The Splendid Spur/Chapter 17

rest of this signal victory (in which 1,700 prisoners were taken, besides the Major-General Chudleigh; and all the rebels' camp, cannon and victuals) I leave historians to tell. For very soon after the rout was assured (the plain below full of men screaming and running, and Col. John Digby's dragoons after them, chasing, cutting, and killing), a wet muzzle was thrust into my hand, and turning, I found Molly behind me, with the groom to whom I had given her in the morning. The rogue had counted on a crown for his readiness, and swore the mare was ready for anything, he having mix'd half a pint of strong ale with her mash, not half an hour before.

So I determin'd to see the end of it, and paying the fellow, climb'd into the saddle. On the summit the Cornish captains were now met, and cordially embracing. 'Tis very sad in these latter times to call back their shouts and boyish laughter, so soon to be quench'd on Lansdowne slopes, or by Bristol graff. Yet, O favor'd ones!—to chase Victory, to grasp her flutt'ring skirt, and so, with warm, panting cheeks, kissing her, to fall, escaping evil days!

How could they laugh? For me, the late passionate struggle left me shaken with sobs; and for the starting tears I saw neither moors around, nor sun, nor twinkling sea. Brushing them away, I was aware of Billy Pottery striding at my stirrup, and munching at a biscuit he had found in the rebels' camp. Said he, “In season, Jack, is in reason. There be times to sing an' to dance, to marry and to give in marriage; an' likewise times to become as wax: but now, lookin' about an' seein' no haughty slaughterin' cannon but has a Cornishman seated 'pon the touch-hole of the same, says I in my thoughtsome way, 'Forbear!'”

Presently he pulls up before a rebel trooper, that was writhing on the slope with a shatter'd thigh, yet raised himself on his fists to gaze on us with wide, painful eyes.

“Good sirs,” gasp'd out the rebel, “can you tell me—where be Nat Shipward?”

“Now how should I know?” I answer'd.

“'A had nutty-brown curls, an' wore a red jacket—Oh, as straight a young man as ever pitched hay! 'a sarved in General Chudleigh's troop—a very singular straight young man.”

“Death has taken a many such,” said I, and thought on the man I had run through in our last charge.

The fellow groaned. “'A was my son,” he said: and though Billy pull'd out a biscuit (his pockets bulged with them) and laid it beside him, he turn'd from it, and sank back on the turf again.

We left him, and now, the descent being gentler, broke into a run, in hopes to catch up with Col. John Digby's dragoons, that already were far across the next vale. The slope around us was piled with dead and dying, whereof four out of every five were rebels; and cruelly they cursed us as we pass'd them by. Night was coming on apace; and here already we were in deep shadow, but could see the yellow sun on the hills beyond. We crossed a stream at the foot, and were climbing again. Behind us the cheering yet continued, though fainter: and fainter grew the cries and shouting in front. Soon we turn'd into a lane over a steep hedge, under the which two or three stout rebels were cowering. As we came tumbling almost atop of them, they ran yelling: and we let them go in peace.

The lane gradually led us to westward, out of the main line of the rout, and past a hamlet where every door was shut and all silent. And at last a slice of the sea fronted us, between two steeply shelving hills. On the crest of the road, before it plunged down toward the coast, was a waggon lying against the hedge, with the horses gone: and beside it, stretch'd across the road, an old woman. Stopping, we found her dead, with a sword-thrust through the left breast; and inside the waggon a young man lying, with his jaw bound up,—dead also. And how this sad spectacle happen'd here, so far from the battle-field, was more than we could guess.

I was moving away, when Billy, that was kneeling in the road, chanced to cast his eyes up towards the sea, and dropping the dead woman's hand scrambled on his feet and stood looking, with a puzzled face.

Following his gaze, I saw a small sloop moving under shorten'd canvas, about two miles from the land. She made a pleasant sight, with the last rays of sunlight flaming on her sails: but for Billy's perturbation I could not account, so turn'd an enquiring glance to him.

“Suthin' i' the wind out yonder,” was his answer: “What's a sloop doing on that ratch so close in by the point? Be dang'd! but there she goes again;”—as the little vessel swung off a point or two further from the breeze, that was breathing softly up Channel. “Time to sup, lad, for the both of us,” he broke off shortly.

