The gale had been blowing for some days on the Dorsetshire coast. The
seafaring men along the shore pronounced it the hardest they had known
at that season for many a year, harder than one which had blown a few
days previously for a short time. A vessel, from stress of weather, had
put into Lyme, and reported that she had passed two small craft,
tempest-tossed and sorely battered, but they refused assistance, saying
that they intended to keep the sea, as they were bound to the eastward.
This information being given to the authorities at Lyme, notice was
issued to the men stationed along the coast, placed there to prevent the
escape of rebels, and they were directed to watch for the two vessels,
which it was conjectured had on board fugitives from Sedgemoor, or
others who had taken part with Monmouth.
Colonel Tregellen had been deeply stirred with indignation at the
cruelties practised by the Earl of Feversham and Colonel Kirk on the
hapless Monmouth's defeated army, and he felt far more interest in them
than would otherwise have been the case.
"Had they been criminals of the darkest dye, they could not have been
more severely dealt with. Instead of that, they were honest men,
fighting bravely for what they believed a righteous cause," he observed,
as he read the accounts of what had taken place.
It is scarcely necessary to say how Alice Tufnell felt. Though she had
warned and entreated Stephen Battiscombe not to take up arms, she knew
that he was prompted by the highest and purest of motives. Her heart
sank as she thought of the uncertainty that hung over his fate. No news
had been received of him and his brother since the day of the battle,
and their friends could not conjecture whether they had fallen at
Sedgemoor, been killed in the pursuit, or were still in hiding.
The first intimation that his sons were still alive was received from
Farmer Stubbs, who had brought Stephen's letter, saying that he and
Andrew were in the hands of Cornet Bryce, and that they were to be
carried to Bridgewater or Taunton. Mr Battiscombe immediately sent off
to Colonel Tregellen to ask his advice. Farmer Stubbs was very
unwilling to put himself into the power of Colonel Kirk and his lambs,
and declined going with the sum of money necessary to bribe those in
authority. Mr Battiscombe had the money ready, which he hoped would be
sufficient. He first thought of Mr Handscombe, but on applying to Mr
Willoughby, who had last heard from him, he found that he had left
London, no one knew whither. Colonel Tregellen himself would have been
a fit person in some respects, for his loyalty would never have been
doubted, but his health prevented him from going far from home. He was
not suited by his temper and disposition to deal with characters such as
Colonel Kirk and those associated with him. Poor Mr Battiscombe, in
despair, applied to Mr Willoughby. He had taken no part in the
rebellion, and his son, with his sanction, had entered the Royal Navy,
and was serving under Captain Benbow. Feeling deeply for his friend,
though the undertaking was very contrary to his habits, he agreed to set
out without loss of time, and endeavour to carry on the negotiation. He
had very little to plead for Stephen and Andrew, except that they were
young men carried away with the flattery bestowed on them by the Duke,
but their father would undertake for their good behaviour in future, and
would send them out of the country. Farmer Stubbs, saying that he had a
relative not far off, with whom he intended to stay till the storm had
blown over, disappeared the next evening, and Mr Willoughby set out on
his mission of mercy, which, as the reader knows, was to prove a
bootless one.
The storm had been blowing for some days, when Colonel Tregellen,
accompanied by Alice on her pony, started on a ride to the village,
where he had some tenants to visit, intending to return along the
cliffs, where he hoped that the fresh wind off the sea would raise
Alice's depressed spirits. On reaching the Downs the wind was so strong
that they could with difficulty make headway against it, still the
little pony seemed to enjoy the breeze even more than its mistress.
When the Colonel pressed forward, his horse cantered gaily along. Alice
at length, just as they reached the higher part, where an extensive view
could be obtained over the ocean, begged to stop to regain her breath.
The Colonel was looking westward, when he observed two sails in the
distance.
"Look out there, Alice," he said, "your eyes are sharper than mine.
Tell me what those are."
