AN ESCAPE FROM PRISON.
There was no sadder or more gloomy face among the officers of the
Parliament than that of Herbert Rippinghall--sad, not from the sour
asceticism which distinguished the great portion of these officers, but
from his regrets over the struggle in which he was taking a part. While
Harry Furness saw much to find fault with in the conduct of many of his
fellows, and in the obstinacy with which the king refused to grant
concessions which might up to this time have restored peace to the land,
Herbert, on his side, was shocked at the violence and excessive demands
on the part of the Parliament, and at the rank hypocrisy which he saw
everywhere around him. Both lads still considered that the balance of
justice was on the side upon which they fought. But both, Herbert
perhaps because more thoughtful, therefore more strongly, saw that the
faults upon one side balanced those upon the other. Herbert had not
taken up the sword willingly, as Harry had done. He was by disposition
far less prone to adventure and more given to sober thought, and the
violence of his father and the bigoted opinions which he held had
repelled him from rather than attracted him toward the principles which
he advocated. When, however, the summons came from his father to join
him at Reading, with the rest of the hands employed in the business, he
did not hesitate. He still hoped that the pacific party in Parliament
would overcome the more violent, and that the tyranny of a small
minority toward which the country appeared to be drifting would be
nipped in the bud.
The divisions, indeed, in the Parliament were far greater than in the
councils of the king. Between the Independents and the Presbyterians a
wide gulf existed. The latter party, which was much the more numerous in
Parliament, and which had moreover the countenance and alliance of the
Scotch Presbyterians, viewed with the greatest jealousy the increasing
arrogance of the Independents and of the military party. They became
alarmed when they saw that they were rapidly drifting from the rule of
the king to that of Cromwell, and that while they themselves would be
satisfied with ample concessions and a certain amount of toleration, the
Independents were working for much more than this. Upon the Presbyterian
side, Lord Essex was regarded as their champion with the army, as
against Cromwell, Fairfax, and Ireton. So strong did the feeling become
that it was moved in the Commons "that no member of either House should,
during the war, enjoy or execute any office or command, civil or
military." A long and furious debate followed; but the ordinance was
passed by the Lower House, and went up to the Lords, and was finally
passed by them.
Now, however, occurred an episode which added greatly to the religious
hatred prevailing between the two parties, and shocked many of the
adherents of the Parliament by the wanton bigotry which it displayed.
Archbishop Laud had now lain for four years in prison, and by an
ordinance of Parliament, voted by only seven lords, he was condemned for
high treason, and was beheaded on the 10th of January. This cruel and
unnecessary murder showed only too plainly that the toleration which the
Dissenters had clamored for meant only toleration for themselves, and
intolerance toward all others; and a further example of this was given
by the passing of an ordinance forbidding the use of the Liturgy of the
Church of England in any place of worship in the country.
Rendered nervous by the increasing power of the Independents, the
majority in Parliament now determined to open fresh negotiations with
the king, and these offered a fairer prospect of peace than any which
had hitherto preceded them. Commissioners were appointed by Parliament
and by the king, and these met at Uxbridge, a truce being made for
twenty days. Had the king been endowed with any sense of the danger of
his position, or any desire to treat in a straightforward and honest
manner with his opponents, peace might now have been secured. But the
unfortunate monarch was seeking to cajole his foes rather than to treat
with them, and his own papers, afterward discovered, show too plainly
that the concessions which he offered were meant only to be kept so long
as it might please him. The twenty precious days were frittered away in
disputes. The king would grant one day concessions which he would
revoke the next. The victories which Montrose was gaining in the north
had roused his hopes, and the evil advice of his wife and Prince Rupert,
and the earnest remontrances which he received from Montrose against
surrendering to the demands of Parliament, overpowered the advice of his
wiser counselors. At the end of twenty days the negotiations ceased, and
the commissioners of Parliament returned to London, convinced that there
was no hope of obtaining a permanent peace with a man so vacillating and
insincere as the king.
Herbert had been with his father at Uxbridge, as the regiment of foot to
which he belonged was on guard here, and it was with a heavy heart that
he returned to London, convinced that the war must go on, but forboding
as great a disaster to the country in the despotism which he saw the
Independents would finally establish as in the despotism of King
Charles.
There was a general gloom in the city when the news of the unsuccessful
termination of the negotiations became known. The vast majority of the
people were eagerly desirous of peace. The two years which the war had
already lasted had brought nothing save ruin to trade and general
disaster, and the great body of the public who were not tinged with the
intense fanaticism of the Independents, and who did not view all
pleasure and enjoyment in life as sinful, longed for the merry old days
when Englishmen might smile without being accused of sin, and when life
was not passed solely in prayer and exhortation. Several small riots had
broken out in London; but these were promptly suppressed. Among the
'prentice boys, especially, did the spirit of revolt against the gloomy
asceticism of the time prevail, and there can be little doubt that if at
this period, or for a long time subsequent, the king could have appeared
suddenly in the city at the head of a few score troops, he would have
been welcomed with acclamation, and the great body of the citizens would
have rallied round him.
