AT PRESTON AND AFTERWARDS.
The siege of Preston forms no part of this story, and fortunately so
for me, since I saw and understood of its brief and fatal enactment no
more than was done under my own nose. Why General Wills and his
dragoons were allowed to pass the Ribble Bridge and the narrow lane
which leads to it without so much impediment as a single shot might
cause; why Mr. Forster made no attempt to break out down the
Fishergate Street into the marshes beyond the town when General
Carpenter closed in upon our rear; by what persuasions the Highlanders
were finally induced to lay down their arms--these are questions for
historians to dispute and find answer to, if they can. For my part, I
fought at Macintosh's barrier a little below the church, where the
first attack was made, with one eye upon Preston's regiment of foot in
front and the other upon Mr. Curwen at my side; and what with the
enemy and my friend, my hands were full.
The attack was made about eleven of the forenoon. I remember very
distinctly the extraordinary hush that fell upon us when our friends
from the windows of the houses above us signalled that the troops were
approaching. In front stretched the empty street, so still, so bare in
the sunlight, and taking on of a sudden an appalling significance.
Half an hour before, messengers had ridden hither and thither with
resounding hoofs, patrols tramped upon the footway, citizens peeped
timorous from casement and door. We had glanced down it as we looked
to our weapons with a matter-of-fact word: "This way they will come."
Now it seemed to wait in a conscious expectation, the responsible
agent of destiny. France, Scotland, England, every country in Europe
had a stake to be played for in this street, and it was as though it
had been new-swept and garnished for the game. I know that every
cobble throughout its length seemed to gleam in the sunlight distinct
and separate from its fellows. And then, whilst we stood silent behind
the barrier, while from the windows the Highlanders bent forward
craning their necks, grasping their muskets, the deadly silence was
broken by the ringing tramp of a single horse, and from a passage at
the side betwixt two houses in the middle distance, an officer rode
out into the open causeway with his drawn sword in his hand. For a
moment, every man of us, I think, held his breath. The officer looked
up the street to the barrier and again down the street and at the
windows to see how our men were posted. Then a shout went up, loud,
unanimous, like a single voice; with a single movement every musket
was raised to the shoulder, and in a second the air whistled with
bullets and flashed in a hundred tiny flames. But it seemed the
officer bore a charmed life. No bullet struck him then, and cantering
back within the shelter of the passage, he presently led out and
ranged his men. The men were Preston's regiment; the officer, their
Lieutenant-colonel, the Lord Forrester, and with their appearance the
battle was begun in earnest. I have hinted that I had some difficulty
in restraining Mr. Curwen's ardour, and Lord Forrester gives me an
instance pat to the point. For during that moment's silence, when the
colonel stood alone in the street, Mr. Curwen climbs unsteadily to the
top of the barrier, and with his white hair blowing from his
shoulders, his dreamy eyes ablaze with I know not what fancies of
antique chivalry, calls upon the colonel to settle then and there with
him in single combat the succession to the Crown. Or, rather begins to
call, I should say, for the moment at which he began to speak was
precisely that moment at which I saw the muskets go up to the
shoulders, and leaping after him I pulled him unceremoniously down.
And here we found the value of our cannon. For we had two pieces at
our barricade, and though they failed at first, it was owing to a
sailor who professing skill and experience was entrusted with the
management of them, and who aiming at Preston's regiment in the
street, with great ingenuity brought down a chimney from the tops of
the houses. The truth is the man was full with ale, but having got rid
of him, we fared better, and firing securely from behind the barrier,
did so much execution as made our adversaries draw off.
That night we remained at the barrier firing platoons whenever a light
appeared in those houses which we knew to be occupied by our
opponents, and getting such sleep as we could to fit us for the
morrow.
The next morning, however, we heard that General Carpenter by forced
marches had come upon our rear so that the town was invested about,
and there was no way for us except by the gates of death. And at the
same time many rumours of a capitulation were spread abroad which
drove the Highlandmen into a frenzy. All the morning then we remained
in the greatest uncertainty, but about three of the afternoon Colonel
Cotton rode up the street with a dragoon and a drum beating a chamade
before him, and then we knew that these rumours were indeed the truth.
He alighted at the Mitre, whither we presently saw Lord Kenmure, Mr.