"Two small vessels or boats," she answered. "They have a very small
amount of canvas, and are running to the shore, while they appear to be
terribly tossed about. It is surprising that they can remain afloat in
such a sea."
"They must be in a desperate strait, or they would not stand in for this
coast," remarked the Colonel. "Unless they can manage to reach Lyme
they will to a certainty be lost."
"They are not steering for Lyme," said Alice, "but are coming on
directly for our bay."
"Can they be the craft reported to have been fallen in with by the Lyme
vessel?" observed the Colonel.
"I pray that they may not be, as those too likely contained fugitives
from Monmouth's army," said Alice.
"There must be some one on board who knows this bay, or they would not
be steering for it," said the Colonel. "As the vessels are small, the
crews may hope to run them up on the beach and escape through the surf."
In spite of the wind the Colonel and his adopted daughter were unwilling
to leave the Downs till they knew the fate of the boats. The pathway
down to the beach was too steep for the horses to descend, or in their
eagerness they would have gone down. The Colonel rode as close as he
could to the edge of the cliff, to see if he could observe old Ben
Rullock, or some other fisherman, in order to desire them to make
preparations for rescuing the storm-tossed crews, whosoever they might
be. While he was watching he observed several persons coming along the
cliff.
"The fellows are on the look-out for those boats," he said to himself.
"I wish they had not discovered them, for if the people on board are
fugitives, should they escape the waves, they will fall into their
scarcely less remorseless clutches." He watched the men as they
descended the cliffs, but could not see what had become of them. "I
verily believe they have hidden themselves, that they may pounce out on
their prey, and give them less chance of escaping."
The guards, who were all armed, seemed to have made signals to others,
who came hurrying up till nearly a dozen were collected about the same
spot. A reef of rocks ran off on the west side of the bay, which,
circling round, formed a sort of breakwater, which, in moderate weather,
enabled Ben Rullock and other fishermen to leave their boats at anchor
in security, though at present they were all hauled up. It required
nice steering to enter the bay so as to avoid the end of the reef; the
two boats approached, their shattered appearance showing the urgent
necessity which had induced them to steer for the land. Some of the
people in them were baling, others pumping, both pressing eagerly on,
almost abreast, instead of following each other. At length they drew
close to the bay, when one, standing more to the westward than she ought
to have done, struck the end of a reef. The next sea scattered her
fragments, and she literally melted away from sight, leaving those who
had been on board struggling helplessly in the waves. In vain those in
the other boat threw out ropes to rescue the drowning people; they
succeeded in dragging only one on board. As far as could be seen from
the top of the cliff, the remainder perished miserably. Alice uttered a
shriek of horror as she saw the catastrophe; no help could apparently be
afforded from the shore; the other boat rushed forward up the bay, and
disappeared beneath the cliff.
"The poor fellows have escaped a watery grave, but only to find
themselves prisoners in the hands of their enemies," cried the Colonel.
Shouts and cries heard above the roaring of the seas came up from below
the cliffs; then all was still. After the lapse of a few minutes a
number of men appeared coming up the cliff which led down to Ben
Rullock's cottage; they were the soldiers guarding six prisoners. The
Colonel, followed by Alice, rode forward to inquire where the prisoners
were to be conveyed, with a charitable wish to do what he could to
alleviate their sufferings. Poor Alice could scarcely restrain the cry
which rose from her breast as she saw the first of the prisoners, who
was Stephen Battiscombe, followed by his brother Andrew; but she knew
the Colonel's generous intentions. The state of the prisoners was
sufficient, it might have been thought, to excite the compassion of
their captors; they looked utterly broken-down and emaciated, as if they
had long been in want of food, while the bitter disappointment they must
have felt at finding themselves immediately on landing in the hands of
their foes completely overcame them. Stephen lifting his eyes
recognised Alice; he bowed his head, and then cast his eyes again to the
ground, as if he felt he had so completely disobeyed her wish that she
could have no further interest in him.
