When we looked to our hurts we were astonished at the slightness of
them. My shoulder had been struck by a bullet on the rebound, which
had penetrated but a little way and was easily removed; Anna had
escaped with a few bruises; Martha's cut on the head was nasty, but not
serious. We had a laugh over the doctor's wound, which could not be
discovered, nor was there a spot of blood anywhere on his clothing. He
must have been splashed with water, which he had imagined was his own
blood. Bess had had very much the worst injuries, her hands and arms
and face being bruised and cut badly, but the doctor shook his head
chiefly at a bruise on her breast. How she had kept firm grip on pole
and pistol after that sickening blow--nay, how she had held up at all,
he declared he did not understand. She smiled and said he had not been
used to doctoring gipsies. While Doctor Goel attended to us, I sent a
lad to bring such of my old servants and neighbours as might be willing
to help me against the mob, which I felt sure would appear shortly.
Boswell would stir them on with all his craft, I knew. Happily, it had
already been made known that it was not I who had been buried in the
Belton churchyard, and my friends were ever talking of me, Dame Drury
assured me. Her husband begged me to go away, and when he found I
would not budge, he growled at the risk he ran of losing property, and
perhaps of seeing his house in flames, in a quarrel which was none of
his. Dame Drury took a more cheerful view of the matter, being sure
that "t' young squire" would not see them come to harm in the end. She
bustled about to get breakfast for us, and while we were eating it, she
told me that "cousin John was all of a dither" in his great desire to
see me, and begged the young lady would honour him by going with me to
his chamber. He lay fully dressed, as his custom was, on his couch,
trembling with eagerness, and, to my amazement, he half rose from his
bed to greet Anna, to whom he spoke with a courtly grace peculiar to
him above all the men I have ever known.
In answer to his inquiries, I ran over the main events of the last
month, and let him know how things stood with us at present. A great
hurrahing rose outside, and when I went to the window I saw about fifty
men, all, or nearly all, armed with guns and poles. On sight of me
they cheered madly again, and again. They were Beltonians, full of
friendliness for me, and more than willing for a fray.
"Tell us what you want with us, Mister Frank," some one called out.
"Tell off three men," I replied, "one to watch on the upper road, one
on the lower road, and one at the landing-place to watch the river. If
any one sees the mob coming, let him fire as a signal. I'll tell the
rest my tale and what help I ask of you."
Three men marched off at once to do my bidding.
"Friends and neighbours," I began, "we have no time to waste, so I will
be brief. As you know, it was given out that I was dead, and a man was
buried under my name in our churchyard; but I had been kidnapped and
carried off to Melwood Priory. There my enemy cut and carved my face
to make me look the picture of the man who had been buried as Frank
Vavasour. And I was marked on the chest as he had been marked.
See"--and I threw open my vest. "This devilish bit of cunning was done
to make me pass as a man who was under sentence of transportation to
Virginia as a slave. But why? Because I loved a young lady on whom
Lord Sheffield had set his fancy." Here I had to stop while my hearers
groaned and eased their feelings with some strong language. "My lord
thought it would punish me for my presumption, and also leave the lady
at his mercy, if I were so disposed of. But I broke my prison." The
men hurrahed until I held up my hand. "After all, I was caught, and
taken to Hull to lie in prison until the ship was ready to sail. There
God sent me a friend, who delivered me, and only last evening I came to
Sandtoft to see my lady. In the night, as I dare say you know, an
attack was made on the settlement. I believe it was egged on by my
Lord Sheffield. Certain I am that his agents stirred up some foolish
people to mob my lady as a witch, on purpose that he might come with
some of his retainers to carry her off to Normanby House, under
pretence of rescue. He did not know I was on the spot. When I stepped
forth to save her from his clutches, he drew pistol. Now I give you my
word that, though I had sword by my side and pistol in my belt, I
touched neither. I knocked him down, and he fell stunned."
"Same as if a horse had kicked him, I warrant," said a voice.
"Now they give out that I killed him."
"Mighty good riddance!" shouted another voice.
"Well, I didn't wish to kill him, and I don't believe I did; but if I
did, I am willing to give myself up----"
"Nay, that you shan't!" came from several parts of the group.
"I am willing to give myself up to the coroner, or any one who has a
just right to try me, but not into the hands of my enemies, who have
been the tools of my Lord Sheffield, for it is too much their interest
to have my life."
"Mustn't be taken to torture chamber!" a voice called out.
Torture chamber was the people's name for the dungeon in Castle
Mulgrave, where the Lord President of the Council of the North was wont
to examine prisoners. From that chamber men had come with maimed limbs
and shaken wits, men whose only crime was their unwillingness to give
the testimony which his lordship desired.
