Kitabı oku: «Roger Kyffin's Ward», sayfa 13
Chapter Twenty.
The Mutiny Quelled
The report of the commencement of the mutiny at Spithead had caused great alarm among the merchants in London, as well as throughout the country. This second, and far more serious, outbreak at the Nore made many dread the very worst results. The courage and determination exhibited by the King and others in authority soon restored confidence, and active measures were taken to compel the rebellious crews to submit. The shores on each side of the river were lined with batteries, the forts at Tilbury and Sheerness and Gravesend were furnished with furnaces for red-hot shot. The buoys at the Nore and along the coast were taken up, so that the ships would have had considerable difficulty in getting away. Many, indeed, would probably have been stranded in the attempt.
Off Woolwich lay the “Neptune,” a 98-gun Ship, which was manned by volunteers raised by the subscriptions of the merchants of London. A little lower down was the “Lancaster,” 64, whose crew had returned to their duty; as also the “Agincourt,” with several gunboats. A number of merchant vessels were also fitted up as gunboats, and manned by volunteer crews. These were placed under the command of Sir Erasmus Gower, as Commodore, and ordered to drop down the river, and to proceed forthwith to attack the rebels.
We must now return on board the “Sandwich.” Parker, who had assumed the title of Admiral, was still implicitly obeyed by the crews of most of the ships. Notice was brought to him, however, that a few were showing signs of disaffection. This, possibly, might have made him tremble for the stability of his power, and he resolved to collect all the ships he had reason to suspect closer round him. In shore lay two ships at this time: the “Clyde,” commanded by Captain Cunningham, and the “Saint Fiorenzo,” commanded by Sir Harry Burrard Neale.
The “Saint Fiorenzo” had sent delegates to the fleet, but they had from the first voted for moderate measures. Accordingly, Parker sent an order to the two ships to come in and anchor close to the “Sandwich.” Not long afterwards they were seen to get under weigh.
One of them, however, the “Saint Fiorenzo,” soon afterwards brought up again; and the other, instead of obeying Parker’s orders, stood up the river towards Sheerness. Parker, in a great rage, ordered a body of delegates to go on board the “Saint Fiorenzo,” and to bring her in and place her between the “Inflexible” and “Director,” when her sails were to be unbent, and her gunpowder sent on board the “Sandwich.” The delegates, on going on board the “Saint Fiorenzo,” abused her crew for allowing the “Clyde” to escape them without firing into her, and threatened them with the vengeance of Admiral Parker, if they did not obey his orders. In spite of the threatening aspect of the “Saint Fiorenzo’s” crew, her delegates expressed their readiness to comply, and at length the mutineers took their departure. A short time afterwards the “Saint Fiorenzo” was seen to get under weigh, and to stand out under all sail towards the fleet. On she came till she got in between the two line-of-battle ships. By the orders of Parker, who seems to have suspected her intentions, the crews of the different ships stood at their guns, which were double-shotted, with the lanyards in their hands, ready to sink her. Her crew had been made aware of this by the delegates. Suddenly all her sheets were let fly, her helm was put hard aport, and she shot ahead of the “Inflexible.” The moment afterwards her brave captain, Sir Harry Burrard Neale, sprang on deck, crying out, “Well done, my lads!” A loud shout rose from the deck of the “Saint Fiorenzo.” On seeing this, Parker ran up the signal to fire, the “Sandwich” herself setting the example; and immediately the whole fleet of thirty-two sail began blazing away at the “Saint Fiorenzo.” The shot fell as thick as hail round her. Still she stood on, though of course without returning the fire. There was a strong breeze, and she was a fast ship. Though so many guns were firing at her, and she was frequently hulled, not a rope was shot away, nor was a single man killed, or even hurt.
On she stood, and not till she had got to some distance did Parker think of ordering any ship to pursue her. He walked the deck for some minutes in a state of agitation. He was afraid of getting under weigh himself, lest during his absence other ships might desert. He possibly thought it very likely that if he ordered any other ship to pursue, her crew might refuse to return. The seamen formed their own opinions on this transaction, and came to the conclusion that there was not that unanimity in the counsels of their leaders, which they boasted of possessing. Even now they desired to evince their loyalty, and on the 4th of June, which was his Majesty’s birthday, the whole fleet fired a royal salute, and dressed the ships with flags as usual. The red flag was, however, kept flying at the maintopmast head of the “Sandwich.”
