Frank's eyes took all this in, and then turned dim with the emotion he
felt, and for a few moments everything seemed to swim round him. His
horse, however, needed no guiding; it kept pace with its companion, and
the lad's emotional feeling passed off as he found himself in presence
of the officer in command of the escort and his subordinates, a warm
greeting taking place between Captain Murray and the principal officer,
an old friend.
"Don't seem regular, Murray; but with this note from the Prince, I
suppose I shall be held clear if you have come to help the prisoners
escape," said the officer lightly.
"Escape!" said Captain Murray sharply.
"No, no; nonsense, old fellow," said the dragoon officer merrily. "Of
course I was bantering you."
"Yes, I know," said Captain Murray quickly; "but we were stopped by a
couple of mounted men a quarter of a mile back."
"Highway men?"
"I thought so at first; but they challenged us for a password."
"Well! These fellows work hand and glove."
"No," said Captain Murray, "I feel sure they were scouts, ridden forward
to get touch with you, and then go back and give warning."
"What for? Whom to? You don't think it means an attempt to rescue?"
"I do," said Murray firmly.
"Thanks for the warning, old fellow," said the officer through his
teeth. "Well, mine are picked men, and my instructions are that a
strong detachment will be sent out to meet us, and vedettes planted all
along the road, to fall in behind us as we pass. Pity too. What
madness!"
Frank's heart sank as he heard every word, while his attention was
divided between the two dark carriages with their windows drawn up, and
he sat wondering which held his father.
"Yes, madness," said the captain sadly. "I shall be very glad when my
job's at an end," said the dragoon officer. "It's miserable work."
"Horrible!" replied Murray; and then he turned to Frank. "Hold my rein
for a few moments," he said; and, dismounting, he walked away with the
officers, to stand talking for a few minutes, while, as Frank sat
holding his companion's horse, and watching the well-guarded carriages,
a distant neigh and the stamping of horses told of a strong detachment
guarding the rear.
"If I only dared ride up to the carriages," thought the boy; and he felt
that he did dare, only that it would be useless, for without permission
the dragoons would not let him pass.
But a light broke through the mental darkness of despair directly, for
Murray came back with the officer in command, a stern, severe-looking
man, but whose harsh, commanding voice softened a little as he laid one
hand on the horse's neck, and held out his other to the rider.
"I did not know who you were, Mr Gowan. My old friend, Captain Murray,
has just told me. Shake hands, my lad. I am glad to know the brave son
of a gallant soldier. Don't think hardly of me for doing my duty
sternly as a military man should. I ought perhaps to send you both
back," he continued in a low tone; "but if you and Captain Murray like
to ride by the door of the first carriage, you can, and I will instruct
the officer and men not to hinder any reasonable amount of conversation
that may be held."
"God bless you!" whispered Frank, in a choking voice.
"Oh, don't say anything, my boy. Only give me your word, not as a
soldier, but as a soldier's son, that you will do nothing to help either
of the prisoners to escape."
"Yes, I give you my word," said Frank quickly. He would have given
anything to be near his father and speak to him for a few minutes.
"That will do.--Murray, we shall go on at a sharp trot; but you are both
well mounted, I see." Then he said in an undertone: "I don't believe
they will venture anything when they see how strong we are. If the
rascals do, I shall make a dash, standing at nothing; but at the first
threatenings get the boy away. My instructions are that the prisoners
are not to escape--_alive_!"
"I understand," said Captain Murray; and he mounted his horse.
The next minute an order was given in a low tone; it was passed on, and
the men sprang to their saddles. Then another order, "Draw swords!"
There was a single note from a trumpet; and as Frank and Captain Murray
sat ready, the officer in command led them himself, and placed one at
each door of the first carriage, a dragoon easing off to right and left
to make place for them.
Frank's hand was on the glass directly, and the window was let down.
"Father!" he cried in a low, deep voice, which was nearly drowned by the
trampling, crashing of wheels, and jingle of accoutrements, but heard
within; and it was answered by a faint cry of astonishment, and the
rattle of fetters, as two hands linked together appeared at the window.
"Frank, my dear boy! you here?"
The boy could not answer, but leaned over toward the carriage with his
hand grasped between his father's.
