Barcelona rescued, Peterborough at once urged the king to march upon
Madrid and have himself proclaimed king in his capital. There was no
force which could oppose his advance, and Lord Galway and the Portuguese
could move unresisted from the west and meet him there. But it was a
long time before Charles and his counselors would listen to his advice;
and although at last they agreed to follow it, their resolution was
short. In the first place, they determined to leave so large a force
to garrison Catalonia that the army available for the advance on Madrid
would be very seriously weakened--fifteen hundred English and eleven
hundred Spaniards were to be left at Barcelona, sixteen hundred English
and Dutch and fifteen hundred Spanish at Gerona, eight hundred and fifty
Spanish and Dutch at Lerida, and five hundred Spanish at Tortosa.
This left but sixty-five hundred men available for service in the field,
and even this number was subsequently diminished by the vacillating
Charles to forty-five hundred.
As Peterborough wrote to Lord Halifax: “We have saved kingdoms in spite
of the king, who would abandon them, and we have waged more dangerous
war with ministers than with enemies. Lord Galway and the Portuguese
generals pass all understanding.”
No wonder the earl was astounded by the incompetence of Lord Galway and
the Portuguese generals. They had twenty thousand men, while to oppose
them there were but five thousand under the Duke of Berwick; and yet
after entering Spain they fell back, without doing anything, into
Portugal--their retreat beginning on the 11th of May, the day on which
Philip retreated from Barcelona. So that on the opposite side of Spain
two large armies simultaneously retired before others vastly weaker than
themselves. When the news of Tesse's retreat to France reached Portugal
they again advanced. Berwick was too weak to oppose them, and on the
25th of June the advance guard of the allies occupied Madrid, and there
proclaimed Charles as king.
Had Galway and his colleagues now shown the slightest energy, and moved
against Berwick's little force, with which was Philip himself, they
could have driven them across the frontier without striking a blow,
and the French cause would have been lost in Spain; but, having reached
Madrid, they remained there doing absolutely nothing--leaving ample
time to Philip to repair his misfortunes, receive aid from France, and
recommence the campaign with vigor. As Peterborough wrote indignantly to
General Stanhope: “Their halt is as fatal as was Hannibal's at Capua.”
As soon as the movement upon Madrid had been decided upon, Peterborough
sailed with the English and Dutch infantry to Valencia, where he was
received with enthusiasm by the inhabitants. He at once set to work to
raise a regiment of dragoons, and organized them in three weeks. The
very day they were mounted he marched them upon Castile. During this
time not only had Lord Galway made no movement, but he had joined in
the German intrigue by which Charles was induced to abandon the plan of
marching to his capital under the escort of Peterborough.
The allied generals at Madrid were indeed basely jealous of the
brilliant conqueror of Catalonia and Valencia. His deeds had thrown
theirs entirely into the shade. With utterly insufficient means he had
done everything; with ample means they had effected nothing, and had
only been enabled to enter Madrid by the fact that he had drawn off the
army which had successfully opposed them.
After incessant labor in organizing his force, the earl sent two
thousand men, under the command of Lieutenant General Wyndham, to
besiege the towns of Requena and Cuenca--two places of some strength
which blocked the road between Valencia and Madrid.
Wyndham easily accomplished the task; and the road being thus secured,
Peterborough wrote to Charles that “nothing remained to hinder him
from entering Madrid with even a small escort of horse.” The earl had
everything prepared along the road for the passage of the king; but
although he wrote over and over again urging him not to delay, Charles
refused to stir, and told General Stanhope (who backed Peterborough's
entreaties) that he had “no becoming equipment with which to enter his
capital.”
“Sire,” the English general exclaimed in indignant astonishment, “our
William the Third entered London in a hackney, with a cloak bag behind
it, and was made king not many weeks after.”
A month after the date originally settled Charles set out and proceeded
to Taragona, but then, to the astonishment of the English general and
envoy, they learned he had altered his mind and taken the route to
Saragossa. When he heard the news, Peterborough sent couriers day after
day with urgent letters to the king. He prevailed upon a deputation of
the Valencian nobility to follow with the same purpose, and transmitted
the opinion of a council of war, which was unanimous in entreating
the king to stay his steps. The king again hesitated, and was about to
follow Peterborough's advice, when a French officer in the Portuguese
service arrived from Galway and Das Minas, again urging him to move by
the route which they had suggested.
