VI. – HOW CHARLES RADCLYFFE JOINED THE EARL AT THE HUT
AFTER slumbering tranquilly for three or four hours in the arm-chair Lord Derwentwater roused himself, and breakfasted with a very good appetite on the simple fare provided for him by Dame Blacklaw.
He next occupied himself in examining some papers which he carried in a small portfolio, and was still thus employed when Cheviot, who had never left him, suddenly raised his head, and gave a low growl.
“He hears something,” observed Dame Blacklaw. “But there can be no danger, or Nathan would have come to warn your lordship.”
After listening for a moment, Cheviot got up and began to whine, and the door being opened, he rushed forth and a joyous bark was instantly heard outside.
Curious to learn who was there, Lord Derwentwater hastily put up his papers, and went out.
To his great surprise, he found the new-comer was his brother, who told him in a few words what had taken place, and though the earl blamed him for his imprudence, he felt greatly enraged against Sir William Lorraine.
“I should like to drive these magistrates from the castle,” he said.
“If you are of that mind, it may still be done,” rejoined Charles. “But for your express orders to the contrary, I would have shut the gates, and shown them fight.”
“But no preparations had been made,” said the earl.
“There you are mistaken,” returned Charles. “I was quite ready. All the tenants and retainers are stationed at the farm; all the horses have been taken there; all the arms and ammunition have been removed from the old tower, and deposited in one of the barns; all the grooms and active men-servants are likewise at the farm.”
“And you have done all this without consulting me?” cried the earl.
“It was done at the urgent request of the countess,” replied Charles. “She said, ‘It is not fitting that the Earl of Derwentwater should hide in hovels, when the gentry are in arms for their lawful sovereign. It shall never be said that the officers came to Dilston to arrest him, and were allowed to depart as they came. If no one else will do it, I will drive them hence. I disuaded her from this bold step, but I agreed to get all ready with the design of effecting your rescue if you should fall into their hands.”
“You have done well, Charles,” cried the earl, “and I thank you. Let us to the farm at once, and if the enemy are still at the castle we will soon expel them.”
“This resolution is worthy of you, my lord,” said Charles. “I fear your flight might have been misconstrued.”
Thinking Nathan might be useful, the earl bade him follow, and hastened away with his brother.
VII. – HOW THE MAGISTRATES AND THE MILITIAMEN WERE FORCED TO QUIT THE CASTLE
The farm to which reference has just been made, lay on the other side of the castle, and was distant about half a mile from the woodcutter’s hut.
The earl and his companions, however, proceeded so expeditiously that they were soon there, but as they were tracking a lane that led to the farm buildings they encountered a man, who had evidently been reconnoitring the place, and instantly secured him.
This proved to be Jesmond, and though armed, he did not offer any resistance – probably thinking it would be useless. Disarming him, and giving the weapons to Nathan, the earl told the latter to shoot the man if he attempted to fly.
An additional guard was found in Cheviot, who had followed his master, and cut off all chance of the prisoner’s escape.
In some respects this was an important capture, and the earl hoped to turn it to account. At any rate, he had ascertained that the party were still at the castle, and felt sure he should take them by surprise.
On entering the farm-yard the earl found between thirty and forty stalwart yeomen collected there.
All of them had got good strong horses, and had pistols in their holsters and swords by the side. With them were half a dozen grooms. The sight of these sturdy fellows sent a thrill through the earl’s breast, and he reproached himself with not having confided to them the defence of the castle. They would have set up a shout on his appearance, but he checked them. Very few minutes sufficed to arrange matters. All the yeomen were quickly in the saddle.
Mounted on his favourite dapple-grey steed, which had been brought to the farmyard, the Earl of Derwentwater put himself at the head of his troop, and bade them follow him to the castle – but ere they arrived there they received an important reinforcement.
Colonel Oxburgh, Captain Wogan, and the rest of that gallant little band, who still held together, were then at Hexham, and having learnt that the magistrates of Newcastle, attended by a party of horse-militia, designed to arrest Lord Derwentwater, they set off to the earl’s assistance, and arrived in the very nick of time.
They were galloping up the chestnut avenue at the very time when the earl brought his troop from the farm. An immediate explanation took place; and on hearing how matters stood, Colonel Oxburgh exclaimed, “I think we can take them prisoners.”
