That next morning, after a long sleep, the result of exhaustion, Frank
Gowan awoke with the horrors of the previous night seeming to have grown
so that they could no longer be borne. He hurried across to his
mother's apartments, to find from the nurse that she was sleeping, and
must not of course be disturbed; so he went over to Captain Murray, who
received him warmly.
"Better, my lad?" he said.
"Better?" cried Frank reproachfully.
"I mean rested. Frank lad, we had a narrow escape of our lives last
night. I hear already that about fifty dragoons were more or less
injured."
"And how many of the people?" said Frank bitterly.
"That will never be known, my boy. It is very horrible when orders are
given to fire upon a crowd. Many fell, I'm afraid. But there, don't
look so down-hearted."
"Have you heard who was the prisoner that escaped?"
"Yes. They have not taken him again yet; but I don't think he will be
able to get right away."
"Not if he can reach the coast?" said Frank.
"Ah! he might then. There, Frank lad, I want to be true to my duty--
don't tell upon me--but I can't help feeling that we had bad luck last
night, or some one we know might have been the lucky man."
Frank caught at his hand and held it. "If I were the King, I'd pack the
prisoners off to France," continued Captain Murray. "I don't like
taking revenge on conquered enemies."
"Ah, now you make me feel as if I can speak openly to you," cried Frank.
"Tell me, do you think there is still any hope of an escape?"
"There always is, my lad. One thing is very evident, and that is that
your father and his companions have plenty of friends in London who are
ready to risk their lives to save them. Come, don't be down-hearted; we
must hope for the best. They have to be tried yet. A dozen things may
happen. Besides, your father was not one of the leaders of the
rebellion. What's the matter with your arm?"
"My arm? Oh, I don't know. It's so stiff and painful I can hardly lift
it. Yes, I remember now. Some one in the crowd struck me with a heavy
stick. I did not feel it so much then; it was only numbed."
"You had better let the doctor see it."
"Oh no," replied Frank. "I have too many other troubles to think about.
Captain Murray, what shall I do? I must see my father. Give me your
advice, or come with me to ask permission of the Prince."
The captain sat frowning for a few moments, and then rose.
"Yes," he said abruptly; "come."
Frank sprang after him as he moved toward the door, and in a few minutes
they were in the antechamber, where a knot of officers were discussing
the proceedings of the previous night, but ceased upon their attention
being directed to the son of one of the prisoners.
The captain sent in his name as soon as he could; but his efforts to
gain an audience were not so successful as upon previous occasions.
There were many waiting, and the Prince made no exception in Captain
Murray's favour.
The order of precedence was rigidly adhered to, and hours had passed
away before the attendant came to where Frank and the captain were
seated waiting.
"His Royal Highness will see you, sir," said the gentleman-in-waiting.
Frank sprang to his feet as the captain rose, and moved toward the
curtained door.
"I am sorry," said the attendant, with a commiserating look, "but his
Royal Highness expressly said that Captain Murray was to come alone."
Frank's lips parted as a look of anguish came into his pale face, and he
turned his appealing eyes to the captain, who shook his head sadly.
"I will beg him to see you, my boy," he whispered. "I look to his
seeing you to get his consent."
Frank sank back into his seat, and turned his face to the window to hide
it from those present, and seemed to them to be gazing out at the gay
show of troops under arms and filling the courtyard; but, as he sat, he
saw only the interior of the Prince's room, with Captain Murray
appealing on his behalf: all else was non-existent.
He had not moved, he had not heard the low buzz of eager conversation
that went on, new-comers being unaware of his presence. Fortunate it
was that he was deaf to all that was said, for the fate of the prisoners
lodged like ordinary malefactors the previous night in Newgate was
eagerly discussed, and his father's name was mentioned by several in
connection with the axe.
He was still sitting in the same vacant way when, at the end of half an
hour, a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and the captain's voice said in
a low tone, "Come."
"He will see me?" cried Frank, rising quickly.
"Hush! Keep your sorrow to yourself, as an Englishman should,"
whispered the captain. "The room is full of people."
"But he will see me?"
"No. Come away," said the captain quietly.
Frank gave him a defiant look; then turned away and walked straight
toward the curtained door, which the attendant was about to open to
admit another gentleman to the Prince's presence.
Before he was half-way there the captain's strong grasp was upon his
shoulder.
"What are you going to do, boy?" he said sternly.
"See the Prince myself. He must--he shall give me leave to go."
"Do you wish to destroy the last chance? Frank, for your mother's
sake!"
"No; don't make me struggle before all these people to get free," said
the boy firmly; but as he spoke the captain's last words stood out
before him in their real significance.
