WITHOUT THE WALLS OF CARISBROOKE
I TOOK up my abode in a little cottage overlooking Wootton Creek in
the Isle of Wight, hard by the village of Wootton. It was a peaceful
spot, where the tide of war had not swept, though near enough, 'tis
true, to see the scenes of many a stern conflict in former days.
On either side of the creek, well-wooded hills sloped down to the
water's edge when the tide was up, or to the fringe of the mudflats
when 'twas low water. Just within shelter of the land the creek was
of sufficient depth to float a few fishing boats, whence a narrow,
winding channel led to the blue waters of the Solent.
My life, or rather existence, at Wootton was of a particularly quiet
nature. I lived at peace with my neighbours, and though at first they
were certainly inquisitive to the extreme, after a while they found
that nothing could be obtained of my former life, and in consequence
I was little troubled in that respect.
I thought it advisable to adopt another name, and finally I selected
that of Giles White, which seemed sufficiently common to avoid
further inquiries of my antecedents.
Of the events that were taking place in the kingdom at large I heard
but little for a time.
Of Colonel Firestone and Ralph Granville I heard not a word. Whether
they were alive or dead, and how they had fared after leaving
Chalton, remained a mystery as far as I was concerned, yet I had a
conviction that ere long things would mend, and that I should once
again see my old comrades.
Then news began to come in apace. A fisherman brought the tidings
that His Majesty had escaped from the power of the Independents, and
had sought refuge at Titchfield House, whence he had been escorted by
Colonel Hammond to the castle of Carisbrooke. To me, a loyal
Cavalier, the news was encouraging, for, though nominally a prisoner,
the King was within a few miles of the place where I existed in
comparative poverty and obscurity.
One evening I was returning in a small boat from a day's fishing off
the mouth of the creek, and just as I was rowing past the little hard
on the Fishbourne side, I saw three men standing under the trees. For
a while they watched me intently, then one of them called, "Ho,
fisherman, can you put us across?"
"Right willingly," I answered, inwardly smiling at their mistake,
which was natural enough under the circumstances, and running the
boat aground, I told them to jump in.
"What sort of road lieth betwixt here and Newport?" inquired one, a
dark-featured man dressed in russet cloth, and armed with rapier and
pistols.
"Hilly, but not easily mistaken," I replied. "'Tis an hour and a
half's good walk."
Two of the men were sitting astern, and one in the bows. As we neared
the opposite side of the creek I turned my head to see how the boat
was heading, and, to my surprise, the stranger who sat in the bows
gave me a resounding smack on the back.
"Markham!" he cried. "By the powers! What are you doing here--and in
this garb?"
In a moment I recalled the man's features 'twas Captain Dixon, the
same who was the transport officer at Dartmouth Castle. A few words
sufficed to explain my presence in the Isle of Wight then the captain
interrupted me by asking:
"And you know the island well?"
"As a fox knows its lair."
"Then come with us if ye be a true Cavalier. In Brading Harbour lies
the _Happy Adventure_. I trove you remember her full well? Peste! A
wretched mess we have made of things up to now, for we have been
hopelessly lost amid these winding lanes. Canst lead us to
Carisbrooke ere midnight?"
"With ease," I replied confidently.
"Then do so, and a greater service to His Majesty you'll never again
perform."
By this time the boat had reached the opposite shore, and tying it
safely to an iron ring, I set off briskly for the hill, the three
cavaliers panting at my heels. Seeing that they were armed, I left
them for a time to get my sword from the cottage, then once more we
resumed our journey.
Naturally, I was curious to know the nature of our midnight errand,
and the three officers (for they were all of Sir Henry Cary's
regiment) were not loth to tell me.
"With the blessing of Heaven we hope, ere dawn, to have his sacred
Majesty safely aboard the _Happy Adventure_, and well on his way to
France!" explained Captain Dixon. "All preparations are complete;
swift horses are in readiness in Carisbrooke Village, where
Fire--Fire----"
"Firestone?" I asked eagerly.
"Nay, but I cannot call the man's name to mind."
"'Tis Firebrace, His Majesty's page," explained another, Major
Hosken.
"Ay, Firebrace. Well, where Firebrace has arranged to meet us."
"His Majesty is a close prisoner?"
"Close after a fashion, though not so unguarded as before poor
Captain Burley's blundering attempt at rescue. No good came of it,
for His Majesty was detained within the walls, and Burley was hanged,
drawn, and quartered for his pains. Heaven forfend that will not be
our lot."
"Burley had courage, but lacked caution, and his hotheadedness was
his undoing. We, I take it, have laid our plans aright, using
discretion tempered with bravery. Therein lies the difference; though
we be willing to risk our lives in His Majesty's cause, we take good
care to keep open every possible channel of escape."
Talking of their possibilities of success, the three officers kept up
the hot pace I had set, and it was just before eleven as we descended
the steep hill leading into Newport.
The familiar streets of the old town were almost deserted, and,
unchallenged, we passed along the High Street, and gained the
outskirts on the Carisbrooke side.