"Hah! this is a welcome home!" cried Sir Robert cheerily. "Gentlemen,
my son."
"There's Captain Murray at the other window," gasped out Frank at last.
"Ah! more good news," said Sir Robert. "Murray, my dear old fellow,
this is good of you."
The prisoner's voice sounded husky, as he turned his head to the right
in the darkness.
"I can't shake hands even if you wished to, for we are doubly fettered
now."
"Gowan, I'm glad to meet you again," said the captain hoarsely.
"God bless you, old friend! I know you are. I see now; you brought
Frank here to meet me. Like you, old fellow. There, I cannot talk to
you. But you know what I feel."
"Yes. Talk to your boy," cried Murray. "Quick, while you can. The
order to trot will come directly."
"Yes. Thanks," said Sir Robert; and he turned back to his son, who
clung to his hands. "Quick, Frank boy. Your mother--well?"
"Very, very ill. Heart-broken."
"Hah!" groaned Sir Robert.
"But, father, these handcuffs? Surely you are not--"
"Yes, yes. I'm a dangerous fellow now, my boy. We are all chained hand
and foot like the worst of criminals, my friends and I."
"Oh!" groaned Frank.
"Bah! Only iron," said Sir Robert bitterly. "Never mind them now.
Tell me of your mother. Are you still at the Palace?"
"Yes; the Princess--the Prince--will not hear of our leaving, and--"
Then a note from a trumpet rang out, the horses sprang forward at a
sharp trot, and the dragoon on Frank's left changed his sword to his
left hand, so as to place his right on the rein of the boy's charger,
though it was hardly needed, the well-trained horse bearing off a little
to avoid injury from the wheel, but keeping level with the window, so
that from time to time, though conversation was impossible, father and
son managed to bridge the space between them and touch hands.
It was fortunate for the lad that he was mounted upon a trained cavalry
charger, for he had nothing to do but keep his seat, his mount settling
down at once to the steady military trot side by side with the horse
next to it, and keeping well in its distance behind the horse in front,
so that the rider was able to devote all his attention to the occupant
of the carriage, who leaned forward with his head framed in the darkness
of the window, as if pictured in the sight of his son, possibly for the
last time, for in those hours Sir Robert Gowan had not the slightest
doubt as to what his fate would be.
On his side, Frank sat in his saddle watching his father's dimly seen
face, but ready to start and glance in any direction from which a fresh
sound was heard.
The first time was on reaching the turnpike gate, where the toll-taker
seemed disposed to hesitate about letting the advance guard pass. The
result was an outcry, which sent Frank's heart with a leap toward his
lips, for he felt certain that the attack had commenced. But the
foremost men dismounted, seized the gate, lifted it off its hook hinges,
and cast it aside, the troops and carriages thundered through, and made
the people of Highgate village come trooping out in wonder to see what
this invasion of their quiet meant.
Then the descent of the hill commenced, with the heavy old-fashioned
carriages swaying on their C-springs; but no slackening of speed took
place, and the artillerymen hurried their horses along, as if the load
they drew were some heavy gun or a waggon full of ammunition.
Twice over Frank gazed at the foremost carriage in alarm, so nearly was
it upset in one of the ruts of the ill-kept road; but the rate at which
they were going saved it, and they thundered along without accident to
where the gradient grew less steep.
There was very little traffic on the road at that time of the night, and
not many people about, while before those who were startled by the noise
of the passing troops had time to come out the prisoners had gone by.
Holloway and Highbury were passed, and Islington reached, but no sign of
an attempt at rescue caught Frank's anxious eyes; neither was there any
appearance of fresh troops till the head of the escort turned down the
road which entered the city at the west end of Cheapside. But here the
boy started, for they passed between two outposts, a couple of dragoons
facing them on either side of the road, sitting like statues till the
whole of the escort had passed, when they turned in after it, four
abreast, and brought up the rear, but some distance in front of the rear
guard.
At the end of another fifty yards two more couples were seen, and at the
end of every similar interval four more dragoons turned in at the rear,
strengthening the escort, while it was evident that they had previously
cleared the road of all vehicles, turning them into the neighbouring
ways, so that the cortege was enabled to continue its progress at the
same steady military trot as they had commenced with on leaving
Highgate.
