Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > Crown and Sceptre: A West Country Story > This page
Crown and Sceptre: A West Country Story, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 37. Watching The Attack |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. WATCHING THE ATTACK That which Fred had dreaded had indeed begun, for about a hundred and fifty men had been told off for the attack, and these had prepared themselves by picketing their horses, arming themselves with stout axes for the barricades, and dragging after them stout scaling-ladders. The advance had seemed to be dilatory before, and the generally received opinion in the camp had been that the defending party, to save risk, was to be starved into submission. But those who judged did not know the general. He had been waiting his time, for sundry reasons: respect for Colonel Forrester, and mercy, being among these; but now that he found it necessary to adopt strong coercive measures, he was prompt and quick in every step. Fred Forrester was freed from the terrible necessity of taking part in the attack, but that did not lessen his eagerness to see what would be the result, and in consequence he hurried to the top of the nearest woodland summit, and from thence prepared to witness the issue of the fight. As he reached the clump of beeches which crowned the hill, he caught sight of the back of some one lying at the very edge of the wood, in the commanding spot he had selected for himself, and where he had often stood to make signs to Scarlett in the old boyish days. For a moment or two he hesitated, and then approached, wondering who it could be, and taking the precaution to draw his sword, for it was not likely to be one of their own men. It was disconcerting to find any one there, and for the moment he was ready to draw back. But, on the other hand, it might be a spy of the enemy, who had crept up there to watch their proceedings; and under these circumstances, Fred felt that there were only two courses open to him, flight or bold attack. To make such an attack in cold blood required consideration. It was not like taking part in an exciting charge, amid the stirring din of battle, when the pulses were bounding, and the bray of the trumpet called them to advance. He, a mere youth, had to go single-handed to an encounter with a great broad-backed fellow, who, at the first brunt, might turn the tables upon him. "But he is a spy," said Fred to himself; "and he is sure to be half afraid;" and without further hesitation, the lad advanced softly, keeping well behind. As he drew nearer he could see that the man was upon his chest with his arms folded for a support; his morion was tilted back over his ears, so that it covered his neck, and as he watched the advance, he slowly raised first one and then the other leg, crossing them backwards and forwards, and beating the ground with his toes as if they were portions of a pick-axe. A peculiar feeling of hesitation came over Fred again, and he found himself asking whether he ought not to go down for help, and whether there were any of the man's companions near. This he felt was only common prudence; and, stepping back, he carefully searched among the trees and round the edge of the hill. But no, the man seemed to have come up quite alone; and, gaining confidence from this, he went softly back, taking care not to trample upon any dead twig, so as to give the alarm. In a few minutes he was again at the edge of the wood, near enough to see that the man wore a backpiece, and that the hilt of his sword was quite near his hand. The hesitation was gone now. A glance showed that the attacking party were near the end of the lake, and that outposts of three or four men were dotted here and there, ready to drive back or capture any of the Cavaliers who might try to make their escape. "I'll do it," said Fred to himself; and, stooping down, he crept nearer and nearer, holding back any twig or obtruding branch with his sword, and wincing and preparing for a spring, when a bramble grated against the edge of his blade. But the man was too intent upon the scene below, and paid no heed to a warning which, had he been on the alert, would have placed Fred at a terrible disadvantage. The lad's eyes, as he crept on with sword in advance, were fixed on the back of the man's half-hidden neck; and he had made his plans, but for all that he could not help glancing down at the advancing men, and pausing to note that the Cavaliers were at the barricaded windows, ready for their enemy. And now for a moment Fred again wondered whether he was doing right, and whether his more sensible plan would not have been to go down to the camp and spread the alarm. His answer to this thought was to set his teeth, which grated so loudly that his grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, and he felt sure that he must have been heard. But no; the man lay perfectly still, watching intently, as motionless, in fact, as if he had been asleep; and Fred crept step by step nearer and nearer, till he felt that he was within springing distance, and then stopped to take breath. "How easy it