Day dawned at length into the dark and lonely prison of the Earl of
Beverley--the bright warm day, clear and beautiful, and rosy with the
hue of the rising sun. A long ray of light streamed through the high
window and painted the opposite wall; then slowly descending, as the
orb rose higher in the heaven, rested on the graceful figure and the
rich curling hair of the captive, as he still sat at the table, but
fast asleep with his head now bent down on his folded arms. The quiet
sunshine did not wake him, for he had watched, with anxious thoughts
for his only companions, through the greater part of the night; and
not till about an hour before morning had slumber fallen upon him. But
he was not destined long to know repose; for shortly after dawn a
voice was heard in the room, saying, "Is there any one below?"
The sound but not the sense caught his ear; and starting up he gazed
round the room. All was vacant, however, and he thought he had been
dreaming, when suddenly the question was repeated--
"Is there any one below?"
It seemed to come from the chimney; and approaching, he replied
aloud--
"Yes! Who speaks?"
"Who are you? what is your name?" demanded the voice; but, though the
tones seemed not unfamiliar to Lord Beverley's ear, he could not of
course venture to give his real name to a person he did not see; and
he replied--
"That is nothing to any one. Who is he that talks to me?"
"My name is Ashburnham," replied the person, who seemed speaking from
some room above; "a prisoner like yourself, if you be one."
"I am, indeed, Ashburnham," answered the earl. "I will not utter my
name, lest there should be other ears listening; but I am he whom you
joined going to France, and who was taken with you."
"Bad luck indeed!" said Colonel Ashburnham. "Hotham has lied, then,
for he told me you were gone."
"He spoke truth there," answered the earl; "but, as ill fortune would
have it, I returned last night on business and was arrested by his
son, who tore my pass, and vows he will try me as a spy."
"Ay, a curse fall upon him!" cried the other voice. "He respects no
rules of honour or courtesy, and, since his father fell ill, has put
me in close confinement. If Hotham could know, he would treat you
vetter; but I cannot help you, for I am locked in here."
"Hush!" cried the earl; "here are steps coming."
The next moment the key was turned in the lock, the bar taken down,
and two soldiers appeared. In a dull and indifferent tone, as if he
were bidding the prisoner come to the morning meal, one of the men
told Lord Beverley to follow to the colonel's council; and obeying,
with very little hope that anything he could say would change the
stern purpose of the parliamentary officer, the earl was led along the
passage to what seemed a dining-hall on the same floor, in which he
found Colonel Hotham seated at a table, with four inferior officers
round him. Two wore the garb of the train-bands, the others seemed
strangers to the city; for when the prisoners entered they were asking
some questions concerning the fortifications. His appearance, however,
instantly drew their eyes upon himself; and, walking with a firm step
to the end of the table, he gazed calmly over them, scanning the
countenance of each of those who seemed assembled to judge him, not at
all abashed by the somewhat fierce stare with which one or two of them
regarded him.
Colonel Hotham had in general chosen his men well. The two Londoners
he had long known as very unscrupulous and fiery zealots in the cause
of the parliament; and Captain Marden, one of the officers of the
train-bands, whom he had called to his aid, had made himself somewhat
remarkable on several occasions by his gloomy fierceness of
disposition. He had commanded the party by whom the two unfortunate
men mentioned by Falgate had been put to death, and he had seemed only
the more morose and dogged after the horrid scene in which he had
borne a part. The fourth officer was known as a religious enthusiast,
a preacher in one of the conventicles of the city, and, as was
generally supposed, as wild and unsparing as the rest, so that Colonel
Hotham entertained no doubt that his purposes towards the prisoner
would receive the sanction of these men's authority, without scruple
or hesitation on their part.
After pausing for a moment, while the earl stood at the end of the
table as we have described, the parliamentary commander demanded, in a
sharp tone--
"What is your name?"
"Not knowing that you have any authority to ask it," replied the earl,
with perfect calmness, "I shall, most undoubtedly, refuse to answer."
"That will serve you little, sir," said one of the men from London;
"for if you do refuse, the court will proceed to try you without
further ceremony."
"What court?" demanded the earl. "I see five persons sitting round a
table, but no court."
"This, sir, is a summary court-martial," replied Colonel Hotham,
"called to try a person accused of entering a garrisoned town as a
spy."
"With a pass from the governor?" added Lord Beverley.
"But that pass, we have every reason to believe," replied Colonel
Hotham, "was obtained by a false representation of your name and
quality, and as such was invalid."
