ANNUS MIRABILIS
"Don't imagine, my dear lad, that they are going to make captains of
mere boys like ourselves." This was the reply, given with a hearty
laugh, when George Fairburn, after receiving his friend's warm
congratulations at the close of the inspection, was condoling with
Matthew on his failure to get his step. "A captain at twenty is
somewhat unlikely," Blackett went on. "I suppose so," replied George.
"After all we are only glorified schoolboys, some of our fellows tell
us. Yet you look three-and-twenty, if a day. However, all will come in
time, let us hope."
The brilliant operations on the defence line proved to be but the
prelude to Marlborough's second great life disappointment. He saw his
chance. He had but to follow up his success by a decisive victory over
Villeroy's forces, and the way lay open to Paris. His hopes ran high.
Alas! the Dutch had to be reckoned with. Eager to follow up his
advantage, Marlborough called for assistance, immediate and effective,
from them; in vain; the assistance did not come, or came too late.
With what help he could get from the Dutch, nevertheless, he went
forward to the Dyle. Here again the Dutch balked him, raising
objections to the crossing of that river. In despair the Duke gathered
his troops, as it happened, strangely enough, on the very spot where,
a hundred years later, another great Duke gained his most famous
victory over the French. Could Marlborough have but had his chance
with Villeroy in that spot, there is little doubt that Europe would
have seen an earlier Waterloo.
But it was not to be. Just as the Margrave of Baden had stopped his
advance along the Moselle into France the previous year, so now the
supineness and factious opposition of the Dutch prevented Marlborough
from dealing the French power a crushing blow. Deeply disgusted, he
threatened once more to resign his command. "Had I had the same power
I had last year," he wrote, "I could have won a greater victory than
that of Blenheim." It was a bitter trial for him.
The campaign of 1705 soon after came to a close, and the Duke set off
on what we may call a diplomatic tour among the allied states, his
travels and negotiations producing good results. It was not till the
beginning of 1706 that he went back to England, and thus it was late
in the spring of that year when the campaign was reopened.
Rejoining his army in the Netherlands, he proposed to make another of
his great marches, namely into Italy, there to join his friend Prince
Eugene in an invasion of France from the south-east. This plan was
made impossible by the crookedness of the kings of Prussia and
Denmark, and some others of the Allies. Swallowing this disappointment
also, as best he might, Marlborough started from the Dyle and advanced
on the great and important stronghold of Namur, at the junction of the
Sambre with the Meuse. Namur had always been greatly esteemed by the
French, and, in dread alarm, Louis ordered Villeroy to take immediate
action. The result was that the two hostile armies, each numbering
about sixty thousand men, met face to face near the village of
Ramillies, half way between Tirlemont and Namur, and near the head
waters of the Great and Little Gheet and the Mehaigne.
Lieutenants Fairburn and Blackett from their position on a bit of
rising ground could take in the general dispositions of the respective
forces, and the same thought passed through both their minds. The
French and Bavarian troops were drawn up in the form of an arc, whose
ends rested on the villages of Anderkirk, to the north, and Tavières,
on the Mehaigne, to the south. The villages of Ramillies and Offuz,
with a mound known as the Tomb of Ottomond at the back of the former,
were held by a strong centre. Marlborough, on his part, had disposed
his men along a chord of that arc. If it came to a question of moving
men and guns from one wing to the other, it was plain that the Duke
had the advantage, the distance along an arc being necessarily greater
than that along its chord, and it was that thought which came into the
heads of the two lieutenants.
Marlborough directed his right to attack the enemy around the village
of Anderkirk, backing up the assault with a contingent from his
centre. Blackett and his friend were soon taking part in the gallop
over the swampy ground in the neighbourhood of the village. A sharp
encounter followed, the Frenchmen beginning to waver. Hereupon
Villeroy in alarm promptly sent from his centre a large number of men
to support his staggering left at Anderkirk, thereby leaving his
centre weak.
All at once Marlborough withdrew his troops to the high ground
opposite the hamlet of Offuz, as if for a fresh attack. Then sending
back a part to keep up the pretence of continuing the combat in the
marsh, he took advantage of the concealment afforded by the higher
ground, and, cleverly detaching a large body, ordered them to slip
away round to seize Tavières, on the Mehaigne. George and his friend
were thus separated, the latter being of those who remained in the
swamp to keep up appearances. It was a clever bit of strategy, and,
before Villeroy realized the truth, Tavières had been rushed with a
splendid charge. The fact that the attack on Anderkirk had been only a
feint came to the French commander's understanding too late. His
centre, with the village of Ramillies and the Tomb of Ottomond
commanding it, the really important positions of the day, was weakened
by the loss of troops sent on a wild-goose chase.
