Preston Fight: or, The Insurrection of 1715

Lord Derwentwater looked aghast at this startling intelligence, but the prince did not seem much disturbed by it.

“Instant measures must be taken for the defence of the place,” said Lord Derwentwater.

“It cannot be defended, my lord,” rejoined Colonel Ox-burgh. “His majesty must not remain here.”

“Do you counsel flight, colonel?” said the prince.

“Not flight – but a retreat, my liege,” replied Oxburgh.

“No need to fly,” said Lord Derwentwater. “I will undertake to conceal his majesty from any search that can be made for him.”

“Better he should seek shelter in some fortified house or castle,” observed Oxburgh.

“But where?” demanded the prince. “Where would you have me go?”

“If your majesty will not remain here, and trust yourself to me, I advise you to go to Bamborough Castle,” said Lord Derwentwater.

“But is Forster to be relied on?” said the prince. “Is he thoroughly loyal?”

“I’ll answer for him with my life,” said the earl.

“And so will I, my liege,” added Oxburgh.

“Then I’ll trust him,” said the prince.

“Shall I acquaint him with your majesty’s determination?” inquired the earl. “No time must be lost.”

“I’ll go to him myself,” rejoined the prince.

“Ah! here he comes!” exclaimed Colonel Oxburgh.

As he spoke, Forster was seen descending the steps with Sir John Webb, and immediately obeyed a summons given him by the colonel.

He was as much alarmed as the others when he learnt the prince’s jeopardy, and before his highness signified his intention, offered him an asylum at Bamborough.

It was then decided that the prince’s departure should take place forthwith, and it was likewise arranged that Lord Derwentwater with Colonel Oxburgh and his troop should escort his highness.

Some further arrangements were subsequently made, but these were sufficient in the meantime, and Colonel Oxburgh and Forster hurried off to the stables to give directions about the horses, while the prince and Lord Derwentwater entered the house.

As soon as the prince’s intended departure became known all was bustle and confusion. The news was quickly communicated to the ladies, who very soon came downstairs, and another consultation was held in the library.

What was to be done? Anne and Dorothy were determined not to be left behind. Since the prince was going to Bamborough, and Lord Derwentwater, and almost everybody else were going with him, they would go too. Both were such perfect equestrians that they could be trusted to keep up with the fugitives, while their spirit was equal to any unforeseen difficulty or danger that might arise. So the proposition was acceded to.

Then came a suggestion from Lady Webb, to the effect that she and Sir John should drive back to Bamborough. This was likewise adopted.

Preparations for a general start were then made at once. Trunks and valises were packed up. Riding-dresses donned, horses brought round, Sir John Webb’s carriage got ready, and in less than half an hour the prince and a large party consisting of Lord Derwentwater and his betrothed, Tom Forster and his fair sister, Colonel Oxburgh and his companions, were speeding down the chestnut avenue, with the intent of shaping their course to Bamborough Castle, which they hoped to reach before night.

Some quarter of an hour later, Sir John Webb’s great lumbering coach took the same route.

Charles Radclyffe was left in charge of Dilston, and empowered to act as he deemed best, in his brother’s absence.

Hedgeley, the spy, was detained for some time after the prince’s departure, and then liberated.

END OF BOOK THE FIRST

BOOK THE SECOND BAMBOROUGH CASTLE,

I. – THE HIGH SHERIFF

ABOUT ten o’clock on the same day, the high sheriff, accompanied by a score of well-mounted yeomen, armed with various weapons, arrived at Dilston Castle. The gate was open, and without saying a word to the porter, he rode into the court, followed by Jesmond and a groom, leaving the yeomen on guard outside.

Charles Radclyffe who was standing at the entrance of the mansion, came down the steps to meet him, and a formal salutation passed between them.

“You will not be surprised at my visit, Mr. Radclyffe,” said the sheriff. “I have come here in the execution of a painful duty, and desire to discharge it as lightly as I can. Be pleased to tell your brother, Lord Derwentwater, that a certain important person, whom I am aware is his guest, must be delivered up to me.”

“In reply to your demand, Sir William,” replied Charles Radclyffe, firmly, “I have to inform you that there are no guests in the castle and that Lord Derwentwater himself is absent.”

