The heavy, leaden feeling of despair and disappointment increased as
Frank Gowan ran across the courtyard, feeling that it was useless to
expect to find Captain Murray, but making for his quarters in the faint
hope that he might have been detained, and cudgelling his brains as he
ran, to try and find a means of learning the route that the escort would
take, so that he might even then try and intercept the prisoners'
carriages.
But no idea, not the faintest gleam of a way out of his difficulty
helped him; and he felt ready to fling himself down in his misery and
despair, as he reached the officers' quarters.
It was like a mockery to him in his agony to see the sentry, who
recognised him, draw himself up, and present arms to his old captain's
son, and it checked the question he would have asked the man as to when
Captain Murray had passed, for he could not speak.
"I must see if he is here," he thought, as he ran up the stairs to the
room which had been his prison; and turning the handle of the door, he
rushed in and uttered a groan, for the room was, as he had anticipated,
empty. But the bedroom door was closed, and he darted to that and flung
it open.
"Gone! gone! gone!" he groaned. "What shall I do? Will they take him
to the Tower?"
He knew that there was no saying what might be the destination of the
prisoners; but he rushed back to the staircase, meaning to go straight
to the Tower by some means, and then he stopped short and uttered a half
hysterical cry, for there was Captain Murray ascending the stairs.
"Not gone?" he cried.
"No; but I am just off. I wish you could have gone with me, Frank. It
would have done your poor father good."
"I am going. She wishes it, and sends me."
"Hah! Quick, then. Back to your room."
"Oh, I'm ready," cried the boy.
"Nonsense! We are going to ride. Your boots and sword, boy. I'll lend
you a military cloak."
"But it will be losing time," panted Frank.
"It will be gaining it, my boy. You cannot go through a London mob like
that. You are going to ride with soldiers, and you must not look like a
page at a levee. Quick!"
"You will wait for me?"
"Of course."
Frank ran to his rooms, drew on his high horseman's boots, buckled on
his sword, which had been returned to him, and ran back to where Captain
Murray was waiting for him with a cloak over his arm.
"No spurs?" he said. "Never mind. You will have a well-trained horse.
I have got passes for two, Frank; and, as it happens, I know the officer
of the Horse Guards who is in command of the detachment going to meet
the escort, so that we can get close up to the prisoners. Let's see:
you do ride?"
"Oh yes; my father taught me long ago, anything--bare-backed often
enough."
"Good. I am glad, boy. It was sorry work going without you. But I
know why it was. Walk quickly; no time to lose."
He hurried his companion to the stables of the Horse Guards, where a
couple of the men were waiting, and a horse was ready saddled.
"Quick!" he said to the men. "I shall want the second charger, after
all."
It was rapidly growing dark, and one man lit a lanthorn, while the other
clapped the bit between the teeth of a handsome black horse, turned the
docile creature in its stall, and then slipped on a heavy military
saddle with its high-peak holsters and curb-bit.
Five minutes after they were mounted and making for Charing Cross.
"Which way are we going?" asked Frank, whose excitement increased to a
feeling of wild exhilaration, as he felt the beautifully elastic
creature between his knees, with a sensation of participating in its
strength, and being where he would have a hundred times the chance of
getting to speak to his father.
"Up north," said the captain abruptly.
"North? Why not east? They will take him to the Tower."
"No. Steady horse. Walk, walk! Hold yours in, boy. We must go at a
slow pace till we get to the top of the lane."
The horses settled down to their walk, almost keeping pace for pace, as
the captain said quietly:
"I have got all the information I required. No, they will not take the
prisoners to the Tower, but to Newgate."
"Newgate?" cried Frank; "why, that is where the thieves and murderers
go."
"Yes," said the captain abruptly. "Look here, Frank. They are not to
reach the prison till nine, so we have plenty of time to get some
distance out. They will come in by the north road, and I don't think we
can miss them."
"Why risk passing them?" said Frank.
"Because, if we intercept the escort on the great north road somewhere
beyond Highgate, you will be able to ride back near the carriage in
which your father is, and, even if you cannot speak to him, you will see
him, and be seen."
"But it will be horrible; I shall look like one of the soldiers guarding
him to his cell."
"Never mind what you look like, so long as your father sees that he is
not forgotten by those who love him."
