Produced by Mirjam, Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
TRANSCRIBER NOTE:
Words that were printed in italics are marked with _ _.
Obvious inconsistencies, printing and spelling errors in the original
have been corrected.
THE
Weird of the Wentworths;
A TALE OF GEORGE IV.'S TIME.
BY
JOHANNES SCOTUS.
All nations have their omens drear,
Their legends wild of woe and fear.
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
[Illustration: SANS CHANGER]
IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. II.
LONDON: SAUNDERS, OTLEY, AND CO., 66 BROOK STREET, HANOVER SQUARE 1862.
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING
CROSS.
THE WEIRD OF THE WENTWORTHS;
A TALE OF GEORGE IV.'s TIME.
CHAPTER I.
"Oh! Liberty, inspire me!
And eagle strength supply!
Thou, love almighty, fire me,
I'll burst my prison--or die!"
_James Montgomery._
Perhaps the noble aspirations contained in the lines that head this
chapter are misapplied to a murderer flying his just punishment, but
even to the felon-convict liberty is sweet. L'Estrange, as soon as he
was left alone, began to think what he should decide on,--whether to
escape or remain. There lay the rope, and the file to burst open the
prison bars! All was prepared for his flight. Why did he hesitate? Why
did he linger? Between the peals he heard the clock strike twelve; he
thought too he heard the clatter of horse-hoofs, probably the Captain on
his way home. Why did he stay? he felt an irresistible inclination to
await his doom. Why? Because he would see Ellen once more! If he
went--if he escaped--he would perhaps never see her--he would have to
fly his country. He would stay. Come what might--it was death at the
worst! But alas! the Captain, what would he think? he cared not for
that. But what would he _do_? He who had gained admission to his cell
could again do so; he who had offered means of flight could also force
him to fly; it was useless then, after all he must go! Oh, that he had
never come! that man was his evil genius! "Farewell, then, to Scotland,
farewell, Ellen, I must go and hide on a foreign strand." He then began
to think how he was to manage his escape. After all it was not so very
easy. What if he should fail? he had already lost precious time! Bill
would only wait till three--he must be up and doing.
We must leave him a few moments in order to follow the Captain home.
When he had brought L'Estrange to see escape was after all not to be
trifled with, slipping a cheque for a large sum into the turnkey's hand
he was let out by a side door. It was raining torrents, and his only
light were the rapid flashes that lit the Welkin, and disclosed for an
instant Arthur's Seat, and then swallowed all in the jaws of darkness
again. He strode along whistling; if he met a watchman made some casual
remark, or damned the night, then walked on again, taking his soaking
with the utmost coolness, till he came opposite the High School. There
he turned to the right, and descending a steep pathway dived into the
north back of the Canongate, threading his way through the murky dirty
habitations till Holyrood rose dimly before him. Here he was challenged
by a sentry, but as he had possessed himself of the password and
countersign, was readily admitted. Passing through the courtyard he
again sallied forth, again gave the password, and was at last clear of
all buildings in the Park now called the Queen's Park. He walked on a
dozen paces, and then gave a shrill whistle: another, echo like,
answered him, and he quickened his pace to where Archy stood holding a
horse.
"A soaker, by G--, Archy."
"'Deed, sir, it is a soft night for being out by!"
"Go and rout up old Stacy--he is at the King's Tavern in High Street;
tell him to watch for L'Estrange at Hunter's Bog from one to three. Have
three horses, and ride to Prestonpans; there the smack is ready--don't
let him stay behind, he must fly the country. It's no go about his
sweetheart; he may perhaps carry her off a wedded dame--I never promised
her he shouldn't--but I did promise she should get spliced. If he is
obstinate shoot him, do you hear--tell Bill to shoot him, 'Dead
dogs'--you know the rest, Archy. Now off, you young devil; you are as
cunning as a fox; away--be sharp--quick march!"
With these words the Captain mounted, telling Archy to get a glass or
two of grog to warm him, then putting spurs to his horse he rode
homewards at a tremendous pace by a cross route for fear of being
recognized. When he reached the Holly Walk, Archy's father met him, and
took away the horse, which belonged to his own farm.
The Captain then walked to the east tower of the castle, crossed the
bridge, and whistled an air beneath one of the windows. He had not long
to wait; soon a window above was gently opened, and a rope-ladder
lowered, up which the gallant officer swung, entered the room, and shook
hands with Sir Richard. The window was shut, and no one in the castle
aware the Captain had been absent, as he had retired earlier than usual
from his toddy, having a natural dislike to Sunday evening.
"Is it managed?" said Sir Richard.
"Bravely--I had a d--d work to get round the old turnkey, whose brutal
pigheadedness was only equalled by his gormandizing cupidity. Then
L'Estrange was well nigh sobered by his solitary confinement, and then
that accursed storm has soaked me through. Give me a glass of brandy for
God's sake. He must be gnawing through his cage now--and he'll have a
good shake when he drops, for the rope wasn't half long enough!"
"Ha ha! what a joke! I should like to see his face after it; but how
will you know if he got through all right?"
"Archy comes with the news to-morrow morning. Now good night, I must get
to bed; won't the judges look blue? Egad!"