Again and again Frank, now growing breathless, had hoped that the
walking pace would once more be renewed, so as to afford him a chance to
speak to his father; but he wished in vain, for, except at two sharp
turnings, the whole body of dragoons swept along at the sharp trot, and
without change, saving that as London was neared the men flanking the
carriages were doubled.
But though no sign of rescue caught Frank's eyes, he saw that the
stationing of the dragoons to keep the way and the turning of the
traffic out of the road had had their effect; for at every step the
collection of people along the sides and at the windows increased, till,
when the road changed to a busy London street, there was quite a crowd
lining the sides.
"There will be no rescue," sighed the lad; and he turned from sweeping
the sides of the street to gaze sadly at his father, whose face he could
now see pretty plainly, as they passed one of the dismal street lamps
which pretended in those days to light the way.
He could see that, brief as the time had been since he last saw his
father, his countenance had sadly altered. There was a stern, careworn
look in his eyes, and he looked older, and as if he had been exposed to
terrible hardships. He noted too that he did not seem to have had the
opportunity given him of attending to his person, but had been treated
with the greatest of severity.
The lad's gloomy musings on the aspect of the face which beamed lovingly
upon him, the eyes seeming to say, "Don't be down-hearted, boy!" were
suddenly brought to an end by a check in their progress, for the advance
guard, from being a hundred yards ahead, had by degrees shortened the
space to fifty, twenty, and ten yards, and finally was only the front of
the column. But still they had advanced at a trot, and the officer in
command sent orders twice over for the vanguard to increase their
distance.
"Tell him I can't," said the officer in front. "It can only be done by
riding over the people."
And now the men stationed to keep the way had utterly failed, the people
having crowded in from the side streets north of Saint Martin's-le-Grand
till the pairs of dragoons were hemmed in, and in spite of several
encounters with the crowd they were forced to remain stationary.
The check that came was the announcement that the trot could no longer
be continued, and, perforce, the escort advanced at a walk; while, as
Frank glanced round for a moment, it suddenly struck him that, save at
the windows of the houses, there was not a woman to be seen, the crowd
consisting of sturdy-looking men.
The lad had no eyes for the crowd, though. The relapse into a walk had
given him the opportunity for grasping his father's hand again, and Sir
Robert said to him hurriedly:
"My dearest love to your mother, Frank lad. Tell her, whatever happens,
I have but one thought, and that it is for her, that we may meet in
happier times."
"Meet in happier times" rang through Frank like a death-knell, for he
grasped what his father meant, and tried to speak some words of comfort,
but they would not come. Even if they had, they would have been drowned
by a tremendous cheer which arose from the crowd and went rolling
onward.
"The wretches!" muttered Frank; and he turned to look round, with his
eyes flashing his indignation. Then, as the cheer went rolling away
forward, he repeated his words aloud, unconscious that they would be
heard.
"The wretches! It is not a sight."
"They're a-cheering of 'em, sir," said the dragoon at his elbow, "not
hooting 'em, poor fellows!"
Frank darted a grateful look in the man's eyes, and his heart leaped
with excitement as the light flashed upon him. It was a manoeuvre, and
there would be an attempt to rescue, after all.
"I believe we're in for a row, sir," continued the man, leaning over to
him and speaking in a low voice. "Strikes me the best thing for you to
do would be to step into the carriage to your friend before the fight
begins: I'll hold your horse."
"I!" said Frank sharply. "I wouldn't be such a cur."
"Well said, youngster. Then you try and stick by me. We shall be in
the thick of it, and nobody shall hurt you if I can help it."
"Do--do you think, then, that there will be trouble?"
"Yes, for some of us, sir," said the man. "They mean to try and get the
prisoners, and the attack will be here."
Frank was unconscious of a movement behind him, till a horseman forced
his way in between him and the dragoon, and Captain Murray said sharply:
"Try and ease off, my man."
"Not to be done, sir," replied the dragoon.
"There's going to be an attempt at rescue, Frank," whispered the
captain. "Shake hands with your father before we are forced away."
At that moment word was passed along from the rear, running from man to
man as they still kept on at a slow walk:
"Flats of your swords; drive them back."