In the village hard by the church, a man, his features muffled in a
dark cloak, was waiting under the shadow of a row of trees. Feigning
to ignore him, we passed on; but bef ore we had gone a few steps he
tapped thrice with a stick against the stump of a tree. Thereupon we
retraced our footsteps, and the man introduced himself as the royal
page, Firebrace.
Without further parley, for each man seemed thoroughly to understand
his work, we turned down N a side street, through which a brook
babbled, the rippling of the water sounding in the night air. Then we
began to climb the steep hill on which the castle stands.
Neither lights nor any other signs of human beings were to be seen,
and without misadventure we gained the base of the barbican. Here we
took shelter in the dry moat, concealing ourselves underneath the
centre of three low arches that carried the road from the outwork of
the embattled gateway.
Captain Dixon pulled out a gold watch, and holding it close to his
face, announced in a low tone that it was a quarter to twelve. Then
we heard the tramp of the musketeers relieving guard, every sound of
the instructions given to the sentry at the barbican being distinctly
audible.
"'Tis Captain Titus," whispered Firebrace, "and he is with us."
This seemed to be the case, for we heard him tell the musketeer to
pay no attention to any sounds he might hear without the castle, and
to this the man readily complied, he also being a party to the
enterprise.
"Now 'tis time," whispered the page; and walking swiftly along the
bed of the dry moat, we at length came to a part of the castle where
the walls were considerably lower than the rest. Here a stout rope
was dangling from the battlements.
"Five minutes will decide whether we have set our heads in a rat trap
or not," said Major Hosken. "Now, Dixon, you first--up you go."
Seizing the rope with both hands, the captain swung himself lightly
up the sheer face of the wall, and instantly afterwards a shake of
the hemp announced that he had reached the battlements in safety.
Firebrace followed, and I ascended third, followed in turn by Hosken,
while the remaining officer stayed without to facilitate our descent.
I found myself on a narrow stone ledge, protected on its outer side
by a parapet breast-high, while the inner side was unfenced. A slip
or a false step in the dark, and we should have fallen a depth of
thirty feet on the ground of the base-court.
With the air of a man who knows his business, Firebrace led the way
along the narrow pathway for about twenty paces. Here a flight of
stone steps afforded a descent to the ground, while but three yards
away rose the outlines of a detached building.
"'Tis the Great Hall--His Majesty's apartments," whispered the page,
as we gained the level of the basecourt. "Watch yonder window."
We had not long to wait, for the hour of twelve was striking.
Everything was perfectly still, and though a light gleamed through a
window in the gatehouse, there were no signs of any of the guards.
Presently there came the sound of a casement being cautiously opened,
and we could see a white face looking down between the bars of a
window on the first floor.
Instantly we uncovered, then expectantly awaited His Majesty's
appearance. The end of a stout rope fell at our feet, and then the
head of our royal master emerged betwixt the bars of the window.
For a brief space we waited in suspense. Then----
"I am stuck fast!" exclaimed the King in a low voice.
"Nay, sire," said the page. "Where Your Majesty's head passes through,
your body will surely follow."
"Nay, I repeat, I cannot move either forward or backward," said the
King, with a long-drawn groan, wrung from him by the result of his
exertions.
Whilst he stuck I heard him groan again and again; yet we could not
come to help him, even though Dixon climbed the rope, and grasping
the bars with his hands, tried in vain to wrench them asunder--at the
risk of his neck had the iron given way suddenly.
In five minutes the attempt was at an end, for His Majesty, using the
cord to force his way back into the room, succeeded in freeing
himself from the embraces of the iron bars. Then, having suffered the
devoted captain to kiss his hand, he retired; whereupon Dixon,
muttering softly under his breath at our impotence, slid softly to
earth.
For a few moments more we waited beneath the window. Why we tarried I
know not, unless we thought that some miracle would bring our royal
master to our side.
Then his room became illuminated, and bearing a candle in his hand
(which he set in the window as a prearranged sign that he had
abandoned the attempt, though we knew to our cost that such was the
case already), the King stood before the window, the light shining on
his classic features.
As if in final benediction, he raised his right hand in token of
farewell, then, as we brought our swords to the salute, he
disappeared from view.
'Twas fated to be the last glimpse I had of the face of the Royal
Martyr.
I was recalled to the danger of my position by Dixon's hand being
laid on my shoulder, and regaining the wall, we slid down the rope to
the moat, where we communicated the dismal news of our failure to our
comrade.
Then, descending the hill, we each selected a horse, and were soon
galloping down the road to Newport.
* * * * *
Firebrace, the page, remained in the village, but I accompanied the
officers as far as the ford across the creek at Wootton.
They wished me to retain the horse I was using, but, much against my
will, I was obliged to refuse, for the presence of the animal at my
cottage would give rise to well-founded suspicions. Then, having set
them on the right road to Brading Harbour, I bade them farewell, and
sick in mind and tired in body, I walked back to my humble dwelling.
Yet I could not sleep, and after tossing restlessly on my bed till
daylight streamed into the room, I dressed and went out. A strong
easterly wind had sprung up with the rising of the sun, and looking
in the direction of Spithead, I saw the drawing sails of a small
vessel bowling along on her westward course.
It was the _Happy Adventure_.