After parting with Sir Edward Digby at Woodchurch, Henry Leyton had
ridden on at a quick pace to Park-gate, and thence along the high
road, to Cranbrook. He himself was habited in the undress of his
regiment, though with pistols at his saddle, and a heavy sword by his
side. One of his servants followed him similarly accoutred, and an
orderly accompanied the servant, while by the young officer's side
appeared our good friend Mr. Mowle, heavily armed, with the somewhat
anomalous equipments of a riding officer of Customs in those days. At
a little distance behind this first group, came Cornet Joyce, and his
party of dragoons; and in this order they all passed through
Cranbrook, about nine o'clock; but a quarter of a mile beyond the
little town they halted, and Mowle rode on for a short way alone, to
the edge of Hangley Wood, which was now close before them. There he
dismounted, and went in amongst the trees; but he was not long absent,
for in less than five minutes he was by the colonel's side again.
"All's right, sir," he said, "the boy assures me that they were all
there still, at six this morning, and that their captain, Radford,
does not move till after dark, to-night. So now we shall have the
worst fellows amongst them--the two Ramleys and all."
"Well, then," answered Leyton, "you had better go on at once with the
party, keeping through the wood. I will remain behind, coming on
slowly; and if wanted, you will find me somewhere in the Hanger.
Cornet Joyce has his orders in regard to surrounding the house; but of
course he must act according to circumstances."
No more words were needed: the party of dragoons moved on rapidly,
with Mowle at their head; and Leyton, after pausing for a few minutes
on the road, dismounted, and giving his rein to the servant, walked
slowly on into the wood, telling the two men who accompanied him, to
follow. There was, at that time, as there is now, I believe, a broad
road through Hangley Wood, leading into the cross-road from Biddenden
to Goudhurst; but at that period, instead of being tolerably straight
and good, it was very tortuous, rough, and uneven. Along this forest
path, for so it might be called, the dragoons had taken their way, at
a quick trot; and by it their young colonel followed, with his arms
crossed upon his chest, and his head bent down, in deep and anxious
meditation. The distance across the wood at that part is nearly a
mile; and when he had reached the other side, Leyton turned upon his
steps again, passed his servant and the orderly, and walked slowly on
the road back to Cranbrook. The two men went to the extreme verge of
the wood, and looked out towards Iden Green for a minute or two before
they followed their officer, so that in the turnings of the road, they
were out of sight by the time he had gone a quarter of a mile.
Leyton's thoughts were busy, as may be well supposed; but at length
they were suddenly interrupted by loud, repeated, and piercing
shrieks, apparently proceeding from a spot at some distance before
him. Darting on, with a single glance behind, and a loud shout to call
the men up, he rushed forward along the road, and the next instant
beheld a sight which made his blood boil with indignation. At first,
he merely perceived a girl, struggling in the hands of some five or
six ruffians, who were maltreating her in the most brutal manner; but
in another instant, as, drawing his sword, he rushed forward, he
recognised--for it can scarcely be said, he saw--poor Kate Clare. With
another loud shout to his men to come up, he darted on without pause
or hesitation; but his approach was observed--the ruffians withdrew
from around their victim; and one of them exclaimed, "Run, run! the
dragoons are coming!"
"D--me! give her a shot before you go," cried another, "or she'll
peach."
"Let her," cried young Radford--"but here goes;" and, turning as he
hurried away, he deliberately fired a pistol at the unhappy girl, who
was starting up wildly from the ground. She instantly reeled and fell,
some seconds before Leyton could reach her; for he was still at the
distance of a hundred yards.
All this had taken place in an inconceivably short space of time; but
the next minute, the panic with which the villains had been seized
subsided a little. One turned to look back--another turned--they
beheld but one man on the road; and all the party were pausing, when
Leyton reached poor Kate Clare, and raised her in his arms. It might
have fared ill with him had he been alone; but just at that moment the
orderly appeared at the turn, coming up at the gallop, with the young
officer's servant behind him; and not doubting that a large party was
following, Radford and his companions fled as fast as they could.
"On after them, like lightning!" cried Leyton, as the men came up.