"Where are you going to take these persons, my friends?" asked the
Colonel of the soldiers. "Judging from their appearance they are scarce
able to walk, much less to march any distance, and the sun is nearly
setting. Whoever they may be, or whatever they have done, they are our
fellow-creatures, and in sore distress. They certainly were not flying
from the country, for you all saw that they steered for the shore, and
evidently intended to land instead of attempting to go farther. I shall
be glad if you will bring them on to Eversden Manor,--it is not far from
this,--and I will give you and them quarters and provisions, which they
at all events, judging from their looks, sorely want."
The sergeant who had taken charge of the party, after making some
remarks to two or three of his comrades, who seemed to like the idea of
getting into comfortable quarters, instead of having to march to Lyme or
Bridport, replied that he would accept the Colonel's offer.
"Come then, friends," said the Colonel; "I will ride on ahead while you
follow with your prisoners; but do not hurry them, for they are but ill
able to move at a fast pace." Saying this he rode slowly on, with Alice
by his side.
"I thought it wise not to show too much interest in the young
Battiscombes, lest it might be supposed that I was inclined to favour
them," said the Colonel; "but the poor fellows seem perfectly
broken-down for want of food. I fear that if I were to leave them they
would be ill-treated or urged on too fast, but I think, were you to ride
forward to the house and obtain some refreshment, it might shorten their
sufferings. Platt can bring as much more food as he is able to carry."
The idea was no sooner suggested to Alice, than answering, "That I will,
thankfully," she started off at a fast pace across the Downs.
"What has happened?" exclaimed Madam Pauline, who had seen her coming up
the avenue at a gallop, her hair, which had escaped beneath her hat,
streaming in the wind. Alice explained in a few words, and Madam
Pauline, saying to herself, "It is sad, very sad; I am sorry, so sorry,"
set about heartily putting up such food as was ready, together with a
bottle of her cordial waters, while Alice directed Platt to prepare to
accompany her. No sooner, however, was a basket packed, than, taking it
on her arm, she hurried back to meet the Colonel and the prisoners. She
found them just as they had crossed the Downs near a tolerably sheltered
spot. Here the Colonel requested the sergeant to halt, while she,
immediately unpacking her basket, took round the contents to the
famishing prisoners. She endeavoured to exhibit no special favour to
one more than the other, though this was difficult. As she came up to
Stephen a second time, she whispered, "Be on the watch; tell your
brother." She then passed on hurriedly. After some time Tobias Platt
arrived with more provisions, a portion of which he distributed among
the soldiers, thus putting them in good humour, and making them more
inclined than they might otherwise have been to treat their prisoners
kindly. As it was getting late, the Colonel advised that they should
proceed, and they continued their march to the manor-house. Alice again
galloped forward to assist Madam Pauline in getting ready for their
reception. She did not hesitate to confide to her aunt her intention of
trying to enable Stephen and his brother to escape.
"But you do not consider the risk, my dear Alice," said Madame Pauline.
"Should these young men escape, the Colonel would be implicated, might
suffer all sorts of fines and penalties, that he can ill afford, though
I know he would gladly spend any sum to buy them off, if that were
possible, and help poor Mr Battiscombe. However, we will see what can
be done. What a pity that Mr Willoughby should have gone off on his
useless errand! We must let Mr Battiscombe know that his sons have
been captured, in order that he may take such steps as he deems
necessary."
"I will go," said Alice; "my pony is perfectly fresh, and I shall
quickly gallop to Langton Hall and back." Madam Pauline hesitated, but
Alice soon over-persuaded her to let her go.
On arriving at home the Colonel was somewhat inclined to find fault with
Madam Pauline for allowing Alice to set off by herself, though he
acknowledged it was important that Mr Battiscombe should be made aware
that his sons had been captured, that he might take such steps as he
might deem necessary to preserve their lives. He did not conceal from
himself the fearful predicament in which they were placed: hundreds, he
heard, had been slaughtered, and the vindictive King was not yet
satisfied. That King little thought that his cruelties were preparing
the way for his own dethronement.