One of the captains most beloved by the seamen was the Earl of Northesk, commanding the “Monmouth,” a 64-gun ship. The mutineers having their confidence somewhat shaken, determined to request him to try and effect a reconciliation with the Government. The delegates went on board the “Monmouth,” and invited him to meet the mutineer committee on board the “Sandwich.” His lordship accordingly went on board, attended by one officer, and found sixty delegates seated in the state cabin, with Parker at their head. He undertook to carry up their terms to the Government, pledging his honour to return on board, with a clear and positive answer, within fifty-four hours. He told them, however, that from the unreasonableness of their demands, they must not expect success. He immediately proceeded to London, where, after conferring with the Admiralty, he accompanied Earl Spencer to the King.
As might have been expected, the demands of the seamen were rejected as exorbitant and unreasonable. An officer immediately carried down the refusal of the Lords of the Admiralty to the rebel fleet. Soon after this was known, several ships attempted to make their escape from the mutineers. One, the “Leopard,” succeeded and got up the Thames. Another, the “Repulse,” unfortunately ran aground, when she was fired on by the “Monmouth;” and one of the officers lost his leg, and a seaman was wounded. The “Ardent,” the third ship, effected her escape, but passing the “Monmouth” was fired at, and several of her crew were killed and wounded. Confusion and discord now pervaded the rebel councils. On the 10th of June, many other mutinous ships struck the red flag, and the merchant vessels were allowed to proceed up the river. On the 12th, most of the other ships also hauled down the rebel flag, only seven keeping it flying. The next day the remainder intimated an inclination to submit. However, the crews in all cases were not unanimous, and many desperate struggles took place on board the ships between the partisans of the officers and those who still wished to hold out. Happily at this juncture of affairs an officer arrived on board the “Sandwich,” with the King’s proclamations and Acts of Parliament, of which it appeared that Parker had kept the crews ignorant.
The deception which had been practised on the men by the delegates so enraged them, that the crew of the “Sandwich” carried the ship under the guns of the fort of Sheerness. As soon as she anchored, a boat with a guard of soldiers came off, and making their way on deck, ordered Parker to deliver himself up. As they appeared, one of the delegates belonging to the “Standard,” who was on board, pointing a pistol at his own head, shot himself dead. Parker, as soon as he heard that a boat had come off, placed himself under the protection of four of the ship’s crew, the rest of the seamen threatening forthwith to hang him. He and about thirty more delegates were immediately handed over to the soldiers, and they were landed amidst the hisses of the surrounding multitude, and committed to the prison in the garrison of Sheerness. The first batch of mutineers having been so easily captured, the rest of the ringleaders, and all others in any way implicated in the mutiny on board the various ships, were immediately placed under arrest. In the list of the unhappy men to be tried for their lives was the name of Andrew Brown.
Poor Harry! he felt grievously his position. He had protested against the proceedings of the mutineers, but how could he prove this? He could not deny that he had written out a number of documents issued by Parker, and the excuse that he had done so under compulsion was too commonly made by others to allow him to have much hope of its being believed in his case. Up the Thames was the prison ship. Here Harry, with a number of mutineers, was conveyed. Many of his companions were desperate characters, who seemed only to dread the punishment they might receive. He felt that unless he could be proved innocent, death was the only alternative he could desire. Yet it was hard to die. He had looked forward to a life of happiness with one to whom his undivided heart was given; one well worthy of the affections of the best of men. His honour was gone. His name, if it was known, would be blasted, and he must die the death of the worst of criminals. One gleam of hope alone remained. As he was led off by the soldiers sent to apprehend the mutineers, Jacob Tuttle had shaken his hand, and though he did not speak, had given him a significant look, which had evidently been intended to keep up his spirits. Happily Tuttle had taken no part in the mutiny, and had been among the first to urge his shipmates to return to their duty. Still how could an illiterate seaman, unable even to write, be able to help him?