They then rode quickly forward, and finding that the whole of the militiamen were in the court, they drew up in front of the gate, so as to prevent the departure of the intruders.
After this successful manouvre, which was very quickly executed, Lord Derwentwater and the principal persons with him advanced into the court.
Here all was confusion and dismay. Most of the militiamen had dismounted, and were scattered about the court in a very disorderly manner.
While their leader was shouting to them to mount, Lord Derwentwater dashed up to him, and seizing his bridle, demanded his sword.
The officer held back for a moment, but seeing that the gate was strongly guarded, and retreat impossible, he yielded, and the men did not seem inclined to offer any further opposition.
Hitherto the magistrates had been inside the house, but they now came forth to see what was going on, and no sooner had they done so than the door was shut and barred behind them.
They were contemplating the scene with dismay, when Lord Derwentwater and his friends came up.
“The tables are turned, you perceive, gentlemen,” said the earl, in a mocking tone. “You have come here to arrest me, and are made prisoners yourselves.”
“But your lordship won’t detain us,” rejoined Sir William.
“I have no wish to put you to inconvenience, but I shall not let you go, unless you engage to return direct to Newcastle.”
After a short consultation with his brother magistrates, Sir William said, “We agree.”
“You must also deliver up the warrant, and undertake that no further attempt shall be made to arrest me,” said the earl.
“Your lordship must feel that we cannot enter into such an engagement,” replied Mr. Woodburn. “We will deliver up the warrant, but we cannot tell what steps may be taken.”
“Well, I advise you not to come again on the like errand,” said the earl. “One of your officers has fallen into my hands. I shall keep him as a hostage, and if aught happens contrary to our present understanding, I will most assuredly shoot him. Now, gentlemen, you are free to depart as soon as you please.”
Thereupon, the magistrates came down from the perron, on the summit of which they had been standing, and mounted their horses.
By this time all the militiamen were in the saddle, and ready for departure. They muttered threats against the Jacobites, but were glad to escape a conflict with them. When Jesmond found he was to be detained, he begged hard to be set free; but his entreaties were disregarded.
The yeomen who had hitherto blocked up the gateway were now removed by Charles Radclyffe, and there was nothing to prevent the departure of the intruders, when a large upper window of the mansion was opened, and the Countess of Derwentwater appeared at it.
In her hand she bore a silken banner, embroidered with the badge of the Chevalier de Saint George. Waving the banner above the assemblage, she called out in a loud clear voice, distinctly heard by all, “Long live King James the Third! and down with the Hanoverian Usurper!”
Deafening shouts arose from the Jacobites, amidst which the magistrates and the militiamen passed through the gateway.
VIII. – HOW THE EARL TOOK LEAVE OF THE COUNTESS
At length the decisive step is taken,” cried Lord Der-wentwater. “Now there can be no turning back. I do not think it will be safe to remain longer at Dilston, and I would join Forster if I knew where to find him.”
“Two days hence he will be at Rothbury,” said Colonel Oxburgh. “I had a letter from him by express this very morning. He is moving about the country, picking up all the recruits he can. He has now, it seems, got forty or fifty gentlemen with him – all High Church Tories, of course – and all well mounted and well armed.”
“A good beginning,” cried the earl. “I will set out at once for Rothbury, and take all my own men with me. No doubt, we shall largely increase our force, as soon as we take the field.”
“That is certain,” said Colonel Oxburgh. “But we must get together without delay. Since Forster will not come here, we must go to him. Do not let your resolution cool, my lord. Let us start at once!”
“It shall be so,” cried the earl.
The determination was acted upon. The men displayed great loyalty and spirit. On being informed by the earl that he was about to take the field forthwith, they expressed the utmost willingness to follow him, and fight for King James.
As the Earl of Derwentwater was too devout to start on such an expedition as the present, without invoking Divine aid and protection, and as all his tenants and retainers were of the same religion as himself, mass was performed by Father Norham in the little chapel, at which the whole party assisted. The countess likewise was present, and was deeply affected.
It was a touching sight to see all those rude soldiers kneeling there and imploring Heaven’s blessing upon their amis. But there were others there, equally earnest in their prayers – Colonel Oxburgh and his brave companions, with Charles Radclyffe. All these were gathered in front of the altar near the earl, and received the priestly benediction.