The sheriff looked confounded, and consulted Jesmond by a glance.

The latter shook his head to intimate that the assertion ought not to be credited.

“Excuse me, Mr. Radclyffe,” said the sheriff, “I can understand that you consider yourself justified in denying that the Pretender is here. But I have proof to the contrary. This man beheld him yesterday.”

“I saw him in your company, Mr. Radclyffe,” said Jes-mond. “I heard you and several others address him as your majesty.”

“What have you to say to this, sir?” said the sheriff.

“I might say that the man is mistaken, but I will not,” replied Charles. “I will content myself with stating that the person he beheld, and whom he fancied was the Chevalier de Saint George, is gone.”

“This will be vexatious, if it should turn out correct,” muttered the sheriff.

“Don’t believe it, Sir William,” cried Jesmond. “Depend upon it, we shall find him.”

“I have given you my positive assurance, which ought to be sufficient, Sir William,” said Charles Radclyffe. “But if you still entertain any doubts, pray search the house – question the servants – take any steps you think proper.

“I intend to do so, sir,” rejoined the sheriff dismounting, and giving his horse to the groom.

Jesmond likewise dismounted, and followed him.

On the steps the sheriff encountered Newbiggin, and some others of the servants, who corroborated Charles Radclyffe’s assertions; and in the entrance hall he found Father Norham, with whom he was acquainted, and whom he respectfully saluted.

“Your reverence knows my business,” he remarked. “Will you aid me?”

“You cannot expect me to do so, Sir William,” replied the priest. “But I will tell you frankly, that no one is concealed here.”

“Has the Pretender fled?” demanded the sheriff.

“The Pretender has never been here, Sir William.”

“This is mere equivocation, sir,” cried the sheriff. “I will not be trifled with. I will search the house from top to bottom, but I will find him. Come with me!” he added to Newbiggin.

Attended by the butler, and assisted by Jesmond, he then went upstairs, and peered into a great many rooms, but soon gave up the fruitless search.

“I told you how it would be, Sir William,” observed the priest, amused by his discomfited air, as he returned to the hall. “This is a large house, and if you were to search every room in it you would find it a tedious business. Once more, I tell you the person you seek is not here.”

“Will you tell me whither he is gone?”

“No; you must find that out for yourself, Sir William. You will act wisely if you abandon the quest altogether.”

“No – no! that must not be,” cried the sheriff.

“Certainly not, Sir William,” said Jesmond. “Leave me to make further investigations. I warrant you I’ll discover something.”

Receiving permission to do as he pleased, Jesmond proceeded to the stables, and in about ten minutes came back to the sheriff, whom he found in the court-yard.

The smile on his countenance betokened success.

“I’ve found it all out, Sir William,” he cried. “You won’t be disappointed. A large party on horseback left this morning – but the Pretender was not one of them.”

“Then he is here, still?”

“No, Sir William; he went away in Sir John Webb’s coach.”

“In a coach! – then we may overtake him!”

“Undoubtedly. The carriage is large and heavy, and doesn’t travel more than three or four miles an hour. We shall catch him before he gets to Morpeth.”

“Is he gone in that direction?”

“He is, Sir William. I told you I’d find out something, and you must own that I’ve managed to put you on the right scent.”

“You have,” cried the sheriff, jumping on his horse. “Follow me, gentlemen! – follow me!” – he called out to the yeomen, who had been waiting all this time outside the gate.

Next minute they were rattling down the avenue, with the sheriff at their head.

We may be sure Jesmond was not left behind.

II. – PURSUIT

On arriving at Corbridge, the sheriff found that the carriage had taken the high road to Newcastle, the crossroad by Whittingham and Stamfordham being impracticable, and accordingly he and his troop galloped off in that direction; but when they reached the extensive moor that skirts the town, they discovered that a deviation from the direct course had been made on the left, and that the travellers had crossed, or attempted to cross the moor to Gosforth.

The road chosen was so bad, that it seemed almost certain the carriage would be found buried up to the axle-tree in a bog, and with that confident expectation the pursuers took the same route.

From appearances on the road, it was sufficiently clear that the heavy vehicle had been more than once partially engulfed, and could only have been extricated with difficulty – but it had reached firm ground at last, and had gone on to Gosforth.