When the Parliament commissioners reached London Fairfax received his
commission as sole general of the army. The military services of
Cromwell were of such importance that Fairfax and his officers urged
that an exception should be made to the ordinance in his case, and that
he should be temporarily appointed lieutenant-general and chief
commander of horse. The moderate party yielded to the demand of the
Independents. The Earls of Essex, Manchester, and Denbigh gave in their
resignations. Many of the more moderate advisers of Charles also
retired to their estates, despairing of a conflict in which the king's
obstinacy admitted of no hope of a favorable termination. They, too,
had, as much perhaps as the members of the recalcitrant Parliament,
hoped for reforms; but it was clear that the king would never consent to
reign except as an absolute monarch, and for this they were unprepared.
The violent party among the Cavaliers now ruled supreme in the councils
of Charles. For a short time the royal cause seemed in the ascendant.
Leicester had been taken by storm, Taunton was besieged, Fairfax was
surrounding Oxford, but was doing nothing against the town. On the 5th
of June he was ordered to raise the siege, and to go to the Midland
counties after the royal army. On the 13th Fairfax and Cromwell joined
their forces, and pursued the king, whom they overtook the next day near
Naseby.
Herbert had accompanied the army of Fairfax, and seeing the number and
resolution of the troops, he hoped that a victory might be gained which
would terminate for good and all this disastrous conflict. The ground
round Naseby is chiefly moorland. The king's army was drawn up a mile
from Market Harborough. Prince Rupert commanded the left wing, Sir
Marmaduke Langdale the right, Lord Ashley the main body. Fairfax
commanded the center of the Roundheads, with General Skippon under him.
Cromwell commanded the right and Ireton the left. Rupert had hurried on
with his horse in advance, and coming upon the Roundheads, at once
engaged them. So sudden was the attack that neither party had formed its
lines for battle, and the artillery was in the rear. Between the armies
lay a wide level known as Broadmoor. It was across this that Rupert had
ridden, and charging up the hill on the other side, fell upon the left
wing of Fairfax. Cromwell, upon the other hand, from the extreme right
charged down the hill upon Langdale's squadrons. Prince Rupert, as
usual, carried all before him. Shouting his battle cry, "Queen Mary," he
fell upon Ireton's left wing, and drove them from the field, chasing
them back to Naseby, where, as usual, he lost time in capturing the
enemy's baggage. Cromwell, with his Ironsides, upon the other hand, had
broken Langdale's horse and driven them from the field. In the center
the fight was hot. The king's foot had come up the hill and poured
volley after volley into the parliament ranks. Hand to hand the infantry
were fighting, and gradually the Roundheads were giving way. But now, as
at Marston, Cromwell, keeping his Ironsides well in hand, returned from
the defeat of Langdale's horse, and fell upon the rear of the Royalists.
Fairfax rallied his men as he saw the horse coming up to his assistance.
Rupert's troopers were far from the field, and a panic seizing the
king's reserve of horse, who had they charged might have won the day,
the Earl of Carnewarth, taking hold of King Charles' horse, forced him
from the field, and the battle ended, with the complete defeat of the
royal troops, before Rupert returned to the field of battle.
The Royalists lost in killed and prisoners five thousand men, their
twelve guns, and all their baggage train, and what was of even greater
importance, the king's private cabinet, which contained documents which
did more to precipitate his ruin even than the defeat of his army. Here
were found letters proving that while he had professed his desire to
treat, he had no intention of giving way in the slightest degree. Here
were copies of letters to foreign princes asking for aid, and to the
Papists in Ireland, promising all kinds of concessions if they would
rise in his favor. Not only did the publication of this correspondence
and of the private letters between the king and queen add to the
indignation of the Commons and to their determination to fight to the
bitterest end, but it disgusted and alienated a vast number of Royalists
who had hitherto believed in the king and trusted to his royal word.
Among the prisoners taken at Naseby was Harry Furness, whose troop had
been with Langdale's horse, and who, his charger having been shot, had
fallen upon the field, his head being cut by the sweep of the sword of a
Roundhead soldier, who struck at him as he was lying on the ground. Soon
after the battle, when it became known what prisoners had been taken, he
was visited by his friend Herbert.
"We are changing sides, Herbert," Harry said, with a faint smile. "The
last time we met you were nigh falling into the hands of the Royalists,
now I have altogether fallen into yours."
"Yes, and unfortunately," Herbert said, "I cannot repeat your act of
generosity. However, Harry, I trust that with this great battle the war
is nearly over, and that all prisoners now taken will speedily be
released. At any rate, I need not assure you that you will have my aid
and assistance in any matter."
