There was a solitary light in an upstairs window of Farmer Harris's
house; and, by its dim ray, sat Harding the smuggler, watching the
inanimate form of her upon whom all the strong affections of his heart
had been concentrated. No persuasions could induce him to entrust "the
first watch," as he called it, to others; and there he sat, seldom
taking his eyes from that pale but still beautiful countenance, and
often stooping over to print a kiss upon the cold and clay-like
forehead of the dead. His tears were all shed: he wept not--he spoke
not; but the bitterness which has no end was in his heart, and, with a
sleepless eye, he watched through the livelong night. It was about
three o'clock in the morning, when a hard knocking was heard at the
door of the farm; and, without a change of feature, Harding rose and
went down in the dark. He unlocked the door, and opened it, when a
hand holding a paper was thrust in, and instantly withdrawn, as
Harding took the letter.
"What is this?" he said; but the messenger ran away without reply; and
the smuggler returned to the chamber of death.
The paper he had taken was folded in the shape of a note, but neither
sealed nor addressed; and, without ceremony, Harding opened it, and
read. It was written in a free, good hand, which he recognised at
once, with rage and indignation all the more intense because he
restrained them within his own breast. He uttered not a word; his face
betrayed, only in part, the workings of strong passion within him. It
is true, his lip quivered a little, and his brow became contracted,
but it soon relaxed its frown; and, without oath or comment--though
very blasphemous expletives were then tolerated in what was called the
best society, and were prevalent amongst all the inferior classes,--he
proceeded to read the few lines which the letter contained, and which
something--perhaps the emotions he felt--had prevented him from seeing
distinctly at first.
The epistle was, as we have seen, addressed to no one, and was drawn
up, indeed, more in the form of a general notice than anything else.
Many, of nearly the same import, as was afterwards discovered, had
been delivered at various farm-houses in the neighbourhood; but, as
all were in substance the same, one specimen will suffice.
"We give you to know," so the letter ran, "that, unless Edward Ramley
and his two comrades are set free before daylight to-morrow, we will
come to Goudhurst, and burn the place. Neither man, woman, nor child,
shall escape. We are many--more than you think--and you know we will
keep our word. So look to it, if you would escape--
"Vengeance!"
Harding approached the bed, with the letter in his hand, gazed
steadfastly upon the corpse for several minutes, and then, without a
word, quitted the room. He went straight to the chamber which Farmer
Harris and his wife now occupied, and knocked sharply at the door,
exclaiming, "Harris--Harris! I want to speak with you!"
The good farmer was with difficulty roused; for though no man felt
more warmly, or, indeed, more vehemently, yet the corporeal had its
full share with the mental; and when the body was fatigued with more
than its ordinary portion of labour, the mind did not keep the whole
being waking. At length, however, he came out, still drowsy, and
taking the letter, gazed on it by the light of the candle, "with lack
lustre eye!" But Harding soon brought him to active consciousness, by
saying, "They threaten to burn the village, Harris, unless the
murderers be suffered to escape. I am going up to the church, where
they are kept.--Wake some one to sit up-stairs.--I will die before a
man of them goes out."
"And so will I," cried Harris; "let me see--let me see! My heart's
asleep still, but I'll soon wake up. Why, where the mischief did this
come from?" and he read the letter over again, with more comprehension
of its contents. When he had done, he swore vehemently, "They shall
find that the men of Goudhurst can match them," he cried; "but we must
set about it quick, Harding, and call up all the young men.--They will
come, that is certain; for the devil himself has not their impudence;
but they must be well received when they do come. We'll give them a
breakfast, Harding, they shan't forget. It shall be called the
Goudhurst breakfast, as long as men can remember. Stay, I'll just put
on my coat, and get out the gun and the pistols--we shall want as many
of those things as we can muster. I'll be back in a minute."
From that hour till five o'clock, the little village of Goudhurst was
all alive. Intimation of the danger was sent to all the neighbouring
farmers; every labouring man was roused from his bed with directions
to meet the rest in the church-yard; and there, as the sky became
grey, a busy scene was displayed, some sixty stout men being assembled
before the porch, most of them armed with old muskets or fowling
pieces. Amongst those to whom age or habitual authority assigned the
chief place, an eager consultation went on as to their proceedings;
and though there was, as is generally the case in such meetings, a
great difference upon many points, yet three acts were unanimously
decided upon; first, to send all the women and children out of the
village--next, to despatch a messenger to Woodchurch for military
aid--and, next, to set about casting bullets immediately, as no shot
larger than slugs were to be found in the place.