Charles again hesitated, the Count of Cifuentes (who was with him) gave
his advice in favor of the Saragossa route, and the king decided on that
line.
On the 26th of July the earl summoned a council of war, including the
Governor of Valencia, two Spanish generals, and his own officers. They
agreed unanimously that Peterborough should march his army to Madrid or
join the army in Portugal, as circumstances might require. Just before
they started letters came in from the king desiring that Peterborough
should send the forces under his command either to relieve the Duke of
Savoy or to capture the Balearic Isles.
The earl declined to follow this ungrateful suggestion, which was
manifestly intended by Charles and his advisers, English, Portuguese,
and German, to send away from his kingdom the man who had won it for
him. Being fortunately independent of orders, Peterborough marched for
Castile, as he and the council of war had previously determined.
Charles was not long in regretting that he had not followed Lord
Peterborough's advice. Instead of the triumphant procession from
Saragossa to Madrid, which he had been promised, he was met with the
most determined opposition.
Every town and village in the center and south of Spain rose against
him; Salamanca and Toledo declared for Philip, and Andalusia raised
eighteen thousand men. The troops of Las Torres from Valencia, and
those who had retreated under Tesse to Roussillon, had joined Berwick at
Xadraque, and Philip had placed himself at the head of this formidable
army. Charles was obliged to send in the utmost haste to ask the Earl of
Peterborough to extricate him from the position in which he had placed
himself by neglecting his advice.
The earl instantly complied with the request, and marching with all
speed overtook the king on the 4th of August at Pastrina, and thence
on the following day escorted him in safety to the army of Portugal at
Guadalaxara.
The total strength of the united allied army was eighteen thousand
men--a force inferior, indeed, to that with which Berwick confronted
them; and that portion brought by Lord Galway and the Portuguese General
Das Minas was not to be relied upon, having fallen into a state of great
indiscipline owing to the tedious delays, the frequent retreats, and the
long inactivity to which it had been subjected by the incompetence of
its leaders. That this was so was evident by the fact that the day after
the king's arrival the French made a partial attack, and many of the
allied battalions at once fell into complete confusion. But this was not
the greatest drawback to the efficiency of the allied army; they were
paralyzed by the dissensions of their commanders--Galway, Das Minas,
and the Dutch Count de Noyelles. Each and all declined to acknowledge
Peterborough as commander in chief. The earl then offered to waive his
own rights entirely and to fight as a simple volunteer, and that Das
Minas, Lord Galway, and the Dutch general should each command their own
forces, receiving their orders from the king.
This offer was, however, refused by the three generals. The partisans
of the various leaders shared their animosity. The English troops of
Peterborough claiming, and justly, that Catalonia and Valencia had been
gained and won by him, and that to him alone the king owed his crown,
were furious that those who had shown naught but incapacity from
the commencement of the campaign should now refuse to recognize his
authority. While the disputes continued Berwick had nearly succeeded in
surprising Galway, and a disastrous defeat had only been prevented
by the gallant defense made by Lord Tyrawley of an outpost which he
commanded, and which he held for two hours against all the efforts of
the French, and so gave time for the army to make a hasty retreat.
The army was, moreover, straitened by want of provisions; Lord Galway
and his colleagues had made no arrangements whatever for its supply.
Day and night the German favorites of the king, who had ruined their
master's cause by dissuading him from following the advice of Lord
Peterborough, now labored with the king still further to destroy his
confidence in Peterborough; and finding himself treated coldly by the
ungrateful monarch, who owed everything to him, opposed at every turn by
the other generals, and seeing that his presence was worse than useless,
Peterborough announced his intention of obeying the orders from Queen
Anne, dated the 12th of June, and repeated on the 17th, to proceed to
the assistance of the Duke of Savoy.
On the same evening a council of war was held. The king formally laid
Peterborough's announcement before the generals, who, delighted to get
rid of their rival, unanimously recommended that he should depart.