The captain ceased speaking, and their horses picked their way over the
stones, their hoofs clattering loudly, and making the people they passed
turn to stare after the two military-looking cavaliers in cocked hat and
horseman's cloak, and with the lower parts of their scabbards seen below
to show that they were well armed.
Saint Martin's Church clock pointed to seven as they rode by; and then,
well acquainted with the way, the captain made for the north-east,
breaking into a trot as they reached the open street where the traffic
was small, Frank's well-trained horse keeping step with its stable
companion; and by the shortest cuts that could be made they reached
Islington without seeing a sign of any unusual excitement, so well had
the secret been kept of the coming of the prisoners that night.
"Not much sign of a crowd to meet them, Frank," said the captain, as
they went now at a steady trot along the upper road. "Pretty good proof
that we are in time."
"Why, what is a good sign?" asked Frank.
"So few people about. If the prisoners and their escort had passed,
half Islington would have been out gossiping at their doors."
"Suppose they have come some other way?"
"Not likely. This was to be their route, and at half-past eight two
troops of Horse Guards will march up the road to meet the escort at
Islington. That will bring out the crowd."
Frank winced as if he had suddenly felt the prick of a knife, so sharp
was the spasm which ran through him. For the moment he had quite
forgotten the prospect of an attempt at rescue; now the mention of the
soldiery coming to meet the unhappy prisoners and strengthen the escort
brought all back, and with it the questioning thought:
"Would Drew's friends make the venture when so strong a force would be
there?"
"No--yes--no--yes," his heart seemed to beat; then the rattle of the
horses' hoofs took it up--no, yes, no, yes; and now it seemed to be the
time to tell Captain Murray of the attempt that was to be made, or
rather that was planned.
"And if I tell him he will feel that it is his duty as a soldier to warn
the officer in command of the escort, and he will take them at a sharp
trot round by some other way. Oh, I can't tell him! It would be like
robbing my father of his last chance."
Frank felt more and more that his lips were sealed; and as to the danger
which Murray would incur--well, he was a soldier well mounted, and he
must run the risk.
"As I shall," thought Frank. "It will be no worse for him than for me.
It is not as if I were going to try and save myself. I'll stand by him,
weak boy as I am. Or no; shall I not be escaping with my father?"
He shook his head the next moment, and felt that he could not be of the
rescuing party. He must still be the Prince's page, and return to the
Palace to bear his mother the news of the escape.
"For he will--he must escape," thought the boy. "Drew's friends will be
out in force to-night, and I shall be able to go back and tell her that
he is safe."
As they rode on through the pleasant dark night Frank thought more of
the peril into which his companion was going, and hesitated about
telling him, so that he might be warned; but again he shrank from
speaking, for fear that it might mean disaster to Drew's projects.
"And he has his father to save as well as mine. I can't warn him," he
concluded. "I run the risk as well as he."
He felt better satisfied the next minute, as he glanced sidewise at the
bold, manly bearing of the captain, mounted on the splendid,
well-trained charger.
"Captain Murray can take care of himself," he thought; and the feelings
which were shut within his breast grew into a sensation of excitement
that was almost pleasurable.
"Quite countrified out here, Frank," said the captain suddenly, as the
road began to ascend; and after passing Highbury the houses grew scarce,
being for the most part citizens' mansions. "Don't be down-hearted, my
lad. The law is very curious. It is a strong castle for our defence,
but full of loopholes by which a man may escape."
"Escape?" cried Frank excitedly. "You think he may escape?"
"I hope so, and I'd give something now if my oaths were not taken, and I
could do something in the way of striking a blow for your father's
liberty."
For a few minutes the boy felt eagerly ready to confess all he knew; but
the words which had raised the desire served also to check it. "If my
oaths were not taken," Captain Murray had said; and he was the very soul
of honour, and would not break his allegiance to his King.
"My father did," thought the boy sadly. Then he brightened. "No," he
thought, "the King broke it, and set him free by banishing him from his
service."
"How do you get on with your horse, lad?--Walk." The horses changed
their pace at the word. The hill was getting steep.
"Oh, I get on capitally. It's like sitting in an easy-chair. I haven't
been on a horse for a year."
"Then you learned to ride well, Frank. Find the advantage of having
your boots, though. Fancy a ride like this in silk stockings and
shoes!--You ought to go into the cavalry some day."