"I don't think there is much fear of that with so many brave fellows to
stand by me; but if I should be taken or killed, I beg you to defend
this lady and her father until they are under the roof of the Vicar of
Crowle."
So saying, I drew Anna forward to the window. My words had taken the
colour out of her face and set her trembling, but she spoke with a
clear voice--
"Oh, I am sure you will not let him be killed or taken!"
The sight of her pale face, and the sound of her sweet tones uttered
from quivering lips, roused the men to the highest pitch, and they
answered with one voice--
"Never--never!"
So I went to work about our defence, placing twenty men round the
house, under such shelter as we could find or make with bundles of
reeds from Drury's stack, or anything that came handy. Twenty more I
disposed in a half circle about fifty yards away, facing the road by
which the enemy must come. Five of our best shots I appointed to guard
the approach by the river, strictly charging them not to leave their
post; and the remainder of our men, twelve in number, I sent to the
higher ground overlooking the road, so as to be ready to take our
enemies on the flank.
After our disposition had been made, we were reinforced by sixteen men,
whom I sent to join the twelve on the higher ground; bidding them hide
themselves until they heard three blasts from a horn, when they were to
fire and charge down the hill. I had meant to take the command of this
part of my force myself; but as young Mell came in the last company,
and he was both cool-headed and courageous, I entrusted him with it.
We had ample time for our preparations, for we saw nothing of an enemy
before seven o'clock, when there came in sight a big, disorderly
crowd--about a hundred men in number as near as I could reckon--armed
with poles, crossbows, slings, knives, and a few guns. Two or three
women accompanied the band.
A little way up the slope, above my semicircle of men, stood an old
pollard willow, which I climbed as a post of observation, keeping my
body in the shelter of its trunk, and having my face well shielded
among the young shoots. I could see no Mulgrave livery in the crowd,
so I concluded Boswell held the earl's men in reserve. The mob came
along in a straggling fashion, and did not appear to look for any kind
of defence outside the house, or to note our preparations, so well were
my men covered. When they came within fifty or sixty paces, I cried,
"Halt, or we fire."
The foremost of them stood and stared; but those behind pressed them
forward. Some of them espied me, and sent a shower of bolts and stones
about my head. At the same moment my men fired, and a dozen of the
enemy fell. This, or some command from the middle of the crowd,
brought them to a stand long enough for my men to reload and prime.
There was no howling or yelling on the part of the others, which
assured me of the presence among them of men who understood something
of discipline, I heard a low buzz of talk among them, and then Boswell
came to the front.
"Give me a hearing, you men of Belton. We have no quarrel with you.
We want the murderer of my Lord Sheffield," he shouted.
"And the witch!" bawled and screamed a score of voices.
"And the witch," added Boswell.
"Steady, men. Don't let him draw your fire," said I. "There's a rush
coming. Shoot, and retire."
The words were scarce out of my mouth, when the mob hurled a volley of
shots, stones, and bolts, very much at random, and made forward at a
run. Again more than a dozen of them dropped under my men's fire; but
the rest continued the charge, breaking into shouts of triumph as they
saw my Beltonians run to cover. Their shouts changed to yells and
curses, as they received a well-directed fire from the second ring, and
I hoped they would turn and run. But they came on, more enraged than
daunted by their losses, and we were quickly engaged in a hand-to-hand
fight, in which, strange to say, I had little active share, for four of
my men gave me to understand they were my bodyguard, and they stuck to
me so closely that I could not make play with my stout ash pole. So I
made the best use of my eyes and ears, and it was well that I was
compelled to do so, for while we were being swept to and fro, smiting
and stabbing in a wild medley, some twenty-five or thirty horsemen came
galloping along the lower road--Mulgrave men--with long muskets.
I blew my horn thrice, and the sound almost stopped the fight round the
house. Up rose the trusty Mell and his men, and one half of them
fired. Before the Mulgrave fellows could handle their pieces, four or
five saddles were empty and two or three horses were down. The second
half of Mell's men fired, while their comrades were reloading, with
equal effect. The earl's retainers were not valiant enough to await a
third volley, but fled helter-skelter the way they had come, all but
those who could neither ride nor run. Mell followed them out of my
view, and our scrambling struggle, which had slackened for the last few
minutes, went on again fiercely.
