|Halting at Corbridge, the earl and his companions drew their swords,
and proclaimed James the Third.
Here half a dozen gentlemen joined them, and they obtained some further
recruits as they went on.
One of the chief partisans of the Stuarts in the county was Mr. Hall,
of Otterburn, in Redesdale. A man of ancient family and considerable
property, but of eccentric character and ungovernable temper, he was
known by the name of “Mad Jack Hall of Otterburn.”
Under ordinary circumstances it was difficult to get on with a person
so quarrelsome, and he was therefore left out of many Jacobite meetings;
but it being now necessary that every friend of the cause should
be mustered, Squire Hall was far too important to be omitted. Lord
Derwentwater had therefore resolved to visit Otterburn, and see what
could be done with the crazy laird. He mentioned his design to Colonel
Oxburgh and the others, who entirely approved of it.
About four o'clock in the afternoon, after riding for the most part
across the country, they entered a wild district, erstwhile the scene
of many a Border foray; and after tracking it for some miles reached the
picturesque village of Otterburn, where the famous battle was fought.
Before them rose the still proud pile that had so stoutly resisted the
attack of the Scots. Through the valley flowed the now clear Otter, once
been dyed red with blood, while its banks were covered with slain.
The approach of the party had evidently been observed, for as they drew
near the castle, a tall man sallied forth from the gateway, and greeted
them with a loud shout.
Lord Derwentwater and those with him at once recognised the Laird of
Otterburn, and were glad to find him at home.
In age, Squire Hall might be forty-five--perhaps not quite so much--but
his deep red complexion seemed to indicate that he drank hard, and his
countenance had certainly a wild expression. But his deportment was
quite that of a gentleman. He wore a green riding-dress laced with
silver, a black riding-wig, and a small three-cornered hat, likewise
bound with silver lace, and had a sword by his side.
That he understood what had brought the party to Otterburn was clear, as
also, that he was quite ready to join them, for he took off his hat, and
shouted at the top of a stentorian voice, “Long live King James!”
The shout was repeated by the new-comers, and so lustily that all the
villagers rushed to their doors.
After cordially greeting Lord Derwentwater and those with him, all of
whom were friends, the squire led the whole party into the courtyard of
the castle, and then told them they must not think of leaving him till
the morrow.
“Don't imagine you will incommode me,” he said. “There is plenty of room
in the old castle. To-day we will drink the king's health. To-morrow we
will muster our forces, and prepare to fight his enemies. Forster, I
hear, is at Rothbury, and if I hadn't joined your lordship, I should
have joined him.”
Very well satisfied with their hearty reception, the earl and his
friends with the whole troop dismounted, and were shortly afterwards
installed in various parts of the castle.
That beds were found for all of them--or even half--we do not pretend to
say; but in some way or other they were accommodated.
Later on in the day a substantial dinner was served in the old
banqueting-hall.
A great deal of wine was drunk that night, as was generally the case at
Otterburn, and it would have been strange indeed if a quarrel had not
occurred between the choleric laird and some of his guests.
For a time Squire Hall appeared in remarkably good humour. He proposed
a great number of Jacobite toasts, all of which were drunk with
enthusiasm, but at length he propounded a plan for taking Newcastle by
surprise, and its absurdity being pointed out to him by Colonel Oxburgh
he flew into a violent rage, and told the colonel he was not fit to
command a regiment.
The colonel immediately arose to leave the table, and Lord Derwentwater
insisted that the squire should at once withdraw the offensive
observation. Instead of doing so, the squire sprang from his chair,
drew his sword, and dared Colonel Oxburgh to meet him; but while
gesticulating fiercely he fell to the ground, and could not get up
again. In this state he was carried off to bed, and next morning he had
forgotten all about the occurrence.