would be to kill him," he thought, "and how cowardly;" and he was about to put his first idea into action, namely, to make one bold spring forward, and snatch the man's sword from the sheath. But the sword might stick, the sheath clinging to it tightly, as it would sometimes; and if it did, instead of the man being helpless, it would be he who was at the mercy of one who might beat him off with ease. So, giving up that idea, he paused a few moments, till the man raised his head a little higher, so as to get a better view of those below, and then with one bold spring, Fred was upon his back, with the point of his sword driven in a peculiar way into the soft earth. That idea had occurred to him at the last moment, and even in the intense excitement of the moment he smiled, as he saw in it success, for it effectually baffled the man in what was his first effort--to draw his sword, which was pinned, as it were, to the ground by Fred's weapon being passed directly through the hilt. There was an angry snort, as of a startled beast, a tremendous heave, and a coarse brown hand made a dart at the sword-blade, and was snatched away with an exclamation of pain. Then in fiercely remonstrant tones a harsh voice shouted-- "You coward! Only let me get a chance!" "Samson!" cried Fred, starting back as he removed his knee from the back of the man's head, and the ex-gardener's steel cap rolled over to the side. "Master Fred!" was the answer; and Samson turned over and sat up, staring in his assailant's face. "You here?" "Here, sir, yes; and look what you've done. Don't ketch me sharping your sword again, if you're going to serve me like that." He held up his hand, which was bleeding from the fact of his having seized hold of the blade which had pinned down his hilt. "But I thought you were one of the enemy--a spy." "Then you'd no business to, sir. I only come up here to see the fight." "But I thought you were down in the ranks--gone to the attack." "Me? Now, was it likely, sir, as I should go and fight against the Hall? No, sir, my bad brother Nat, who is as full of wickedness as a gooseberry's full of pips, might go and try and take the Manor, if it was only so as to get a chance to ransack my tool-shed; but you know better than to think I'd go and do such a thing by him. Would you mind tying that, sir?" Samson had taken a strip of linen out of his morion, and after twisting it round the slight, freely bleeding cut on his finger, held it up for Fred to tie. "Thank ye kindly, sir. I meant that for a leg or a wing, but it will do again for them." "I am very sorry, Samson," said Fred, giving the knot a final pull. "Oh, it don't matter, sir; only don't try any o' them games again. So you thought I was a spy?" "Yes." "And what was you going to do with me?" "Make you a prisoner, and take you down to camp." "Well, you are a one!" said Samson, looking at his young master, and laughing. "Think of a whipper-snapper like you trying to capture a big chap like me." Fred winced angrily. "Well, not so much of a whipper-snapper as Master Scarlett, sir; but you haven't got much muscle, you know." "Muscle enough to try." "Yes, sir," said the ex-gardener, thoughtfully; "but it isn't the muscle so much as the try. It's the thinking like and scheming. You see a bit of rock stands up, and you can't move it with muscle, but if you put a little bit of rock close to it, and then get a pole or an iron bar, and puts it under the big rock and rests it on the little, and then pushes down the end, why, then, over the big rock goes, and it's out of your way." "Yes, Samson," said Fred, thoughtfully, as he watched the advance; "and so you didn't care to go to the attack?" "No, sir, I wouldn't; but it was tempting, though; ay, that it was." "Tempting?" "Well, you see, Master Fred, Nat has got some chyce cabbage seed, and he'd never give me a pinch, try how I would; no, nor yet sell a man a pen'orth. He kept it all to himself, just out of a nasty greedy spirit, so that his cabbages might be bigger and heavier than ours at the Manor. I'd have had some of that seed if I'd gone, for he couldn't have come and stopped me now." "No, poor fellow! I wonder how he is?" "Getting better, sir. He's as tough as fifty-year-old yew. Nothing couldn't kill him; but look, sir, look! See how they're getting up to the terrace. Ah!" This exclamation was made as a white puff suddenly seemed to dart from one of the windows of the Hall, and then there was another, and another, the reports seeming to follow, and then to echo from the next hill. But no one in the attacking force seemed to fall, neither did it check them. On the contrary, they appeared to be spurred into action, and instead of creeping on as it were in a slow steady march, they broke up into little knots, and dashed forward, while a second line kept steadily on. "Look at them! look at them, Master Fred! Don't it make you feel as if you wished you was in it?" cried Samson, excitedly. "That's it; fire away; but you won't stop 'em. All Coombeland boys, every man-jack of 'em, and you can't stop them when they mean business." "No," said Fred between his teeth, as he tried to keep down the