The trial of Richard Parker very soon after this took place on board the “Neptune,” of 98 guns, off Greenhithe, a few days having been allowed him to prepare for his defence. No trial could have been more fair or just. Parker defended himself with considerable ability. Nothing, however, could be stronger than the evidence brought to prove that he was one of the chief instigators of the mutiny, and that he had acted as the chief of the mutineers. The court accordingly adjudged him to death. Parker heard his sentence with a degree of fortitude and composure which excited the astonishment of all present. He submitted, he said, still asserting the rectitude of his intention.
“Whatever offences may have been committed,” he added, “I hope my life will be the only sacrifice. Pardon, I beseech you, the other men. I know that they will return with alacrity to their duty.”
On the 29th of June, Parker was conveyed on board the “Sandwich,” the ship on board which he had acted so prominent a part. On being conducted to the quarter-deck, the chaplain informed him that he had selected two psalms appropriate to his situation. Parker assenting, said, “And with your permission, sir, I will add a third,” and named Psalm thirty-one. Prayers being ended, he arose from his knees and asked the captain if he might be indulged with a glass of white wine. On its being presented to him, he exclaimed, lifting up his eyes, “I drink, first, to the salvation of my soul; and next, to the forgiveness of all my enemies.” He then begged that Captain Moss would shake hands with him. This the captain did. He then desired that he might be remembered to his companions on board the “Neptune,” with his last dying entreaty to them to prepare for their destiny and to refrain from unbecoming levity. On being led to the scaffold on the forecastle, he asked whether he might be allowed to speak.
“I am not going to address the ship’s company,” he added; “I only wish to acknowledge the justice of the sentence under which I suffer, and to pray that my death may be considered a sufficient atonement for the lives of others.”
Turning round, he then asked if any person would lend him a white handkerchief. This, after a little delay, was handed to him. He then begged that a minute might be allowed him to recollect himself, when he kneeled down about that space of time. Then rising up, he said, with considerable dignity, and perfect coolness, “I am ready,” and firmly walked to the extremity of the scaffold. For an instant he stood there, full of life and strength, with a head to plan, and nerve to carry out his objects. He dropped his handkerchief, the gun was fired, and he was run up to the yard-arm. A struggle, and he was dead.
For more than a month the court-martial continued sitting and trying the other mutineers. A considerable number received sentence of death; among them was Andrew Brown. Several were ordered to be flogged from ship to ship, and others were confined in the Marshalsea prison for certain periods.
Parker’s was the first death, but many of the other ringleaders were directly afterwards executed at the yard-arms of their respective ships. The prisoners were tried in succession, and the sentence was forthwith carried out on those who were condemned to death. Harry fully expected ere long to be called forth to undergo his sentence, and he came to the resolution of not attempting any effort to escape his doom.
Chapter Twenty One.
Mabel’s Resolve
Mabel and her aunt had taken up their residence for some time at the small bow-windowed house in the upper part of the town of Lynderton. It had been described as a very genteel residence for a spinster lady. To say that it had neat wooden railings before it, and steps leading up to the front door, kept scrupulously clean, will be sufficient to give an idea of Mabel’s new abode. The style of life the two ladies led was very different to what they had been accustomed to. Mary remained as general servant, while the cook, who had grown fat and aged at Stanmore, entreated that she might accompany her old mistress. Paul Gauntlett declared that the day he should be separated from them would be his last. So he also was allowed to take up his abode in the bow-windowed house, though his accommodation was limited in the extreme. All he wanted was house-room. Wages he would not receive, and he had been too long accustomed to forage for himself to require being fed. It cannot be said that the family were reduced to complete poverty, still their means were very scanty. Mabel had literally nothing, but an annuity had been secured to Madam Everard on the Stanmore estates, which Mr Sleech could not touch, though he did his best to make it as small as possible by putting her to considerable expense before she could obtain it.
Strange to say, when Mabel heard that her father and Harry were still alive, her regret for her loss of property was greater than it had been previously. She had formed all sorts of plans for her future career. As long as her aunt lived, she would attend to her. When she was called away she would go out and teach, or enter some family as a governess. Now, however, the case was altered. Her father would never consent to her doing that, while she could no longer hope, as she had hoped, to become the well-dowered wife of Harry Tryon. She loved him – that she knew. Would he continue to love her? She had no doubt about that, but would he have the power of giving her a home? Would he be able to return to the position he had abandoned in Mr Coppinger’s counting-house, and, with the assistance of his guardian, labour till he had gained an independence? She thought Harry would be capable of anything. Her father would, at all events, be ready to help him by every means in his power. He surely could refuse nothing to the man who had saved his life so bravely at the risk of his own. Her father had always been looked upon as a man of great influence. It did not occur to her that this arose from his being supposed to be the heir of Stanmore – the owner of the borough, who could return two members at his will. Poor girl! Captain Everard as he had been, and Captain Everard, though a very good officer, without a vote in Parliament, and with his pay only to support him, were very different persons.