About three miles further on the pursuers descried it slowly, rumbling on towards Blagdon Park. Cheered by the sight, they accelerated their pace, and shouting loudly as they went on, soon caused the carriage to stop.

Anxious to make the intended arrest without any appearance of violence, the sheriff ordered a halt of his followers, and rode up to the carriage, attended merely by Jesmond.

Lady Webb and the two women-servants inside had been greatly alarmed by the shouting of the pursuers and sudden stoppage of the vehicle, and Sir John thrust his head out of the window to see what was the matter.

Just then the sheriff came up, and saluting him formally explained his business. Sir John replied rather angrily, and declared in positive terms that there was no one in the carriage beside himself and Lady Webb and their two women-servants.

As the sheriff expressed a doubt, Sir John called to his man-servant to come down and open the door, and immediately got out.

“Now, Sir William – pray satisfy yourself!” he cried.

“I must trouble Lady Webb to alight – and the two women,” said the sheriff.

The injunction was obeyed by her ladyship, though not without strong expressions of displeasure.

As soon as they had all come forth, Jesmond got into the carriage, and looked under the seats, but found only trunks and boxes.

As he emerged with a crestfallen look, he was jeered by Sir John and her ladyship. The sheriff, too, blamed him for the blunder he had made.

“I am certain the Pretender is in the carriage, Sir William,” he said.

“Then find him,” cried the sheriff.

“Ay, find him, fellow, if you can,” added Sir John, derisively.

“He is here,” cried Jesmond, pointing to the footman, a tall, handsome young man.

An exclamation from Sir John was checked by her ladyship, who made a private sign to the footman to hold his tongue.

“You are not making a second blunder, I trust?” said the sheriff.

“No, no! rest easy, Sir William! All right now! I didn’t recognise him at first in his disguise. But now I’ll swear to him.”

“You will swear that I am the Chevalier de Saint George, whom you call the Pretender?” cried the footman.

“I will,” said Jesmond.

Again Sir John would have interfered, if a look from her ladyship had not kept him quiet.

“You need have no hesitation, Sir William,” said Jesmond. “I will take all consequences on my own head.”

“But your head is nothing,” rejoined the sheriff.

After a moment’s consideration, he told Sir John Webb he must turn back, and accompany him to Newcastle.

Sir John protested vehemently against the order, and declared it would put him to the greatest inconvenience.

“I cannot help that,” said the sheriff. “I own I am somewhat perplexed, but a great responsibility rests with me, and I am afraid of committing an error.”

“Then I warn you that you will commit a very great error indeed, if you take me to Newcastle,” said Sir John.

“We are wasting time here,” cried the sheriff. “Your ladyship will be pleased to re-enter the carriage,” he added, in a polite, but authoritative tone to Lady Webb – “and you, Sir John.”

The women servants followed, and the footman was about to shut the door, when the sheriff told him he must get in likewise.

Finding Sir John was about to resist the intrusion, Jesmond pushed the young man in, vociferating in a mocking voice:

“Room for his majesty, King James the Third!”

Irritated to the last point, Sir John would certainly have resented the insult if Lady Webb had not held him fast.

She could not, however, prevent him from putting his head out from the window, and shouting to the sheriff:

“Where is this farce to end, Sir William?”

“Most likely at the Tower of London,” was the sarcastic reply.

“Make no rejoinder, Sir John,” said Lady Webb. “You’ll have the laugh against him by-and-by.”

The coach was then turned round, and guarded by the troop of yeomen, proceeding slowly towards Newcastle.

III. – LORD WIDDRINGTON

Very different was the progress of the prince and his party from that made by the occupants of the coach. While the latter were crawling along the highway, the others were flying across the country, as if chasing the deer.

Over broad wide moors they speeded – across valley, and through wood – past ancient castles, and along the banks of rushing streams – allowing nothing to stop them – not even the Piets’ wall, through a gap in which they dashed – till after traversing many a wild and waste such as only can be seen in Northumberland, they came in sight of the great German Ocean, and the rugged coast that bounds it.

Sixteen miles and upwards had been accomplished in a marvellously short space of time, but then all were well mounted. Throughout this long stretch, Anna, who we have said rode splendidly, kept by the side of Lord Derwentwater, and as he led the way, she shared any risk he might run.