Indeed, I was faint with hunger by this time, yet had no stomach to eat thus close to the dead. So turning into a gate on our left hand, we cross'd two or three fields, and sat down to sup off Billy's biscuits, the mare standing quietly beside us, and cropping the short grass.

The field where we now found ourselves ran out along the top of a small promontory, and ended, without fence of any sort, at the cliff's edge. As I sat looking southward, I could only observe the sloop by turning my head: but Billy, who squatted over against me, hardly took his eyes off her, and between this and his meal was too busy to speak a word. For me, I had enough to do thinking over the late fight: and being near worn out, had half a mind to spend the night there on the hard turf: for, though the sun was now down and the landscape grey, yet the air was exceeding warm: and albeit, as I have said, there breath'd a light breeze now and then, 'twas hardly cool enough to dry the sweat off me. So I stretch'd myself out, and found it very pleasant to lie still; nor, when Billy stood up and sauntered off toward the far end of the headland, did I stir more than to turn my head and lazily watch him.

He was gone half-an-hour at the least, and the sky by this time was so dark, that I had lost sight of him, when, rising on my elbow to look around, I noted a curious red glow at a point where the turf broke off, not three hundred yards behind me, and a thin smoke curling up in it, as it seem'd, from the very face of the cliff below. In a minute or so the smoke ceased almost; but the shine against the sky continued steady, tho' not very strong. “Billy has lit a fire,” I guessed, and was preparing to go and look, when I spied a black form crawling toward me, and presently saw 'twas Billy himself.

Coming close, he halted, put a finger to his lip and beckoned: then began to lead the way back as he had come.

Thought I, “these are queer doings:” but left Molly to browse, and crept after him on hands and knees. He turn'd his head once to make sure I was following, and then scrambled on quicker, but softly, toward the point where the red glow was shining.

Once more he pull'd up—as I judg'd, about twelve paces' distance from the edge—and after considering for a second, began to move again; only now he worked a little to the right. And soon I saw the intention of this: for just here the cliff's lip was cleft by a fissure—very like that in Scawfell which we were used to call the Lord's Rake, only narrower—that ran back into the field and shelved out gently at the top, so that a man might easily scramble some way down it, tho' how far I could not then tell. And 'twas from this fissure that the glow came.

Along the right lip of this Billy led me, skirting it by a couple of yards, and wriggling on his belly like a blind worm. Crawling closer now (for 'twas hard to see him against the black turf), I stopp'd beside him and strove to quiet the violence of my breathing. Then, after a minute's pause, together we pulled ourselves to the edge, and peer'd over.

The descent of the gully was broken, some eight feet below us, by a small ledge, sloping outward about six feet (as I guess), and screen'd by branches of the wild tamarisk. At the back, in an angle of the solid rock, was now set a pan pierced with holes, and full of burning charcoal: and over this a man in the rebels' uniform was stooping.

He had a small paper parcel in his left hand, and was blowing at the charcoal with all his might. Holding my breath, I heard him clearly, but could see nothing of his face, for his back was toward us, all sable against the glow. The charcoal fumes as they rose chok'd me so, that I was very near a fit of coughing, when Billy laid one hand on my shoulder, and with the other pointed out to seaward.

Looking that way, I saw a small light shining on the sea, pretty close in. 'Twas a lantern hung out from the sloop, as I concluded on the instant: and now I began to have an inkling of what was toward.

But looking down again at the man with the charcoal-pan I saw a black head of hair lifted, and then a pair of red puff'd cheeks, and a pimpled nose with a scar across the bridge of it—all shining in the glare of the pan.

“Powers of Heaven!” I gasped; “'tis that bloody villain Luke Settle!”

And springing to my feet, I took a jump over the edge and came sprawling on top of him. The scoundrel was stooping with his nose close to the pan, and had not time to turn before I lit with a thud on his shoulders, flattening him on the ledge and nearly sending his face on top of the live coal. 'Twas so sudden that, before he could so much as think, my fingers were about his windpipe, and the both of us struggling flat on the brink of the precipice. For he had a bull's strength, and heaved and kicked, so that I fully looked, next moment, to be flying over the edge into the sea: nor could I loose my grip to get out a pistol, but only held on and worked my fingers in, and thought how he had strangled the mastiff that night on the bowling-green, and vowed to serve him the same if only strength held out.