There was a sort of method in the fighting of the Boswell party: they
tried hard to drive or draw us to the rear of the house. Seeing this,
I and my bodyguard worked round toward the front, and as we were doing
so we heard a shot and a cry, "This way, Belton men!" The voice was
John Drury's, I could swear. We rushed round, and for an instant stood
as if thunderstricken, for, sure enough, there was John Drury at the
landing-place, bare-headed, his face of a death-like pallor, raising
gun to shoulder.
About fifty yards down stream were three boats filled with men. Some
of them fired at us as we ran up to John, but did no hurt to any of us,
while his shot brought down its man. Two of our men, who had
disengaged themselves from the hurly burly, now loaded their guns and
fired on the boats. To my unspeakable relief, Mell and his men ran up
to our assistance, and poured such a steady fire on them as quickly
drove them out of range.
Leaving four men with John to guard against their return, the rest of
us ranged ourselves in line at a little distance from the scuffling
mass, and I shouted--
"This way, friends, and leave the rascals to us."
Most of our men obeyed promptly, and as soon as they had got out of the
throng reloaded their guns. We were now the stronger party, about
sixty, with firearms. The others had more men disabled than we, so
that in numbers we were nearly equal; but they were at a disadvantage
in the matter of weapons, and not a little disheartened by rough
handling and the discomfiture of the horsemen, as I gathered by the
curses which I overheard on "the mongrel curs."
So when I bade them throw down their weapons, they pitched poles,
knives, crossbows, guns to the ground. They showed some surprise at my
picking them out one by one, bidding each go about his business, but to
take his part in carrying off their wounded men. In this way I let go
all but Boswell and thirteen gipsy fellows, whom I had securely bound
and laid far apart one from another, Boswell I bestowed safely in an
outhouse under the watch of two guards. My purpose in this was to
learn the truth about Jim Ulceby's death. As soon as the prisoners had
been dealt with, I sent some of my men to Crowle to ascertain whether
Mr. and Mrs. Graves were at the vicarage; some to Sandtoft to learn how
things stood there, and particularly to inquire for Mr. Ulceby; and
some to Butterwick to glean what tidings they might of the action of
the earl with regard to his son's death. Doctor Goel, assisted by Anna
and her maid, had attended to the half-dozen of our men whose injuries
demanded a surgeon's care, and Dame Drury, with her grumbling husband's
help, was busy supplying food and drink to our good friends. Now I had
leisure to question John concerning the marvel of his rising from the
bed on which he had lain helpless so long.
"I know no more than you," he answered. "I lay at the window, in a bad
humour enough that I was as useless as a log, looking out over the fen,
and I saw boats on the river. The men you had posted at the
landing-place had disappeared--gone to join their comrades in the fray,
I suppose. I called out, but nobody heard, and the boats drew nearer
and nearer; if they were not beaten back you would be taken unawares by
a fresh attack. Without thinking about the wonder of it, I sprang off
my bed, rushed downstairs, took my cousin's gun, and ran out. 'Twas
the will of Heaven, a miracle on your behalf, and on mine."
I feared his strength, so suddenly restored, might as suddenly fail,
but it did not. So far as we could see, he was hale and vigorous, and
as active as any man among us. The doctor cheered us by saying that in
a number of such recoveries, which were well attested, the cure had
been lasting. I spoke of my astonishment on seeing John move as if to
rise when I took Anna to his chamber.
"Now you speak of it, I remember that," said John; "and it makes my
restoration to accord with ancient precedent. An angel was sent to
heal me. 'Tis a miracle in proper form and order."
Though he spoke so lightly, the shining in his eyes were eloquent of
feeling too deep for words.
In the course of the day, our scouts returned with the information that
the vicar of Crowle had returned to his parish; that the Dutch had
driven off the invaders of their settlement, and Mr. Ulceby would
shortly arrive; that the old earl was said to be half mad with rage and
grief, and had issued proclamation of a hundred pounds reward for my
apprehension and of severe punishment for any person who should aid or
harbour me. As President of Council he declared me an outlaw for
having resisted the King's authority with violence, plotted against the
life of the royal commissioner, and murdered Lord Sheffield. Orders
had been given that all ports were to be watched, and all outgoing
vessels to be searched, and these orders were being carried north,
south, east, and west with all speed. Warrants had been issued for the
arrest of Doctor Goel, his daughter and servants. Mr. Ulceby and his
man rode up while we held debate over these tidings.