feelings of elation engendered by the gallantry of the attack, by forcing himself to think of how it would be were he Scarlett Markham, and these men enemies attacking his home. "Look, look, Samson!" he whispered, with his throat dry, his tongue clinging to the roof of his mouth, and the scar of his worst wound beginning to throb. "Yes, I'm a-looking, sir," said Samson, in as husky a voice. "There, they've got a ladder up against the big long window, and they're swarming up it. They'll be indirectly, and drive the long-haired gentlemen flying like leaves before a noo birch broom." "No," said Fred, shading his eyes with his hands; "no. Ah, did you hear the crash? How horrible! Some of them must be killed." "Not they, Master Fred. But I don't see how they did it. Fancy turning the ladder right back with seven or eight lads running up it! But it was well done." "Can you see whether any one is hurt?" "Not at this distance, sir. Not they, though, unless they've got any of those long thin swords skewered into them. I've tumbled twice that height out of apple-trees, and no one to fall upon. They'd all got some one to tumble on, except the bottom one, and I don't suppose he's much hurt." "Hurt, man? He must be killed." "Tchah! not he, sir. T'others would be too soft. Look, sir; don't lose none of it. You may never have such a chance again. Yes; there, they've got the ladder up once more, and some's holding it while the others goes up. Yes. Huzza! they'll do it now. No. If they haven't overturned it again." "Yes," said Fred, sadly, and yet unable to help feeling pleased, so thoroughly were his sympathies on both sides. "They're giving it up, Samson; they're retiring." "No, sir; only carrying some of the hurt ones out of the fight. There goes another ladder up--two. Hah! look at that!" Fred's eyes were already riveted on the fresh scene, for, plainly seen even at that distance, the strong oaken-boarding screen nailed over the window at the end of the terrace on the ground floor was suddenly thrown down, and with a shout which was faintly heard on the hill, a party of about five and twenty Cavaliers rushed out, sword in hand, taking the attacking party in the flank with such vigour that they gave way, the two scaling-ladders were overturned, and for the moment the Puritans took to flight, and the attack seemed to have failed. "Beaten, Samson," said Fred, unable to crush down a feeling of satisfaction, even at the reverse of his own party. "Beaten, sir? Not they. Only driven back. It's just like the waves down by the cave, yonder; they come back again stronger than ever. Told you so, sir. Look at that." Samson Dee was right, for a solitary figure had suddenly stepped forward from the second rank, rallied the beaten men, and advanced with them slowly and steadily. There was a desperate _melee_, as the Cavaliers, reinforced by more from within, tried to complete their rout, and then, as it seemed to the excited watchers, the Royalists were driven back step by step, by sheer force of numbers. Then in the midst of a seething confusion, all swayed here and there along the terrace, and on and on, till the barricaded windows and porch were reached, and then, as they were checked by the stubborn walls as water is stopped by a pier, they struggled fighting ever sidewise, a stream of mingled men along the front of the house and over the broken-down boarding, till the tide of confusion set right through the open window into the Hall. At first this human current was a mingling of both sides; then the Cavalier element seemed to disappear, and as Fred watched with starting eyes, he could see at last that it was a steady stream of their own men which flowed through the opening. "They're in, Master Fred! The day's ours. Hark! Hear them firing inside? Look! Look!" It was plain enough to see: from the window, whence the scaling-ladders were thrown down, men come dropping forth sword in hand, Cavaliers evidently, to be encountered by those of the Puritan party still without. Then out came other Puritans, to take the Cavaliers in the rear, as they fought together in a knot facing all round, with their swords flashing as they made their gallant defence. Then a rush seemed to take place, and they were overpowered, while the smoke came slowly rolling out from the open window, though the firing had ceased. The fighting still went on within for a few minutes; then a rush as made out from door and window, and a tremendous cheer arose, loud enough to strike well upon the spectators' ears, helmets were seen flashing, swords flourished in the air, and it was plain enough that resistance had ceased, while the attacking force were gathering together once again. "Smoke seems long while rolling out, Master Fred; must ha' been a deal o' firing we did not hear." "Oh!" shouted Fred, as like a flash the truth came home to him. "What's the matter, lad? Are you hurt?" cried Samson. "No, no; look! The dear old Hall!" cried Fred. "Don't you see?" "Smoke, sir? Yes." "No, no, my good fellow, not smoke alone; the poor old place is on fire." And without another word, Fred, followed closely by Samson, dashed down the hill. _ |
||