Ere Villeroy could repair the mischief and summon his men from
Anderkirk, Marlborough had sent down upon the French centre a great
body of cavalry under the command of Auerkerke, the Dutch general.
English and Dutch horse combined in this assault, and George Fairburn
found himself one of a host dashing upon the village of Ramillies.
There was a terrific shock, a few moments of fierce onslaught, and the
first line of the enemy gave way. Through the broken and disorganized
line the cavalry swept, to charge the second.
Another shock, even greater than the first. The Frenchmen of the
second line stood firm, for were they not the famous Household
Regiment--the Maison du Roi--of Louis, and probably the finest troops
in Europe. The advance of the Allies was instantly checked. In vain
Auerkerke urged on his men; in vain those men renewed the attack. The
enemy stood steadfast; they began to drive back their antagonists; the
position of the Allies was becoming critical.
"Go and inform the Duke! Quick, quick!" the Dutchman called out to a
young officer whom he had observed fighting with the utmost
determination near by, but who had stopped for a moment to recover his
breath.
It happened to be Lieutenant Fairburn, and George once more found
himself face to face with the Duke, for the first time since he had
met him after the rush of the French defence line near Tirlemont last
year. Marlborough, the youth could see by his quick glance, knew him
again. In a word or two George delivered his startling message.
"By Jove, sir," declared the subaltern, when telling his story to his
colonel afterwards, "never did I see so spry a bit of work as I did
when I had said my little say. The Duke was ten men rolled into one,
sir. Orders here, there, and everywhere; fellows sent darting about like
hares. In a few minutes--minutes! I was going to say seconds--every
sabre had been got together, and we were all tumbling over each other
in our hurry to get along to the fight. It was a fine thing, sir."
The commander, sword in hand, led his reinforcement to the fatal spot
with the speed of the whirlwind. He had almost reached it when he was
suddenly set upon by a company of young bloods belonging to the Maison
du Roi. They were nobles for the most part, and utterly reckless of
their lives. Recognizing the Duke, they made a desperate attempt to
secure him, closing round him with a dash.
"Great Heaven!" ejaculated George Fairburn, as his eye suddenly fell
upon the Duke fighting his way out of the group, and in company with
fifty more he flew to the spot. At that moment Marlborough, now almost
clear, put his horse to a ditch across his track. How it happened no
one could tell exactly, but the rider fell, and dropped into the
little trench. Marlborough's career appeared at an end. His steed was
cantering madly over the field.
But friends were at hand, and before the Frenchmen could complete
their work the little company had beaten them off. George leapt to the
ground, and drew his horse towards the General, who had sprung to his
feet in a trice, nothing the worse.
"Here, sir," said the lieutenant, handing the bridle to an officer in
a colonel's uniform, who stood at hand, and the colonel held the
animal while the Duke mounted.
[Illustration: The Rescue of Marlborough.]
Before the Duke had fairly gained his seat in the saddle, a ball with
a rustling hum carried off the head of the unfortunate colonel. It was
an appalling sight, and George Fairburn was forced to turn away his
eyes.
The crisis was too serious, however, to waste time in vain regrets.
Without the loss of a moment Marlborough led the charge upon the
enemy. The famous Household Brigade fell back, and the village of
Ramillies was taken. Then another fierce struggle, but a brief one,
and the Tomb of Ottomond was secured, the position which commanded the
whole field. The battle was almost at an end.
There remained only the village of Anderkirk in its marshy hollow, and
Marlborough called together his forces from the various parts of the
confused field. Another charge was sounded, the last. The enemy turned
and fled. Ramillies was won.
The victory, quite as important in its way as Blenheim, had been
gained in a little over three hours. The loss on the side of the
Allies was hardly four thousand; that of the French and Bavarians, in
killed, wounded, and prisoners, was four times as great. All the
enemy's guns, six only excepted, fell into the hands of the victors.
There was one heavy drawback to the pride which the young Lieutenant
Fairburn naturally felt at having had a humble share in the great
victory. At the muster of the survivors of his regiment Blackett was
missing. Half the night did George search for him, and was at last
rewarded by finding the young fellow lying wounded and helpless on the
boggy ground. It was an intense relief when the surgeon gave good
hopes of Matthew's ultimate recovery.
"I'm done for this campaign, old friend," Blackett said with a feeble
smile to George, "and must be sent home for a while. But I hope to
turn up among you another year."
If to follow up a great victory promptly, vigorously, and fully, be
one of the distinguishing marks of a great commander, then the Duke of
Marlborough was certainly one of the greatest generals of whom history
tells. Hardly anything more striking than his long and rapid series of
successes in the weeks after Ramillies can be credited to a military
leader, not even excepting Wellington and Napoleon. Louvain, Brussels,
Antwerp, Ghent, Bruges, all fell into his hands. Menin, Ostend,
Dendermonde, and a few other strongholds gave pore trouble, and the
brave Marshal Vendôme was sent to their assistance. It was useless;
Vendôme turned tail and fled, his men refusing to face the terrible
English Duke. "Every one here is ready to doff his hat, if one even
mentions the name of Marlborough," Vendôme wrote to his master Louis.