The reader will probably ask, with a look of surprise, "Is this a
scene in North America, where settlers were daily exposed to the
incursions of the savages?"--and he may add, "This could not have
happened in England!" But I beg to say, this happened in the county of
Kent, less than a century ago; and persons are still living, who
remember having been sent with the women and children out of the
village, that the men might not be impeded by fear for those they
loved, while defending the spot on which they were born.
A fire of wood was speedily lighted by some of the men in the
church-yard; others applied themselves, with what moulds could be
procured, to the casting of ball; others, again, woke the still
slumbering inhabitants of the cottages and houses round, and warned
the women to remove to the neighbouring farms, and the men to come and
join their friends at the rendezvous; and a few of the best instructed
proceeded to arrange their plan of defence, barricading the gates of
the cemetery, and blocking up a stile, which at that time led from the
right hand wall, with an old grave-stone, against which they piled up
a heap of earth.
The vestry, in which the prisoners had been confined--after having
been brought from Mr. Broughton's at too late an hour to convey them
to gaol--was luckily protected by strong iron bars over the windows,
and a heavy plated door between it and the church; and the old tower
of the building afforded a strong point in the position of the
villagers, which they flattered themselves could not easily be forced.
"How many men do you think they can muster, Harding?" asked Farmer
Harris, when their first rude preparations were nearly complete.
"I can but guess," answered the smuggler; "perhaps two hundred. They
had more than that in the Marsh, of whom I hear some fifty were taken
or killed; but a good many were not there, who may, and will be here
to-day--old Ramley for one, I should think."
"Then we had better get into the church when they come," replied the
farmer; "they cannot force us there till the soldiers come."
"Did you send for them?" asked Harding.
"Oh, yes," answered the farmer, "half-an-hour ago. I sent the young
boy, who would be of no good here, on the pony; and I told him to let
Sir Robert know, as he passed; for I thought the soldiers might not
meddle if they had not a magistrate with them."
"Very well," replied Harding, and set himself to work away again.
Six o'clock was now past, seven approached and went by; the hand of
the dial moved half-way on to eight, and yet nothing indicated the
approach of the smugglers. In a few minutes after, however, the sound
of horses' feet galloping was heard; and a young man, who had been
placed in the belfry to look out, shouted down to those below, "Only
two!" and the next moment a horseman in military half dress, with a
servant behind him, rode up at speed to the principal entrance of the
church-yard.
"I am come to help you, my men," cried Sir Edward Digby, springing to
the ground, and giving his rein to his servant--"Will you let us in to
your redoubt? The dragoons will soon be over; I sent your messenger
on."
"Perhaps, sir, you may have your trouble for your pains, after all,"
answered young Harris, opening the gate, to let Digby and his horses
in; "the fellows have not shown themselves, and very likely wont
come."
"Oh, yes, they will," said the young baronet, advancing amongst
them, and looking round on every side, "I saw a long line of men on
horseback moving over the hill as I came. Put the horses under cover
of that shed, Somers. You should cut down those thick bushes near the
wall. They will conceal their movements.--Have you any axes?"
"Here is one," cried a young man, and immediately he set to work,
hewing down the shrubs and bushes to which Digby pointed.
In the meantime, the young officer ran over the groups with his eye,
calculating their numbers, and at length he said: "You had better
confine yourselves to defending the church--you are not enough to meet
them out here. I counted a hundred and fifty, and there may be more.
Station your best marksmen at the windows and on the roof of the
tower, and put a few stout resolute fellows to guard the door in case
these scoundrels get nearer than we wish them. As we all act upon our
own responsibility, however, we had better be cautious, and abstain
from offensive measures, till they are absolutely necessary for the
defence of ourselves and the security of the prisoners. Besides, if
they are kept at bay for some time, the dragoons will take them in
flank, and a good number may be captured."
"We can deal with them ourselves," said the voice of Harding, in a
stern tone. He had been standing by, listening, in grave silence, with
a gun in his hand, which he had borrowed at farmer Harris's; and now,
as soon as he had spoken, he turned away, walked into the church, and
climbed to the roof of the tower. There, after examining the priming
of the piece, he seated himself coolly upon the little parapet, and
looked out over the country. The moment after, his voice was heard,
calling from above--"They are coming up, Harris!--Tell the officer."
Sir Edward Digby had, in the meantime, advanced to the gates to
insure that they were securely fastened; but he heard what Harding
said, and turning his head, exclaimed--"Go into the church; and
garnish the windows with marksmen, as I said! I will be with you in a
moment.--Here, Somers, help me here for a moment. They will soon pull
this down;" and he proceeded calmly to fasten the barricade more
strongly. Before he had accomplished this to his satisfaction, men on
horseback were seen gathering thick in the road, and on the little
open space in front; but he went on without pausing to look at them,
till a loud voice exclaimed--"What are you about there?--Do you intend
to give the men up, or not?"