But now, just as he had almost twisted his neck free, I heard a stone or two break away above us, and down came Billy Pottery flying atop of us, and pinned us to the ledge.

'Twas short work now. Within a minute, Captain Luke Settle was turned on his back, his eyes fairly starting with Billy's clutch on his throat, his mouth wide open and gasping; till I slipp'd the nozzle of my pistol between his teeth; and with that he had no more chance, but gave in, and like a lamb submitted to have his arms truss'd behind him with Billy's leathern belt, and his legs with his own.

“Now,” said I, standing over him, and putting the pistol against his temple, “you and I, Master Turncoat Settle, have some accounts that 'twould be well to square. So first tell me, what do you here, and where is Mistress Delia Killigrew?”

I think that till this moment the bully had no idea his assailants were more than a chance couple of Cornish troopers. But now seeing the glow of the burning charcoal on my face, he ripped out a horrid blasphemous curse, and straightway fell to speaking calmly.

“Good sirs, the game is yours, with care. S'lid! but you hold a pretty hand—if only you know how to play it.”

“'Tis you shall help me, Captain: but let us be clear about the stakes. For you, 'tis life or death: for me, 'tis to regain Mistress Delia, failing which I shoot you here through the head, and topple you into the sea. You are the Knave of trumps, sir, and I play that card: as matters now stand, only the Queen can save you.”

“Right: but where be King and Ace?”

“The King is the Cornish army, yonder: the Ace is my pistol here, which I hold.”

“And that's a very pretty comprehension of the game, sir: I play the Queen.”

“Where is she?”

For answer, he pointed seaward, where the sloop's lantern lay like a floating star on the black waters.

“What!” cried I. “Mistress Delia in that sloop! And who is with her, pray?”

“Why, Black Dick, to begin with—and Reuben Gedges—and Jeremy Toy.”

“All the Knaves left in the pack—God help her!” I muttered, as I look'd out toward the light, and my heart beat heavily. “God help her!” I said again, and turning, spied a grin on the Captain's face.

“Under Providence,” answered he, “your unworthy servant may suffice. But what is my reward to be?”

“Your neck,” said I, “if I can save it when you are led before the Cornish captains.”

“That's fair enough: so listen. These few months the lady has been shut in Bristol keep, whither, by the advice of our employer, we conveyed her back safe and sound. This same employer”

“A dirty rogue, whom you may as well call by his name—Hannibal Tingcomb.”

“Right, young sir: a very dirty rogue, and a niggardly:—I hate a mean rascal. Well, fearing her second escape from that prison, and being hand in glove with the Parliament men, he gets her on board a sloop bound for the Virginias, just at the time when he knows the Earl of Stamford is to march and crush the Cornishmen. For escort she has the three comrades of mine that I named: and the captain of the sloop (a fellow that asks no questions) has orders to cruise along the coast hereabouts till he gets news of the battle.”

“Which you were just now about to give him,” cried I, suddenly enlighten'd.

“Right again. 'Twas a pretty scheme: for—d'ye see?—if all went well with the Earl of Stamford, the King's law would be wiped out in Cornwall, and Master Tingcomb (with his claims and meritorious services) might snap his thumb thereat. So, in that case, Mistress Delia was to be brought ashore here and taken to him, to serve as he fancied. But if the day should go against us—as it has—she was to sail to the Virginias with the sloop, and there be sold as a slave. Or worse might happen; but I swear that is the worst was ever told me.”

“God knows 'tis vile enough,” said I, scarce able to refrain from blowing his brains out. “So you were to follow the Earl's army, and work the signals. Which are they?” For a quick resolve had come into my head, and I was casting about to put it into execution.

“A green light if we won: if not, a red light, to warn the sloop away.”

I picked up the packet that had dropp'd from his hand when first I sprang upon him. It was burst abroad, and a brown powder trickling from it about the ledge.