The next minute, just as a fresh cheer was being started, the trumpet
rang out behind "Trot!" and the men put spurs to their horses, and
dashed on, driving a road through the crowd; and, amidst a savage
yelling and hooting which took the place of the hearty cheer for the
prisoners, the escort literally forced their way for another fifty
yards, the men in advance striking to right and left with the flats of
their heavy cavalry swords.
But it was soon evident that they were slackening speed, and the trumpet
rang out again, but with an uncertain sound, for it was nearly drowned
by the angry yelling which arose. The command was _gallop_, but the
execution of the order was _walk_, and a minute later the whole escort
came to a stand, literally wedged in, with the frightened horses
standing shivering and snorting, only one here and there trying to rear
and plunge.
"We're caught, Frank lad. Think of nothing but keeping your seat. Take
out a pistol, and point it at the first man who tries to drag you from
your horse. Ah! I thought so."
Orders were passed along now to the dragoons to defend themselves, for
efforts were being made to drag some of the outside men from their
horses. Blades flashed on high, cut and point were given, and amidst
howlings and savage execrations blood began to flow.
And now, as if by magic, sticks and swords appeared among the crowd; men
who had forced their way under the horses' necks, or crept under them,
appeared everywhere; and amidst a deafening roar, as the seething mass
swayed here and there, Frank caught sight of two men busy just before
him, doing something with knives. One of the dragoons noticed it too,
and he leaned forward to make a thrust at one of the two; but as he bent
over his horse's neck a cudgel was raised, fell heavily across the back
of his neck, and he dropped forward, and was only saved from falling by
a comrade's help.
"They've cut the traces," said Captain Murray hoarsely. "It's an
organised attempt."
As he spoke men were rising amongst them; and, before Frank could
realise how it happened, a dozen filled up the little spaces about the
carriage, while moment by moment the dragoons were being rendered more
helpless. The blows they rained down were parried with swords; they
were dragged from their horses; and, in several cases, helped by their
fellows, men climbed up behind them, and pinioned their arms.
Organised indeed it seemed to be, for while the greater part of the
rioters devoted their attention to rendering the great escort helpless,
others kept on forcing their way till they had surrounded the carriages,
trusting to their companions to ward off the blows directed at them, but
in too many cases in vain.
Frank tried his best to remain near his father, but he was perfectly
helpless, and had to go as his horse was slowly forced along, till he
was several yards away from the carriage door, at which he could still
see the prisoner watching him as if thinking only of the safety of his
boy, while the captain was still farther away, using his pistol to keep
off attempts made to dismount him.
All attempts at combination were getting useless now for the troops, and
it was every man for himself; but the mob did not seem vindictive only
when some dragoon struck mercilessly at those who hemmed him in, when
the result rapidly followed that he was dragged from his horse and
trampled underfoot.
Sir Robert was now shut out from his son's gaze by several men forcing
themselves to the carriage door, and Frank was rising in his stirrups to
try and catch another glimpse of him, when in the wild swaying about of
the crowd his horse was forced nearer to Captain Murray, an eddy sending
the captain fortunately back to him, so that their horses made an
effort, and came side by side once more, snorting and trembling with
fear.
"The men are helpless, Frank lad," said the captain, with his lips to
the lad's ear. "They can do nothing more. They are literally wedged
in."
"My father?" panted Frank.
"It will be a rescue, my lad."
An exultant roar rose now from the dense mass of people which filled the
wide street, and, separated from each other, as well as from their
officers, the dragoons ceased to use their swords, while the men round
them who held them fast wedged waved their sticks and hats, cheering
madly.
"Told you so, sir," shouted some one close behind them; and Frank
turned, to see a dragoon, capless and bleeding from a cut on his
forehead, sitting calmly enough on his horse.
"Can't do any more, sir," said the man, in answer to a frown from
Captain Murray. "They've got my sword. It's the same with all of us.
We couldn't move."
The cheering went on, and in the midst of it the carriages began to
move, dragged by the crowd, for there was not a soldier within a dozen
yards. The clumsy vehicles were being dragged by hand, and the horses
led away toward a side street, while the cheering grew more lusty than
ever, and then changed into a yell of execration.
"What does that mean?" said Captain Murray excitedly.
"I don't know," said Frank, having hard work to make himself heard.
"Let's try and get to the carriage."