Sir Edward Digby then raised his head, and replied: "Certainly
not!--Oh, Mr. Richard Radford--you will have the goodness to remark
that, if you advance one step towards these gates, or attempt to pass
that wall, you will be fired on from the church."
While he was speaking, he took a step back, and then walked slowly
towards the building, making his servant go first; but half-way
thither he paused, and turning towards the ruffians congregated at a
little distance from the wall, he added aloud, addressing Richard
Radford--"You had better tell your gang what I say, my good friend,
for they will find we will keep our word."
As he spoke, some one from the mass fired a pistol at him; but the
ball did not take effect, and Digby raised his hand, waving to those
in the church not to fire, and at the same time hurrying his pace a
little till he had passed the door and ordered it to be shut.
"They have now fair warning," he said to one of the young Harris's,
who was on guard at the door; "but I will go up above and call to you
when I think anything is necessary to be done.--Remember, my good
fellows, that some order must be kept; and as you cannot all be at the
windows, let those who must stand back, load while the rest fire."
Thus saying, he mounted to the top of the tower with a quick step, and
found Harding and five others on the roof. The horsemen in front of
the church, were all gathered together at a little distance, and
seemed in eager consultation; and amongst them the figures of young
Radford and the two Ramleys, father and son, were conspicuous from the
vehement gestures that they made--now pointing to the top of the
tower, now to the wall of the churchyard.
"I think we could bring a good many down as they stand now," said
young William Harris, moving his gun towards his shoulder, as if the
inclination to fire were almost irresistible.
"Stay--stay! not yet," replied Sir Edward Digby; "let it be clearly in
our own defence. Besides, you must remember these are but fowling
pieces. At that distance, few shots would tell."
"One shall tell, at least, before this day is over," said Harding, who
had remained seated, hardly looking at the party without. "Something
tells me, I shall have vengeance this day."
"Hallo! they are going to begin!" cried another man; and the same
moment, the gang of miscreants spread out, and while some advanced on
horseback towards the wall, at least fifty, who were armed with guns,
dismounted and aimed deliberately at the tower and the windows.
"Down with your heads behind the parapet!" cried Digby, though he did
not follow the caution himself; "no use of exposing your lives
needlessly. Down--down, Harding!"
But Harding sat where he was, saying, bitterly, "They'll not hit
me.--I know it--they've done worse already." As he spoke, a single gun
was fired, and then a volley, from the two sides of the churchyard
wall. One of the balls whizzed close by Sir Edward Digby's head, and
another struck the parapet near Harding; but neither were touched, and
the stout seaman did not move a muscle.
"Now up, and give it them back!" exclaimed Digby; and, speaking down
the trap that led to the stairs, he called to those below, "Fire now,
and pick them off!--Steadily--steadily!" he continued, addressing his
companions on the roof, who were becoming somewhat too much excited.
"Make every shot tell, if you can--a good aim--a good aim!"
"Here goes for one!" cried William Harris, aiming at Jim Ramley, and
hitting him in the thigh; and instantly, from the roof and the windows
of the church, blazed forth a sharp fire of musketry, which apparently
was not without severe effect; for the men who had dismounted were
thrown into great confusion, and the horsemen who were advancing
recoiled, with several of their horses plunging violently.
The only one on the roof who did not fire was Harding, and he remained
with his gun resting on the parapet beside him, gazing, with a stern,
dark brow, upon the scene.
"There are three down," cried one of the men, "and a lot of horses!"
But Richard Radford was seen gesticulating vehemently; and at length
taking off his hat, he waved it in the air, shouting, so loud that his
words reached those above, "I will show you the way, then; let every
brave man follow me!" And as he spoke he struck his spurs into his
horse's sides, galloped on, and pushed his beast at the low wall of
the churchyard.
The animal, a powerful hunter, which had been sent to him by his
father the day before, rose to the leap as if with pride. But just
then, Harding raised his gun, aimed steadily, and pulled the trigger.
The smoke for a moment obscured Digby's view; but the instant after he
saw Richard Radford falling headlong from the saddle, and his shoulder
striking the wall as the horse cleared it. The body then fell over,
bent up, with the head leaning against a tombstone and the legs upon
an adjoining grave.
"There!--that's done!" said Harding; and laying down the gun again, he
betook himself quietly to his seat upon the parapet once more.
"The dragoons! the dragoons!" cried a young man from the other side of
the tower. But ere he spoke, the gang of villains were already in
retreat, several galloping away, and the rest wavering.
