The Manchester Rebels of the Fatal '45

Just then a rush was made towards them by the constables, who were, however, kept back by the crowd.

"Meddle not with us, and we won't meddle with you," cried Atherton.

Prudently acting upon the advice, the constables kept quiet.

Every facility for escape was afforded Sir Richard by the concourse. A narrow lane was opened for him, through which he passed, accompanied by Atherton.

Without pausing to consider whither they were going, they hurried on, till they reached Smithy Doer – a narrow street, so designated, and leading from the bottom of the market-place, in the direction of Salford Bridge.

Feeling secure, they then stopped to hold a brief consultation.

"It won't do for me to return to the inn," observed Sir Richard. "Nor is it necessary I should return thither. My daughter and her cousin are in no danger, and I shall easily find some means of communicating with them. They will know I am safe."

"Were I able to do so, I would gladly take a message from you to Miss Rawcliffe, Sir Richard," said Atherton. "But I am now in as much danger as yourself. I am known to the magistrates, and they will certainly send the officers in search of me."

"You shall run no more risk on my account," said Sir Richard. "My daughter is so courageous that she will feel no alarm when she learns I have escaped. You must find a hiding-place till the prince arrives in Manchester, and then all will be right. If I could procure a horse, I would ride on to Preston. I have a couple of hunters in the stables at the Bull's Head, but they are useless to me now."

As he spoke, a young man was seen approaching them, mounted on a strong roadster. Both recognised the horseman, who was no other than Jemmy Dawson, of whom mention has already been made.

A very handsome young fellow was Jemmy Dawson – tall, rather slightly built, but extremely well made, and looking to advantage in the saddle.

On this occasion Jemmy wore a green cloth riding-dress, made in the fashion of the time, with immense cuffs and ample skirts; the coat being laced with silver, and having silver buttons. His cocked hat surmounted a light bob peruke. He had a sword by his side, and carried a riding-whip in his hand.

On descrying Sir Richard, he instantly accelerated his pace, and no sooner learnt how the baronet was circumstanced than he jumped down, and offered him his horse.

Sir Richard unhesitatingly sprang into the saddle which the other had just quitted.

"Here is the whip," said Jemmy, handing it to him. "But the horse needs neither whip nor spur, as you will find, Sir Richard. He will soon take you to Preston."

"I hope to bring him back safe and sound, Jemmy," said the baronet. "But if aught happens, you shall have my favourite hunter in exchange. As soon as the crowd in the market-place has dispersed, go to the Bull's Head, and let the girls know how well you have mounted me, and whither I am gone."

Addressing a few parting words to Atherton, he then dashed off, clattering over the stones as he shaped his course towards Salford Bridge.

"I envy you your good fortune, Atherton," said Jemmy, as they were left together. "The part you have played belonged of right to me, but I should not have performed it half so well. I wish you could go back with me to receive Constance Rawcliffe's thanks for the service you have rendered her father; but that must not be. Where shall I find you?"

"I know not, for I cannot return to my lodgings. You will hear of me at Tom Syddall's. He will help me to a hiding-place."

"Ay, that he will. Our Jacobite barber is the trustiest fellow in Manchester. You will be perfectly safe with him. But take care how you enter his shop. 'Tis not unlikely you may be watched. We must not have another arrest."

They then separated – Atherton proceeding quickly towards the bridge, not far from which the barber's shop was situated, while Jemmy Dawson mingled with the crowd in the market-place. The magistrates were gone, but the constables blocked up the approaches to the Bull's Head. However, they readily allowed him to enter the inn.

CHAPTER XIII.

CONSTANCE MAKES A DISCOVERY

From the deep bay-windows of the old inn Constance and Monica witnessed all that had occurred, and were both filled with admiration at the gallantry and spirit displayed by Atherton.

Miss Rawcliffe especially was struck by the young man's courageous deportment as he confronted the boroughreeve, and without reflecting that he was violating the law, saw in him only her father's deliverer.

"Look, Monica!" she cried. "Has he not a noble expression of countenance? He is taller than any of those around him, and seems able to cope with half a dozen such varlets as have beset him."

"He has certainly shown himself more than a match for the constables, if you mean to describe them as 'varlets,'" rejoined Monica.