The Everards had always been Tories. Mr Sleech supported the opposite party, and was now giving all his influence to the Whig interest.
The people in the neighbourhood, however, called very frequently at Madam Everard’s door to inquire after her. Among the few admitted was the Baron de Ruvigny. Each time he came he talked more and more of the Coppingers, and Mabel could not help discovering that he was completely captivated by the charms of Sybella Coppinger. He brought also all the news of the day. From Paul Gauntlett, however, who read the paper through, they learned chiefly the progress of the mutiny.
Mabel at length became very anxious about Harry. She did not know in what ship he was serving, and though she felt sure that he would not join the mutineers, she could not help dreading that he might be placed in danger in consequence of what was occurring. Her anxiety was increased by not hearing from him as she had expected. She was certain that he had not forgotten her. Her confidence, indeed, in his faith and love remained unshaken. At last Mary received a letter in an unknown hand. It was very unlike the one which Harry had written at Tuttle’s dictation, but this also professed to be from Jacob. It was short, for the writer was evidently not much accustomed to the use of the pen. It ran thus: “Dear Mary, – This comes to tell you that we’re in a mess. Some of our fellows have been holding out against the Government, and have got nothing for their pains. We have had a number of delegates going about from ship to ship, and they have been and got some of themselves hung, and not a few flogged round the fleet. Sarves them right, say I. I should not mind it, if it was not for a shipmate, you knows who, who has been put in limbo. His name abroad is Andrew Brown, but your young lady knows him, and knows that that is not his name. Worser still, he’s going to be hung. If I could get liberty, I’d go and see you and tell you all. It’s a sad thing, and I would give my eyes to save the young chap. – Yours to command, Jacob Tuttle – his cross X.”
Mary, who had not deciphered the letter very clearly, brought it to her mistress. As Mabel finished it, the paper fell from her hands. A deadly pallor overspread her countenance, and she fell back fainting into the arms of her attendant. Happily, Paul at that moment came into the sitting-room, and assisted the damsel in placing her mistress on a sofa. While Mary ran to get restoratives, and to call Madam Everard, his eye fell on the paper. Seeing the rough style of handwriting, he thought that he might with propriety read it over.
“That’s it,” he said to himself; “it’s that young gentleman, he’s gone and done something desperate. We must get him out of the scrape, or it will be the death of Miss Mabel.”
Mabel quickly returned to consciousness and found Paul and Mary standing near her. Madam Everard had gone out.
“I know all about it, Miss Mabel,” said Paul, “and I want to help you.”
“Do you think this can allude to Harry?” she asked; “I mean Mr Tryon.”
“Too likely,” said Paul; “I won’t deny it, because it’s clear to my mind that something must be done to save him. Cheer up, Miss Mabel. We will do it if it can be done. There’s that old gentleman who takes an interest in Master Harry – his guardian, you call him. I would go to him. He would be the best man to say what can be done, and I am sure he would do it.”
“Oh! that he would, for I am confident that Harry is innocent. He never would have done anything worthy of death. I will go up to the Admiralty and plead for him; I will tell them who he is. They would never allow him to be executed; or if they will not listen to me, I will go to the King himself. I will plead with his Majesty; he will surely have power to save him.”
Chapter Twenty Two.
Unexpected Evidence
At an early hour of the day, towards the end of June, two persons on horseback might have been seen proceeding through the New Forest. The sun, just rising, cast his rays amid the boughs of the trees, throwing long shadows over the greensward. Here and there light-footed deer, cropping the dewy grass, started as they heard the footsteps of the horses, and went bounding away farther into the depths of the forest. One of the persons was a young lady mounted on a light, active palfrey; while the other, a tall old man, bestrode a large, strong steed, well capable of bearing his weight. A brace of formidable-looking pistols were stuck in his holsters, while another pair of smaller dimensions were placed in the belt he wore round his waist. In his hand he carried a thick stick, which might have proved no bad substitute for a broadsword.