On the 11th of August, full of mortification and disgust at the
treatment that he had experienced and the base ingratitude of the king,
Peterborough rode from the camp at Guadalaxara. As if to humiliate him
as far as possible, he was given only an escort of eighty dragoons,
although there were serious difficulties to be encountered on the road
to Valencia. His two favorite aides de camp, Stilwell and Graham, were
the only officers who accompanied him. It is satisfactory to know that
from the moment of the earl's departure misfortune and disaster fell
upon the fortunes of King Charles, and that the crown which he had
received from the English earl was wrested from his unworthy grasp.
Peterborough had gone but a short distance when he heard that all his
baggage, consisting of eight wagon loads and of the value of eight
thousand pounds sterling, had fallen into the hands of the enemy. When
he left Valencia to extricate the king from his difficulties he had
ordered it to be sent after him to Guadalaxara. When it arrived at
Cuenca, General Wyndham, who commanded there, forwarded it with a small
escort; but it was attacked while passing through the town of Huete by a
party of the Duke of Berwick's troopers.
The earl was furious at the news. Not only were all his personal
effects, jewels, and uniforms lost, but his spare horses, carriages,
and mules. Upon making inquiry he found that the troopers of Berwick had
been aided by the inhabitants of Huete, who had given information to the
troopers and shared in the plunder. His first impulse was to burn
the town to the ground, and as when he arrived there he was joined by
Wyndham's force, he had ample power to do so.
He immediately summoned the magistrates and clergy to meet him, and told
them in decided terms that they must find his baggage and the rogues
that had stolen it. After making a search in the town they were able
to find but a small portion of it. They then offered to pay him ten
thousand pistoles for his loss, or any other sum which he might choose
to name; but the earl, with that singular generosity which formed so
marked a part of his character, declined the offer, and said:
“I see you are honest gentlemen; for my part I will sit content with my
loss if you will bring all the corn of the district to the army.”
The townspeople were delighted at this clemency, as corn was much more
easy to procure than money, and it was accordingly sent to Lord Galway's
camp, where it sufficed to supply the whole army for six weeks.
This was an act of almost unparalleled magnanimity and generosity to the
generals whose jealousy and machinations had driven him from the army;
but the earl was so satisfied at thus heaping coals of fire upon the
heads of his rivals that he continued his journey in the highest state
of good humor in spite of the loss which he had suffered, and which, as
he was by no means rich, was a very considerable one. He took with him
Killigrew's dragoons and sent on Wyndham's brigade to join Lord Galway.
On the way he encountered several adventures.
One night when he arrived at the little town of Campillo, he heard of a
barbarous massacre that had that day been perpetrated in a neighboring
village upon a small detachment of English soldiers, who had just been
discharged from the hospital at Cuenca, and were proceeding under the
command of an officer to join Wyndham's battalion of the guards, to
which they belonged. They had slept at the village, and were marching
out unconscious of danger, when a shot in the back killed their officer,
and the peasants at once rushed in upon the men and killed several of
them, together with their wives who had accompanied them. The rest were
dragged up a hill near the village, and then one by one thrown down a
deep pit.
No sooner did the earl hear of the outrage than he ordered the trumpets
to sound to horse. The dragoons, who, weary with their long march, had
just unsaddled, turned out wondering at the order; but when they heard
what had happened, they mounted with an impatience for vengeance equal
to that of their general. Arriving at the village they found, to their
great disappointment, that the murderers had fled, and that hardly any
of the inhabitants remained. They found, however, hidden in the church,
the clothes of some of the murdered guardsmen. The sacristan of the
church was alleged by the inhabitants, who were narrowly examined, to
have taken an active part in the slaughter, and the earl ordered him to
be hung up at once to the knocker of his own door. The troops then rode
up to the top of the hill, and the earl and his aides de camp dismounted
at the edge of the pit. They had procured a rope at the village,
although the inhabitants insisted that no one could be found alive, as
the pit, which was a disused one, was of vast depth.
“Is any one alive down there?” the earl shouted.
“Yes, yes,” a voice cried a short distance below them. “Thank God
friends have come; but help me quickly, for I cannot hold on much
longer.”