A pretty sight it was to see them together, and drew forth the admiration of those who followed in their course. Somehow or other, they got ahead, and the Prince and Dorothy Forster, who were next behind, made no effort to come up with them. The rest of the party kept well together.

At length a point was reached from which, as we have just mentioned, the broad expanse of the ocean could he surveyed. On the right was Camboise Bay, spreading out with all its rocky headlands as far as Tynemouth and South Shields. On the left was Druridge Bay with Coquet Island in the distance. Behind them a few miles off was Morpeth, with the ruins of its castle, and its old church, and beyond Morpeth lay the wild district they had traversed.

As yet they had made no halt, Lord Derwent water’s intention being to stop at Widdrington Castle, which could now be descried about a mile off, beautifully situated near the coast. It was a picturesque structure, surrounded by fine timber, and though of great antiquity, seemed in excellent repair.

Lord Widdrington was a devoted partisan of the House of Stuart, and it was therefore certain that his castle would be thrown open to the prince, and that his highness might tarry there as long as he pleased if he deemed it as safe as Bamborough.

After contemplating the fine old structure with delight for a few minutes, the prince moved on, and followed by the whole party rode down the eminence, and entered the park.

They had not gone far, when they met the noble owner of the mansion.

Lord Widdrington chanced to be riding about his grounds at the time, and seeing the party enter the lodge-gate, he hastened towards them.

How great was his astonishment when he learnt who was his visitor! He instantly flung himself from his horse to pay homage to him whom he regarded as his king.

But the prince was as quick as himself, and anticipating his design, dismounted and embraced him, expressing the greatest delight at beholding him.

Lord Widdrington had quite the air of a country gentleman. About five and thirty, he was well-made, though somewhat robust, with good features, lighted up by grey eyes, and characterised by a frank, manly expression. He wore a blue riding-dress trimmed with silver, a blonde peruke and riding-boots.

By this time Lord Derwentwater had come up, and explanations were quickly given as to the position in which the prince was placed.

Lord Widdrington looked grave, and after a few moments’ deliberation said:

“Your majesty must be certain that nothing would gratify me more than to receive you as my guest, but your safety is the first consideration. I am bound, therefore, to state, that in case of pursuit, you would not be as safe here as at Bamborough.”

“Such is my own opinion,” remarked Lord Derwentwater.

“There are a hundred hiding places in the old castle,” pursued Lord Widdrington; “and besides, a boat can be always in readiness, so that your majesty could be taken to Lindisfarne, where you might be concealed for a month.

“Whatever course you advise, my lord, I will adopt,” said the prince. “But I must not be deprived of the power of retreat.”

“‘Tis therein especially that Bamborough has the advantage over this mansion, my liege,” said Forster, who had come up. “I will answer with my life that you shall not fall into the hands of your enemies.”

“And I dare not assert as much, since I might not be able to make good my words,” said Lord Widdrington.

“That decides me,” cried the prince. “I shall take up my quarters at Bamborough.”

“I trust your majesty will tarry awhile, and accept such hospitality as I am able to offer you,” entreated Lord Widdrington.

“How say you, my lord?” cried the prince, appealing to Lord Derwentwater. “Shall I stay? I am in your hands.”

His lordship thought an hour’s halt might be risked, so the whole of the party dismounted, and were conducted to a large antique dining-hall, adorned with portraits of the family, commencing with Gerard de Widdrington, who flourished in the time of Edward the Third.

Here a goodly repast was served with remarkable promptitude. Of course, the viands were cold, but those who partook of them were too hungry to care for that – for they had breakfasted but slightly before starting, – and even the two fair damsels had gained a good appetite by the ride.

Claret there was in abundance, and a goblet was devoted to a young pair of whose recent betrothal Lord Widdrington had just heard. The health of King James was drunk at the close of the repast, which was not prolonged beyond an hour. At the expiration of that time the horses were brought round.

After glancing round the entrance-hall, which was panelled with oak, and decked with trophies of the chase and ancient weapons, and admiring the carved oak staircase, the prince went forth, and mounted his steed – Lord Widdrington holding the bridle. With graceful gallantry, his lordship next assisted the two fair equestrians to the saddle. This done, he mounted his own horse, with the purpose of attending the prince to Bamborough. Moreover, he had ordered half a dozen well-armed men to follow at the rear of the troop.