“This was the red light—to be sprinkled on the burning charcoal, I suppose?”

The fellow nodded. At the same moment, Billy (who as yet had not spoke a word, and of course, understood nothing) thrust into my hand another packet that he had found stuck in a corner against the rock.

“Now tell me—in case the rebels won, where was the landing to be made?”

“In the cove below here—where the road leads down.”

“Aye, the road where the waggon stood.”

Captain Luke Settle blink'd his eyes at this: but nodded after a moment.

“And how many would escort her?”

He caught my drift and laughed softly—

“Be damn'd, sir, but I begin to love you, for you play the game very proper and soundly. Reuben, Jeremy, and Black Dick alone are in the plot; so why should more escort her? For the skipper and crew have their own business to look after.”

“Then, Master Settle, tho' it be a sore trial to you, those three Knaves you must give me, or I play my Ace,” and I pressed the ring of my pistol sharply against his ear as a reminder.

“With all my heart, young sir, you shall have them,” says he briskly.

“And this is 'honor among thieves,'” thought I: “You would sell your comrade as you sold your King:” but only said, “If you cry out, or speak one word to warn them”

Before I could get my sentence out, Billy Pottery broke in with a voice like a trumpet—

“As folks go, Jack, I be a humorous man. But sittin' here, an' ponderin' this way an' that, I says, in my deaf an' afflicted style, 'Why not shoot the ugly rogue, if mirth, indeed, be your object?' For to wait till an uglier comes to this untravel'd spot is superfluity.”

How to explain matters to Billy was more than I could tell: but in a moment he himself supplied the means. For the rocks here were of some kind of slate, very hard, but scaly: and finding two pieces, a large and a small, he handed them to me, bawling that I was to write therewith. So giving him my pistol, I made shift to scribble a few words. Seeing his eyes twinkle as he read, I stood up.

The charcoal by this time was a glowing mass of red: and threw so clear a light on us that I feared the crew on board the sloop might see our forms and suspect their misadventure. But the lantern still hung steadily: so signing to Billy to drag our prisoner behind a tamarisk bush, I open'd the second packet, and poured some of the powder into my hand.

It was composed of tiny crystals, yellow and flaky: and holding it, for a moment I was possessed with a horrid fear that this might be the signal to warn the sloop away. I flung a look at the Captain: who read my thoughts on the instant.

“Never fear, young sir: am no such hero as to sell my life for that tag-rag. Only make haste, for your deaf friend has a cursed ugly way of fumbling his pistol.”

So taking heart, I tore the packet wide, and shook out the powder on the coals.

Instantly there came a dense choking vapor, and a vivid green flare that turned the rocks, the sky, and our faces to a ghastly brilliance. For two minutes, at least, this unnatural light lasted. As soon as it died away and the fumes clear'd, I look'd seaward.

The lantern on the sloop was moving in answer to the signal. Three times it was lifted and lower'd: and then in the stillness I heard voices calling, and soon after the regular splash of oars.

There was no time to be lost. Pulling the Captain to his feet, we scrambled up the gully, and out at the top, and across the fields as fast as our legs would take us. Molly came to my call and trotted beside me—the Captain following some paces behind, and Billy last, to keep a safe watch on his movements.

At the gate, however, where we turned into the road, I tethered the mare, lest the sound of her hoofs should betray us: and down toward the sea we pelted, till almost at the foot of the hill I pull'd up and listen'd, the others following my example.

We could hear the sound of oars plain above the wash of waves on the beach. I look'd about me. On either side the road was now bank'd by tall hills, with clusters of bracken and furze bushes lying darkly on their slopes. Behind one of these clusters I station'd Billy with the Captain's long sword, and a pistol that I by signs forbade him to fire unless in extremity. Then, retiring some forty paces up the road, I hid the Captain and myself on the other side.

Hardly were we thus disposed, before I heard the sound of a boat grounding on the beach below, and the murmur of voices; and then the noise of feet trampling the shingle. Upon which I ordered my prisoner to give a hail, which he did readily.

“Ahoy, Dick! Ahoy, Reuben Gedges!”

In a moment or two came the answer—

“Ahoy, there, Captain—here we be!”