Jack seized the rope and twisted one end round his body. Several of the
soldiers lowered him down, and some twenty feet below the edge he came
upon the man who had spoken. As he fell he had caught some bushes which
grew in the side of the old pit, and having managed to find a ledge
on which to place his feet, had maintained his grasp in this perilous
position the whole day. As the rope was amply strong enough to hold two,
Jack clasped his arms around the man's body and called to those above to
haul up. They were soon at the surface.
The soldier, who had fainted when he found himself in safety, was laid
down and brandy poured down his throat, and Jack, to his astonishment
and satisfaction, recognized in him his old friend Sergeant Edwards. He
did not wait, however, for him to recover sensibility, but at once told
the troopers to lower him again to the end of the rope. This they did,
and Jack then shouted several times, but received no answer. He then
dropped a small stone he had brought down with him, but no sound came
back in return, and, satisfied that none of the soldiers could have
survived the fall, for he was already more than sixty feet below the
surface, he shouted to those above to draw him up. He found that Edwards
had now recovered his senses, and was giving to the earl a detailed
account of the massacre, which so exasperated him that he gave orders
that the village should be burned to the ground, a command which
was willingly carried out by the troopers. Edwards was delighted at
recognizing Jack, and when, after the destruction of the village, the
party rode back to Campillo for the night, the two old friends had a
long chat as to the events which had happened since they last parted at
Barcelona.
“Is it true, sir, that the general has resigned his command?”
“Quite true, Edwards.”
“And is he going home, sir?”
“No; he will sail to aid the Duke of Savoy; at least that is the present
intention; but I should not be surprised if he is in England ere many
months are over.”
“Well, sir, I should like to get my discharge and go home too; being
chucked down that pit has given me a regular sickness of campaigning
among these savages. Talk about pirates, Captain Stilwell, why, I
had rather fall among pirates any day than among these bloodthirsty
wretches. Calls themselves Christians too! The pirates wasn't
hypocrites, in that way, anyhow; they didn't bow down on their knees
before every little trumpery doll stuck up by the wayside, and then go
and cut a man's throat afterward--it was all fair and square with them.
Anyways, it don't matter to me, as I see, whether they has King Charles
or King Philip to rule over them; I wishes him joy of the job, whichever
it may be; but I don't see no call to be risking my life in being shot,
or chucked down pits, or stabbed in my bed, for such a lot of varmint
any longer. I have served my full time, and can take my pension;
besides, I have got something like a thousand pounds stowed away in a
snug hiding place near Barcelona.”
“You have, Edwards? I am glad to hear it; I had no idea you were such a
rich man.”
“It's prize money, sir, lawful earned prize money, though I don't know
between ourselves as the colonel would have approved of it; so I stowed
it away and says nothing till I gets a chance to lift it before I set
sail. It's been rather worrying me in case we should be ordered to take
ship at some other port.”
“Well, but how did you get it, Edwards?”
“Well, sir, I know that I can tell you, 'cause I am sure it won't go no
further. Just afore the French came down to besiege Barcelona I was
up with the brigade at Lerida. The people were pretty much divided up
there, but the news as the French was coming to drive us into the sea
made the folks as was against us very bold. The sentries had to be
doubled at night, for lots of our men were found stabbed, and it was
dangerous to go about outside the town except in parties. Well, sir,
Sergeant Adams of ours, as smart a soldier as ever wore pigtail, had
fallen in love with the daughter of an innkeeper at a place four miles
from Lerida.
“It wasn't much of a village, but there was a big convent close by, one
of the richest in Spain, they said. The girl was fond of Adams, and had
agreed, so he told me, to cut and run when the regiment marched away,
and to be spliced to him. I rather tried to dissuade him from the
affair, for, as I pointed out, how would a Spanish woman get on in
barracks with the other sergeants' wives, specially if she was as pretty
as the whole lot put together? However, of course, he wouldn't listen to
that--no chap ever does when he's downright in love; so he asked me
one afternoon if I would go out with him and Sergeant Saunders to the
village, so that while we were having our glass he could manage to get a
few words with the girl to arrange about her joining him, for the French
were only two or three marches away, and we might have to fall back any
day.