"They did not dare to lay hands upon him," cried Constance. "But see, papa is coming out of the coach, and is about to address the assemblage. Let us open the window to hear what he says."

This was done, and they both waved their handkerchiefs to Sir Richard when he concluded his harangue.

Atherton looked up at the moment, and received a similar greeting. Constance's eloquent glances and approving smiles more than repaid him for what he had done.

From their position the two damsels could discern all that subsequently took place. They beheld Sir Richard and the gallant youth who had rescued him pass safely through the crowd, and disappear at the lower end of the market-place.

Then feeling satisfied that the fugitives were safe, they retired from the window, nor did they look out again, though the shouting and tumult still continued, till Jemmy Dawson made his appearance. Both were delighted to see him.

"Oh, I am so glad you are come, Jemmy!" cried Monica. "What is going on? I hope there won't be a riot?"

"Have you seen papa and Mr. Atherton Legh?" asked Constance.

"Yes, I have seen them both; and I am happy to be able to relieve your anxiety respecting Sir Richard. He is out of all danger. By this time I trust he is a mile or two on the road to Preston. I have provided him with a horse."

"Heaven be thanked!" she exclaimed. "But what of young Atherton Legh? I hope there is no chance of his falling into the hands of the enemy. I should never forgive myself if anything were to happen to him, for I feel that I incited him to this hazardous attempt."

"No doubt you did, Constance," observed Monica.

"You need not make yourself uneasy about him," said Jemmy. "He will easily find a secure retreat till the prince appears."

There was a moment's pause, during which the lovers exchanged tender glances, and Constance appeared preoccupied.

"Who is Atherton Legh?" she inquired, at length. "I begin to feel interested about him."

"I would rather you didn't ask me the question," replied Jemmy. "I can't answer it very readily. However, I will tell you all I know about him."

And he proceeded to relate such particulars of the young man's history as the reader is already acquainted with.

Constance listened with great interest.

"It appears, then, from what you say, that he is dependent upon a guardian whom he has never seen, and of whose very name he is ignorant."

"That is so," replied Jemmy. "But I am convinced he is a gentleman born."

"The mystery attaching to his birth does not lessen my interest in him," said Constance.

"I should be surprised if it did," observed Monica. "You can give him any rank you please. I am sorry to disturb your romantic ideas respecting him, but you must recollect he has been an apprentice to a Manchester merchant, and has only just served his time."

"His career now may be wholly changed, and he may never embark in trade," said Constance. "But if he were to do so I cannot see that he would be degraded, any more than he is degraded by having been an apprentice."

"Cadets of our best Lancashire and Cheshire families are constantly apprenticed, so there is nothing in that," remarked Jemmy. "I repeat my conviction that Atherton is a gentleman born. Dr. Byrom is of the same opinion."

"Dr. Byrom may be influenced by partiality. I fancy he would like the young man as a son-in-law," said Monica. "Beppy Byrom certainly would not object to the arrangement," she added, with a significant smile that conveyed a good deal.

"Is Beppy Byrom pretty?" asked Constance.

"Decidedly so – one of the prettiest girls in Manchester," rejoined Monica.

"And is Mr. Atherton Legh insensible to her attractions?" inquired Constance, as carelessly as she could.

"That I can't pretend to say," returned her cousin. "But I should scarcely think he can be so."

"At all events, he pays her very little attention," remarked Jemmy.

Constance cast down her magnificent eyes, and her countenance assumed a thoughtful expression that seemed to heighten its beauty.

While she remained thus preoccupied, Monica and her lover moved towards the window and looked out, or appeared to be looking out, for it is highly probable they only saw each other.

Presently Constance arose, and saying she desired to be alone for a few minutes, left them together.

Proceeding to her own chamber, she sat down and began to review as calmly as she could the strange and hurried events of the morning, in which Atherton Legh had played a conspicuous part, and though the rest of the picture presented to her mental gaze appeared somewhat confused, his image rose distinctly before her.

The young man's singular story, as related by Jemmy Dawson, had greatly stimulated her curiosity, and she indulged in many idle fancies respecting him – such as will flash through a young girl's brain – sometimes endeavouring to account for the mystery of his birth in one way, sometimes in another, but always feeling sure he was well-born.