The Parliamentary leaders did not allow the grass to grow under their
feet after Naseby. Prince Rupert, with considerable force, had marched
to Bristol, and Fairfax and Cromwell followed him there. A considerable
portion of the prisoners were sent to London, but some were retained
with the army. Among these was Harry Furness, whom it was intended to
confine with many others in some sure place in the south. Under a guard
they were conducted to Reading, where they were for awhile to be kept.
Essex and Cromwell advanced to Bristol, which they surrounded; and
Prince Rupert, after a brave defense, was forced to capitulate, upon
terms similar to those which had been granted by the king to the army
of Lord Essex the year before. In his conduct of the siege the prince
had certainly not failed. But this misfortune aroused the king's anger
more than the faults which had done such evil service on the fields of
Naseby and Marston, and he wrote to the prince, ordering him to leave
the kingdom at once.
It would have been well had King Charles here ceased the struggle, for
the cause of the Royalists was now hopeless. Infatuated to the last,
however, and deeming ever that the increasing contentions and ill-will
between the two parties in Parliament would finally end by one of them
bidding for the Royal support, and agreeing to his terms, the king
continued the contest. Here and there isolated affrays took place;
risings in Kent and other counties occurring, but being defeated
summarily by the vigor of Fairfax and his generals.
The time passed but slowly with Harry at Reading. He and his
fellow-prisoners were assigned quarters in a large building, under the
guard of a regiment of Parliament troops. Their imprisonment was not
rigorous. They were fairly fed and allowed exercise in a large courtyard
which adjoined the house. The more reckless spirits sang, jested, wrote
scurrilous songs on the Roundheads, and passed the time as cheerfully as
might be. Harry, however, with the restlessness of his age, longed for
liberty. He knew that Prince Charles was in command of the army in the
west, and he longed to join him and try once more the fortunes of
battle. The guard set round the building was close and vigilant, and the
chances of escape appeared small. Still, Harry thought that if he could
escape from an upper window on a dark night he could surely make his way
through the line of sentries. He had observed on moonlight nights the
exact position which each of these occupied. The intervals were short
between them; but it would be quite possible on a dark night for a
person to pass noiselessly without being perceived. The watch would have
been even more strict than it was, had not the Puritans regarded the
struggle as virtually at an end, and were, therefore, less careful as to
their prisoners than they would otherwise have been. Harry prepared for
escape by tearing up the blankets of his bed and knotting them into
ropes. A portion he wrapped round his shoes, so as to walk noiselessly,
and taking advantage of a dark, moonless night, when the fog hung thick
upon the low land round Reading, he opened his window, threw out his
rope, and slipped down to the ground.
So dark was the fog that it was difficult for him to see two paces in
advance, and he soon found that the careful observations which he had
taken of the place of the sentries would be altogether useless. Still,
in the darkness and thickness of the night, he thought that the chance
of detection was small. Creeping quietly and noiselessly along, he could
hear the constant challenges of the sentries round him. These, excited
by the unusual darkness of the night, were unusually vigilant. Harry
approached until he was within a few yards of the line, and the voices
of the men as they challenged enabled him to ascertain exactly the
position of those on the right and left of him. Passing between these,
he could see neither, although they were but a few paces on either hand,
and he would have got off unobserved had he not suddenly fallen into a
deep stream running across his way, and which in the darkness he did not
see until he fell into it. At the sound there was an instant challenge,
and then a piece was discharged. Harry struggled across the stream, and
clambered out on the opposite side. As he did so a number of muskets
were fired in his direction by the men who came rushing up to the point
of alarm. One ball struck him in the shoulder. The rest whizzed
harmlessly by, and at the top of his speed he ran forward.
He was now safe from pursuit, for in the darkness of the night it would
have been absolutely impossible to follow him. In a few minutes he
ceased running, for when all became quiet behind him, he could no longer
tell in what direction he was advancing. So long as he could hear the
shouts of the sentries he continued his way, and then, all guidance
being lost, he lay down under a hedge and waited for morning. It was
still thick and foggy; but wandering aimlessly about for some time, he
succeeded at last in striking upon a road, and judging from the side
upon which he had entered it in which direction Reading must lie, he
took the western way and went forward. The ball had passed only through
the fleshy part of his shoulder, missing the bone; and although it
caused him much pain, he was able, by wrapping his arm tightly to his
body, to proceed. More than once he had to withdraw from the road into
the fields beyond, when he heard troops of horse galloping along.