“I didn't much like the job, for it was a risky business three of us
going so far; but he pointed out that we needn't start till it got dark,
so nobody would see us till we got to the village, and we needn't stay
there above a quarter of an hour, and could be off before any one who
meant mischief could find out that we were alone; besides, hitherto
the people there had always been friendly, for, being just the right
distance for a walk, and the wine there being good, our fellows went
over there a good deal: so the long and short of it was we went.
“We got there all right, and walked into the wine shop as usual and sat
down and called for wine. There were half a dozen fellows sitting there
drinking. They were talking aloud when we entered, but stopped at once
as we came in, and looked as men do when you come across them just as
they are saying something as is no good about you. We passed the word as
usual, and were soon chatting with them. They didn't seem very free and
friendly, and asked several questions about the French army, and whether
we had any troops coming up to help us hold Lerida. I said we expected
five or six thousand in a day or two, which seemed rather to take them
by surprise.
“Well, presently Adams got up quietly and went out of the door, and I
knew he was going round to the back to meet his girl. I had seen a look
pass atween them when she brought in our wine. We went on talking quiet
for some time; four or five other men dropped in, and some of them got
talking together in low tones, and I began to wish we were well out of
it, and to wonder how much longer Adams was going to be before he came
back. Suddenly we heard a loud scream, and Manola--that was the girl's
name--came rushing in from behind. 'He's killed him,' she screamed, and
she fell down as if she had been killed too. As I heard afterward, her
old rascal of a father had for some time suspected something was up
between her and Adams, and when he missed him had stolen out behind and
came upon them just as he was kissing her and saying goodby. Then he
whipped his knife out, and before Adams had time to turn round, stabbed
him in the back, and the sergeant fell dead without a word.
“Close behind the girl rushed in the innkeeper, swearing and cursing and
calling us heretics, and dogs, and robbers, and every other bad kind of
name. The men got up and began to stamp and shout, and seeing that it
was no time for argument I said to Saunders, 'We had best make a bolt of
it, Bill.' So we out swords and made a dash for the inner door, for they
had closed in at the other with their knives out. We got safely through
the house. Just outside the back door we came upon the body of Adams. We
stopped a moment and turned him over to see if he was dead, but it was
all up with him.
“It didn't take a moment to look; but, before it was done, they were
upon us, both from behind and running round from the front of the house.
We cut and slashed for a moment and then bolted with them at our heels.
We got separated in a minute. I turned in among some bushes and lost
Saunders. I heard afterward he was killed before he had run fifty yards.
Luckily they missed me for the moment, and I lay down among the bushes
and thought it over. The whole village was up by this time, as I could
hear by the shouts; and after thinking it over I concluded that there
was no chance of my making my way back to Lerida, and that my best plan
would be to go up to the convent and ask for shelter there. I knew well
enough that once inside I should be safe from the peasants.
“Well, I crawled along for some distance. Half a dozen times they
was nigh stumbling over me as they searched about in the gardens and
vineyards; but at last I made my way safe up to the convent and rang
at the bell. Presently the little window in the door opened, and a monk
said, 'Who is there?' I kept out of his sight and said in Spanish: 'A
fugitive who seeks sanctuary.' Thinking I was only somebody who had
stabbed three or four men in a row, the monk opened the door. He gave
an exclamation when he saw my uniform when I entered, and would have
slammed the door in my face; but I pushed in. Then he gave a shout,
and five or six other monks came running up and set up a jabbering, and
stood staring at me as if I had been a wild beast. Then they wanted to
turn me out; but I wouldn't budge, and as I had my sword still in my
hand they didn't know what to do.
“At last some chap in authority came down. He talked to me and tried to
persuade me to leave; but I said, 'No, I claim sanctuary;' and as they
were ready to give sanctuary to the worst of murderers, I didn't see as
they could deny it to me who had committed no crime whatever. He went
away and came back again after some time, and then told me to sheath my
sword and follow him. This I did, and he led the way to a sort of cell
where there were some rushes laid on a stone bed, and told me that I
could remain there.
“Thinking it was all right I lay down and went to sleep, but was
presently woke by half a dozen monks, who were tying my hands and feet
with cords. It was no use struggling, so I lay quiet; and when they
had done, they carried me away, took me some distance, and went down a
flight of stairs; a door was unlocked, and then I was pitched down
on the ground as if I had been a log of wood. I didn't move much that
night.