There were numerous rooms in the lower story of the manor-house, and the
Colonel proposed that one should be got ready for the young
Battiscombes, and another for the remainder of the prisoners, who were
of an inferior rank. There was no end of truckle-beds in the house,
which he ordered to be got ready. He proposed allowing the soldiers to
occupy the hall, while the sergeant might place his guards as he
considered necessary. The sergeant, on his arrival, was well pleased
with the arrangements that had been made. Not being without human
feeling, he was satisfied that the worn-out prisoners should enjoy the
comfort of beds and good food, while he was pleased with the ample fare
provided by Madam Pauline for himself and his comrades.
The Colonel looked out anxiously for the return of Alice, for he was
afraid lest some accident should happen to her. There were wild
characters abroad who pretended to be in search of rebels, and had
succeeded in obtaining blood-money by capturing several. While Tobias
Platt took care that the soldiers should be well supplied with food and
good liquor, he did not forget the prisoners, especially the young
Battiscombes, to whom he carried more delicate food, suited to their
present condition.
The Colonel was on the point of setting out for Langton Hall in order to
meet Alice should she have left it, when she arrived, having ridden hard
the whole distance. She had been detained in discussing plans with Mr
Battiscombe, as also while a package of clothes, of which she had
observed they stood in need, was preparing. She had brought it secured
to her saddle.
"We need not let the soldiers see the package delivered," she observed;
"Tobias Platt can carry it in as part of their bedding. The clothes
will enable them to present an appearance very different from what they
do now."
Tobias, with whom Stephen was a favourite, took good care to carry in
the clothes as proposed, without being observed by the soldier on guard.
The windows were barred with iron, intended rather to prevent ingress
than egress, but answering both purposes. The sergeant, on examining
them, considered that his prisoners were perfectly secure in the rooms.
Both he and his comrades were kept generously supplied with food and
good cider, together with somewhat potent beer; as they had been out all
the day in the hot sun, they were well inclined to keep up their
carouse.
"It is tiring work, Master," said Tobias Platt, bringing a comfortable
chair to where the sentry was pacing up and down. "You can watch as
well seated as walking, I suppose, and I will get you a pipe of tobacco,
if you have a mind for it."
"Ay, that I have, and I say, Master, a glass of something to keep the
throat moist won't come amiss."
"You shall have it," said Tobias Platt, and he quickly returned with a
small table, a jug of ale, and a pipe with some tobacco.
"Mind you don't go to sleep, though," said Tobias, as the sentry,
seating himself in the chair and placing his musket by his side,
stretched out his legs, when, taking a pull at the jug, he began to puff
away from the pipe which Tobias Platt had lighted for him. Tobias then,
having placed a lantern with the dark side turned away from the sentry,
quietly retired; he came back, however, before long, to find the beer
jug empty, while the man was snoring loudly.
"You will do," said Tobias, nodding as he passed. In a short time he
came back accompanied by a light figure in a dark cloak, and turning a
key, and noiselessly drawing back some bolts, glided into the room.
Both the prisoners were sleeping. She was loth to awake them, yet it
must be done. She turned the lantern on Stephen's face and uttered his
name. He started up in a moment. "Can you forgive me?" he whispered in
a low voice. "And yet you come as an angel of light to console me in my
sore trouble."
"I come not to blame you, Stephen, but to comfort you if I can. I would
inform you the means for your and your brother's escape have been
provided; you have simply to walk out of this room while the sentry is
sleeping. Your father is aware that you have been made prisoner, and he
has arranged for your concealment, or will endeavour to have you
conveyed northward where search is not likely to be made for you."
"Thanks, dearest, thanks a thousandfold," said Stephen. "For your sake
I would use every exertion to escape, but I cannot desert my companions.
I have already brought too many into trouble in endeavouring to get
clear of my foes. I have induced several to join our unhappy cause who
have lost their lives. I cannot run the risk of bringing the Colonel
and his family into trouble, which I should do were I to escape from his
house."