The remaining towns capitulated, and the Netherlands were lost to the
Spanish. Of the more important fortresses only Mons remained.
But Marlborough's were by no means the only successes that fell to the
Allies that wonderful year. Prince Eugene and the Duke of Savoy, the
former after a rapid march, appeared before Turin, and on the 7th of
September that notable place fell into the hands of the Prince, after
brilliant efforts on both sides. The result was of the utmost
importance; the French were demoralized; Savoy was permanently gained
for the Grand Alliance; while Piedmont was lost to the French, who
were thus cut off from the kingdom of Naples.
George had often wondered what had become of his old friend Fieldsend,
whom he had not seen since the capture of Landau. But in the autumn of
this year, 1706, while Fairburn was quartered at Antwerp, he received
a letter from the lieutenant. It appeared that at his own request
Fieldsend had been allowed to return to Spain, and he had served ever
since under Lord Peterborough. The writer's account of the victories
gained by Peterborough and the Earl of Galway in Spain that year read
more like a fairy tale than real sober history. The sum and substance
of it was that Peterborough had compelled the forces of Louis to raise
the siege of Barcelona, and that Galway had actually entered Madrid in
triumph. Had the Archduke Charles had the wit and the courage to enter
his capital too, his cause might have had a very different issue from
that which it was now fated to have.
Just before Christmastide George received permission to return to
England on leave for a few weeks. He had never visited his old home
all those years, and it was with delight he took his passage in a
schooner bound for Hull. Hardly had he landed at that port when he ran
across the old skipper of the _Ouseburn Lassie_. The worthy fellow did
not at first recognize the schoolboy he had known in the sturdy
handsome young fellow wearing a cavalry lieutenant's uniform, and he
was taken aback when George accosted him with a hearty "How goes it,
old friend? How goes it with you?" The skipper saluted in some
trepidation, and it was not till George had given him a handshake that
gripped like a vice that he knew his man again. Soon the two were deep
in the work of exchanging histories. The crew of the captured collier
brig, it appeared, had been kept at Dunkirk till the autumn of 1704,
when they had been exchanged for certain French prisoners in ward at
Dover. The Fairburn colliery had prospered wonderfully, and the owner
now employed no fewer than four vessels of his own, one of which ran
to Hull regularly. In fact, the skipper was just going on board to
return to the Tyne.
Within an hour, therefore, Lieutenant Fairburn was afloat once more,
to his great joy. On the voyage he learnt many things from the old
captain. Squire Blackett was in very bad odour with the men of the
district. For years his business had been falling off, and he had been
dismissing hands. Now his health was failing; he was unable or
unwilling to give vigorous attention to his trade, and he talked of
closing his pit altogether. The colliers of the neighbourhood were
desperately irritated, and to a man declared that, with anything like
energy in the management, the Blackett pit had a fortune in it for any
owner.
The well-known wharf was reached, a wharf vastly enlarged and
improved, however, and George sprang ashore impatiently. Leaving all
his belongings for the moment, he strode off at a great rate for home,
rather wondering how it was that he did not see a single soul either
about the river or on the road. He rubbed his eyes as he caught a
sight of his boyhood's home. Like the wharf, the house had been added
to and improved until he scarcely recognized the spot at all. "Father
must be a prosperous man," was his thought. Opening the door without
ceremony, he entered. A figure in the hall turned, and in a moment the
boy had his mother in his arms, while he capered about the hall with
her in pure delight.
The good woman gave a cry, but she was not of the fainting kind, and
soon she was weeping and laughing by turns, kissing her handsome lad
again and again. Presently, as if forgetting herself, she cried, "Ah,
my boy, there's a parlous deed going on up at the Towers! You should
be going to help." And George learned to his astonishment that the
Squire's house was being at that moment attacked by a formidable and
desperate gang. Fairburn had gone off to render what assistance he
could. It was reported that the few defenders were holding the house
against the besiegers, but that they could hold out little longer. The
Fairburn pitmen had declined to be mixed up in the quarrel, as they
called it.
"Good Heavens!" exclaimed George, "what a state of things!"
Bolting out of the house, he ran back at full speed to the wharf, his
plan already clear in his head. Within ten minutes he was leading to
Binfield Towers every man jack of the little crew, the old skipper
included. The pace was not half quick enough, and when, at a turn in
the road, an empty coal cart was met, George seized the head of the
nag, and slewed him round, crying "All aboard, mates!" The crew
tumbled in, and in an instant the lieutenant was whipping up the
animal, to the utter astonishment of the carter.