“In the morning there was just enough light came through a little slit
high up in the wall to show me that I was in a place about six feet
square. It was perfectly bare, without as much as a bit of straw to
lie on. Presently two monks came in. One of them untied the cords which
fastened my hands. They placed some black bread and a jug of water by
me, and then went out again. There they kept me for six days. At the
end of that time they told me to come along with them. I had, of course,
taken the cords off my legs when I had got my hands free, and I followed
them, wondering what was to come next. I was taken to the door of the
convent, and there I saw a party of French troopers, to whom the monks
handed me over. I mounted behind one of them, and was taken to Marshal
Tesse's camp near Lerida, and a couple of days afterward sent back to
Saragossa.
“I didn't stop long in the prison there, for the next day the people
rose, turned the French from the citadel, and opened the prison doors
and let out all the prisoners. They made a good deal of me, as I was
the only Englishman there, supplied me with money and clean clothes, and
provided me with a guide and a mule to take me by round about byroads
so that I should avoid the French army. I put my regimentals in a bag,
which I carried behind me, and at last got down to Barcelona the very
day before the French arrived there.
“I found my regiment already there. I got a rare blowing up from the
colonel for having gone out from Lerida without leave; but as he said he
thought I had been punished enough already, and bore a good character,
he overlooked it, of which I was glad enough, I can tell you, for I
expected nothing less than reduction to the ranks.
“Well, after Lord Peterborough arrived with the fleet, and the French
bolted as hard as they could to France, Wyndham's brigade went up again
to Lerida. I got chatting the affair over with Jack Thompson, who was
General Wyndham's servant, and we agreed between us that we would give
those monks a fright, and perhaps get some compensation out of them. So
we got hold of four of Killigrew's dragoons, who, when they heard what
was wanted, was ready enough for the spree. So one day when General
Wyndham had gone off with a party for the day, Thompson borrowed his hat
and plumes and his cloak, and hiding them up, went out of camp with me
to a place a quarter of a mile away, where the four troopers with two
spare horses were waiting for us. Thompson put on the general's hat and
cloak, and mounted one horse, while I got on the other, and away we rode
out to the village.
“First of all we went to the inn and seized the innkeeper. Manola wasn't
there, and I never heard what became of her--whether her father had sent
her to a convent or killed her, I don't know. However, we held a court
regular. Thompson he was the judge, and I gave evidence as to the
innkeeper having murdered poor Adams, and Thompson sentenced him to
death, and we hung him up over his door. When we had set that job right
we went to the convent and rang the bell. They opened quick enough this
time.
“'Tell the prior,' Thompson said, 'that the Earl of Peterborough is
here, and desires to see him instantly.'
“Mighty frightened the monk looked, I can tell you, as he went off to
give the message, and came back in a minute, asking Thompson to follow
him. We all dismounted. Two of the troopers stopped to look after the
horses, and the others with drawn swords followed Thompson and me. We
were shown into the prior's room, which was fit for a prince. The prior
looked mighty pale, and so did two or three other chaps who were with
him.
“'Look here,' Thompson said in an angry tone of voice, 'I am the Earl of
Peterborough, and I hear from this man, Sergeant Edwards, of the king's
regiment of grenadiers, that he was basely and treacherously made a
prisoner by you; that he was confined in an underground cell and fed
with bread and water for a week, and then handed over to the French.
Now, sir, I give you an hour to clear out with all your gang from this
convent, which I intend to destroy. You will remain in the courtyard as
prisoners. You will then be tried for this treacherous act against one
of the King of England's guards, and all found to have had a hand in the
proceeding will be hung.'
“Well, sir, you may just guess the fright they were in. They knew that
the earl was just the sort of man to carry his threat into execution,
and they thought their last day was come. You never saw such a set of
cowardly wretches in your life. I am blessed if they didn't go down on
their knees and howl. At last Thompson began to think he had worked them
up enough, and he said stern:
“'Well, I am disposed to have mercy, and if in half an hour you pay down
the sum of five thousand pounds as a ransom for the convent and your
wretched lives I will be merciful.'