With this additional force the party proceeded on its way – though not at the same rapid pace as heretofore.

IV. – DUNSTANBOROUGH CASTLE

No longer feeling any uneasiness, the prince greatly enjoyed the ride along this remarkable coast, which, besides being studded with ancient castles, commands unequalled sea-views.

The day was fine, with a fresh breeze blowing from the North Sea. Many vessels were in sight, giving life to the picture.

Before them lay Warkworth Castle, finely situated on a peninsula, at the mouth of the lovely river Coquet, and the sight of the tall grey towers of this imposing structure so full of historical recollections, greatly moved the prince.

“From that proud castle of the Percys I should like to be proclaimed,” he cried aloud.

“Your wish shall be gratified, my liege, that we promise you,” rejoined Lord Widdrington and Mr. Forster, who overheard the exclamation.

And they fulfilled their promise, but not till a later date.

An ancient stone bridge across the Coquet brought the prince in front of the castle, and he paused for a few minutes to gaze at it. Fain would he have visited the Hermitage, but the wish could not be gratified, and he rode on through the little town. No interference was offered to the party since Lord Widdrington and Mr. Forster were at its head.

To Warkworth quickly succeeded a still finer castle – Alnwick; and the prince was again lost in admiration of the second magnificent feudal structure reared on a height above the town, and lording it over the surrounding country.

Guessing his highness’s thoughts, Lord Widdrington said:

“Had your majesty these two castles, with Dunstan-borough and Bamborough, and all four well garrisoned, you might hold your own till an army could be raised, that should win you your kingdom.”

“Bamborough is yours already, my liege,” added Forster. “And doubt not the others will be gained.”

Several fresh objects interested the prince as he rode on. Amongst them was Howick Tower, now destroyed.

Soon afterwards Dunstanborough Castle could be descried on the right. As the prince advanced, it was easy to perceive that the enormous pile was in ruins, but it still looked strong, and its position on a ridge of rocks overlooking the sea was strikingly grand.

Several towers and a large portion of the walls were left; but that the castle could be rendered capable of defence seemed very doubtful to the prince, though both Lord Widdrington and Mr. Forster were of a different opinion.

“If your majesty had time to inspect the stronghold, I would convince you of its importance,” said Lord Widdrington. “Ruined as it is, it is so immensely strong that I would undertake to hold it for a month, and with a few large guns it would command the sea.”

“There are some extraordinary caverns beneath the castle, where any amount of arms and ammunition sent from France could be stored,” observed Forster.

“Obtain possession of the place as soon as you can,” remarked the prince. “It ought to belong to us.”

“It shall belong to your majesty,” said Lord Widdrington.

During the ride along the coast, Lord Derwentwater had not deemed it necessary to pay especial attention to the prince, since Lord Widdrington was better able than himself to furnish any information his highness might require.

The enamoured earl, therefore, felt at liberty to devote himself exclusively to the object of his affections. To enjoy greater freedom, the young pair separated themselves from the troop, and pursued their course along the turf that skirted the road – halting, occasionally, to gaze at the sea.

Attracted by Dunstanborough Castle, they galloped towards the grand old ruin, and after a brief survey of the gateway and towers were hastening back across the plain, when Anna’s horse stumbled and fell. Before the earl could dismount and come to her assistance, she had regained her feet, but her horse had sprained his shoulder so badly that he could scarcely move.

Deeming it the best thing that could be done, Lord Derwentwater proposed to ride as quickly as he could after the party, and bring back another horse for her.

“Dare you remain here alone till I return?” he said.

“I am not in the slightest degree afraid,” she replied.

“I shall not be away many minutes,” he cried, dashing off at full speed.

By this time, the party had disappeared, but he soon overtook them, and in less than five minutes returned with one of Lord Widdrington’s grooms.

But Anna was not there. The poor disabled horse had never stirred from the spot. But its mistress was gone.

Lord Derwentwater gazed anxiously in every direction, but could see nothing of her. Thinking she might have gone to the castle, he hurried thither, followed by the groom, dashed through the gateway, and through an inner gate into the court.