"Impossible, my lad," said Captain Murray. "Great heavens! what a
gehenna!"
The yelling rose louder than ever from the direction of Cheapside, and
directly after the cause was known, for a heavy, ringing volley rang out
clear and sharp above the roar of the crowd, and went on reverberating
from side to side of the street.
Hardly had it died away when another rattling volley came from the other
direction; and in answer to an inquiring look from Frank, Captain Murray
placed his lips to the boy's ear.
"The foot guards," he cried; "the mob is between two fires."
The pressure was now terrible, the crowd yielding to the attack from
both directions, and yells, wild cries, and groans rose in one horrible
mingling, as for a few minutes the seething mass of people were driven
together in the centre formed by the carriages; and from where he sat,
gazing wildly at the chaos of tossing arms and wild faces, whose owners
seemed now to be thinking of nothing but struggling for their lives,
Frank could see men climbing over their fellows' heads, dashing in
windows, and seeking safety by climbing into the houses, whose occupants
in many cases reached down to drag people up out of the writhing mass
beneath. In half a dozen places streams could be seen setting into the
side streets; and mingled with the attacking party, dragoons of the
escort, perfectly helpless, were pressed slowly along, and in every
instance with one, sometimes with two men mounted behind them.
Frank caught these things at a glance, while his and the captain's
mounts were being slowly forced farther away from the carriages, which
were once more stationary, jammed in by the densest portion of the
crowd.
And now, without a thought of his own safety, the boy's heart began to
beat high, for not a single dragoon was near the prisoners, and some
strange movement was evidently taking place there, but what, it was some
moments before he could see.
It seemed to him that several people there had been injured, and that
those between him and the first carriage had been crushed to death,
while the crowd were passing the bodies over their heads face upward
toward the narrow side street up which an effort had been made to drag
the carriages.
As far as he could make out by the lamplight, that was it evidently, and
so strangely interested was the lad, so fascinated by the sight, that he
paid no heed to a couple more volleys fired to right and left. For the
moment he hardly knew why he was watching this. Then it came home to
him as he twice over saw a gleam as of metal on one of the bodies which
floated as it were over a forest of hands and glided onward toward and
up the side street.
"Look, boy! Do you see?" said Captain Murray, with his lips close to
the lad's ear. "They have dragged the prisoners out, and are passing
them over the heads of the crowd."
Frank nodded his head sharply without turning to the speaker, for he
could not remove his eyes from the scene till the last fettered figure
had passed from his sight.
And now at length the awful pressure began to relax, for the half-dozen
streams were setting steadily out of the main street, while in several
spots where dragoons had sat wedged in singly two had drifted together.
Then there were threes and fours, and soon after a little body of about
twenty had coalesced, stood in something like order, and were able to
make a stand. Right away toward Cheapside there was now visible beneath
a faint cloud of smoke, which looked ruddy in the torch- and lamplight,
a glittering line above the heads of the still dense crowd, and Frank
grasped the fact that they were bayonets. Then turning in the other
direction he saw, far up the street toward Islington, another glittering
line, showing that a second body of infantry barred the way.
And now once more came the sound of firing, and Frank's heart resumed
its wild beating, for it came rolling down the side street nearly
opposite to him, that up which he had seen the prisoners passed, and he
knew that troops must be guarding the end.
This was plain enough, for the steady stream passing up it grew slower,
then stopped; there was a tremendous shouting and yelling, and the human
tide came slowly rolling back, then faster and faster, till it set right
across the main street, and joined one going off in the opposite
direction.
Soon after, to the boy's horror, he caught sight of one of the prisoners
being borne along over the heads of the returning crowd; then of another
and another. And now, as the two lines of dimly seen bayonets drew
nearer in both directions, there was once more the sound of the trumpet;
and in half a dozen places the dragoons began to form up, and, minute by
minute growing stronger in the power to move, swords were seen to flash,
and they forced their way through the stream, cutting it right across,
and hemming in the portion of the crowd over whose heads the perfectly
helpless prisoners were being borne.
This manoeuvre having been executed, the rest proved simple. Knot after
knot of the dragoons forced their way up to what had become their
rallying-point, the foot guards were steadily advancing up and down the
main street toward the carriages, and another company was steadily
driving the people back along the side street up which the prisoners had
been borne.