After a long day's walk he arrived near Abingdon, and there made for the
hall. Instead of going to the door he made for the windows, and, looking
in, saw a number of Roundhead soldiers in the hall, and knew that there
was no safety for him. As he glanced in one of the soldiers happened to
cast his eyes up, and gave a shout on seeing a figure looking in at the
window. Instantly the rest sprang to their feet, and started out to
secure the intruder. Harry fled along the road, and soon reached
Abingdon. He had at first thought of making for one of his father's
farms; but he felt sure that here also Roundhead troops would be
quartered. After a moment's hesitation he determined to make for Mr.
Rippinghall's. He knew the premises accurately, and thought that he
might easily take refuge in the warehouses, in which large quantities of
wool were wont to be stored. The streets were deserted, for it was now
late at night, and he found his way without interruption to the
wool-stapler's. Here he climbed over a wall, made his way into the
warehouse, and clambering over a large number of bales, laid himself
down next to the wall, secure from any casual observation. Here he went
off to sleep, and it was late next day before he opened his eyes. He was
nearly uttering an exclamation at the pain which his movement on waking
gave to his wounded arm. He, however, repressed it, and it was well he
did so, as he heard voices in the warehouse. Men were removing bales of
wool, and for some hours this process went on. Harry, being well back,
had little fear that he should be disturbed.
The hours passed wearily. He was parched and feverish from the pain of
his wound, and was unable to deliberate as to his best course. Sometimes
he dozed off into snatches of sleep, and after one of these he found
that the warehouse was again silent, and that darkness had set in. He
determined to wait at least for another day, and also that he would
early in the morning look out from the window before the men entered, in
hopes that he might catch sight of his old playfellow, Lucy, who would,
he felt sure, bring him some water and refreshment if she were able.
Accordingly, in the morning, he took his place so as to command a view
of the garden, and presently to his great surprise he saw Herbert, whom
he had believed with the army, come out together with Lucy. They had not
taken four paces in the garden when their attention was attracted by a
tap at the window, and looking up, they were astonished at beholding
Harry's pale face there. With an exclamation of surprise they hurried
into the warehouse.
"My dear Harry," Herbert exclaimed, "how did you get here? The troops
have been searching for you high and low. Your escape from Reading was
bruited abroad a few hours after it took place, and the party at the
hall having reported seeing some one looking in at the window, there was
no doubt felt that you had gained this neighborhood, and a close watch
has been kept. All your father's farms have been carefully examined, and
their occupants questioned, and the general belief is that you are still
hidden somewhere near."
"I got a ball through my shoulder," Harry said, "in making my way
through the sentries, and have felt myself unable to travel until I
could obtain some food. I thought that I should be safer from search
here, and believing you were away in the army, thought that your sister
would perhaps be moved by compassion to aid her old playfellow."
"Yes, indeed," the girl said; "I would have done anything for you,
Harry. To think of your being hidden so close to us, while we were
sleeping quietly. I will at once get you some food, and then you and
Herbert can talk over what is best to be done."
So saying she ran into the house, and returned in a few minutes with a
bowl of milk and some freshly made cakes, which Harry drank and ate
ravenously. In the meantime, he was discussing with Herbert what was the
best course to pursue.
"It would not be safe," Herbert said, "for you to try and journey
further at present. The search for you is very keen, and it happens,
unfortunately, that the officer in command here is the very man whose
face you sliced when he came to Furness Hall some two years back. It
would be a bad thing for you were you to fall into his hands."
Lucy at first proposed that Harry should be taken into the house, and
go at once to bed. She and Herbert would then give out that a friend had
arrived from a distance, who was ill, and, waiting upon him themselves,
should prevent suspicion being attracted. This, however, Herbert did not
think would be safe. It would be asked when the inmate had arrived, and
who he was, and why the servants should not, as usual, attend upon him.
"I think," he said, "that if to-night I go forth, having said at dinner
in the hearing of the servant that I am expecting a friend from London,
you can then join me outside, and return with me. You must crop off
those long ringlets of yours, and turn Roundhead for the nonce. I can
let you have a sober suit which was made for me when I was in London,
and which has not yet been seen by my servants. I can say that you are
in bad health, and this will enable you to remain at home, sleeping upon
a couch to nurse your shoulder."
"The shoulder is of no consequence," Harry said. "A mere flesh wound
like that would not detain me away from the saddle. It is only the
fatigue and loss of blood, together with want of food, which has
weakened me."
As no other course presented itself this was followed. Harry remained
during the day in his place of concealment in the warehouse, and at
nightfall went out, and, being joined by Herbert, returned with him to
the house. The door was opened by Lucy and he entered unperceived by the
domestics. The first operation was to cut off the whole of his hair
close to his head. He was then attired in Herbert's clothes, and looked,
as Lucy told him, a quiet and decent young gentleman. Then he took his
place on a couch in the sitting-room, and Herbert rung for supper, which
he had ordered to be prepared for a guest as well as for Lucy and
himself.