"If any one ever proclaimed himself a gentleman by look and manner, it is Atherton Legh," she thought. "And as to his courage it is indisputable. But I have been thinking only of this young man all the time," she reflected, with a feeling of self-reproach, "when I ought to have been thinking of papa. I ought to have locked up the packet of important papers that he confided to me before his arrest. I will repair my neglect at once."

With this resolve she arose, and taking out the packet was about to place it in her writing-case, when a letter fell to the ground.

The letter was partly open, and a name caught her eye that made her start.

The impulse to glance at the contents of the letter was irresistible, and she found, to her infinite surprise, that the communication related to Atherton Legh, and was addressed by a Manchester banker to Sir Richard Rawcliffe, leaving no doubt whatever on her mind that her father was the young man's mysterious guardian.

In fact, Mr. Marriott, the banker in question, stated that, in compliance with Sir Richard's order, he had paid a certain sum to Mr. Atherton Legh, and had also delivered the letter enclosed by the baronet to the young man.

Astonishment at the discovery almost took away her breath, and she remained gazing at the letter as if doubting whether she had read it aright, till it dropped from her hands.

"My father Atherton's guardian!" she exclaimed. "How comes it he has never made the slightest allusion to his ward? Why have I been kept so completely in the dark? Till I came to Manchester last night I had never heard there was such a person as Atherton Legh. Chance seems to have revealed the secret to me. Yet it must have been something more than chance. Otherwise, the letter could never have fallen into my hands at this particular juncture. But what have I discovered? Only that my father is Atherton's mysterious guardian – nothing respecting the young man's parentage. That is the real secret which I fear will never be cleared up by my father – even if I venture to question him. Let me reflect. The reason why this young man has been brought up thus must be that he belongs to some old Jacobite family, the chief members of which have been banished. That would account for all. My father corresponds with several important persons who were engaged in the last rebellion, and are now abroad. I need not seek further for an explanation – yet I am not altogether satisfied. I must not breathe a word to Monica of the singular discovery I have made, for the secret, I feel, would not be safe with her. But methinks my father might have trusted me. Till I see him again, my lips shall be sealed – even to Atherton, should I happen to meet him. Doubtless these letters," she continued, taking up the packet, and examining it, "would afford me full information respecting the young man, but, though strongly tempted, I will read nothing more, without my father's sanction."

She then replaced the letter she had dropped with the others, and had just locked up the packet in a small valise, when her cousin came in quest of her.

CHAPTER XIV.

ST. ANN'S SQUARE

"The crowd in the market-place has dispersed, and all seems quiet," said Monica. "Shall we take an airing in St. Ann's Square? Jemmy will escort us. 'Tis a fine day – as fine a day, at least, as one can expect in November."

Constance assented, and they forthwith prepared for a walk – each arraying herself in a black hood and scarf, and each taking a large fan with her, though the necessity for such an article at that late season of the year did not seem very obvious. But at the period of which we treat, a woman, with any pretension to mode, had always a fan dangling from her wrist.

Attended by Jemmy Dawson, who was looked upon as one of the beaux of the town, they sallied forth, and passing the Exchange, where a couple of porters standing in the doorway were the only persons to be seen, they took their way through a narrow alley, called Acres Court, filled with small shops, and leading from the back of the Exchange to the square.

Usually, Acres Court was crowded, but no one was to be seen there now, and the shops were shut.

Not many years previous to the date of our history, St. Ann's Square was an open field – Acres Field being its designation.

The area was tolerably spacious – the houses surrounding it being some three or four stories high, plain and formal in appearance, with small windows, large doorways, and heavy wooden balustrades, meant to be ornamental, at the top. Most of them were private residences.

On either side of the square was a row of young plane trees. At the further end stood the church, of the architectural beauty of which we cannot say much; but it had its admirers in those days, and perhaps may have admirers in our own, for it still stands where it did. In fact, the square retains a good deal of its original appearance.

Here the beau monde of the town was wont to congregate in the middle of the last century – the ladies in their hoop petticoats, balloon-like sacques, and high-heeled shoes, with powder in their locks, and patches on their cheeks; and the gentlemen in laced coats of divers colours, cocked hats, and periwigs, ruffles at the wrist, and solitaires round the throat, sword by the side, and clouded cane in hand. Here they met to criticise each other and talk scandal, in imitation of the fine folks to be seen on the Mall at St. James's.