"Indeed, he is anxious to save you, I am sure of it, else he would not
have had you placed in this room," said Alice, "though he wisely would
not commit himself further. He knew that I brought you your clothing,
and he would willingly run any risk for the sake of saving you from the
clutches of Judge Jeffreys, who is expected every day at Dorchester to
commence the assize, and all who know him say that it will be a fearful
one."
"I must endure whatever I am called on to suffer," answered Stephen.
"The Colonel and our father will be made responsible were Andrew and I
to escape. Were you to be suspected of assisting us, they would not
even spare you, Alice."
"But were I betrothed to you I would urge that as my plea," said Alice,
in a trembling voice. "I know what were your intentions, and if you
will even now ask me to marry you, I will consent, and I shall then have
a right to plead that I acted according to the dictates of duty, or
should you not after all escape, I should be able to exert myself as I
best can to obtain your pardon."
A fearful struggle took place in Stephen's heart. He had long loved the
girl who pleaded with him, and that love prompted him to endeavour to
save her from dangers to which she might be exposed; but hope triumphed.
Without further hesitation he pledged his troth to her; still he could
not bring himself to desert his companions and to compromise the Colonel
and his family, which he knew he should do were he and his brother to
make their escape from the house. Andrew had been sleeping soundly all
this time. He awoke him and told him of the arrangements that had been
made to enable them once more to get free from the clutches of their
foes. Two spare horses, Alice told them, would be in waiting outside
the grounds at midnight, with a guide to conduct them northward. They
would be many miles away before their flight would be discovered. By
remaining concealed during the following day they might, by riding all
night, get beyond the counties where the rebellion had existed. Andrew,
according to his custom, considered the matter calmly over.
"I agree with you, Stephen," he said; "we must not attempt it." And he
used the same arguments which his brother had already done. "Let us
remain and brave the consequences; we are deeply grateful to Mrs
Tufnell."
Both spoke so lightly that Alice, though she bitterly mourned their
decision, was won over to agree that the course to be pursued was the
right one. That they would have succeeded was doubtful, and before she
left the room the sound of the sergeant's voice as he roused up his men
to change the guard reached their ears, and she had barely time to
escape from the room when the heavy tread of the soldiers' feet was
heard coming along the passage. The guard at the door started up, not
so completely overcome as might have been expected. The sergeant looked
into the room, to find both his prisoners sleeping apparently in their
beds; he then went to the other room, where he found all secure, but his
suspicions must have been aroused from some cause or other, for he
placed a double guard at the door, and retired highly satisfied with his
own vigilance. Poor Alice went back to her room to weep, agitated by
various emotions. Though disappointed that Stephen had not escaped at
once, she felt that, now she was betrothed to him, she had a right to
exert herself in his favour. She determined bravely to do so at all
costs. She wished that Roger had been at home, as he would be able to
assist her in whatever she might undertake; but there was not the
slightest chance, she feared, of his returning for some time to come.
Next morning the family at the manor-house were early on foot. The
sergeant was evidently so well satisfied with the way he and his
companions had been treated, that he had no wish to move forward. For
the sake of the young Battiscombes, the Colonel was not in a great hurry
to get rid of them, as he otherwise would have been. In order to have
an excuse for remaining longer, the sergeant sent off one of his men to
Lyme to learn whether he was to take his prisoners to that place, or to
convey them to Dorchester, where, as the assize was soon to commence,
they would have a speedy trial. Alice was in hopes that they would be
detained another night, and Stephen and Andrew might then be persuaded
to make their escape. Having dressed herself as much as possible like a
waiting-maid, she took the opportunity of visiting them during the
dinner-hour, under the pretence of carrying in their food. Stephen, to
her disappointment, was firm as before; the same reasons weighed with
him. It grieved him to say so, but he was sure that he was acting
rightly. She had not long left the room when Mr Willoughby returned.