"Leave the horse, leave the horse, and away! Watch them wherever they
go, especially the man in the green coat! Take him if you can--shoot
him dead if he resist. Ah, my poor girl!" he cried, with the tears
rising in his eyes, "this is sad, indeed!--Where has he wounded you?"
"There," said Kate, faintly, taking away her hand, which was pressed
upon her right side; "but that was his kindest act.--Thank God, I am
dying!"
"Nay, nay," answered Leyton, "I trust not!" But the blood poured
rapidly out, staining all her dress, which was torn and in wild
disorder, and so rapidly did it flow, that Leyton clearly saw her
words would probably prove too true. "Who was that villain?" he cried;
"I will punish him if there be justice on earth!"
"Don't you know him?" said Kate, her voice growing more and more low.
"I thought you were seeking him--Richard Radford."
"The atrocious scoundrel!" said Leyton; and drawing his handkerchief
from his breast, he tied it tightly over her side, trying, though he
saw it was nearly in vain, to stanch the blood, while at the same time
he supported her against his knee with one arm thrown round her waist.
Poor Kate closed her eyes with a faint shudder; and for a moment
Leyton thought she was dead. She appeared to be reviving again,
however, when a loud voice, not far distant, exclaimed, "Ha,--halloo!
What the devil is this?"
Leyton looked suddenly up--for his eyes had been bent upon the poor
girl's face for several minutes--and then beheld, hurrying up the road
with a look of fury in his countenance, Kate's promised husband,
Harding. With a violent oath the man rushed on, exclaiming, "Kate,
what is all this?--Villain, have you misused the girl?"
"Hush, hush!" cried Leyton, with a stern gesture of his hand; "she is
dying!--I would have saved her if I could; but alas, I came too late!"
The whole expression of Harding's countenance changed in an instant.
Grief and terror succeeded to rage; and, catching her franticly in his
arms, he exclaimed--"Kate, Kate, speak to me!--Tell me, who has done
this?"
"I can tell you," answered Leyton--"Richard Radford."
While he was speaking, Kate Clare opened her eyes again, and gazed on
Harding's face, moving her right hand faintly round and placing it
upon his.
"Give me that handkerchief from your neck," said Leyton; "if we can
stop the blood, we may save her, yet. I have seen very bad wounds
recovered from----"
"No, no!" said Kate Clare; "thank God, I am dying--I would rather
die!--Harding, I am not in fault--they caught me in the wood--oh, they
treated me horribly. Mr. Radford said it was revenge--God forgive him,
God forgive him! But I would rather die thus in your arms--do not try
to stop it--it is all in vain."
Leyton and Harding still persisted, however, and bound another
handkerchief tight over the wound, in some degree diminishing the
stream of blood, but yet, not stopping it entirely.
"Let us carry her to some house," cried Leyton, "and then send for
assistance. See! her lips are not so pale."
"I will carry her," cried Harding, raising her in his powerful arms.
"To my aunt's, then--to my aunt's, Harding," murmured Kate; "I would
sooner die there than in any other place." And on Harding sped,
without reply, while Leyton, sheathing his sword, which he had cast
down, followed him, inquiring, "Is it far?"
"But a step, sir," answered the smuggler. "Pray, come with us.--This
must be avenged."
"It shall," replied Leyton, sternly; "but I must stay here for a
minute or two, till you can send somebody to me, to take my place, and
let my men know where I am when they return."
Harding nodded his head, and then turned his eyes upon the face of the
poor girl whom he bore in his arms, hurrying on without a moment's
pause, till he was lost to the young officer's sight.
It is needless to describe the feelings of a high-minded and noble man
like Leyton, when left alone to meditate over the horrible outrage
which had been committed under his very eyes. He gave way to no burst
of indignation, indeed, but with a frowning brow walked back upon the
road, caught his horse without difficulty, and mounting, remained
fixed near the spot where poor Kate had received her death-wound, like
a soldier upon guard. In less than ten minutes, a lad ran up, saying,
"Mr. Harding sent me, sir."