“Then there was a fresh howling. They swore by all the saints that such
a sum as five thousand pounds was never heard of. Thompson gradually
dropped his demands to three thousand; still they swore they hadn't got
it, and he said sternly to one of the troopers:
“'Ride back and fetch up the regiment which is a mile outside the
village.'
“Then there was more howling, and at last they offered to give seven
hundred pounds, which was all the money which they had in the treasury,
and to make it up in precious stones. After a deal of haggling Thompson
consented, and I believe if he had stood out for three times as much
he would have got it, for the convent was rich in relics, and no end of
precious offerings were stored away in their chests; however, he didn't
wish to push matters too far, and in half an hour they brought the
money, and a handful of diamonds and rubies, and things they had picked
out of their settings in the vases and crucifixes and vestments, and
what not.
“We didn't know if they were real or not; but Thompson told them he
should give them to a jeweler to value, and if he found they had cheated
him by giving him false stones he would come back and hang the lot of
them. So off we rode again.
“When we got back to Lerida we took two or three of the stones to a
jeweler and found that they were all right. Then we divided the swag
into three parts as we had agreed. Thompson took one, I took another,
and the other was divided among the four troopers, who were not running
such a risk as we were. I never heard anything more about the matter,
as far as I was concerned, though there was a row. The prior heard that
Peterborough had never been near Lerida, and came over and saw General
Wyndham.
“Killigrew's dragoons were paraded, but the prior couldn't spot any
of them. We had chosen four fair fellows, and they had all darkened
themselves a bit before they went. Luckily the prior did not say
anything about me. I expect he was afraid that when Wyndham heard how
I had been treated there he might have inflicted a fresh fine on the
convent; however, I was not there at the time, for I had a touch of
fever the day after the affair, and made myself out a bit worse than I
was, and so got sent down to Barcelona, where I buried my share of the
plunder four or five inches deep in a corner of the hospital yard. As
to Thompson, there wasn't any reason why suspicion should fall upon him.
Soon after I got back to my regiment I got ill again and was left in a
hospital at Cuenca, and had a narrow escape of it this morning.”
“It was a risky business,” Jack said, “and it would have gone very hard
with you and Thompson if you had been found out.”
“So it would, sir. I knew that; but you see, it was only right and just
those fellows should pay for their treatment of me. If I had laid the
case before General Wyndham, no doubt he would have punished them
just as severe as I did, only the fine would have gone into the army
treasury, instead of going to the right person.”
“I am afraid, Edwards, that you have not got rid of those loose notions
of morality you picked up among the pirates,” Jack said, smiling.
“Perhaps not, Captain Stilwell. You see, bad habits stick to a man; but
I have done with them now. When I get back to England I shall buy a snug
public house at Dover, and with that and my pension I shall be in clover
for the rest of my life.”
It was not until the voyage home that Jack, after obtaining a promise of
secrecy, related to the earl the liberty which had been taken with
his name. It was just a freak after Peterborough's heart, and he was
immensely amused.
“The rascals!” he said, “they deserved hanging, every one of them; but
the story is a capital one, and I should like to have been there myself
to have seen the fright of the prior and his assistants. They richly
deserved what befell them and more for betraying sanctuary. If it had
been a scoundrel who had cut his wife's throat, and stabbed half a dozen
men, they would have refused to give him up to the civil power, and
would have stood on the rights of sanctuary of the Church. I think they
were let off very easily. Let me see, is not that the same fellow that
I exchanged into the grenadiers at Gibraltar at your request, for his
conduct in that business of the mutiny on board your ship?”
“The same man, sir. He has led a queer life. He was a sailor originally,
and was taken by pirates and forced to join them, and had a narrow
escape of being hung when the vessel he sailed in was captured by an
English cruiser; but his life was spared, and he was drafted into the
army, and he is a willing and faithful soldier of the queen, and really
a worthy fellow.”
“He is evidently an arrant old scamp, Stilwell. Still, as long as
we recruit our army as we do, we cannot look for morality as well as
bravery, and I dare say your fellow is no worse than the rest. If you
ever run against him in London you must bring him to me, and I will hear
his story from his own lips.”