He looked fatigued and out of spirits as he passed along the passage to
the Colonel's private room, for it could not be justly called a study.
Some time passed, when Madam Pauline, who was eager to hear what had
happened, went in, accompanied by Alice. Mr Willoughby, who in the
meantime had had a long conversation with the Colonel, now told Madam
Pauline his first visit was to the abode of Farmer Stubbs, which to his
dismay he found empty. Mrs Stubbs had gone no one could tell whither,
possibly carried off by the soldiers in revenge for the escape of
Stephen and Andrew, although he was not aware of that at the time. The
farm itself had not been pillaged, except of portable provisions. This
was probably owing to its distance from the camp, or it would have fared
but ill. Unable to hear what had become of his young friends, Mr
Willoughby had gone on to Bridgewater, and had run a great risk of being
seized as a suspected adherent of the Duke of Monmouth, and it was only
by asserting that he was brother-in-law to Colonel Tregellen, a
well-known Royalist, that he had escaped. He had done his most to gain
information of his young friends, of course in vain. It would have been
folly to try and get access to any of the leaders for the purpose of
purchasing their pardon till he could learn where they were. He said
that he was sick at heart at the sight of the heads of the hapless
rebels which were seen at the entrance of every village, while gibbets
in great numbers lined the roads in the neighbourhood of Bridgewater.
Mr Willoughby had several narrow escapes, when he encountered an old
acquaintance, who was no other than Cornet Bryce. He had to look at him
hard, for he little expected to see him in military guise. The Cornet
looked much cast down. Mr Willoughby learned from him the cause of his
depression, the escape, namely, of two prisoners. He fully expected to
be placed under arrest and severely punished, should it be discovered by
the General that they had got off. Mr Willoughby was not long in
ascertaining that the two missing prisoners were the sons of his friend.
He kept his counsel as to his object in coming to Bridgewater, and
returned home as soon as he could. Alice was glad to see him arrive, as
she thought he might possibly try to induce Stephen and Andrew to
escape. He saw clearly the danger to which the Colonel would be
exposed, and declined in any way committing himself, though he promised,
should they be delivered over to the officers of the law, to use every
exertion to obtain their pardon or liberation.
As the sergeant had not ordered the man he sent to Lyme to make any
haste, it was late in the day before he returned with orders to carry
his prisoners to Dorchester. "I suppose, Colonel, that you do not
insist on our setting out this afternoon?" said the sergeant. "It is a
long day's march to Dorchester. We should make it better by starting
fresh in the morning."
The Colonel assured the sergeant that he was welcome to remain. He knew
that in the meantime Mr Battiscombe was exerting himself, through
certain friends, with those in authority to obtain the pardon of his
sons. Every day he gained was of consequence. He also hoped leave
might be obtained to enable them to perform the journey on horseback.
In the evening he came over to see his two sons. The parting was an
affecting one. Though he had been exerting himself to obtain their
pardon, he knew too well that his efforts might prove fruitless. He
remained that night at the manor-house, that he might be with them as
long as possible. When he asked leave of the sergeant to allow his sons
to ride on horseback, the request was refused, on the ground that he
could not grant them a favour which was denied to the other prisoners,
and that as he and his men would have to march on foot, they must be
content to proceed in the same manner.
A sad procession set forth from Eversden Manor on the early dawn of a
bright autumn morning. Each prisoner was conducted by two guards with
loaded muskets. Farewells had been spoken, and the order to march was
given.
Though no mention has been made of the other prisoners, they had been
treated at the manor-house with every kindness and consideration, and
had been supplied with means for purchasing provisions on the way, as
well as on their arrival. Mr Battiscombe rode a short distance beyond
the Hall with his sons. Upon his return home, Mr Battiscombe said that
he had left the party marching on in tolerably good spirits, not
believing, from the numbers already executed, that many more victims
would be required to satisfy the demands of the law. Alas! they were to
find that they were terribly mistaken.