But none of these triflers appeared in St. Ann's Square when Miss Rawcliffe and her companions entered it. Only one young lady, attended by a couple of clergymen, could be descried pacing to and fro on the broad pavement.

In this damsel Monica at once recognised Beppy Byrom, but she made no remark on the subject to Constance, and stopped Jemmy, who was about to blab.

Presently, Beppy turned and advanced towards them, and then Constance could not fail to be struck by her good looks, and inquired who she was?

"Can't you guess?" cried Monica.

"Is it Beppy Byrom?" said Constance, colouring.

Monica nodded. "What do you think of her?"

Before a reply could be made, Beppy came up, and an introduction took place. Beppy and Constance scrutinised each other with a rapid glance. But no fault could be detected on either side.

"Allow me to congratulate you on Sir Richard's escape, Miss Rawcliffe," said Beppy. "Papa sent a warning letter to him, as no doubt you know, but Sir Richard did not receive it in time to avoid the arrest. How courageously Mr. Atherton Legh seems to have behaved on the occasion."

"Yes, papa owes his deliverance entirely to Mr. Legh," rejoined Constance. "We have good reason to feel grateful to him."

"'Tis perhaps a superfluous offer," said Beppy. "But since Sir Richard has been compelled to fly, can we be of any service to you? Our house is roomy, and we can accommodate you without the slightest inconvenience."

"You are extremely kind," said Constance. "I shall probably remain at the inn; but if I do move, it will be to my Aunt Butler's."

"Yes, mamma would be hurt if my Cousin Constance did not come to her," interposed Monica. "We are going to her presently. She is out of the way of these disturbances, and has probably never heard of them."

"Your mamma, I believe, is a great invalid, Miss Butler?" remarked Beppy. "I have heard Dr. Deacon speak of her."

"Yes, she rarely leaves the house. But she has a most capital nurse – so that I can leave her without the slightest apprehension."

"That is fortunate," said Beppy. "I hope you will soon have good tidings of Sir Richard, Miss Rawcliffe?"

"I don't expect to hear anything of him till he re-appears with the prince," replied Constance, in a low tone. "I am under no alarm about him."

"Well, perhaps, the person in greatest jeopardy is Atherton Legh," said Beppy. "I should like to feel quite sure he is safe."

"Then take the assurance from me, Miss Byrom," observed Jemmy.

"Do tell me where he is?" she asked.

"He has taken refuge with Tom Syddall," was the reply, in an undertone.

"She takes a deep interest in him," thought Constance.

The two clergymen, who were no other than Mr. Nichols and Mr. Lewthwaite, and who had stood aside during this discourse, now came forward, and were presented to Miss Rawcliffe.

The conversation then became general, and was proceeding pleasantly enough, when a very alarming sound put a sudden stop to it.

It was a fire-bell. And the clangour evidently came from the tower of the collegiate church.

The conversation instantly ceased, as we have said, and those who had been engaged in it glanced at each other uneasily.

"Heaven preserve us!" ejaculated Mr. Lewthwaite. "With how many plagues is this unfortunate town to be visited? Are we to have a conflagration in addition to the other calamities by which we are menaced?"

Meantime, the clangour increased in violence, and shouts of "Fire! fire!" resounded in all directions.

But the alarm of the party was considerably heightened when another fire-bell began to ring – this time close to them.

From the tower of St. Ann's Church the warning sounds now came – stunning and terrifying those who listened to them; and bringing forth many of the occupants of the houses in the square.

"It must be a great fire! – perhaps the work of an incendiary!" cried Mr. Nichols. "I will not attribute the mischief to Jacobite plotters, but I fear it will turn out that they are the instigators of it."

"It looks suspicious, I must own," remarked Mr. Lewthwaite.

"You have no warrant for these observations, gentlemen," said Jemmy, indignantly.

Still the fire-bells rang on with undiminished fury, and numbers of people were seen running across the square – shouting loudly as they hurried along.

"Where is the fire?" cried Beppy.

"It must be in the neighbourhood of the collegiate church," replied Mr. Lewthwaite. "All the houses are old in that quarter, and built of timber. Half the town will be consumed. That will be lamentable, but it will not be surprising, since the inhabitants have assuredly called down a judgment upon their heads from their propensity to rebellion."