Forster, and Lord Widdrington making haste to join him; and in a
little came a messenger to us seeking Lord Derwentwater. He was at the
moment digging in a trench to deepen it, with his waistcoat off; and
slipping on his clothes:
"Curse the fellow!" he cried, and so turned to me, "Lawrence! never
trust a Tory! If you outlive this misfortune never speak to one! They
are damned rogues in disguise. Here's Lord Widdrington, good tender
man that cannot travel without his soup in a bottle! Curse the fellow!
All yesterday, while you and I, and the rest of my good friends here,
were pleading the cause with the only music our enemies will dance to,
what was my Lord Widdrington doing, but sitting in an alehouse,
licking his bottle of soup? The gout he blames! Well, well, the gout
is a very opportune complaint;" and so striking his hands together to
remove the mud from them, off he goes to the Mitre.
It was some little while before he returned to me, during which I
bethought me not so much of the pass into which I had fallen, as the
means by which I might extricate myself. For extricate myself I must.
There was Mr. Herbert in the first place. Here was the end of our
insurrection, and I thrown back upon my first plan of delivering
myself to the authorities; and in the second, I must needs get Mr.
Curwen to some spot in which he could lie safely, until such time as
the matter had blown over; and furthermore, to these two duties was
yet added a third and new obligation. Yet, I think it was this last
which enheartened me to confront the other two, for there was
something very sweet in the mere notion of it, which leavened all my
distress.
In about two hours came Lord Derwentwater back, and drawing me aside:
"It is not a capitulation," he said, "but a mere surrender. Forster is
given till seven of the morning to reconcile his troops to it.
Meanwhile, I go with Colonel Cotton as a hostage." He pulled out his
purse as he spoke, and rummaging in his pockets, added to it such
coins as he had loose about him.
"We will divide them," said he. "Nay, they will be of more service to
you than to me. I was quartered with an apothecary--you know the
house--a man very discreet and loyal. Doubtless he will do for you
what he can if you add my recommendation to your request. It may be
that you can escape, since you are hampered with no companions and are
little known."
"Nay," I replied, "I have Mr. Curwen to safeguard, if by any means I
can. He gave me shelter and every kindness when I was at my wits'
ends. Besides----" And then I came to a stop and felt myself flushing
hot, but hoped the grime of the gunpowder would hide my confusion.
"Well?" he asked shrewdly--"Besides?"
"Besides," I stammered, "I promised his daughter."
"Ah!" said he, "I told you it would be Dorothy Curwen;" and with that
he shook me by the hand. But at the touch I realized of a sudden all
the love and friendliness which he had shown to me from my first
coming into Cumberland. I had a picture before my eyes of the house on
Lord's Island--my Lord and his Lady in the cosy parlour; the children
in their cots above. I looked into his face; it was bravely smiling.
The chill November evening was crowding upon us as we stood there in
the street; the lights began to shine in the windows; close to us a
soldier was cursing Mr. Forster; beyond the barrier, down the street,
one of Will's dragoons was roaring out a song; and before the Mitre
door under the lamp Colonel Cotton was sitting on his horse. I could
say nothing to Lord Derwentwater but what would point his misfortunes,
and so--
"My lord," I cried simply, "God send that you and I may meet again."
"God send no answer to that wish, Lawrence," he replied solemnly.
He walked lightly to the Mitre door, as lightly as a man to his
wedding. He mounted his horse; his face shone clear for a moment
beneath the lamp, and that was the last glimpse I had of it. He rode
down the street with Colonel Cotton; I made my way in all haste to the
apothecary with whom he had lodged.
I had some talk with the apothecary, of which the purport will appear
hereafter, and returned for Mr. Curwen, whom I found immediately, and
my servant Ashlock, whom I did not find until late in the evening. For
he had been employed in carrying gunpowder from barrier to barrier, so
that I knew of no fixed spot where I could lay my hands on him.
However, as I say, I found him at the last, and when General Wills
marched into Preston Market-place at seven o'clock of the Monday
morning, Mr. Lawrence Clavering, with a blue apron about his waist,
was taking down the shutters from the apothecary's shop, while Mr.
Curwen, much broken by fatigue and disappointment, lay abed in an
attic of the house, with Ashlock to tend on him.
