We must now turn to the events which were taking place in the City of
London on the same day, but a little before the hour at which the Lady
Arabella made her escape from the house of Mr. Conyers.
Anxiously William Seymour had counted every moment during that
morning, till he saw at length a large cart, loaded with billets of
wood, enter the open space before the old palace, and slowly approach
the door which led to the apartments he inhabited. He had nobody with
him, and descending himself to speak with the carter, he paid him for
the wood, showed him where to place it; and then saying, "I will send
one of my people back with you," he retired quickly to his chamber,
locked the door, and began hastily to change his dress. The entire
suit of a common mechanic had been already prepared for him, and was
soon put on, making a great change in his figure and appearance; but a
quantity of jet black hair had been also provided, which, with a beard
of the same colour, skilfully managed by the hands of a French artist
for some of the mummings of the Court, completed his disguise.
By the time that all this was arranged, the wood was unloaded; and,
going down, he addressed the carter, saying, "Now, my man, you had
better move away, they will not let you stay here long."
"The gentleman told me he would send down one of his people," replied
the man.
"Well, I am one of his people," answered Seymour. "What do you want? A
draught of beer I suppose? but we have none here for you in the Tower.
There's a groat for you, however, to buy some beer."
The man took the money, whipped his horses, and moved dully on at
their head, while Seymour, leaning his hand on the back part of the
cart, followed, as if he was one of those attached to it. Proceeding
at a slow pace onward, they soon reached the great western gate of the
Tower, where no question was asked, and the cart, with those who
accompanied it, was suffered to go out, though two or three persons
belonging to the fortress, and a guard, were under the archway at the
time. The carter then turned along the Tower wharf, but perversely
stopped for a minute to speak a word to one of the warders at the
south gate as he passed.
Seymour, however, though we must not say he felt no alarm, continued
carelessly to lean on the back of the vehicle, till the man had done,
and then followed as before, saying a word to him from time to time,
to keep up the appearance of companionship. The last point of danger
was the iron gate at the other end of the wharf; but it was opened to
let them out without inquiry, and in a moment after the prisoner felt
himself a free man again.
He was scarcely in the open street, when a gay-looking gentleman
touched him on the arm, saying aloud "Hollo, my man, are you not one
of Mr. Seymour's people?"
"I am Lord Beauchamp's cooper, sir," answered Seymour, with a low bow.
"Sir George Rodney, I think?"
"Yes," replied the Knight; "I want to speak with you, my good fellow;
come hither with me."
"I must go," said Seymour, addressing the carter; "good afternoon,
comrade;" and, following Rodney, he hurried on through a number of
narrow streets to a good-sized house on the other side of Tower Hill.
The door was instantly opened to receive him; and, a moment after, Sir
Harry West embraced him joyfully, exclaiming, "Welcome, welcome, my
dear William! your brother is within there. Take a hasty farewell, and
let us go."
"The boat is not come up," said Rodney.
"Where is Lady Arabella?" asked Seymour; "where is my dear wife?"
"On her way to Leigh by this time," answered Sir Harry West; "at least
so I hope and trust. Run down, and see for the boat, Sir George. For
Heaven's sake, let us not lose time!"
"I will be back ere you can wink," replied Rodney; and while he was
gone, Seymour proceeded to a small room, where several of his friends
and relations were assembled.
While they were still in the midst of their congratulations, Sir
George Rodney returned, saying the boat was ready, but that some of
the yeomen of the guard were walking about suspiciously upon Tower
Hill.
"Let me see, let me see!" exclaimed Sir Harry West; and he and Rodney
went to the door, with one of the servants who was in their
confidence.
In an instant he returned, however, saying that the men were merely
lounging about; and, taking leave of his friends, Seymour issued forth
with the servant we have mentioned, whose garb harmonized better with
the disguise he wore, than the dress of Rodney and the old Knight.