"Well, then, walk up and down here, my good boy," replied Leyton,
"till some one comes to inquire for me. If it should be a servant, or
a single soldier, send him down to the place which you came from, and
wait where you are till a larger party of dragoons come up, when you
must tell them the same--to go down to me there. If the party come
first, wait for the servant and the soldier."
Having given these directions, he was turning away, but paused again
to inquire his way to the place where Harding was; and then pointing
to a bundle that lay upon the road, he said--"You had better bring
that with you."
Following the boy's direction, as soon as he issued out of the wood,
Sir Henry Leyton turned through a little field to the left; and seeing
a small farm-house at some distance before him, he leaped his horse
over two fences to abridge the way. Then riding into the farm-yard, he
sprang to the ground, looking round for some one to take his charger.
Several men of different ages were running about with eagerness and
haste in their faces. Horses were being led forth from the stable;
guns were in the hands of several; and one of them--a fine, tall,
powerful young fellow--exclaimed, as soon as he saw Leyton--"We will
catch them, sir--we will catch them! and by----they shall be hanged as
high as Haman for hurting the poor dear girl. Here, take his honour's
horse, Bill."
"Is she still living?" asked Leyton.
"Oh dear, yes, sir!" cried the young man; "she seemed somewhat better
for what mother gave her."
"Well, then," rejoined the young officer, "if you are going to search
for these scoundrels, gallop up to the wood as fast as you can; you
will find my servant and a trooper watching. They will give you
information of which way the villains are gone. I will join you in a
minute or two with a stronger force."
"Oh, sir, we shall do--we shall do," cried William Harris; "we will
raise the whole county as we go, and will hunt them down like foxes.
Do they think that our sisters and our wives are to be ill-used and
murdered by such scum as they are?" and at the same time he sprang
upon his horse's back. Leyton turned towards the house, but met the
old farmer himself coming out with a great cavalry sword in his hand,
and the butt end of a pistol sticking out of each pocket. "Quick,
quick! to your horses!" he cried, "they shall rue the day--they shall
rue the day!--Ah, sir, go in," he continued, seeing Leyton; "she is
telling my wife and Harding all about it; but I can't stop to hear.--I
will have that young Radford's blood, if I have a soul to be saved!"
"Better take him alive, and hand him over to justice," said Leyton,
going into the house.
"D----n him, I'll kill him like a dog!" cried the farmer; and mounting
somewhat less nimbly than his son, he put himself at the head of the
whole party assembled, and rode fast away towards Hangley Wood.
In the meantime, Leyton entered the kitchen of the farm; but it was
quite vacant. Voices, however, were heard speaking above, and he
ventured to go up and enter the room. Three or four women were
assembled there round good Mrs. Harris's own bed, on which poor Kate
Clare was stretched, with Harding on his knees beside her, and her
hand in his, the hot tears of man's bitterest agony, coursing each
other down his bronzed and weather-beaten cheek.
"There, there!" said Mrs. Harris; "don't take on so, Harding--you only
keep down her spirits. She might do very well, if she would but take
heart. You see she is better for the cordial stuff I gave her."
Harding made no reply; but Kate Clare faintly shook her head; and
Leyton, after having gazed on the sad scene for a moment, with bitter
grief and indignation in his heart, drew back, thinking that his
presence would only be a restraint to Kate's family and friends. He
made a sign, however, to one of the women before he went, who followed
him out of the room.
"I merely wish to tell you," he said, in a low voice, when the woman
joined him at the top of the stairs, "that I am going back to the
wood, to aid in the pursuit of these villains; for I can be of no use
here, and may be there. If any of my people come, tell them where to
find me; bid them follow me instantly, and stop every man on foot they
see quitting the wood, till he gives an account of himself.--But had
you not better send for a surgeon?"
"One is sent for, sir," replied the woman; "but I think she is not so
bad as she was.--I'll take care and tell your people. I do hope they
will catch them, for this is _too_ bad."
Without more words Leyton went down, remounted his horse, and galloped
back towards the edge of the wood. The news of what had happened,
however, seemed to have spread over the country with the speed of
lightning; for he saw four or five of the peasantry on horseback,
already riding in the same direction across the fields. Two stout
farmers joined him as he went, and both were already full of the story
of poor Kate Clare. Rage and indignation were universal amongst the
people; but as usual on such occasions, one proposed one plan, and
another the other, so that by want of combination in their operations,
all their resolution and eagerness were likely to be fruitlessly
employed.
