeavour to win you and others over, and I therefore wish to prepare
you to resist all his arguments and solicitations."
Roger was somewhat surprised at this address, for he fancied that
Stephen, whatever he might say, was not at all likely to win him over.
He, however, readily gave his word to his uncle.
"I can now with much more satisfaction enjoy your society during your
brief stay with us," said the Colonel, "and feel confident that you will
make the best of your way back to London to join your ship when your
leave is up."
The next day Mr Battiscombe came over from Langton Hall to call on the
Colonel and Mr Willoughby. The object of his visit was very evident.
He at once entered into the subject of the Duke of Monmouth's
enterprise, and used every argument he could think of to induce his
friends to support it.
He had given his sons, he said, to the cause, though his age and
infirmities must prevent him from joining it personally, but he purposed
setting to work to enlist men who would soon raise a body of cavalry, of
which he hoped Colonel Tregellen would take command.
"I will do nothing of the sort, my friend," answered the Colonel,
laughing. "My fighting days are over, and even if I thought better of
the Duke's cause than I do, I would not risk the safety of those
dependent on me by engaging in it. As a friend, I would advise you to
return home and remain quietly there; you have given your sons to the
cause, and I pray that they may be preserved from the dangers to which
they must inevitably be exposed."
Madam Pauline and Alice were present; the former was greatly relieved
when she heard the Colonel say this. Poor Alice looked pale and
anxious. She was more ready than ever to forgive Stephen for having
acted contrary to her advice, when she heard that he had done so in
obedience to his father's wishes; still she dreaded the dangers to which
he would be exposed,--dangers which the Colonel's remarks had conjured
up in her imagination. Roger's stay was to be a very short one, he had
spent so much time on his journey down; and as he would probably be
longer returning, it was settled that he was to start on the following
Monday. The family on Saturday night had retired to rest, but Roger, a
very unusual thing for him, could not sleep. He had thrown open the
window, which looked northward; before it, at some distance, ran the
road between Lyme and Bridport. Presently he heard the tramp of feet
and the murmur of voices. As he watched a part of the road which could
be seen between the trees, he observed it filled with armed men marching
eastward. There appeared to him to be a large number on foot pressing
forward, then there came a body of horsemen. At length they all passed
by. He was doubtful whether he should tell his uncle, but what would be
the use, he thought, if they are Monmouth's men?--he would not join
them. Or is it likely that the Duke could so soon have got an army
together? If they are the king's, he might be called upon to give his
assistance. He was very much inclined to let himself out of the house
to go and ascertain what they were about. He resisted the temptation,
however. Should he be discovered, his uncle, he felt, might suppose
that he was breaking his word. Drowsiness stealing over him, he left
his window open and turned into bed. He rose rather later than usual,
and on going down to breakfast mentioned what he had heard during the
night; but no one had been disturbed, and his father declared that he
must have been dreaming. Roger asserted that he had both seen and heard
a large body of men passing. The Colonel was somewhat unwell, and Mr
Willoughby never left the house at an early hour, so Roger volunteered
to go out and ascertain if anything unusual had taken place. He had
just got to the edge of the plantations which bordered the high-road,
when he heard the tramp of horses, and looking along it, saw a large
body of mounted men trotting along at a fast rate coming from the
direction of Bridport. Not wishing to encounter them, he crouched down
among the underwood. At their head rode one of the officers who had
landed with the Duke, who he heard was Lord Grey. His followers seemed
to be in a desperate hurry, some pushing on before the others, as the
oxen in a large drove are apt to do when the dogs are barking at their
heels. They looked neither to the right hand nor to the left. The road
was somewhat narrow, only three or four could ride abreast; thus they
were some time in passing. Roger fancied they had all gone by, when,
looking up, he observed a smaller party riding in better order. In the
last among them, and apparently acting as an officer, he recognised
Stephen Battiscombe, who kept continually turning round as if he
expected some one to be following. Roger was much inclined to shout out
and ask what had occurred, but he restrained himself, for he thought it
possible that some of the men might look upon him as an enemy or a spy,
and make him a prisoner. The appearance of Stephen had left no doubt
that the party belonged to the Duke, and that they had been engaged in
some expedition which had apparently not been successful. He now went
on to the village, expecting there to obtain some certain information.
Except the landlord of the little inn, who was too burly and
short-winded to move, not a man did he find in the place.
"They are all gone, Master Roger," said Joe Tippler; "marched away to
Lyme to join the Duke of Monmouth. The Duke, they say, will soon have a
mighty army, and go and take London town."