All that day, which was Monday the 14th of November, I lived in a
jumping anxiety. For the shop from morn to night was beset with people
seeking remedies for the wounded. These people, however, for the most
part, belonged to General Wills' force; and luckily the citizens of
the town had so much to distract them in the spectacle of the troops
and of the prisoners--now ranged in the market-place, now marched off
and locked up in the church--and in their own joy at escaping from the
siege with so little damage, that they forgot those trivial ailments
which bring them to the apothecary's. So the new journeyman, pounding
drugs in a corner as far from the window as he could creep, escaped
notice for that day and lay down to sleep beneath the counter with a
mind a thought easier than his aching arm.
In something less than a minute, it seemed to me, I felt a tug at my
coat. I started up with a cry, and looking to see the red coat of a
soldier, beheld the homely brown of my friend the apothecary. His hat
was on his head, the door of the shop stood open, and the full
daylight poured into it.
"Thomas," he said, with a whimsical glance through his spectacles, "I
cannot do with an idle apprentice. I must cancel your indentures."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Willy nilly I must keep you for to-day, since I have a little journey
to take and I cannot leave the shop untended. But to-morrow, Thomas,
you must go." With that he grew more particular, and informed me that
General Carpenter intended to lead his troops to Wigan no later than
this very morning, since they could not be housed in Preston, and
were, moreover, in sore need of rest from the rapidity of their march.
"General Wills," he continued, "is left to guard the prisoners, and
that doubtless he can do--but he cannot watch the streets as well."
Thereupon he gave me some directions as to what answers I should give
to his customers, and went off upon his errand. And as a result of
this errand, on the Wednesday evening the apothecary took a walk. He
walked down the Fishergate Street, and every now and again, when a
watchman or an officer going his rounds approached, he knocked twice
upon the pavement with a heavy cane he carried, and maybe loitered for
a little until the officer had passed. There were three men following
him, whereof one I can affirm kept his hand beneath his great-coat
tightly clasped about the butt of a loaded pistol; and whenever that
double knock sounded, the three men dived into the first alley that
presented. The apothecary's walk led across the marsh to the river's
bank. The marsh itself might be deemed an unlikely spot for a
comfortable citizen to take the air in when the night mist was smoking
up from it to a November moon. But the rest of his peregrination was
more extraordinary still. For he chose that point of the bank at which
the river shallows and makes a ford, and without hesitation waded
across. On the opposite side he waited for the three who followed to
come up with him; which they did with a little delay, since two of
them were old and the footing not the steadiest in the world. Half a
mile along the bank the apothecary went forward and whistled. A boat
slipped out from a clump of alders and the fugitives stepped on
board. There was a hurried whisper of thanks from the boat, a bluff
pooh-poohing of them from the bank, and the boatman pushed off. We
kept down the stream for some two hours, and disembarking again, after
once more re-crossing the river, struck slantwise over the fields, and
so towards morning came to a fisherman's cottage set amongst the
sand-hills by the sea. It was here that my apothecary was wont to come
upon his holidays and spend the time fishing; and he could have hit
upon no refuge better suited to my purpose.
My first thought, however, when the boatman admitted us into his
cottage, was for Mr. Curwen. It was now some hours since he had waded
through the ford, and what with his wet limbs and the weary tramp
across the fields, I was afraid lest he might fall into some dangerous
fever. I was the more inclined to credit this fear from a perception
that he was more troubled and downcast than I had seen him even after
our submission and defeat. Accordingly, I asked the boatman to lend
him some woollen stockings and other dry garments, which the man very
readily did, and set before us thereafter a meal.
Mr. Curwen, however, eat little or nothing, but sat shaking his head,
as though the world had crumbled about his ears. I made an effort
therefore to rally him into the recovery of his good spirits, though
with the heaviest heart. "All was not lost," I said, "for here were we
with whole skins, in a secure retreat, while, on the other hand, the
Earl of Mar might be winning who knows what victories in Scotland."
"It is not of the King," he replied regretfully, "nor of myself that I
was thinking. It was of my daughter. I fear me, Mr. Clavering, I have
given too much thought to a cause in which I was of the smallest use,
and too little to Dorothy, with whom my duty lay."
He spoke in a breaking voice and with a gleam of tears in his
lack-lustre eyes.
"Mr. Curwen," said I, changing my note on the instant, "on the Sunday
afternoon at the barricade I bethought me with all humility of the
path which I must take through this tangle of our misfortunes; I saw
very clearly that there were three duties enjoined on me. The first
was, to help you to security, if by any means I could. Nay," I said,
as he raised a hand in deprecation, "it was a promise I made to your
daughter, and, believe me, it is one of the few comforts left to me in
what remains of life that I see some prospect of carrying that promise
to a successful issue. The second duty was, to bring your daughter
Dorothy," and it was my voice now which broke upon the word, "safely
to you. That I have promised to myself, but I hold it no less sacred
than the first."