"That point will be easily established," replied the earl, "by calling
the governor himself. I maintain that he gave it to me with full
knowledge of my person; and I therefore require that he be called, to
testify as to the the validity of the pass which you, sir, most
dishonourably and dishonestly tore to pieces last night."
"The governor is too ill, sir, to give his evidence," said one of the
officers from London.
"If, gentlemen, your purpose is to commit a cold, deliberate murder,"
said the earl, "you may do it without all this ceremony. I am in your
hands, have no power to resist you, and no means of obtaining justice;
but I will not further your views by recognising this as a court,
which is in fact none at all. If Sir John Hotham is too ill to attend,
delay the inquiry till he is better. I stand upon the safe-conduct
which I received from him; and if you violate it you are murderers,
and not men of honour."
"Had he a pass?" demanded the preacher officer of the train-bands,
turning gloomily to Colonel Hotham.
"He had, but under a feigned name," replied Hotham.
"What proof have you?" demanded the enthusiast. "Remember, sir, 'whoso
sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed!' If you bring
not your father to testify, how can we know that this safe-conduct was
wrongly obtained?"
Colonel Hotham's cheek turned red, for he loved not such opposition;
and he paused for a moment ere he replied, feeling that he was angry,
and fearing that he might commit himself.
"I think," he answered at length, in a tone so soft that it betrayed
the struggle to keep down his passion--"I think that we can prove that
it was obtained under a false name by other witnesses, without
disturbing my father, which might be dangerous;" and then, turning to
the two guards who remained at the door, he said, "Where is the other
prisoner? Let him be brought in. Has the other man been summoned, who
is said to know something of these persons?"
"Yes, colonel," replied the man to whom he spoke; "they are both
without there--one in one room, and the other in another."
"Bring in the prisoner first," said Colonel Hotham; "we will confront
them together, gentlemen."
A pause ensued for the space of about two minutes, during which no one
spoke except one of the officers of the train-bands, who said a few
words to the other in a low voice, and then the door opened; and
turning round his head, the earl, as he had apprehended, beheld the
renowned Captain Barecolt marched in amongst some soldiers. As it was
not the first time that the worthy officer had found himself in such
an unpleasant position, he showed himself very little disturbed by his
situation, and walked up to the end of the table with a bold
countenance, smoothing down his moustaches, and drawing his beard to a
point between his fingers, as if he had not had time to complete his
toilet are he was brought from the inn.
The cool self-sufficiency of his air seemed to move the wrath of
Colonel Hotham, who instantly addressed him, saying--
"What is your name, fellow?"
"I be not your fellow, sair," replied Barecolt, boldly, "and am not so
call. My name vere Captain Jersval, for your service, gentlemen."
"And now speak out, and speak the truth," continued the colonel, while
Barecolt bowed ceremoniously round the table; "leave your mumming,
sir, and answer. Who is this person, with whom you entered the town
yesterday evening? Answer truly, for your life depends upon it."
"Begar, it vere one very difficult thing for me to tell," replied
Barecolt in the same unconcerned tone. "First, sair, it cannot alvay
be easy to tell who one be oneself; and much more uneasy to tell who
de oder man be."
"What does the fool mean?" demanded one of the Roundhead officers;
"not always easy to tell who you are yourself! What do you mean, man?"
"Vhy, sair," replied Barecolt, with an agreeable laugh, "one day, not
so very long time ago, I met vid one saucy man who to my face--to my
very beard, sair--swear I vas one oder man but myself. He swear I vere
not Jersval, but Barecole--one Capitaine Barecole, a very great man in
dese parts--a famous man, I hear."
"Cease this foolery, sir," cried Colonel Hotham, "and answer my
question directly, or prepare to walk out to the water-gate and
receive a volley. Who is the person, I say, now standing beside you?"
"_Pardi!_ how de devil should I know?" rejoined Barecolt, with some
heat of manner; "I have seen him twice, dat is all; once aboard de
sheep vere he was very seek, and once I meet him just half-a-league
out of de gate. Ve vere chase hard by a party of vat you call Cavalier
malignant, and ride togeder for our lifes."
"That is true, for I saw them," said one of the officers of the
train-bands.
"And do you pretend to say you do not know his name?" demanded Colonel
Hotham, gazing with the fierceness of disappointment upon the worthy
Captain's face.
"Oh, I tink I heard his name on board de sheep," answered Barecolt;
"but I cannot be too sure. Let me see. It vas de Colonel de Mery: vas
it not dat you told me, sair?" and he turned to the earl with a low
bow.
