[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: DICK ANSWERS THE ROUNDHEAD MESSENGER]
Dick Chester
A Story of the Civil War
BY
G. I. WHITHAM
_ILLUSTRATED BY PAUL HARDY_
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
LONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I. Dick Swims the Moat
II. Captain of Dent
III. The Enemy at Dent
IV. The Flag goes Down--and Up
V. Giles makes a Sortie
VI. Dick and Giles draw Lots
VII. Giles's Master
VIII. Dick's Disappearance
IX. Master Purvis tells a Tale
X. The Inn-keeper's Boy
XI. The Lady Dorothy Byng
XII. Dick's Cousin
XIII. Lady Dorothy's Story
XIV. The Coming of John Dent
XV. Dick Meets Death
XVI. Her Ladyship's Promise
XVII. Dick goes for Help
XVIII. In their Majesties' Lodgings
XIX. Giles's Master again
XX. Giles
XXI. The End of John Dent
XXII. Dick's Return
XXIII. Her Ladyship Finishes her Story
ILLUSTRATIONS
Dick answers the Roundhead Messenger ... _Frontis._
"He held up a bright object dangling from a silk string" [missing
from source book]
"May I come in, madam?" he asked [missing from source book]
DICK CHESTER
CHAPTER I
DICK SWIMS THE MOAT
Giles the stableman had led out the horses, the two horses--one for
the steward, Master Purvis, one for Captain Dent,--and he stood at
their heads in the castle-yard. The owner of the castle, Sir
Reginald Chester, was dead--killed in battle; Captain Dent, his
cousin, did not care to hold Dent Castle for the King, and was
leaving it to its fate. The servants had fled, hearing the enemy
were at hand. Master Purvis remained, and Giles the
stableman--Master Purvis because he was too fat to run away, and
Giles by Captain Dent's orders, and for reasons of his own. Dick
Chester, the late baronet's son, aged eleven years, stood on the
steps, very red in the face, waiting for his cousin. Out came
Captain Dent, swinging a riding-whip--a handsome, hard-looking man,
dressed in a riding-suit of buff leather, with a breastplate of steel
and a crimson sash. His beaver hat was of black, with a waving
crimson plume, and a long sword swung at his heels as he strode down
the steps. Dick sprang forward.
"Cousin--!" he cried.
"Is the flag down?" asked Captain Dent of Giles, who stepped back and
looked up at the tower.
"Yes, sir," he said, saluting.
"Cousin John," Dick said, coming up to him again, "I wish to remain
behind."
"You wish?" said the captain grimly. "Get on to that horse, and be
brisk, I advise you. You and your wishes! Go to!"
Dick hung back with an angry glance at the captain, who turned to the
stableman.
"Go and find that fat fool of a steward. Am I to wait all day for
servants and children?"
He swore as he sprang into the saddle.
"What, not up yet?" he thundered, as he saw Dick still irresolute on
the steps of the door.
"'Tis my house," the boy cried impulsively; "my house, now my
father's dead. It was to be held for the King. You've no right to
drive us away. You've no business--"
The captain made a long arm and struck at him. Dick dodged the blow,
flew down the steps, whipped across the courtyard, over the
drawbridge, and out of sight. Captain Dent spurred after him,
thundered across the bridge, and stared about him. The long white
road twisted through the fields to the highway. Through the length
and breadth of the land all was still. There was not a sign of Dick.
The captain was furious. He swore. He stormed. He searched every
ditch and hedgerow with his eye. No Dick. The fat steward came
ambling out behind him. He suggested that they should call to him.
As if, quoth his kinsman, he would come! It was rather like singing:
"Dilly-dilly ducks, come and be killed", you know, for John Dent was
a cruel man, and Dick feared him dreadfully. There was only a
thrashing in store for him did he come. Master Purvis suggested
searching.
"Not I," said the captain; "he may stay and starve, for me; or be
found by Roundheads and hanged, for me! Up with the drawbridge,
Giles! Surrender when called upon, and good-day!"
So the captain pricked his horse up to a canter, and Master Purvis,
with a wry face, for he hated riding, jogged behind him.
No sooner were they well out of sight down the highway than young
Richard Chester appeared on the scene from a little wood behind the
old gray castle. When he reached the moat he found the drawbridge
was drawn up, but at the same time perceived Giles the stableman's
dark head through the latticed panes of the gate-house window.
"What ho, there! Giles!" he shouted.
No answer.
"Giles!" again he shouted.
No movement.
Losing patience at the fourth repetition, he took up a pebble and
flung it through the glass into the room. At this Giles came forth.
"Let down the bridge, sirrah!" cried little Dick.
"Not so, my young friend," answered the stableman.
"I'm not your young friend," said Dick angrily. "Let down the
bridge!"
"Not so, my young enemy, then," Giles replied calmly. "I hold this
castle for the King. Those who run away at twelve cannot return at
one. Good-morning."
He turned away.
"Giles," Dick shouted, dancing on the moat-edge in his excitement, "I
order you! I'm your master."
"Ha, ha!" said Giles, "that is a good jest, my little one," and he
stepped back.
"I'm Sir Richard Chester, and the castle's mine!" Dick cried.
"Come and take it then, my man," said Giles, and he went back into
the gate-house, and shut the door.
Prayers, entreaties, threats, explanations passed across the moat to
unheeding ears. Dick at last, tired out, sat down and cried. Then,
stung by the thought that Giles the stableman watched and laughed, he
sprang up, pulled off his coat and shoes, plunged into the deep moat,
and swam across.