Leyton knew that it was of little use to argue on such points with
undisciplined men; and his only trust was in the speedy arrival of the
soldiers from Iden Green. When he reached the edge of the wood,
however, with his two companions, they came upon farmer Harris's
party, now swelled to twelve or thirteen men; and at the same moment
his own servant rode round, exclaiming, as soon as he saw his master,
"They are still in the wood, sir, if they have not come out this way.
They dispersed so that we could not follow them on horseback, and we
galloped out by different ways to watch."
"They haven't come here," cried Farmer Harris, "or we should have seen
them. So now we have them safe enough."
"Ride off towards Iden Green," said Leyton to the servant, "and direct
Cornet Joyce to bring down his men at the gallop to the edge of the
copse. Let him dismount twelve on the north side of the wood, and,
with all the farm-servants and country people he can collect, sweep
it down, while the rest of the mounted men advance, on a line, on
either side.--Stay, I will write;" and tearing a leaf out of his
pocket-book, he put down his orders in pencil.
The man had just galloped away, when the young farmer, William Harris,
shouted, "There they go--there they go! After them!--after them! Tally
ho!" and instantly set spurs to his horse. All the rest but Leyton
followed at full speed; but he paused, and, directing his eyes along
the edge of the wood, clearly saw, at the distance of somewhat more
than half a mile, three men, who seemed to have issued forth from
amongst the trees, running across the fields as fast as they could go.
It would seem that they had not been aware of the numbers collected to
intercept them, till they had advanced too far to retreat; but
they had got a good start; the country was difficult for any but
well-trained horses; and darting on, they took their way towards
Goudhurst, passing within a hundred yards of the spot where the victim
of their horrid barbarity lay upon the bed of death.
Taking the narrow paths, leaping the stiles and gates, they at first
seemed to gain upon the mass of peasantry who followed them, though
their pursuers were on horseback and they on foot. But, well knowing
the country, the farmers spread out along the small bridle-roads; and,
while the better mounted horsemen followed direct across the fields,
the others prepared to cut off the ruffians on the right and left.
Gradually a semi-circle, enclosing them within its horns, was thus
formed; and all chance of escape by flight was thus cut off.
In this dilemma, the three miscreants made straight towards a
farm-house at which they occasionally received hospitality in their
lawless expeditions, and which bears the name of "Smuggler Farm" to
this day; but they knew not that all hearts had been raised against
them by their late atrocities, and that the very tenant of the farm
himself was now one of the foremost in pursuit. Rushing in, then, with
no farther ceremony than casting the door open, they locked and barred
it, just as some of the peasantry were closing in upon them; and then,
hurrying to the kitchen, where the farmer's wife, his sister, and a
servant was collected, Ned Ramley, who was the first, exclaimed, "Have
you no hide, good dame?"
"Hide!" replied the stout farmer's wife, eyeing him askance--"not for
such villains as you! Give me the spit, Madge; I've a great mind to
run him through." Ned Ramley drew a pistol from his pocket; but at
that moment the window was thrown up, the back door of the house was
cast open, and half-a-dozen of the stout yeomanry rushed in. The
smugglers saw that resistance would be vain; but still they resisted;
and though, in the agitation of the moment, Ned Ramley's pistol was
discharged innocuously, he did not fail to aim it at the head of young
William Harris, who was springing towards him. The stout farmer,
however, instantly levelled him with the ground by a thundering blow
upon the head; and the other two men, after a desperate struggle, were
likewise taken and tied.
"Lucky for you it was me, and not my father, Master Ramley," said
William Harris. "He'd have blown your brains out; but you're only
saved to be hanged, anyhow.--Ay, here he comes!--Stop, stop, old
gentleman! he's a prisoner; don't you touch him.--Let the law have the
job, as the gentleman said."