The first thing, it seemed to me, was to send away the Beltonians, who
might be held the less blamable for protecting me and my friends, if
they could prove they had dispersed on hearing the terms of the earl's
proclamation. With a good deal of difficulty, I prevailed on the brave
fellows to leave us. The next question was how to convey my lady and
her father and servant to a place of safety, and Mr. Ulceby proposed
they should ride with him to Hull, where he would put them aboard one
of his own ships bound for Amsterdam; and the doctor now being free to
return to Holland, it was so agreed. Anna besought me to go along with
them, but as I was sure that my being with them would be likely rather
to hinder their escape than to favour mine, I did not consent. John
Drury promised to accompany them as far as Hull, and to bring me word
when they were out of Humber. My lady would fain have had Bess go with
her, now that she had cut herself off from her own people, but Bess
would not, and said she had already engaged to render certain services
to Dame Drury, for which she was to receive food and shelter.
"But what is your intent?" asked John, turning to me.
"To hide in a retreat not far away, which is impossible of access to
any one who does not know the road, and it needs wary walking, even
when one does know it, for it winds through quaking bog and mire-pits
and hidden pools."
"You mean Lindum," said Bess. "No one knows the way but the hermit."
"You are mistaken, Bess," I answered. "Daft Jack knows it well, and so
do I. I spent a week there last autumn, and promised the hermit I
would spend another with him this year. I shall be in safety there,
and when the hue and cry is over, I will make my way to Holland."
"I think your plan is admirable," said John. "It is the last place in
the world your enemies will think of, and if they find you are there by
any chance, they will be much at a loss to get at you. I will remain
here in readiness to join you when it is prudent to break cover. Has
the hermit pigeons, do you know?"
"Flocks of them."
"Then you have but to bring a few to Messic Mere, or send them by your
host, and I shall be provided with messengers in case of need. I will
be on the water early on Wednesday, and every day after, until I see or
hear from you."
Then arose question what to do with our prisoners, and in particular
with Boswell. On going to look into the outhouse in which he had been
confined, I found the place empty. When the Beltonians withdrew I
forgot Boswell, and he had contrived to escape. This hastened our
proceedings. With so wily an enemy at liberty, and perhaps spying upon
us, it was needful to be as quick and crafty as we knew how to be. In
dealing with the other men, we took counsel with Bess, who bade me and
John talk roughly to them of our intent to shoot them, and while we
were threatening, up came she to make intercession for them, and to
promise on their behalf that they would take no part against us, if we
spared their lives. She swore them to this in words which the gipsies
consider most binding. So I bade her release them at a time when I
hoped the travellers would be well on their way. Mr. Ulceby gave up
for the present the endeavour to ascertain the truth concerning his
son's death, John Drury vowing to search out the matter on his return.
It was not easy to find horses for the party going to Hull. Mr. Ulceby
and his man had their roadsters, and John was to take my Trueboy, who
was much too frisky after his long idleness, though John had seen to it
that he had some exercise every day, to be ridden by a novice. Drury
had two horses, one a decent nag, on which the dame went to market, and
this we saddled for Anna. The other was too old and heavy for our use,
but John caught a sober steed which had carried one of the Mulgrave
troopers, and induced the doctor to mount him, taking Martha on
pillion. They trusted to doing better in Belton.
Leave-taking had to be short, and for once I was glad that so it must
be, for my love was more despondent than I had ever known her.
"To go over sea and leave you, encompassed with so many perils and
pursued by enemies so bitter and cunning and cruel, nearly breaks my
heart," said she. "Be persuaded to come with us, Frank."
"That will I not, sweetheart, for there will be sharp watch kept for me
at the port; and if you and your father are seen with me, there will be
small hope of your gaining your country, whereas now you may be
protected by a man well known."
I tried to comfort her by reminding her how marvellously I had been
helped and delivered hitherto; but she took no cheer, saying that I had
never before been in such evil plight; again and again entreating me to
go with them, so that I was driven to be hard with her, for, indeed,
every minute of delay was dangerous. Thus it fell that we parted
hurriedly at the last, and she rode away very sorrowful.
When she had passed out of my sight, I made haste to prepare for my
journey, Bess and the dame assisting me. They found clothing for me in
which I looked like a marshman, and put more plaister on my face, the
better to disguise me. I took gun, pistols, pole and knife, flint and
tinder, a pair of cleat-boards, and a good supply of powder, and
thought I had all I could need; but the dame would have me take a pasty
and a bottle of wine.
"Nay, dame," said I, "there is no occasion to carry victual for my
short journey."
"Call yourself a marshman, and don't know how short journeys turn out
to be long ones! Many a man has rued he did not take meat and drink
with him when he set out to cross fen."
So, not to vex the kind soul, I added her provision to my load, and set
off within an hour of sunset for the hermitage of Richard Bland, who
was commonly called by the few who knew him "the Wizard" or "the
Madman" of Lindholme.