The two gentlemen followed only a step behind; but, ere they had gone
thirty yards upon Tower Hill, and just as they were passing a party
comprising two men, one walking on either side of a young and
lady-like woman, a quick cry burst from the girl's lips, and she
darted towards Sir Harry West.
The two men caught her instantly by the arm; but at the same moment
the old Knight threw himself directly in their way, exclaiming, "It is
Ida Mara!"
"Quick, quick!" said Rodney, in a low voice, to the servant; "take him
into the tobacconist's on the other side of the hill. We will be with
you in a minute;" and while Seymour, after whispering, "See to her
safety--see to her safety, for Heaven's sake," hurried on to a house
which then stood a little beyond the spot where the Royal Mint now
appears, Rodney returned to the old Knight, between whom and the men
that were holding Ida Mara, high and angry words were now passing.
"I tell you we have the King's orders," said one of the two;
"interrupt us if you dare!"
"I certainly shall dare," replied Sir Harry; "for I believe you to be
uttering a gross falsehood, sir. You are not one of the King's
servants, I know; and it is but a fortnight ago since I saw you
drawing cold iron upon a servant who was accompanying this very young
gentlewoman. Aid me, Rodney, to apprehend these men."
"Take care," whispered Rodney; "you will have the guard up."
"I fear there's no other course," answered Sir Harry, quickly; "we
must act boldly."
"Have with you, then," cried Rodney; and turning to the men, who were
whispering together, without losing their hold of Ida Mara, he
exclaimed, "Will you set the lady free, curs; or must I make the sun
shine through you?" and he laid his hand upon his sword.
At that moment, however, three of the stout yeomen of the guard were
seen coming from the gate towards them; and, perceiving that there was
no other resource, Sir Harry West called to them, and beckoned with
his hand. The yeomen instantly began to run, and the old Knight, as
they approached, exclaimed, "Here, guard! guard! These men are using
the King's name on a false pretence."
"What is the matter--what is the matter?" cried a warder, who was at
their head. "We will have no tumults on Tower Hill."
"The matter is," replied Sir Harry West, "that these two men are
detaining this young gentlewoman against her will, pretending that
they have the King's orders. Now, I am sure that is false. Look at
that fellow's face, how white it turns at the very sight of the yeomen
of the guard; and this other man I know for the servant of a quack
impostor, here about town."
"If it be so," said the burly warder, in a rough tone, "we will souse
them in the river; but we must carry them before the Lieutenant first.
Lay hands on them, my men; and you, sir, come along with us too; for
we must have proof against them."
"That man's face is proof enough," replied Sir Harry West, hesitating,
"and I was going with this gentleman on business of importance."
"See, see!" cried one of the men, who had been holding Ida Mara; "he
is afraid to make good his charge. He knows he cannot do it."
"Well, I will go," answered Sir Harry West. "Rodney, you must proceed
and finish the business alone. You can speak my sentiments to the
other gentlemen concerned, and explain to them the cause of my
absence. I will go with you, Ida," he continued. "Do not fear. In the
hands of the King's yeomen you are quite safe."
"I fear nothing when you are with me, kind Sir Harry," replied the
girl.
"Come along, then," said the warder. "Sir Harry?--I wonder if you are
Sir Harry West!" he continued, looking at the old Knight. "I am sure
you are, too. Why, I served with you, sir, in Ireland, against Tyrone.
Come along, sir--come along! We'll soon settle this matter. I would
take your word against a thousand;" and the whole party walked on
towards the gate of the Tower.
In the meanwhile Sir George Rodney hastened to rejoin Seymour, whom he
found with the servant in the shop to which they had been directed. A
few rapid questions were asked by Seymour in regard to the sudden
appearance of Ida Mara; for, as may well be supposed, he felt some
alarm respecting Arabella herself. Rodney, however, had been informed
by Markham, that the fair Italian had been missed from Highgate on the
day before; and, having satisfied his friend on this point, they
proceeded to the water-side. But half an hour had already been lost;
and when they reached the bank of the river, the boat, which had been
prepared, was not to be found. After some inquiries, they entered a
wherry, and rowed towards the stairs to which they were told it had
been removed. But more time was thus lost, and, in all, nearly an hour
and a half was consumed fruitlessly. It turned out, that the person
appointed to steer the barge, a faithful but timid man, attached to
the House of Hertford, had twice taken fright at some accidental
events which he thought suspicious.