He reached out a hand to me across the table.
"And the third?" he asked timidly.
"It is the payment of a debt," I replied--"a debt incurred by me to be
repaid by me, and I put it last, not because it is of less incumbency
than the other two, but because it ends my life, and with my life such
poor service as I can do my friends."
"It ends your life!" he exclaimed.
"So I do hope," I replied, and since I meant the words, I can but
trust there was no boastfulness in the expression, "for it is my life
alone that can now set the tally straight God knows, my trouble lies
not in the payment, but in the means of payment. For there are matters
which I do not know, and it may be that I shall waste my life."
This I said, thinking of my ignorance as to where Mr. Herbert lay
imprisoned. I had a plan in my head, it is true, which offered me some
chance of accomplishing this duty, but it only offered me a chance.
Mrs. Herbert had promised me that she would remain in the lodging at
Keswick, and during the interval since I had last set eyes on her, she
might well have received news of her husband's whereabouts. But would
she keep the promise--she had every reason in the world to distrust
me--would she keep the promise I had so urgently besought of her?
"Mr. Clavering," said my friend, "I told you just now I was afeared I
had thought too much of the King and too little of my Dorothy, but
these words of yours put even that better thought to the blush. You
have been at my elbow all the last days protecting me; you have
brought about my escape; you are planning how to save my daughter;
and all this while you have seen--you, young in the sap of your
strength--you have seen the limits of your life near to you, as that
barrier by the church was near to us at Preston. And not a word of it
have you spoken, while we have bemoaned ourselves and made no secret
of our misery. Not a word have you spoken, not a hint has your face
betrayed."
"Mr. Curwen, I beg of you," I replied quickly, for the praise jarred
on me, as well it might. "A man does not speak what it shames him even
to think of. But to my plan."
I drew from my pocket a sheet of paper and a pencil, with which I had
provided myself before I quitted the apothecary's shop.
"Your sloop the _Swallow_ should be lying now off the mouth of the Esk
by Ravenglass."
Mr. Curwen started at my abrupt remark. Was it merely that, amidst the
turmoil and hurry of the last weeks, he had clean forgotten his design
to set me over into France? Or was it that he had countermanded his
order since that night when I had fled from Applegarth?
"It should be cruising thereabouts to pick me up," I said, feeling my
heart drumming against my breast. I did not dare to put the question
in its naked directness. "It should have reached Ravenglass by now."
Mr. Curwen sat staring at me. "The ship--the ship I mean! Oh, answer
me!" I cried. "Answer me!"
"Yes!" he said slowly. "The _Swallow_ should be now at Ravenglass.
That is true." He seemed to be assuring himself of the fact and
speculating on its import.
"You sent no message to prevent it sailing, after I left you?"
"None!" said he.
I drew a breath of relief.
"But we are now at the fifteenth of November. How long did you bid the
captain wait?"
Mr. Curwen seemed of a sudden to grasp my design, though, as he showed
me in a moment, he had got no more than an inkling of it.
"Until you hailed him," he replied, rising from his chair in some
excitement "He was to wait for you. That was the top and bottom of his
orders. There was no time fixed for your coming."
"Then," said I, in an excitement not a whit less than his, "the
_Swallow_ will be waiting now up the coast?"
In the little room we could hear the surf booming upon the sand. I
flung open the window. The sound swelled of a sudden, as though the
music of a spinet should magically deepen to an organ-harmony.
"Your _Swallow_," I exclaimed, "lifts and falls upon the very waves
which we hear breaking on the sands."
Mr. Curwen stepped over to my side. The sandhills stretched before us,
white under the moon, and with a whisper from the grasses which
crowned them. I found a cheering comfort in their very desolation.
Beyond the sandhills, the sea leaped and called, tossing to and fro a
hundred jewelled arms. I felt my heart leaping with the waves,
answering their call, and the fresh brine went stinging through my
veins.