Loading as fast as they could, the stout yeomanry in the church
continued firing from the windows and from the roof, accelerating the
movements of their assailants, who seemed only to pause for the
purpose of carrying off their wounded companions. Sir Edward Digby,
however, ran round to the opposite side of the tower, and, clearly
seeing the advance of some cavalry from the side of Cranbrook--though
the trees prevented him from ascertaining their numbers--he bade the
rest follow, and ran down into the body of the church.
"Now out, and after them!" he exclaimed; "we may make some prisoners!"
But as soon as the large wooden doors were thrown back and the
peasantry were seen pouring forth, old Ramley, who was amongst the
last that lingered, turned his horse and galloped away, his companions
following as fast as they could. Four men were found on the outside of
the churchyard wall, of whom two were living; but Sir Edward Digby
advanced with several others to the spot where Richard Radford was
lying. He did not appear to have moved at all since he fell; and on
raising his head, which had fallen forward on his chest as he lay
propped up by the gravestone, a dark red spot in the centre of the
forehead, from which a small quantity of blood had flowed down over
his eyes and cheeks, told how fatally true the shot had gone to the
mark.
When he had gazed on him for a moment, Digby turned round again, to
look for Harding; but the man who had slain him, did not approach the
corpse of Richard Radford; and Digby perceived him standing near a low
shed, which at that time encumbered the churchyard of Goudhurst, and
under which the young baronet's horses had been placed. Thither the
strong hunter, which Radford had been riding, had trotted as soon as
his master fell; and Harding had caught it by the bridle, and was
gazing at it with a thoughtful look.
The last time Sir Edward Digby had seen him, before that morning, he
was in high happiness by the side of poor Kate Clare; and when the
young officer looked at him, as he stood there, with a sort of dull
despair in his whole aspect, he could not but feel strong and painful
sympathy with him, in his deep grief.
"Mr. Harding," he said, approaching him, "the unhappy man is quite
dead."
"Oh, yes, sir," answered Harding, "dead enough, I am sure. I hope he
knew whose hand did it."
"I am sorry to give you any further pain or anxiety, at this moment,"
continued Digby, sinking his voice, "but I have heard that you are
supposed to have taken some part in landing the goods which were
captured the other day. For aught we know, there may be information
lodged against you; and probably there will be some officer of Customs
with the troop that is coming up. Would it not be better for you to
retire from this scene for a little?"
"Thank you, sir,--thank you! That is kind!" answered Harding. "Life's
a load to me; but a prison is another thing. I would have given any of
those clumsy fellows a hundred guineas to have shot me as I sat there
but no man shall ever take me, and clap me up in a cell. I could not
bear that; and my poor Kate lying dead there, too!--I'll go, as you
say."
But before he could execute his purpose, a small party of dragoons,
commanded by a lieutenant, with Birchett, the riding officer, and two
or three of his companions, came up at a trot, and poured through the
gate of the churchyard, which was now open.
Sir Edward Digby advanced at once towards them--if the truth must be
told, to cover Harding's retreat; but Birchett's quick, shrewd eye had
run round the place in an instant; and, before the young baronet had
taken two steps along the path, he cried, "Why, there is Harding! Stop
him!--stop him! We have information against him. Don't let him pass!"
"I _will_ pass, though," cried Harding, leaping at once upon the back
of Richard Radford's horse. "Now, stop me if you can!" and striking it
with his heel, he turned the animal across the churchyard, taking an
angle, away from the dragoons. Birchett spurred after him in a moment;
and the other officers followed; but the soldiers did not move.
Passing close by the spot where young Radford lay, as the officers
tried to cut him off from the gate, Harding cried, with a wild and
bitter laugh, "He is a good leaper, I know!" and instantly pushed his
horse at the wall.
The gallant beast took it at once, and dashed away with its rider
along the road. The officers of Customs dared not trust their own
cattle with the same feat; but Birchett exclaimed, in a loud and
imperative tone, turning to the lieutenant of dragoons, "I require
your aid in capturing that man. He is one of the most daring smugglers
on the whole coast. We can catch him easily, if we are quick."
"I do not know that I am authorized," said the lieutenant, not well
pleased with the man's manner; "where no armed resistance is
apprehended, I doubt if----"
"But there may be resistance, sir," replied Birchett, vehemently; "he
is gone to join his comrades.--Well, the responsibility be on your
head! I claim your aid! Refuse it or not, as you shall think fit.--I
claim and require it instantly!"
"What do you think, sir?" asked the young officer, turning to Digby.
"Nay, I am not in command here," answered the other; "you know your
orders."
"To give all lawful aid and assistance," said the lieutenant. "Well,
take a Serjeant's guard, Mr. Birchett."
In haste, the men were drawn out, and followed: Birchett leading them
furiously on the pursuit; but ere they had quitted the churchyard,
Harding was half-a-mile upon the road; and that was all he desired.