Nearer to the mansion the party drew, but, hidden by the trees, it was
not yet in sight. The old horse was spent, and, when a point opposite
the house had been gained, George sprang out, vaulted over the fence
into the wood, dashed through the growth of trees, and with another
spring leapt down upon the lawn, almost on the selfsame spot where he
had jumped over on the evening of the fire. For the last hundred yards
he had been aware of the roar of angry voices. The sight that met his
eyes, now that he was in full view of the scene, was an extraordinary
one.
Scattered about the trampled grassplots was a crowd of pitmen, surging
hither and thither, some armed with pickaxes, some with hedge-stakes,
some with nothing but nature's weapons. One fellow was in the act of
loading an old blunderbuss. Reared against the wall of the house were
two or three ladders, one smashed in the middle. The lower windows had
been barricaded with boards, but the mob had wrenched away the
protection at one point, and men were climbing in with great shouts of
triumph.
From the bedroom windows men were holding muskets, ready to fire, but
evidently unwilling to do so except as a last resource. George spied
his old friend Matthew at one window; at another, astonishing sight!
stood no other than Fieldsend! His own father was at a third.
At that moment the fellow below raised his blunderbuss and took
deliberate aim at the old Squire, who, all unconscious of his danger,
was endeavouring to address the mob from an upper window. The sight
seemed to grip George by the throat.
George carried a handspike, a weapon he had brought along from the
collier vessel. A dozen rapid and noiseless strides over the grass
brought him within striking distance, and instantly, with a downward
stroke like a lightning flash, he had felled to earth man and
blunderbuss. The report came as the man dropped, and with a yell one
of the rioters climbing through a lower window dropped back to the
ground, shot through the thigh by one of his own party.
"Saved!" the lieutenant shouted, a glance showing him that the old
Squire was still unhurt. All eyes, those of the defenders no less than
those of the attacking party, were immediately attracted to the
new-comer, who was just in the act of seizing the blunderbuss from the
grasp of the prostrate and senseless pitman.
"George!" "Fairburn!" "My boy!" came the cries from the upper windows,
and the defenders cheered for pure joy.
The mob, startled for a moment, prepared to retaliate, a hasty
whispering taking place between two or three of the leaders. "Look out
for the rush!" cried Matthew, warningly. George, with a bound, gained
the wall, where, back against the stonework, he stood ready with the
handspike and the clubbed musket. So formidable an antagonist did he
seem to the men that they held back, till one of them, with a fierce
imprecation, dashed forward. In a trice he was felled to the ground, a
loud roar of rage escaping the man's comrades. An instant later and
the young lieutenant was fighting in the midst of a howling mob.
"Ah! Drat you!" came a bellow, and there rushed upon the rear of the
attackers the old skipper, cutlass in hand, followed close by the rest
of his little crew. This apparition, sudden and unexpected, upset the
nerves of the pitmen, and in a moment they began to run, falling away
from George and tumbling over each other in their haste.
"No you don't!" hissed the youngster between his firm-set teeth, and
making a grab at a couple he had seen prominent in the fight, he held
them with a grip they could not escape.
The attackers were routed; Binfield Towers was saved. Within a minute
George was being greeted, congratulated, thanked, till he was almost
fain to run for it, as the bulk of the mob had done. His father,
Matthew, Fieldsend, even old Reuben--all crowded around with delight.
In no long time Mrs. Maynard and Mary Blackett appeared, smiling
through their tears of joy at their great deliverance. The latter had
so grown that George hardly recognized her. All came up except the old
Squire, and he was presently found in an alarming condition, one of
his old heart attacks having come on. It was the only drawback to the
joy of the meeting and the ending of the danger that had threatened
the household.
Early next morning word was carried to the Fairburns that Squire
Blackett was dead; he had never recovered from the shock and the
seizure consequent thereon.
"Poor old neighbour!" Fairburn said, with a mournful shake of the
head, "I am afraid he has left things in a sorry state."
Fairburn's fears were only too well founded. Mr. Blackett had left
little or nothing, and Matthew and his sister would be but
indifferently provided for. Then it was that Fairburn came out like a
man. He proposed to run the colliery for their benefit. To the world
it was to appear that the collieries had been amalgamated or rather
that the Blackett pit had been bought up by his rival. The advantage
to Matthew and Mary was too obvious to be rejected, and the required
arrangements were made. Before the time came for the three young
officers to go back to their duties they had the satisfaction of
seeing Mrs. Maynard and Mary settled in a pretty cottage near, and the
colliery in full work and prospering, the district employed and
contented. Mary had been pressed by the Fairburn family to take up her
abode with them, but had preferred to go into the cottage with her old
governess and friend. Yet she was overwhelmed with gratitude towards
the kindly couple.