"Oh, you accursed villain--oh, you hellish scoundrel," cried old
Harris, kept back with difficulty by his son and the rest. "You were
one of the foremost of them. But where is the greatest villain of them
all?--where's that limb of the devil, young Radford?--I will have him!
Let me go, Will--I will have him, I say!"
Ned Ramley laughed aloud: "You wont, though," he answered, bitterly;
"he's been gone this half hour, and will be at the sea, and over the
sea, before you can catch him.--You may do with me what you like, but
he's safe enough."
"Some one ride off and tell the officer what he says!" cried the
farmer. But when the intelligence was conveyed to Sir Henry Leyton, he
was already aware that some of the men must have made their escape
unobserved; for his servant had met Cornet Joyce and the party of
dragoons by the way, and with the aid of a number of farm servants
from Iden Green and its neighbourhood, the wood had been searched with
such strictness, that the pheasants, which were at that time numerous
there, had flown out in clouds, as if a battue had been going on. He
mistrusted Ned Ramley's information, however; knowing that the
hardened villain would find a sort of pride in misleading the pursuers
of young Radford, even though taken himself. Riding quickly across to
the farm, then, together with Mowle and the Cornet, he interrogated
the men separately, but found they were all in the same story, from
which they varied not in the least--that Richard Radford had crept out
by the hedges near the wood, and had gone first to a place where a
horse was in waiting for him, and thence would make straight to the
sea-side, where a boat was already prepared. Instant measures to
prevent him from executing this plan now became necessary; and Leyton
directed the Cornet to hasten away as fast as possible in pursuit,
sending information from Woodchurch to every point of the coast where
the offender was likely to pass, spreading out his men so as to cover
all the roads to the sea, and only leaving at the farm a sufficient
guard to secure the prisoners.
On hearing the latter part of this order, however, Farmer Harris
exclaimed, "No, no, sir; no need of that. We've taken them, and we'll
keep them safe enough. I'll see these fellows into prison myself--ay,
and hanged too, please God! and we'll guard them sure, don't you be
afraid."
Leyton looked to Mowle, saying, "I must abide by your decision, Mr.
Mowle." But the officer answered: "Oh, you may trust them, sir, quite
safely, after all I hear has happened. But I think, Mr. Harris, you
had better have just a few men to help you. You've got no place to
keep them here; and they must be taken before a magistrate first,
before they can be committed."
"Oh, we'll keep them safe enough," replied the farmer. "We'll put them
in Goudhurst church, till we can send them off, and, in the meantime,
I'll have them up before Squire Broughton. My son's a constable, so
they are in proper hands."
"Very well," answered Leyton; "in this case I have no right to
interfere; but, of course, you are responsible for their safe
custody."
"I say, Mowle," cried Ned Ramley, in his usual daring manner, "bid
them give me something to drink, for I'm devilish thirsty; and I'll
give you some information, if you will."
Mowle obtained some beer for him, and then demanded, "Well, what is
it, Ned?"
"Why, only this," said Ned Ramley, after they had held the beer to his
lips, and he had taken a deep draught--"you will have your brains
blown out, before ten days are over."
"I am not afraid," replied Mowle, laughing.
"That's right," answered Ned Ramley. "But it will happen; for fifty of
us have sworn it. We have had our revenge of your spy, Harding; and we
have only you to settle with now."
"Harding!" cried Mowle. "He's no spy of mine.--It was not he that
peached, you young scoundrel; it was one of those whom you trusted
more than him."
"Ah, well," answered Ned Ramley, indifferently; "then he'll have a
sore heart to-night, that he didn't work for. But you'll have your
turn yet, Mr. Mowle, so look that you make good use of your brains,
for they wont be long in your skull."
"You are a hardened villain," said Sir Henry Leyton. "You had better
march them off as fast as you can, my good friends; take them before a
magistrate; and above all things, get them to prison ere nightfall, or
we may have another rescue."
"No fear, no fear!" answered Farmer Harris. "To rescue a smuggler is
one thing--I never liked to see them taken myself--but bloodthirsty
villains like these, that would ill use a poor, dear, good girl, and
murder her in cold blood,--why, there is not a man in the county would
not help to hang them. But I wish, sir, you would go yourself, and see
and stop that other great villain. If he isn't hanged too, I don't
think I shall ever rest in my bed again."