Frank sighed.
"Bah! Don't look at the future as being all black, boy. Stick to Hope,
the lady who carries the anchor. One never knows what may turn up."
"No, one never knows what may turn up," cried the boy excitedly; and
then he checked himself in dread lest his companion should read his
thoughts respecting the rescue. But the captain's next words set him at
rest.
"That's right, my lad. Try and keep a stout heart. Steep hill this.
Do you know where we are?"
"Only that we are on the great north road."
"Yes. When we are on the top of this hill, we shall be in the village
of Highgate; and if it was daylight, we could see all London if we
looked back, and the country right away if we looked forward. I propose
to stop at the top of the hill and wait."
"Yes," said Frank eagerly.
"Perhaps go on for a quarter of a mile, so as to be where we are not
observed."
The horses were kept at a walking pace till the village was reached, and
here a gate was stretched across, and a man came out to take the toll,
Frank noticing that he examined them keenly by the light of a lanthorn.
"Any one passed lately--horsemen and carriages?" said the captain
quietly.
The man chuckled.
"Yes, a couple of your kidney," said the man. "You're too late."
A pang shot through Frank, and he leaned forward.
"Too late? What do you mean, sir?" cried the captain sharply; and, as
he spoke, he threw back his horseman's cloak, showing his uniform
slightly.
"Oh, I beg your worships' pardon. I took you for gentlemen of the
road."
"What, highwaymen?"
"Yes, sir. A couple of them went by not ten minutes ago. But I don't
suppose they'll try to stop you. They don't like catching Tartars. Be
as well to have your pistols handy, though."
"Thank you for the hint," said the captain, and they rode on.
"What do you say, Frank?" said the captain. "Shall we go any farther?
It would be an awkward experience for you if we were stopped by
highwaymen. Shall we stop?"
"Oh, we cannot stop to think about men like that," said Frank excitedly.
"Not afraid, then?"
"I'm afraid we shall not meet the prisoners," said the boy sadly.
"Forward, then. But unfasten the cover of your holsters. You will find
loaded pistols there, and can take one out if we are stopped--I mean if
any one tries to stop us. But," he added grimly, "I don't think any one
will."
At another time it would have set the boy trembling with excitement; but
his mind was too full of the object of their expedition, and as the
horses paced on the warning about the gentlemen who infested the main
roads in those days was forgotten, so that a few minutes later it came
as a surprise to the boy when a couple of horsemen suddenly appeared
from beneath a clump of trees by the roadside, came into the middle of
the road, and barred their way.
"Realm?" said one of the men sharply.
"Keep off, or I fire," cried Captain Murray.
The two mounted men reined back on the instant, and, pistol in hand, the
captain and Frank went on at a walk.
"I don't think--nay, I'm sure--that those men are not on the road,
Frank," said the captain quietly. "That was a password. _Realm_. Can
they be friends of the prisoners sent forward as scouts?"
"Do you think so?" said Frank.
"Yes," replied the captain thoughtfully; "and if they are, we are quite
right. The prisoners have not passed, and I should not wonder if there
were an attempt made to rescue them before they reach town."
Frank's head began to buzz, and he nipped his horse so tightly that the
animal broke into a trot.
"Steady! Walk," cried the captain; and the next minute he drew rein, to
sit peering forward into the darkness, listening for the tramp of
horses, which ought to have been heard for a mile or two upon so still a
night.
"Can't hear them," he said in a disappointed tone. "But we will not go
any farther."
At that moment Frank's horse uttered a loud challenging neigh, which was
answered from about a hundred yards off, and this was followed by
another, and another farther away still.
"There they are," said the captain, "halting for a rest to the horses
before trotting down. Forward!"
They advanced again; but had not gone far before figures were dimly seen
in the road, and directly after a stern voice bade them halt.
The captain replied with a few brief words, and they rode forward, to
find themselves facing a vedette of dragoons, a couple of whom escorted
them to where, upon an open space, in the middle of which was a pond, a
strong body of cavalry was halted, the greater part of the men
dismounted; but about twenty men were mounted, and sat with drawn
swords, surrounding a couple of carriages, each with four horses--
artillery teams--and the drivers in their places ready to start at a
moment's notice.