When Edward L'Estrange had made up his mind for the attempt, he began to
consider his best plan of effecting it easiest; the window of course was
the path to liberty; but the window was at least twelve feet above the
ground, how was it to be reached? L'Estrange was no fool, and soon hit
on an expedient. He uncoiled the rope, and found it was about twenty
feet in length, and made of silk, being both thin and strong; he then
took up the file; it was a foot in length, and in the middle a smooth
place, with the edges rounded off. Why was it thus? It had evidently
been made so? There was a reason; the Captain told him he was no fool;
he would find it out. He was not long in doing so. To establish a
communication between the window and the dungeon floor was the first
point; there were three stout bars, with iron points like teeth along
their edges placed uprightly in the window; if he could get the rope
round one of them, or in any way catch it, so as to bear his weight
scaling the wall? The reason for the file's shape then struck him; so he
tied the silk cord tightly round the centre of the file, and threw the
rope lasso-fashion so as to fling the file through the bars, and drawing
it back sharply fix the line. The first throw missed; the second time
the file went through, but as he drew the rope back, it slipped through
the knot and fell. A thrill of horror ran through him,--but fortunately
it fell inside. He seized the file as if it was his last friend, and
resolved not to hazard it again. What was to be done now? The knife--yes
it would do; so he made it secure much in the same way, and he had a
better hollow between the haft and the blade. Again he threw it; the
light from the window was very slight, but after two more failures he
succeeded, and, catching the rope, tried if it would bear his weight. It
did, and he swarmed up, and was soon seated on the window sill. He tied
the rope firmly round one of the bars, and then commenced filing. The
rain dashed in upon him, and the vivid lightning once startled him so
much he nearly fell back; but he worked on, and after an hour's labour
filed through a bar; he forced it backwards and forwards till he
loosened the upper end soldered into the stone; at last it fell out into
his hand, and he then dropped it below in order to gain from the length
of time it took in falling a rough estimate of the depth. He calculated
it was at least thirty-five feet. He had twenty feet of rope; he would
stretch nearly seven, leaving eight feet to drop,--nothing after all! He
descended once more into his cell, secured his pistol, and climbed up
again. He could not suppress a laugh as he thought how scared his
gaolers would look when they found the bird flown. He then wound himself
through the bars and the wall, getting somewhat torn and clawed by the
spikes; but liberty was before him, and he recked not of the pain. After
much squeezing and exertion he at last got on the outside. He looked
once more to see if the rope was firmly knotted, waited for a faint
flash of the waning storm, and then began his descent. It was not long
ere he reached the _Ultima Thule_ of his line; then with a beating
heart, he let go. It was a horrid feeling, that letting go, and the fall
in darkness! He had miscalculated the height; instead of thirty-five,
the depth was forty-one or forty-two feet, and instead of dropping
eight, he had fourteen or fifteen feet to fall. He fell with a heavy
shock, bruising himself a good deal on the slippery rocks down which he
rolled. He was, however, not materially injured, and when he looked back
at the perilous height he had come from, and looked at his befouled
garments dimly seen in the early dawning, he laughed heartily, and,
losing no more time, dived into the Canongate, soon reaching the
Hunter's Bog, where he found his comrades waiting. At first he hardly
distinguished them from the rocks; then he saw the dark outlines of
horses and men; by-and-by he distinguished Bill Stacy, Archy, and three
horses. He quickened his pace.
"Hillo, you young dog, so you've run the blockade? A rascally time you
have kept old Bill anchored in these d--d moorings."
"Bill, how are you? I was as quick as I could be. I thought I'd never
saw through those d--d bars. How they will gape when they find me off!"
"I have no time for words now; get aboard your craft and away, or the
bloodhounds will overhaul us."
"Away--where to? The old Peel."
"Not likely; away to the sea. You must give the old land a wide berth.
The Peel! good God! That would be a wise _cache_ to hit on."
"But I must not--will not leave this country. Can we not hide? What
would happen?--they would be married!"
"I don't care what would happen, or what wouldn't happen. The ship has
weighed anchor, and by it you go; and be d--d to the wench!"
"Stay, Bill,--what if I say I won't?"
"Then I say I will shoot you. I am in earnest. So you had better be led!
What the devil makes you care about a gal that don't care a straw for
you?"
"Bill, what should you know of love?"
"What should I, or what shouldn't I,--up, I say, and off. G--'s name, it
is gettin' light!"
Finding there was no remedy, L'Estrange mounted, and the three rode
along the shore till they got to Musselburgh, when Archy turned off to
the right; Bill and L'Estrange kept on till they reached a barren
stretch of sand and common, where three more men met them. The five
walked to the beach, where a smuggler's craft was in readiness. Leaving
one to take away the horses, the other four embarked, and set sail. A
fresh breeze, which had sprung up after the storm, swelled the sails,
and they soon rounded the bay, steering southward.
Leaving them, we now return to the Towers. Of course, the news of the
escape was so unlooked for--so startling--that for some time it was
hardly credited. The Earl, the Captain, and one or two others rode in to
Edinburgh, and found everyone at the prison in a vast state of
excitement. A more audacious escape had never been perpetrated.
Moreover, the turnkey was also missing, and the detectives could gain no
clue. Hundreds of visitors saw the cell, the bars filed through, the
rope still hanging, and the tracks of the fall on the rocks. Here, as a
matter of course, all traces were lost, and it was conjectured he might
be hiding in some of the dens of the old town. The most vigilant
inquiries ended, however, in nought. It was evident he had bold and
powerful confederates. The Earl was not without anxiety about Ellen, and
determined to take her from the spot for some time. The marriage was
fixed for the first week in November, and meantime Lord and Lady
Arranmore invited the Earl, Lady Florence, and Miss Ravensworth to spend
a month or two at their residence, Claremont Castle, close to Killarney.
The Captain left for Brighton, promising to be up at the marriage, and
bring Sir Harry Maynard, Major Forbes, young Pringle, and others. The
rest of the visitors left for their respective homes, receiving an
invitation to come to Dun Edin Towers on the 8th of November, when the
castle would be all decked out for the ceremony. A letter from Frank
also announced he had got leave, and would come home from Corfu in time
for his brother's marriage.