"For your mother's sake!"
He turned back without another word, and walked with his companion out
of the room and down into the courtyard without a word.
"Take me somewhere," he said, in a strange, dazed way. "My head feels
confused. I hardly know what I am saying."
Captain Murray drew the boy's hand through his arm, and made as if to
lead him to his quarters; but it meant passing crowded-together troops,
and, altering his mind, he walked with him sharply out into the Park,
till they reached a secluded place where there was a seat.
"Sit down, boy."
"Yes," said Frank obediently. "Now tell me, please."
"I was in there long, but there is little to tell you, boy," said the
captain, in a harsh, brusque way to conceal the agony of disappointment
he felt. "I appealed again and again to the Prince to give me an order
to admit us to the prison, but he sternly refused me, and I have angered
him terribly by my obstinate return to the assault. Frank boy, it is
like this. The Prince told me that, before your father joined the
Pretender, he had made a direct appeal, at his wife's wish, for your
father's pardon, and been refused. He says that now, after this open
act of rebellion, it is impossible for him to appeal again. That the
King is furious because one of the most important prisoners has been
allowed to escape--there is a rumour that it was Prince James Francis
himself--and that it would be madness to ask for any permission. Men
who rebel against their lawful sovereign have no wives or children; they
are outlaws without rights. That it is sad for those who love them, but
that they must suffer, as they have made others suffer by causing so
much blood to be shed."
"He said those cruel words?" said Frank, with his eyes flashing.
"Yes," said the captain sadly.
"Knowing what my poor mother suffers, and my despair?"
"He was angry, and spoke more hardly than he meant, my boy. There is
another thing too; the Prince and his Majesty are not on friendly terms.
I hear that they have quarrelled, and that they parted in great anger.
Frank, you must wait and hope."
"Wait and hope--wait and hope!" said Frank bitterly. "Is that the way a
son should seek to comfort his father, and try to save his life? Sit
still, and do nothing but wait and hope! Oh, it is of no use! I cannot
bear it. I will not stay chained up in this dreadful place. I cannot,
I will not serve either the prince or king who would hurry my father to
the block."
"Stop! Think what you are saying, boy. What rash thing are you going
to do?"
"Rash? Nothing can be rash at such a time. I am going to try and save
my father."
"Once more, boy--your mother, have you forgotten her?"
"No," said the lad firmly; "but I should be forgetting her if I made no
effort, but sat still and let things drift."
Captain Murray sighed, and rose from his seat.
"Frank," he said gravely, "I never had a brother, but for years now your
father seemed to fill a brother's place with me, and I tell you as a man
that there is nothing I would not do to save his life. I am a simple
soldier; I know my duties well, and if the need arose I could go and
face death with the rest, feeling that it was the right thing to do; but
I am not clever, I am no statesman--not one of those who can argue and
fence--unless," he said bitterly, "it is with my sword. I looked upon
you as a mere boy, but over this you are more the man than I. You
master me. I cannot do more than defend myself. Still, I think I am
advising you rightly when I beg and pray of you to do nothing rash.
Don't take any step, I say once more, that will embitter the Prince
against you. I will go now. Stay here for a while till you grow
calmer, and then come to my quarters. I feel that I only irritate you,
and must seem weak and cowardly to you. You will be better alone. I,
too, shall be better alone. I want to try and think, and it is hard
work this morning, for I am in terrible pain. One of my ribs was broken
last night in that crowd, and at times I am sick and faint."
Frank heard his words, but did not seem to grasp them, and sat back in
his seat with his chin resting upon his breast as the captain walked
slowly away. Had he looked after him, he would have seen that twice
over he stopped to lean for a few minutes against a tree.
But the boy neither looked up nor stirred. He sat for some time as if
completely stunned, till he heard steps approaching, and then, with an
impatient movement, he turned a little in his seat, so as to hide his
face from whoever it was coming by.
The next moment a familiar voice said distinctly behind him:
"Don't look up--don't move or speak. Be at your father's house at four
this afternoon, holding the door ajar till I slip in."
"Drew!" ejaculated Frank, in a sharp whisper, as he obeyed the order,
thrilling the while as if with new life infused through his veins; and
his eyes followed the tall, slight figure of a jaunty-looking young man,
dressed in the height of fashion, walking along as if proud of his
bearing and the gold-headed, clouded cane he flourished as he promenaded
the Park.
Drew Forbes, whose life would probably be forfeit in those wild times if
he were recognised by either of the spies who haunted the Palace
precincts--Drew, wearing no disguise, though changed in aspect by his
hair being so closely cropped behind! What his appearance might be face
to face Frank could not tell.