"I will do my best, depend upon it," replied Leyton; "but I must
first, Mr. Harris, go to your house, and see the state of that poor
girl. I have known her since she was a child, and feel for her almost
as if she were a sister."
"Thank you, sir--thank you!" cried old Harris, shaking him by the
hand. "There, boys," he continued, dashing away the tears from his
eyes--"make a guard, and take these blackguards off in the middle of
you. We'll have them up to Squire Broughton's at once; and then I must
go back, too."
On his way to the farm, Leyton desired Mowle to return to Woodchurch,
and to wait for him there, taking every step that he might think
necessary, with the aid of Captain Irby. "I will not be long," he
added.
"Pray don't, sir," rejoined Mowle; "for we have other business to do
to-night;" and, sinking his voice to a whisper, he added, "I've got
the information I wanted, sir. A part of the goods are certainly at
Radford Hall, and if we can seize them there, that, with the
deposition of the men at Woodchurch, will bring him in for the whole
offence."
"I shall, very likely, overtake you by the way," replied Leyton. "But,
at all events, I shall be there before four."
Most such calculations are vain, however. Leyton turned aside to the
Harris's farm, where he found poor Kate Clare sinking rapidly. The
curate of the parish had been sent for, and, by his advice, Mr.
Broughton, the magistrate, who had entered the house but two or three
minutes before Leyton himself. Though her voice now scarcely rose
above a whisper, she made her dying declaration with clearness and
accuracy. It is not necessary here to give any of the details; but, as
she concluded, she turned her faint and swimming eyes towards Leyton,
saying, "That gentleman, who has always been such a good friend to me
and mine, can tell you more, sir, for he came up to my help, just as
they shot me."
The magistrate raised his eyes, and inquired, in a low tone, "Who is
he?"
"Sir Henry Leyton," replied the poor girl, loud enough for that
officer to hear; and thinking that she asked for him, he approached
nearer, and stood by Harding's side. Kate raised her hand a little
from the bedclothes, as if she would have given it to him; and he took
it kindly in his, speaking some words of comfort.
"Thank you, sir--thank you, for all your kindness," said Kate. "I am
glad you have come, that I may wish you good-bye, and ask you to be
kind to poor Harding, too. It will soon be over now; and you had
better all leave me. Not you, Harding--not you.--You must close my
eyes, as my poor mother is not here."
A groan burst from the stout seaman's breast; and giving way to all
his feelings, he sobbed like a child. According to her desire, Leyton
and Mr. Broughton retired from the room; and the young officer
informed the magistrate, that the prisoners who had been taken were
waiting for examination at his house.
"We shall want your evidence, Sir Henry," said the magistrate. "It is
absolutely necessary, if, as I understand, you were eye-witness to the
murder."
Leyton saw the propriety of the magistrate's demand, and he yielded
immediately. But the investigation was prolonged by several
circumstances; and, what between the time that it took up, and that
which had been previously spent in the pursuit of the murderers, it
was past three o'clock before Leyton mounted his horse at Mr.
Broughton's door. He paused for an instant at the gate of the Harris's
farm-yard, where a girl was standing with tears in her eyes; but
before he could ask any question, she replied to that which was rising
to his lips. "She is gone, sir," said the girl--"she is gone. She did
not last half-an-hour after you were here."
With a sad heart, Leyton rode on, passing at a quick pace through
Harbourne Wood, and not trusting himself to stop at Mrs. Clare's
cottage. The windows, however, were closed; and the young officer
concluded from that circumstance, that the tidings of her daughter's
fate must by this time have reached the childless widow. Not far
beyond her gate, he was met by Sir Edward Digby's servant; but eager
to arrive at Woodchurch, Leyton did not stop to speak with him, and
Somers, turning his horse with the orderly and his old companion,
Leyton's servant, gleaned what information he could from them as he
went.
Notwithstanding all the speed he could use, however, it was half-past
four before Leyton reached Woodchurch; and, on inquiring for Mr.
Warde, he found that gentleman had called, but gone away again, saying
he would return in an hour.