When, at length, he saw his young master in the boat, however, he
regained confidence; and, steering boldly past a party of the Royal
officers who were going from Greenwich to Whitehall by water, he
guided the vessel skilfully through the shipping in the pool and down
the river. The rowers plied their oars diligently; but the time which
had been lost, deprived them of the tide; and by the time they came
opposite to Erith, it was running strong against them. Thus day broke
before they reached Tilbury, and the wind, freshening and considerably
agitating the water, retarded them still more. About nine o'clock, the
weary rowers came in sight of Leigh; but, to their disappointment, no
ship was seen at anchor there, though two or three vessels under sail
were apparent at some distance.
It was now evident, both to Seymour and Rodney, that the boatmen could
go no farther; and, landing at Leigh, they hired a fishing-smack to
convey them to a ship, which they had both fixed upon as the one that,
according to the account of the people on the shore, had been lying
there for two days, and had set sail about an hour before. The two
gentlemen were soon embarked, and in the light boat which they had
engaged, they overtook the larger and heavier vessel, still in the
mouth of the river. But it proved to be merely a Dutch brig, the
captain of which would alter his course for no man, and an eager
consultation was held between Seymour and his friend as to what was
next to be done.
"Here comes a large vessel, apparently light, and in full sail," said
Rodney; "if you will take my advice, you will board her at once, and
hire her, at any price, to carry you to France. The wind is fair, when
once you are out of the river; and your friends here will let you know
where to rejoin the Lady Arabella; for she has certainly escaped,
otherwise the Frenchman would not have set sail."
"That is my comfort," replied Seymour; "that is my comfort! She
sacrificed all for me; and, knowing that she is safe, I care little
what fate befals myself."
The plan proposed by the Knight was accordingly adopted. The vessel
towards which they now directed their course proved to be a collier
returning to Newcastle; and, for the sum of forty pounds, the skipper
consented to land Mr. Seymour on the French coast.
Taking leave of Rodney, then, with many expressions of gratitude, the
fugitive bade adieu to the shores of England, not to return for years.
The day was beautiful, the wind was fair and strong, and before
evening the faint white cliffs of France were visible over the blue
sea, spreading wider and wider as the ship sailed along. Shortly
after, the distant sound of a cannon struck the ears of those on
board; and Seymour asked, "What can that be? The day is fine, the wind
not high,--it cannot be a signal of distress!"
"It may be, sir," answered the master; "at sea, there is no knowing
when an accident may happen."
But another, and another gun was heard, and then came a short pause;
after which three more were fired in rapid succession; and Seymour,
gazing anxiously from the stern, perceived some vessels, at the
distance of seven or eight miles, in the direction of Pegwell Bay,
with a wreath of white smoke streaming from the farthest of them. The
next instant a flash crossed the cloud, and then a second; and after
the lapse of some short time, the report of cannon was again heard.
The smoke now nearly concealed the ships, but, to the number of
thirteen times, the same sounds reached the fugitive's ear; and then
all was still again.
His heart was ill at ease. He would fain have persuaded himself that
the event which gave him so much anxiety must be caused by some
accidental circumstance, unconnected with the fate of her who had
sacrificed so much for him; that Arabella must near that period have
well nigh reached the French coast; but apprehension, more strong than
argument, would not be stilled, and, sitting down by the helm, he
buried his eyes in his hands.
He felt then,--whatever joy he might experience at his own
escape--that the best right of man, the best gift of earth, was poor
without her he loved,--that liberty itself was nothing without
Arabella!