"A brave attempt, Frank," said Captain Murray; "but they have failed.
Come along;" and, dizzy with excitement, the boy felt his horse begin to
move beneath him toward the escort which formed a crescent round the
carriages in double rank, through which they passed slowly the men of
the crowd they had entrapped, till some forty or fifty only remained,
whose retreat was cut off by the bristling line of bayonets drawn across
the side street down which they had come.
Frank had no eyes for the scene behind him, now shown by the light of
many smoky torches,--the roadway littered with hats, sticks, and torn
garments, trampled people lying here and there, others who had been
borne and laid down close to the houses, whose occupants were now coming
out to render the assistance badly enough needed, for even here many
were wounded and bleeding from sword cuts: of the ghastly traces of the
firing, of course, nothing was visible there. He did not heed either
the state of the dragoons, who had not escaped scot free, many of them
being injured by sword and cudgel; some had been dragged from their
horses and trampled; others stood behind the double line, separated from
their mounts, which had gone on with the crowd; most of them were
hatless, while several had had their uniforms torn from their backs.
Frank had no eyes for all this; his attention was too fully taken up by
the proceedings near the carriages, where the fettered and handcuffed
prisoners--five--were being passed in by men of the foot guards, who
then formed up round the vehicles, toward which the two teams of horses
were now brought back, the men roughly knotting together the cut traces,
and fastening them ready for a fresh start toward the prison.
"One of the prisoners has been carried off, Frank," whispered Captain
Murray then; and in a weak voice the lad said:
"My father?"
"No, my lad; he is in the second carriage now." The next minute orders
were given, and the dragoons advanced to clear the way for the
carriages, now surrounded by the bristling bayonets of half a regiment
of foot guards, who refused passage to Captain Murray and the boy, so
that they had to be content with riding in front of the rear guard of
dragoons.
And now once more the yelling of the crowd arose from the direction of
Cheapside, where the mob had again gathered strongly; but no mercy was
shown. The heavy mass of dragoons that formed the advance guard had
received their orders to clear the way, and, finding a determined
opposition, the trumpet rang out once more, and they advanced at a
gallop, trampling down all before them for a few minutes till the crowd
broke and ran. The way was clear enough as at a double the Grenadiers
came up, and passed round the angle at Newgate Street, the escort
driving the mob before it; and the wide space at the west end of the Old
Bailey was reached.
This was packed with troops, who had preserved an opening for the
carriages, and into it the Grenadiers marched, and formed up round the
massive prison gates. And now Frank made an effort, with Captain
Murray's assistance, to get to the carriage door again for one short
farewell. But in the hurry and excitement of the time, the pass from
the Palace and the military uniform the captain wore went for nothing,
the dense mass of Grenadiers stood firm, and very few minutes sufficed
for the prisoners to be passed in and the gates closed. A strong force
of infantry was stationed within and without, for the authorities
dreaded an attack upon the prison; and the regiment of dragoons that had
been detailed to meet the escort and guard the road to Islington
patrolled the approaches, while the rest marched off to their quarters
amidst the hooting and yelling of the crowd.
Captain Murray turned off at once into a side street, and rode beside
Frank for some distance, respecting in silence his young companion's
grief, hardly a word passing till they reached the Guards' stables and
left their horses, which looked, by the light of the men's lanthorns, as
if they had passed through a river. Then the pair hurried across the
Park, feeling half-stunned by their adventure, Frank so entirely,
exhausted that he would have gladly availed himself of his friend's arm.
But he fought hard, and just as the clock was striking twelve he made
his way to his mother's room, wondering whether he was to be called upon
to face some fresh grief. But he found Lady Gowan lying awake, and
ready to stretch out her hands to him.
"You saw him, Frank?" she whispered; and the disorder of his appearance
escaped her notice.
"Yes, mother; I rode beside him, and he spoke to me."
"Yes, yes; what did he say?" cried Lady Gowan.
Frank delivered his father's loving message, and his mother's eyes
closed.
"Yes," she said softly, "to meet again in happier times." Then,
unclosing her eyes again, she moaned out, "Oh, Frank, Frank, my boy, my
boy!" and he forgot his own weakness and suffering in his efforts to
perform the sacred duty which had fallen to his lot.