Several women to whom he spoke could give him no further information; no
one appeared to have heard the force passing during the night. Being
unable to gain any further information, he was about to return home,
when, on looking along the road, he saw towards the east another body of
men on foot. It struck him that they might be the advanced guard of the
king's forces, and that it would be prudent to keep out of their way.
He hurried back, therefore, to the plantation in which he had before
concealed himself. As they came up they appeared to be marching in
tolerable order, and he soon saw by their flags that they were the Duke
of Monmouth's men. They had among them several horses and a number of
persons, who were evidently prisoners by the way they were guarded.
Here and there some of the men appeared to have been wounded. Then
there must have been fighting, and Monmouth's party after all have been
victorious, thought Roger. He now returned home to make his report. He
had done nothing heroic, but he had acted with prudence in keeping out
of the way. The Colonel, with Madam Pauline and Alice, was preparing to
go to church when he arrived, and by his uncle's desire he accompanied
them. When they reached the church-door, however, except Master Holden
and the clerk, with half a dozen poor women, no one was there.
Notwithstanding, Master Holden performed the service, but it was evident
that he was puzzled what to preach about, as it would have been useless
to such a congregation to warn them against rebellion, as had probably
been his intention. He therefore dismissed them without his usual
address, observing that at any moment bodies of armed men might be
visiting their peaceful village, and that they would be safer in their
own houses than abroad. From Roger's account the Colonel had no doubt
that Bridport had been attacked, that the cavalry having been roughly
handled had retreated, neither horses nor men being accustomed to stand
fire, while the infantry perhaps had held their own, having driven back
their enemies, and had retired in good order. Roger wanted to go out
again after dinner to obtain some more news, but the Colonel forbade him
to leave the grounds, as it was likely that the king's forces would
advance upon Lyme, if they were in sufficient number, and he might
uselessly get involved in a skirmish. The remainder of the day,
however, passed quietly. The next morning Roger was to start on his
journey. He rose at an early hour; the whole family were up to see him
off. It had been arranged that John Platt was to accompany him for the
first twenty miles on the road towards London. He had a stout cob,
which his uncle had given him to be sold in London for his benefit.
"Your father's friend Mr Handscombe will certainly find a purchaser,"
observed the Colonel. "Now, farewell, my lad, it may be months, it may
be years, before you come back; you know not to what part of the world
you may be sent. You have acted wisely; continue to do so, and should
your life be preserved you will rise in your profession."
Roger's other farewells were made, and he mounted his horse. He carried
a brace of pistols in his holsters, a sword by his side, and a valise
strapped on behind the saddle. John Platt rode with an arquebuss
hanging at his back, a good pistol in one holster, and a broadsword
which had done duty in the Civil War. The Colonel ordered them to push
forward as fast as possible towards London, that they might get clear of
the excitement caused by the Duke's landing, and have less chance of
being interrupted. John Platt promised to carry out his master's
instructions.
"They shall pay dear, whether king's men or rebels, if they attempt to
stop us," he said, as he clutched his big sword, which in his younger
days he had used with powerful effect as a trooper under the Colonel,
though at present it seemed doubtful whether his arm had still strength
enough to wield it. The Colonel gave them his parting charges as they
rode out of the court-yard and pushed forward, as they had been
directed, towards Salisbury by by-paths with which John Platt was well
acquainted. Here and there they met peasants hurrying towards Lyme, who
eagerly inquired news of the Duke. Some asked if a battle had already
been fought; others said that they understood the Duke had landed with
an army of ten thousand men, which by this time had increased to twenty
thousand.
"He landed with not ten thousand or not ten hundred either," answered
John dryly. "He may have a thousand or two about him by this time. If
you take my advice you will go back home and not risk your necks by
joining him."
The advice, however, was seldom if ever followed, the men looking upon
honest John as a malignant. As they advanced they met bodies of militia
marching westward under Tory country gentlemen, who considered it their
duty to side with the king though they had no personal affection for
him. Roger on each occasion had to give an account of himself, and he
found some difficulty in persuading some of these zealous Royalists that
his intentions were honest. He was allowed, however, to go on, till at
length the time came for his separating from John Platt. They warmly
shook hands, as Roger did not consider it derogatory.
"Circumspect Master Roger," said the old man, "do not let strangers get
into your confidence; give them the cold shoulder rather; ride straight
on; when you arrive at an inn, see to your horse yourself that he gets
properly fed; if a stranger enters into conversation, listen to what he
may have to say, but give him as little information as you can in
return."
