A Jacobite Exile. Henty George Alfred
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with a supply of torches, for, although Harry knew the road–which was little better than a sheep track–well enough during the day, his father thought he might find it difficult, if not impossible, to follow it on a dark night.
They congratulated themselves upon the precaution taken, before they had gone very far, for there was no moon, the sky was overcast, and a drizzling rain had begun to come down. They could hardly see their horses' heads, and had proceeded but a short distance, when it became necessary for their guide to light a torch. It took them, therefore, over two hours to reach the mountain farm.
They were expected, otherwise the household would have been asleep. Mr. Jervoise had, as soon as he determined upon their going there, sent off a man on horseback, who, riding fast, had arrived before night set in. There was, therefore, a great turf fire glowing on the hearth when they arrived, and a hearty welcome awaiting them from the farmer, his wife, and daughters. Harry had, by his father's advice, brought two changes of clothes in a valise, but they were so completely soaked to the skin that they decided they would, after drinking a horn of hot-spiced ale that had been prepared for them, go at once to bed, where, in spite of the stirring events of the day, both went off to sleep, as soon as their heads touched the pillows.
The sun was shining brightly, when they woke. The mists had cleared off, although they still hung round the head of Ingleborough, six miles away, and on some of the other hilltops. The change of weather had an inspiriting effect, and they went down to breakfast in a brighter and more hopeful frame of mind. As soon as the meal was over, Harry started for home.
"I hope it won't be long before I can see you again, Harry," Charlie said, as he stood by the horse.
"I hope not, indeed; but there is no saying. My father's orders are that I am to stay at home, if people come and take possession, and send a man off to you with the news privately, but that, if no one comes, I may myself bring you over any news there is; so I may be back here this afternoon."
"I shall be looking out for you, Harry. Remember, it will be horribly dull for me up here, wondering and fretting as to what is going on."
"I know, Charlie; and you shall hear, as soon as I get the smallest scrap of news. If I were you, I would go for a good walk among the hills. It will be much better for you than moping here. At any rate, you are not likely to get any news for some hours to come."
Charlie took the advice, and started among the hills, not returning until the midday meal was ready. Before he had finished his dinner there was a tap at the door, and then a young fellow, whom he knew to be employed in Mr. Jervoise's stables, looked in. Charlie sprang to his feet.
"What's the news?" he asked.
"Master Harry bade me tell you, sir, that a magistrate, and four constables, and ten soldier men came today, at nine o'clock. He had returned but a half-hour when they rode up. They had an order for the arrest of Mr. Jervoise, and have been searching the house, high and low, for papers. No one is allowed to leave the place, but Master Harry came out to the stables and gave me his orders, and I did not find much difficulty in slipping out without their noticing me. Mr. Harry said that he had no news of Mr. Jervoise, nor any other news, save what I have told you. He bade me return at once as, later on, he may want to send me again. I was to be most careful that no one should see me when I got back, and, if I was caught, I was on no account to say where I had been to."
The farmer insisted upon the young fellow sitting down at the table, and taking some food, before he started to go back. He required no pressing, but, as soon as his hunger was satisfied, he started again at a brisk run, which he kept up as long as Charlie's eye could follow him down the valley.
Although the boy by no means wished Mr. Jervoise to be involved in his father's trouble, Charlie could not help feeling a certain amount of pleasure at the news. He thought it certain that, if his father escaped, he would have to leave the country, and that he would, in that case, take him as companion in his flight. If Mr. Jervoise and Harry also left the country, it would be vastly more pleasant for both his father and himself. Where they would go to, or what they would do, he had no idea, but it seemed to him that exile among strangers would be bearable, if he had his friend with him. It would not last many years, for surely the often talked-of landing could not be very much longer delayed; then they would return, share in the triumph of the Stuart cause, and resume their life at Lynnwood, and reckon with those who had brought this foul charge against them.
That the Jacobite cause could fail to triumph was a contingency to which Charlie did not give even a thought. He had been taught that it was a just and holy cause. All his school friends, as well as the gentlemen who visited his father, were firm adherents of it, and he believed that the same sentiments must everywhere prevail. There was, then, nothing but the troops of William to reckon with, and these could hardly oppose a rising of the English people, backed by aid from France.
It was not until after dark that the messenger returned.
"Master Harry bade me tell you, sir, that a gipsy boy he had never seen before has brought him a little note from his father. He will not return at present, but, if Mr. Harry can manage to slip away unnoticed in the afternoon, tomorrow, he is to come here. He is not to come direct, but to make a circuit, lest he should be watched and followed, and it may be that the master will meet him here."
Charlie was very glad to hear this. Harry could, of course, give him little news of what was going on outside the house, but Mr. Jervoise might be able to tell him something about his father, especially as he had said he had means of learning what went on in Lancaster jail.
He was longing to be doing something. It seemed intolerable to him that he should be wandering aimlessly among the hills, while his father was lying in Lancaster, with a charge affecting his life hanging over him. What he could do he knew not, but anything would be better than doing nothing. Mr. Jervoise had seemed to think that it was out of the question to attempt a rescue from Lancaster; but surely, if he could get together forty or fifty determined fellows, a sudden assault upon the place might be successful.
Then he set to work reckoning up the grooms, the younger tenants, and the sons of the older ones, and jotted down the names of twenty-seven who he thought might join in the attempt.
"If Harry could get twenty-three from his people, that would make it up to the number," he said. "Of course, I don't know what the difficulties to be encountered may be. I have ridden there with my father, and I know that the castle is a strong one, but I did not notice it very particularly. The first thing to do will be to go and examine it closely. No doubt ladders will be required, but we could make rope ladders, and take them into the town in a cart, hidden under faggots, or something of that sort.
"I do hope Mr. Jervoise will come tomorrow. It is horrible waiting here in suspense."
The next morning, the hours seemed endless. Half a dozen times he went restlessly in and out, walking a little distance up the hill rising from the valley, and returning again, with the vain idea that Mr. Jervoise might have arrived.
Still more slowly did the time appear to go, after dinner. He was getting into a fever of impatience and anxiety, when, about five o'clock, he saw a figure coming down the hillside from the right. It was too far away to recognize with certainty, but, by the rapid pace at which he descended the hill, he had little doubt that it was Harry, and he at once started, at the top of his speed, to meet him.
The doubt was soon changed into a certainty. When, a few hundred yards up the hill, he met his friend, both were almost breathless. Harry was the first to gasp out:
"Has my father arrived?"
"Not yet."
Harry threw himself down on the short grass, with an exclamation of thankfulness.
"I have run nearly every foot of the way," he said, as soon as he got his breath a little. "I had awful difficulty in getting out. One of the constables kept in the same room with me, and followed me wherever I went. They evidently thought I might hear from my father, or try to send him a message. At last, I got desperate, and ran upstairs to that room next mine, and closed and locked the door after me. You know the ivy grows high up the wall there, and directly I got in, I threw open the casement and climbed down by it. It gave way two or three times, and I thought I was gone, but I stuck to it, and managed each time