"Northwards," I cried, reaching out an arm, "round the point there, up
the coast, beyond Morecambe Bay the _Swallow_ waits for us. It is no
great distance, Mr. Curwen. God save Lord Bolingbroke, who betrayed
the Catalans!" I heard my voice ring with an exultation I had not
known for many a day. I strained my eyes northwards along the sea. It
seemed to my heated fancies, that the barrier of the shores fell back.
My vision leaped over cape and bay, and where the Esk poured into the
sea by Muncaster Fell I seemed to see the _Swallow_, its black mast
tapering across the moon; I seemed to hear the grinding of its cable
as it strained against the anchor.
Then very quickly Mr. Curwen spoke at my side.
"There is my daughter. In this great hope of ours, are we not
forgetting her?"
"Nay," I replied, "it is of your daughter I am thinking. You trust
your captain, you say? You trust your captain will be waiting now? If
so, he will be waiting a fortnight's time; he waits until I come." I
drew Mr. Curwen back to the table.
"Look you, Mr. Curwen, I marched with Mr. Forster from the outset of
the rising. We crossed from the Cheviots into England on the 1st of
November; we proclaimed King James in Preston Market-square upon the
10th. Nine days enclosed our march, and we marched in force. There
were other necessities beyond that of speed to order our advance.
There was food to be requisitioned, towns to be chosen for a camp
wherein our troops could quarter. At Penrith, at Appleby, we drew up
for battle. All this meant delay. Some of us rode, no doubt, but our
pace was the pace of those who walked. And, mark, nine days enclosed
our march. A man alone and free to choose his path would shear two
days from that nine, maybe three. I cannot choose my path, there will
be hindrances. I must travel for the chief part by night. But I have
not so far to go. Grant me nine days, then! It is the sixteenth--nay,
the seventeenth. On the twenty-sixth I should be knocking at the door
of Applegarth."
"Nay," said he, "you will be captured. You have risked enough for us,
more than enough. Mr. Clavering, I cannot permit that you should go."
"Yet," said I, with a smile, "you will find that easier than to
prevent me. You told me of a safe route between Applegarth and
Ravenglass," I continued. "How long will it take a woman to traverse
it?"
"I called it safe," he answered doubtfully, making dots upon the paper
with the point of his pencil, "because it stretched along the
watersheds. But that was in September. Now it may be there will be
snow."
The winter indeed had fallen early that year. Yes, the snow might be
deep on the hills. I had a picture before my eyes of Dorothy
struggling through it.
"Then we will add another day," I answered, and strove to make the
answer light. "Given that other day, how long shall we take from
Applegarth to Ravenglass?"
"Three days," said he, "or thereabouts."
"Nine days and three, twelve together. Your daughter, Mr. Curwen,
shall be on board the _Swallow_ by the twenty-ninth. Meanwhile I think
you can lie safely here with Ashlock. From Ravenglass the sloop shall
sail directly here, and, taking you up, make straight for France. So
sketch me here the way from Applegarth!"
Mr. Curwen drew a rough outline on the paper while I bent over him.
"You will mount to the top of Gillerthwaite," he said, "then bear to
the right betwixt Great Gable and the pillar. Descend the grass into
Mosedale. Here is Wastdale Church; strike westwards thence to the
great gap between Scafell and the Screes. This is Burnmoor--five miles
of it, and there is no water; after you pass Burnmoor tarn until you
have come down to Eskdale. Cross Eskdale towards the sea. The long
ridge here is Muncaster Fell. Keep along the slope of it, and God send
you see the _Swallow!_"
He gave me the paper. I folded it carefully and thrust it into my
pocket. Then I took up my hat and held out my hand to him. He took it,
and still clasping it came to the door with me, and out into the open.
"Mr. Clavering," he said, "when you first came to Applegarth I told
you that I had lost a son. To-night I seem to have found another, and
it would be a great joy to me if, when the _Swallow_ puts in here, I
could see that second son upon its deck."
I stood for a moment looking at him, his words so tempted me! The
difficulties of the adventure which lay before me became trivial in my
eyes as the crossing of a muddy road. My fancy, bridging all between,
jumped to the moment when the _Swallow_ should loose its sails with
Dorothy on board. I saw myself in imagination standing by her side,
watching the Cumberland Hills lessen and dwindle, the while we
streamed down the coast towards the sandbanks here.
"Then you shall see me," I longed to cry. But the thought of another
woman weeping by a lonely lamp in Keswick crept into my heart, and
thereafter the thought of a man lying somewhere kennelled in a prison.