Jemmy Dawson, who had great difficulty in controlling his anger, was about to make a sharp rejoinder to this speech, when a look from Monica checked him.

Just then several men ran past, and he hailed one of them, who stopped.

"Can you tell me where the fire is?" he asked.

"There be no fire, sir," replied the man, with a grin.

"No fire!" exclaimed Jemmy, astounded. "Why, then, are the fire-bells being rung thus loudly?"

"To collect a mob, if yo mun know," rejoined the man.

"For what purpose?" demanded Jemmy.

"Rebellion! rebellion! Can you doubt it?" said Mr. Lewthwaite.

"Ay, yo may ca' it rebellion an yo like, but this be the plain truth," said the man. "T' magistrates ha' just gi'en orders that Salford Bridge shan be blowed up to hinder t' Pretender, as yo ca' him, or t' prince, as we ca' him, fro' comin' into t' town, wi' his army. Now we Jacobites won't let the bridge be meddled with, so we han had the fire-bells rung to rouse the townsfolk."

"And you mean to resist the authorities?" cried Mr. Lewthwaite.

"Ay, that we do," rejoined the man, defiantly. "They shan't move a stone of the bridge."

"Beware what you do! You are rebelling against your lawful sovereign as represented by the magistrates. Forget not that rebellion provokes the Lord's anger, and will bring down his vengeance upon you."

"I canna bide to listen to a sarmon just now," rejoined the man, hurrying off.

"Can't we obtain a sight of what is going on at the bridge from the banks of the river?" said Constance.

"Yes, I will take you to a spot that commands a complete view of the bridge," rejoined Jemmy; "where you can see all that is to be seen, and yet not run the slightest risk."

"Shall we go, Monica?" said Constance.

"By all means," cried the other.

"I should like to make one of the party," said Beppy, who had just recollected that Tom Syddall's shop, where she knew Atherton had taken refuge, adjoined the bridge, and she thought it almost certain the young man would take part in this new disturbance.

"I advise you not to go, Miss Byrom," said Mr. Lewthwaite. "Neither Mr. Nichols nor myself can sanction such a lawless proceeding by our presence."

"As you please," said Beppy.

"Pray come with us, Miss Byrom," cried Jemmy. "I will engage that no harm shall befall you."

So they set off, leaving the two curates behind, both looking very much disconcerted.

CHAPTER XV.

HOW SALFORD HOUSE WAS SAVED FROM DESTRUCTION

By this time the fire-bells had ceased to ring, but the effect had been produced, and a great crowd, much more excited than that which had previously assembled in the market-place, was collected in the immediate neighbourhood of the bridge.

Salford Bridge, which must have been a couple of centuries old at the least, was strongly built of stone, and had several narrow-pointed arches, strengthened by enormous piers. These arches almost choked up the course of the river. Only a single carriage could cross the bridge at a time, but there were deep angular recesses in which foot-passengers could take refuge. It will be seen at once that such a structure could be stoutly defended against a force approaching from Salford, though it was commanded by the precipitous banks on the Manchester side. Moreover, the Irwell was here of considerable depth.

Before commencing operations, the magistrates, who were not without apprehension of a tumult, stopped all traffic across the bridge, and placed a strong guard at either extremity, to protect the workmen and engineers from any hindrance on the part of the populace.

A couple of large caissons, containing, it was supposed, a sufficient quantity of powder to overthrow the solid pier, had been sunk under the central arch of the bridge. Above the spot, in a boat, sat two engineers ready to fire the powder-chests when the signal should be given.

But the preparations had been watched by two daring individuals, who were determined to prevent them. One of these persons, who was no other than Tom Syddall, the Jacobite barber – a very active, resolute little fellow – ran up to the collegiate church, which was at no great distance from his shop, and soon found the man of whom he was in search – Isaac Clegg, the beadle.

Now Isaac being a Jacobite, like himself, was easily persuaded to ring the fire-bell; and the alarm being thus given, a mob was quickly raised. But no effectual opposition could be offered – the approach to the bridge from Smithy Bank being strongly barricaded. Behind the barricades stood the constables, who laughed at the mob, and set them at defiance.