When the service was over, all immediately left the chapel, except the earl and countess, who remained there for a short time longer.
Their parting was sorrowful, for both felt they might never meet again. The countess was more overcome than she expected. During the visit of the magistrates she had been greatly excited, but a reaction had since taken place, and she was now proportionately depressed. Her beautiful head fell upon the earl’s breast, and she wept aloud.
“I do not like to leave you thus, dearest Anna,” he said.
“Heed me not!” she rejoined, gazing at him with streaming eyes. “This will soon be past. I would not have you defer your departure for an hour on my account. Come back as soon as you can – but come not back till you have restored the king!”
“Then I may never return,” said the earl, gloomily.
“Do not despair!” she cried. “Be of good heart, and you will triumph. Night and morn, I will pray at this altar for success to your arms. And since your cause is just, Heaven will grant my prayer! And now farewell! If you stay too long here, your resolution may waver.”
“No fear of that!” cried the earl, again straining her to his breast. “Farewell! farewell!”
He then tore himself away, but when he reached the door of the chapel, he turned to take a last look at her.
She was again kneeling at the altar, and did not see him.
Meanwhile, the yeomen had been taken to the butler’s pantry, where they lost no time in discussing the plentiful repast prepared for them, and having washed down the viands with some jugs of strong ale, re-mounted their horses.
Refreshments and wine were likewise served in the entrance-hall, of which the Jacobite gentlemen partook.
Before going forth each drank the king’s health in a large goblet of claret, and each drew his sword and devoted it to the king’s service.
Soon after this the court was empty, and the various horsemen, who had lately filled it, were seen speeding along the chestnut avenue, with the Earl of Denventwater at their head, mounted on his dapple-grey steed.
IX. – MAD-JACK HALL OF OTTERBURN
Halting at Corbridge, the earl and his companions drew their swords, and proclaimed James the Third.
Here half a dozen gentlemen joined them, and they obtained some further recruits as they went on.
One of the chief partisans of the Stuarts in the county was Mr. Hall, of Otterburn, in Redesdale. A man of ancient family and considerable property, but of eccentric character and ungovernable temper, he was known by the name of “Mad Jack Hall of Otterburn.”
Under ordinary circumstances it was difficult to get on with a person so quarrelsome, and he was therefore left out of many Jacobite meetings; but it being now necessary that every friend of the cause should be mustered, Squire Hall was far too important to be omitted. Lord Derwentwater had therefore resolved to visit Otterburn, and see what could be done with the crazy laird. He mentioned his design to Colonel Oxburgh and the others, who entirely approved of it.
About four o’clock in the afternoon, after riding for the most part across the country, they entered a wild district, erstwhile the scene of many a Border foray; and after tracking it for some miles reached the picturesque village of Otterburn, where the famous battle was fought.
Before them rose the still proud pile that had so stoutly resisted the attack of the Scots. Through the valley flowed the now clear Otter, once been dyed red with blood, while its banks were covered with slain.
The approach of the party had evidently been observed, for as they drew near the castle, a tall man sallied forth from the gateway, and greeted them with a loud shout.
Lord Derwentwater and those with him at once recognised the Laird of Otterburn, and were glad to find him at home.
In age, Squire Hall might be forty-five – perhaps not quite so much – but his deep red complexion seemed to indicate that he drank hard, and his countenance had certainly a wild expression. But his deportment was quite that of a gentleman. He wore a green riding-dress laced with silver, a black riding-wig, and a small three-cornered hat, likewise bound with silver lace, and had a sword by his side.
That he understood what had brought the party to Otterburn was clear, as also, that he was quite ready to join them, for he took off his hat, and shouted at the top of a stentorian voice, “Long live King James!”
The shout was repeated by the new-comers, and so lustily that all the villagers rushed to their doors.
After cordially greeting Lord Derwentwater and those with him, all of whom were friends, the squire led the whole party into the courtyard of the castle, and then told them they must not think of leaving him till the morrow.
“Don’t imagine you will incommode me,” he said. “There is plenty of room in the old castle. To-day we will drink the king’s health. To-morrow we will muster our forces, and prepare to fight his enemies. Forster, I hear, is at Rothbury, and if I hadn’t joined your lordship, I should have joined him.”