“Fetch along the cargo!” shouted Captain Settle, on my prompting.

“Where be you?”

“Up the road, here—waiting!”

“One minute, then—wait one minute, Captain!”

I heard the boat push'd off, some Good-nights call'd, and then (with tender anguish) the voice of my Delia lifted in entreaty. As I guess'd, she was beseeching the sailors to take her back to the sloop, nor leave her to these villains. There follow'd an oath or two growl'd out, a short scrimmage, and at last, above the splash of the retreating boat, came the tramp of heavy feet on the road below.

So fired was I at the sound of Delia's voice, that 'twas with much ado I kept quiet behind the bush. Yet I had wit enough left to look to the priming of my pistol, and also to bid the Captain shout again. As he did so, a light shone out down the road, and round the corner came a man bearing a lantern.

“Can't be quicker, Captain,” he called: “the jade struggles so that Dick and Jeremy ha' their hands full.”

Sure enough, after him there came in view two stooping forms that bore my dear maid between them—one by the feet, the other by the shoulders. I ground my teeth to see it, for she writhed sorely. On they came, however, until not more than ten paces off; and then that traitor, Luke Settle, rose up behind our bush.

“Set her here, boys,” said he, “and tie her pretty ankles.”

“Well met, Captain!” said the fellow with the lantern—Reuben Gedges—stepping forward; “Give us your hand!”

He was holding out his own, when I sprang up, set the pistol close to his chest, and fired. His scream mingled with the roar of it, and dropping the lantern, he threw up his hands and tumbled in a heap. At the same moment, out went the light, and the other rascals, dropping Delia, turn'd to run, crying, “Sold—sold!”

But behind them came now a shout from Billy, and a crashing blow that almost severed Black Dick's arm at the shoulder: and at the same instant I was on Master Toy's collar, and had him down in the dust. Kneeling on his chest, with my sword point at his throat, I had leisure to glance at Billy, who in the dark, seem'd to be sitting on the head of his disabled victim. And then I felt a touch on my shoulder, and a dear face peer'd into mine.

“Is it Jack—my sweet Jack?”

“To be sure,” said I: “and if you but reach out your hand, I will kiss it, for all that I'm busy with this rogue.”

“Nay, Jack, I'll kiss thee on the cheek—so! Dear lad, I am so frighten'd, and yet could laugh for joy!”

But now I caught the sound of galloping on the road above, and shouts, and then more galloping; and down came a troop of horsemen that were like to have ridden over us, had I not shouted lustily.

“Who, in the fiend's name is here?” shouted the foremost, pulling in his horse with a scramble.

“Honest men and rebels together,” I answered; “but light the lantern that you will find handy by, and you shall know one from t'other.”

By the time 'twas found and lit, there was a dozen of Col. John Digby's dragoons about us: and before the two villains were bound, comes a half-dozen more, leading in Captain Settle, that had taken to his heels at the first blow and climb'd the hill, all tied as he was about the hands, and was caught in his endeavour to clamber on Molly's back. So he and Black Dick and Jeremy Toy were strapp'd up: but Reuben Gedges we left on the road for a corpse. Yet he did not die (though shot through the lung), but recovered—heaven knows how: and I myself had the pleasure to see him hanged at Tyburn, in the second year of his late Majesty's most blessed Restoration, for stopping the Bishop of Salisbury's coach, in Maidenhead Thicket, and robbing the Bishop himself, with much added contumely.

But as we were ready to start, and I was holding Delia steady on Molly's back, up comes Billy and bawls in my ear—

“There's a second horse, if wanted, that I spied tether'd under a hedge younder”—and he pointed to the field where we had first found Captain Settle—“in colour a sad black, an' harness'd like as if he came from a cart.”

I look'd at the Captain, who in the light of the lantern blink'd again. “Thou bloody villain!” muttered I, for now I read the tragedy of the waggon beside the road, and knew how Master Settle had provided a horse for his own escape.

But hereupon the word was given, and we started up the hill, I walking by Delia's stirrup and listening to her talk as if we had never been parted—yet with a tenderer joy, having by loss of it learnt to appraise my happiness aright.