"I answer no questions here, sir," replied Lord Beverley. "This is no
lawful court, and the people are not seeking justice, but a pretext
for murder."
"Ah! murder--dat be very bad;" cried Captain Barecolt, with a shrug of
his shoulders; "men may kill one de oder in fair fight very vell, but
murder be very bad indeed! Perhaps dey murder me too!"
"Very likely," answered the earl, drily; but Colonel Hotham exclaimed,
"Silence! I have given you an opportunity, sir, of saving your life by
telling plainly who this man is. You would not take it, and now we
shall soon see who you are yourself. Bring in that Mr. Dry."
Captain Barecolt's countenance fell, for he had remarked the room-door
of Mr. Dry open on the preceding night, as he walked somewhat late to
bed; and, though he had not been aware at the time that the worthy
master of Longsoaken was awake and watching, he doubted not now that
his own arrest was owing to that gentleman's good offices. He prepared
for the worst, however, and determined to adhere stoutly to his story,
thanking his stars that he had alluded to his recontre with Cornet
Stumpborough, before Mr. Dry was called.
He was not long kept in suspense, however; for not more than
half-a-minute elapsed before Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, entered the room,
with his face very pale and his nose very blue, as if recovering from
a severe illness; and taking his place at a convenient distance from
the renowned captain, replied at once to Colonel Hotham's first
question--
"That, worshipful sir?--that is one Captain Barecolt, a notorious
malignant, now actually in arms against the authority of the two
houses."
"Oh, I tell you so!" cried Barecolt, with a well-feigned look of
impatience; "Capitaine Barecole again! Cuss Capitaine Barecole! Now he
swear me black in de face dat I vere Capitaine Barecole just as de
oder did."
"I will swear, to be sure," replied Mr. Dry; "for, as I have a
conscience and a soul to be saved, you are the man. We all know you
are very cunning, Captain Barecolt; but if you can cheat in other
matters, you cannot cheat in this. I know you well enough, after
having been carried along as a captive in bonds, by you and other
Amorites like you, for several mortal days."
"What he mean by Amorite?" asked Barecolt, with a look of ignorance;
but Colonel Hotham interposed, saying--
"That will do, sir; stand down! You shall hear more as soon as you
could wish. Now, worshipful Master Dry, be so good as to look well at
that other person, and say if you have seen him before."
Mr. Dry did as he was directed, but the appearance of the earl puzzled
him more; for, though the beauty of his features was remarkable, yet,
even to those who had seen him often, the black dye with which he had
tinged his hair and beard made so great a change that it would have
been difficult to recognise him.
"Yes," said the master of Longsoaken, at length--"yes, I am very sure
I have seen him before, though I think his hair was of a different
colour then. I met him as he was riding up to the house of the
malignant Lord Walton, at Bishop's Merton. He staid there all night, I
heard, on the day when the house took fire. I am quite sure it is the
same, though, his hair is dyed."
"It is," replied Colonel Hotham, in a stern and determined tone, "and
I will tell you who he is, gentlemen; for, though he thinks I do not
know him, yet I do. I was fool not to recognise him at first. This,
sirs, is the noble Earl of Beverley, who has now come into this
garrison of Hull as a spy, and deserves death by all the laws of war."
"It is false, sir!" answered the earl, gazing on him fixedly. "Whoever
I am, I came not here as a spy."
"Do you mean to deny your name, my lord?" demanded Colonel Hotham.
"I mean to answer no questions, sir," said the earl, "but merely to
give you the lie in your teeth, when you assert a falsehood. I stand
upon your father's safe-conduct, and call him to witness that he gave
it to me."
"The pass I tore was not in favour of the Earl of Beverley," replied
the officer; "and that you are he will soon be proved, though I
thought fit to call upon these men first. Ask Colonel Jackson to step
hither," he continued, speaking to the guard, "and the two other
gentlemen in the red room."
The name he mentioned was familiar to the ear of Lord Beverley, who
remembered that Colonel Jackson was in the hall where he had had his
first interview with Sir John Hotham, but, owing to the disguise which
he had assumed, had not recognised him on that occasion. He could
little hope, however, that the parliamentary officer would fail to do
so now, when his attention was particularly drawn to the examination,
and the matter was but too soon decided. Three gentlemen were one by
one introduced into the room, and told to examine the earl and state
who he was; and each, though with apparent reluctance, pronounced the
words, "Lord Beverley."
"The case is clear, gentlemen," said Colonel Hotham. "The Earl of
Beverley, under a feigned name and with an invalid pass, has
introduced himself into this garrison. It is for you to say, whether,
under these circumstances, he is or is not a spy, and subject to the
invariable law of such cases."