Very well satisfied with their hearty reception, the earl and his friends with the whole troop dismounted, and were shortly afterwards installed in various parts of the castle.
That beds were found for all of them – or even half – we do not pretend to say; but in some way or other they were accommodated.
Later on in the day a substantial dinner was served in the old banqueting-hall.
A great deal of wine was drunk that night, as was generally the case at Otterburn, and it would have been strange indeed if a quarrel had not occurred between the choleric laird and some of his guests.
For a time Squire Hall appeared in remarkably good humour. He proposed a great number of Jacobite toasts, all of which were drunk with enthusiasm, but at length he propounded a plan for taking Newcastle by surprise, and its absurdity being pointed out to him by Colonel Oxburgh he flew into a violent rage, and told the colonel he was not fit to command a regiment.
The colonel immediately arose to leave the table, and Lord Derwentwater insisted that the squire should at once withdraw the offensive observation. Instead of doing so, the squire sprang from his chair, drew his sword, and dared Colonel Oxburgh to meet him; but while gesticulating fiercely he fell to the ground, and could not get up again. In this state he was carried off to bed, and next morning he had forgotten all about the occurrence.
X. – THE RACE ON SIMONSIDE
After a capital breakfast, the whole party – now increased by Squire Hall and half a dozen men – rode from Otter-burn to Simonside, one of the loftiest and most striking hills in Northumberland. The summit of this remarkable eminence is a complete plateau, and the views commanded from it on all sides are extraordinarily fine, the whole range of the Cheviots being visible on the west, and the German Ocean on the east.
As the party were riding across this wide plain, with the intention of descending the north side, and proceeding to Rothbury, Squire Hall, who had been tolerably quiet during the morning, proposed to ride a race with Charles Radclyffe for twenty guineas.
“We will ride from here to Rothbury,” he said; “and whoever gets there first, shall be deemed the winner.”
Charles Radclyffe instantly accepted the challenge; but the Earl of Derwentwater very reluctantly allowed the match to take place, and only consented from the fear of causing a fresh quarrel with the squire.
Without loss of time, the two gentlemen were placed together, and started at once by the earl. Both were well mounted – both excellent horsemen – but Charles Radclyffe was much the lighter weight, though undoubtedly the squire had the stronger horse.
It was a very pretty sight, to see them as they scoured over the plain, accompanied by the whole troop. The earl’s dapple-grey being fleeter than either of the contending steeds, he could have easily led them, had he thought proper, but he did not make the attempt. Nor did he go beyond the edge of the hill.
On looking down the steep slopes, he called to the others to stop, but neither of them heeded him. Both dashed headlong down the hill, and all the lookers-on thought they would come rolling to the bottom.
If ever Squire Hall merited the epithet applied to his name, it was on that day, and Charles Radclyffe appeared little less crazy – the general impression being that both would break their necks. But somehow, the horses kept their feet. The squire shouted lustily, as he continued his mad descent, and Charles was equally excited.
To the astonishment of all the beholders they got down in safety, and were soon afterwards seen crossing the bridge; being then so close together, that it was impossible to say who had won the race.
The Earl of Derwentwater and his companions took an easier and more secure route down. As they approached the old bridge over the Coquet leading to the charming little town, they met the two crazy riders coming to meet them, and inquired who had won.
“We can’t settle the point, my lord,” replied the squire; “it seems to have been a dead-heat. We shall have to ride the race over again.”
“Not on Simonside Hill,” replied Lord Derwentwater, laughing. “Have you heard where Mr. Forster has fixed his head-quarters? I see nothing of him or his troop.”
“His head-quarters are now at Wanny Crags,” replied the squire. “He has gone there to meet some friends.”
“Does he return to Rothbury?” demanded the earl.
“That seems doubtful,” replied Charles Radclyffe. “No one can answer for his movements. Probably, he will proceed to Warkworth to meet Lord Widdrington.”
“Then we must follow him,” said the earl.
Fain would Lord Deventwater have tarried for a day at Rothbury, which offered many attractions to him, but wishing to effect an immediate junction with Forster, he only halted long enough to allow his men to refresh themselves at the comfortable little hostel near the church, where they found good ale.
To reach Wanny Crags, they had again to cross Simon-side, and the deciding race was run on the summit, and won by Squire Hall, who was extraordinarily proud of the achievement.