Roger promised to follow the old soldier's advice, and found it greatly
to his advantage. His horse held out well, and by judicious management
he contrived to get to London in five days after leaving Eversden. On
entering London he found the city perfectly quiet, not the slightest
sign, as far as he could discover, of a proposed outbreak, the fact
being that the king had arrested all suspicious persons of influence.
He inquired his way to the house of Mr Handscombe, who lived not far
from the Thames. The cloth-merchant was at home, and received him
kindly. He was looking somewhat pale and anxious, and made many
inquiries as to what was going forward in the south. Roger gave him all
the information he possessed, but Mr Handscombe made but few remarks in
return.
"Now, my lad," he said in a kind tone, "the sooner you get on board your
ship the better for you. Captain Benbow is expecting you, and I
promised to send you down as soon as you arrived, for I may not remain
here long. Before you go you must take some refreshment, and I in the
meantime will order a boat to be in waiting."
"Where snail I find the _Benbow_ frigate?" asked Roger.
"She is not the ship you are to join," answered Mr Handscombe. "Her
Captain has parted with her, and is now in command of a fine king's
ship, the _Ruby_, of fifty guns, lying at Deptford."
Mr Handscombe was absent while Roger was taking the food provided for
him; he appeared, on his return, in a travelling dress.
"I have made arrangements for the sale of your horse as your father
requests me; here is the amount which the animal will probably fetch,
put it in your pocket and do not throw it away; and now come along."
"What, are you going with me, sir?" asked Roger.
"Yes, in the character of your father, going to see you on board your
ship. Circumstances make it convenient to be away from London just at
present, and the idea has struck me that I could not have a better
opportunity. Your chest has been transferred to the _Ruby_, and you can
carry your valise while I carry mine."
They hastened down to the boat and immediately stepped aboard, when the
boatmen began to row lustily down the stream, the tide fortunately
favouring them. They safely shot under the arches of London Bridge, and
were now among vessels of various sizes and rigs, some moored to the
banks, others brought up in the stream. Though the day was long, it was
dusk before they reached the _Ruby_ Shaking Roger by the hand, Mr
Handscombe bade him answer the hail of the sentry, and then without loss
of time stepped up the side with his valise.
"Are you not coming, sir?" asked Roger. "No, my lad," was the answer;
"I am going on board a merchant vessel which sails by the next tide.
Fare thee well. I hope to meet you again some time when you return
home; at present I know not exactly what is to be my destination."
Roger, as desired, answered the sentry's hail, and was allowed to step
on board, when the boat glided away immediately, and was lost to sight.
Captain Benbow, who was on board, received him cordially, and expressed
his satisfaction at seeing him return so punctually. Roger expected to
be questioned as to what was taking place in the west, but the Captain
showed very little interest in the matter. He merely observed, "The
Duke of Monmouth has landed, I understand. He did a foolish thing, but
will do a wiser if he gets out of the country as fast as he can. Now,
Willoughby, there is plenty of work for us on board; we have to
fresh-rig the ship and get the crew into good discipline. At present
except the men I brought from the _Benbow_ frigate, for one and all
volunteered to follow me, we have not many worth their salt."
Roger was well pleased at being treated in a confidential way by his
Captain; it showed that he was looked upon not only as a sailor, but as
fit to become an officer. Except one lieutenant, the master, and
boatswain, the other officers, strange as it may seem, had not been
regularly bred to the sea.
"We must get another tarpaulin or two if the ship is ever to be brought
into order," observed Benbow; "these young gentlemen from the shore are
very well in their way, but they are more ornamental than useful."
As soon as Roger had parted from the Captain, on going round the ship he
encountered old Sam Stokes.
"Glad to see you aboard our new ship, Mr Willoughby, though somewhat
bigger than our old craft, but doubt whether she has as fast a pair of
heels; however, if there comes a war we shall do something in her, no
doubt about that, with such a Captain as ours."
Jumbo, on hearing that Roger had come on board, hurried up, and Roger
had a talk with him of old times, and then went round among his old
shipmates and spoke to each individually, thus winning their kindly
feelings. He often wished that Stephen had been with him instead of
having joined the hazardous enterprise in which he had engaged. He
wrote twice to his friend. Not knowing where he might be, he addressed
the letters to Langton Park, but he received no replies.
At length the ship was ready for sea, and, dropping down the Thames,
stood out in the channel for a cruise.