"Remembering always," rejoined the earl, "that you have no proof that
the safe-conduct was invalid, Colonel Hotham having torn it, so that
it has never been beneath your eyes; and not forgetting that, even
supposing this to be a lawfully-constituted court-martial--which I
deny, he having no authority to summon one--he has refused to call the
only witness I judged necessary to my defence."
He spoke calmly and firmly, with his cheek perhaps a shade paler than
it usually was, but with no other visible sign of emotion, while the
countenance of Colonel Hotham, on whom his eyes were fixed, worked
with many mingled passions which resisted control.
"This is all vain and foolish!" cried the latter; "I will tell the
earl that I have authority, which I should not scruple to exercise, to
put him to death at once, but that I have thought it better to give
him the chance of this investigation."
"Young man," said the military preacher, addressing Hotham in a solemn
tone, "if you give a man in bonds a chance, it should be a fair one.
Such has not been afforded the prisoner. Why did you tear the paper?
Why do you now refuse to confront him with the witness he calls?--and
if that witness be too ill, why not wait till he be well, as he
requires? Why not, if not to doom him to death at your pleasure? I
will go no farther in this--I wash my hands of this blood."
"Well, then, we will put it to the vote," cried Colonel Hotham,
fiercely; "and look to yourself, Captain Marsh. He that puts his hand
to the plough must not turn back. Look to yourself, I say."
"I will," replied the old officer of the train-bands, "and I am not to
be frightened from a righteous course by loud words or frowning brows.
I fear not what man can do unto me."
"Pshaw!" cried Colonel Hotham, turning away. "Your verdict, sir, upon
these two men--guilty or not guilty?"
"Guilty," said the Londoner to whom he spoke, without a moment's
pause.
"Guilty," said the other, on the colonel's left, answering a mere
look.
"I doubt," replied Captain Marden of the train-bands, when Hotham
turned to him.
"But I do not," rejoined that officer; "and I say guilty too--so there
are three voices against two. They are condemned. Take them hence to
the water-gate, call out a file of men, and the rest--as yesterday. I
spare you the rope, Lord Beverley, in consideration of your rank. You
shall die as a soldier."
"And you as a murderer!" shouted Barecolt, rushing towards him so
suddenly, that he caught him by the throat with both hands before any
one could interpose.
The two parliamentary officers drew their swords; the guards were
rushing up from the door; but, under the strong pressure of Captain
Barecolt's fingers, Colonel Hotham was turning black in the face, and
might have been strangled before he could have been delivered, when
suddenly a voice was heard exclaiming, "Halt! Not a man stir! Guard
the door!" and all was silence.
Captain Barecolt slightly relaxed his grasp, the parliamentary
officers drew back, and Sir John Hotham, with an excited and angry
countenance, and evidently in great pain, walked up the room and took
his place at the head of the table.
"What is all this?" he demanded. "Unloose my son, sir! What is the
meaning of this, Colonel Hotham?"
"_Pardi!_ I will unloose him, now you be come, gouverneur," replied
Barecolt, taking away his hands and drawing back; "but, begar, if you
had not come, he be strangle!"
Colonel Hotham sank in a chair, gasping for breath, and one of the
officers from London took upon him to reply: "This is a court-martial,
Sir John, summoned to try----"
"And by whose authority?" demanded the governor, fiercely; "who dares
to summon a court-martial in Hull but myself?"
"But you were ill, sir," replied the officer, "and Colonel Hotham
judged it expedient to summon us."
"He did! did he?" cried the governor. "Colonel Hotham, give up your
sword. You are under arrest. Remove him, wards; take him away! This is
no court--all its proceedings are illegal, and shall so be dealt with.
Gentlemen, you are dismissed. Away! We have had too much of you."
Some of those present were inclined to remonstrate; but the old man
who alone had interfered in behalf of the earl said aloud, "You are
quite right, Sir John. The court and all its proceedings were illegal
and iniquitous."
Colonel Hotham, too, strove to make himself heard; but the governor
exclaimed, in a loud and angry tone, "Away! have I not said it?
Guards, clear the room, and take that young man away. Place a sentry
at his chamber-door; he is under arrest."
Sir John Hotham had not come alone, for the further end of the hall
displayed a considerable party of the train-bands; and, muttering some
very unpleasant observations on his father's conduct, Colonel Hotham
was removed, while the rest of the body whom he had chosen to
constitute a court-martial retired slowly and sheepishly, leaving the
governor with two prisoners, Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, and a party of
the guard.