“It was indeed thoughtful of you, Paul,” said the young lady, looking round at her companion, without in any way checking the rapid speed at which she was proceeding. “I little expected to mount Beauty again, and could not have accomplished our journey so well, I am sure, on any other horse.”
“Why, Miss Mabel, do you see, when we had to surrender Stanmore to Old Sleech, I thought to myself, neither he nor any of his young cubs shall ever mount the horse my dear young mistress has ridden; so as soon as it was dark one night, I trotted him off to my good friend Farmer Gilpin, and says I to the farmer, ‘You take care of this horse, and let no one have him till I come and fetch him away; he’s not stolen, and you need not be afraid of the halter. I will pay you for his keep when I fetch him away.’ Mr Sleech, cunning as he is, had not made a list of the horses, so did not miss Beauty; besides, she was yours, and not his, though he would have claimed her; and that’s the long and short of my story, Miss Mabel.”
“Thank you, thank you, indeed,” answered Mabel. “Do you think Beauty will get through the journey in a couple of days?”
“I am afraid not, Miss Mabel,” answered Paul. “I would advise you to sleep twice on the road, and then you will get in fresh the third day, and be able at once to go to Mr Thornborough’s. He was a friend of the colonel, I know, and from what you tell me, I am sure he will give you as much assistance as anybody.”
Madame Everard, when she heard the dangerous situation in which Harry Tryon was placed, could not bring herself to refuse Mabel’s wish to set off immediately to try what could be done to assist him. She, however, had advised her going at once to her godfather, Mr Thornborough, who, being a man of influence, and possessing great knowledge of the world, was able to render her more help than Mr Kyffin could. She had, however, wisely written to Harry’s guardian, telling him what she knew, and also her purpose of going to the house of Mr Thornborough. She was too anxious to speak much during her ride.
From the rapid rate at which she proceeded it was evident that she knew the road thoroughly, as she had never even to ask her companion which way to take. The two travellers had nearly reached the confines of the forest, when suddenly she came upon a large party of men, surrounding several light waggons. They were sitting on the ground with bottles and provisions near them, while their horses stood tethered at green spots close at hand.
On being suddenly surprised by Mabel and old Paul, several of them started up and seized their bridles. Paul’s stick was instantly raised in the air, as if about to come down on the heads of his assailants.
“Avast there, mate!” sung out one of the men, “we’re not going to ill-treat you if you behave peaceably, but we want to know where you and the young lady are going.”
“Oh, pray let us go!” exclaimed Mabel; “we are simply going to London on a matter of great importance, and whoever you are we cannot do you any harm.”
“Well, young lady, that may be true enough,” answered one of the men; “but you must just come and have a word with our captain. If he has no objection, we don’t want to keep you.”
“Pray let him come and see us immediately,” said Mabel; “we are anxious to be liberated without delay.”
The men, without heeding her request, led her horse and that of Paul a little distance on one side, where, seated on the grass, enjoying a long pipe, with a book at his elbow, and a cup of coffee before him, was a person whose appearance betokened nothing of the smuggler or brigand. As soon as he saw Mabel he started up, and inquired if he could be of any service to her. She told him of the interruption she and her attendant had received, and begged that she might be no longer detained. “Yes, sir, I say it’s a great shame, and times are very bad when a young lady like Miss Everard, with her attendant, cannot ride through the forest without being stopped by a gang of smugglers.”
“Miss Everard, I beg you many pardons,” exclaimed the smuggler captain. “My scoundrels are unable to distinguish one person from another. If you will allow me I will accompany you some way on your road, so that I may protect you from any similar annoyances.”
Saying this the captain sent for his horse, which he immediately mounted, and rode alongside Mabel through the remainder of the forest.
“I must ask your confidence, Miss Everard,” he said; “I am an especial friend of your father’s. Indeed, I owe my life to his courage and gallantry, and I shall be thankful of an opportunity to render you any service in my power.”
“I know, sir, what you say is true,” observed Paul, glancing at the stranger. “I remember your coming to Stanmore that sad night, when Miss Lucy was taken ill, and I was close by when Captain Everard and you were speaking together. Are you not Captain Rochard?”
“You are right, my friend,” said the stranger. “By that name Captain Everard knew me. Necessity, and not my will, compels me to associate with these people,” he continued; “not for the sake of making money, but for another motive, believe me. You do not suppose that your father would allow me his friendship did he believe that I was the leader of a band of outlaws. I may some day tell you my motives of associating with these men. To your father I owe my life, and that alone would make me take an interest in you, young lady; but I may also tell you that I have another reason. We are related, although not very nearly. Your father’s mother was a relation of my father. I never saw her, for she died when I was very young; indeed, I am but a few years older than your father.”
“You related to us? You know then the facts of the marriage of my grandfather to my grandmother. How little did I expect to hear this. You may be of the very greatest assistance to us.”
Captain Rochard assured Mabel that it would be a great satisfaction to him to be so. She then told him of the loss of the certificate, and the successful scheme which their relative Mr Sleech had set up for obtaining possession of the property.
“For my own sake,” she observed, “I care little for what has occurred; but it will be a bitter thing for my father when he returns to find that he has been deprived of the property he thought his own.”
Captain Rochard was silent for some minutes; then turning to Paul, he asked suddenly —
“Do you know in what year the colonel’s brother married?”
“Yes, sir, I mind it well; it was the beginning of the war with France, and much about the time that Frederick of Prussia opened his seven years’ war, and Admiral Byng did not beat the French in the first action, and was shot in consequence. A difficult job Lieutenant Everard had, too, to bring home his young baby, and escape the French cruisers. I mind his coming home as well as if it had been yesterday, and Madam Everard taking care of the little motherless boy, that’s the captain now – this young lady’s father – as if he had been her own child, and the poor lieutenant going to sea, and getting shot the next year. He died as a brave officer might wish to die, on the deck of his ship, lashing the enemy’s bowsprit to his own mainmast, that she might not get away – ”
“But I forget dates; in what year was that?” asked Captain Rochard, interrupting the old man, who might otherwise have run on to a much further length in his recollections.
“That was in the year ’56 or ’57 to the best of my mind,” answered Paul. “The captain’s a little above forty, and it’s about that time ago.”
“Thank you, my friend,” said Captain Rochard; “I shall remember the dates, and will put them down by-and-by. Your grandfather, I believe,” he continued, addressing Mabel, “married in the south of France, where my relatives were residing at the time. Alas! this fearful revolution has swept off many of them; but still some few, especially among the older ones, survive. The young, and strong, and healthy were the chief victims. I’ll say no more. I’ll do my best to aid your father, and enable him to recover his rights. I wish that he was in England at present, that I might consult with him first. I am quite willing, at all risks, to go over to France, and to endeavour to bring over the witnesses to the marriage, or the documents which may prove it.”
Mabel expressed her thanks to Captain Rochard, who now inquired what business took her to London. She hesitated for some time. At last she thought, “He’s true and kind, and though he may not be able to assist me, I shall have his sympathy and good wishes.” She then told him frankly of the dangerous position in which Harry Tryon was placed, of course asserting her belief in his innocence.
“That fine young fellow? I know him well,” said the captain. “I am sure he would not commit an unworthy action. I have more power to help him than you may suppose. Give me all the particulars with which you are acquainted, and I will try what can be done. Do you, however, proceed in your undertaking; I have great hopes that your efforts will not be without a happy result. That boy must not be put to death. I would go through anything to save him.”
By this time they had reached the confines of the forest. Captain Rochard said he must go back to his companions. He bade Mabel a kind farewell, when she and Paul continued their journey towards London. Beauty seemed to understand that he was on an important journey, for never had he trotted so swiftly over the ground. Mabel knew the importance of reserving his strength too much to allow him to break into a canter, or to push him on in a gallop, though her own feelings might have prompted her to do so. It was absolutely necessary during the heat of the day to rest. A small inn appeared close to the road. Mabel threw herself down on a little sofa in the room appropriated to her, at the door of which Paul kept ward and watch till it was time again to start. The horses, well groomed and fed, were then led forth, looking almost as fresh as when they started in the morning. Thus, before nightfall a large portion of the distance to London had been accomplished.
