E-text prepared by Martin Robb

A JACOBITE EXILE:

Being the Adventures of a Young Englishman
in the Service of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden

by

G. A. Henty.

Contents

   Preface.
   Chapter  1: A Spy in the Household.
   Chapter  2: Denounced.
   Chapter  3: A Rescue.
   Chapter  4: In Sweden.
   Chapter  5: Narva.
   Chapter  6: A Prisoner.
   Chapter  7: Exchanged.
   Chapter  8: The Passage of the Dwina.
   Chapter  9: In Warsaw.
   Chapter 10: In Evil Plight.
   Chapter 11: With Brigands.
   Chapter 12: Treed By Wolves.
   Chapter 13: A Rescued Party.
   Chapter 14: The Battle Of Clissow.
   Chapter 15: An Old Acquaintance.
   Chapter 16: In England Again.
   Chapter 17: The North Coach.
   Chapter 18: A Confession.

Preface.

My Dear Lads,

Had I attempted to write you an account of the whole of the
adventurous career of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, it would, in
itself, have filled a bulky volume, to the exclusion of all other
matter; and a youth, who fought at Narva, would have been a
middle-aged man at the death of that warlike monarch, before the
walls of Frederickshall. I have, therefore, been obliged to confine
myself to the first three years of his reign, in which he crushed
the army of Russia at Narva, and laid the then powerful republic of
Poland prostrate at his feet. In this way, only, could I obtain
space for the private adventures and doings of Charlie Carstairs,
the hero of the story. The details of the wars of Charles the
Twelfth were taken from the military history, written at his
command by his chamberlain, Adlerfeld; from a similar narrative by
a Scotch gentleman in his service; and from Voltaire's history. The
latter is responsible for the statement that the trade of Poland
was almost entirely in the hands of Scotch, French, and Jewish
merchants, the Poles themselves being sharply divided into the two
categories of nobles and peasants.

Yours sincerely,

G. A. Henty.

Chapter 1: A Spy in the Household.

On the borders of Lancashire and Westmoreland, two centuries since,
stood Lynnwood, a picturesque mansion, still retaining something of
the character of a fortified house. It was ever a matter of regret
to its owner, Sir Marmaduke Carstairs, that his grandfather had so
modified its construction, by levelling one side of the quadrangle,
and inserting large mullion windows in that portion inhabited by
the family, that it was in no condition to stand a siege, in the
time of the Civil War.

Sir Marmaduke was, at that time, only a child, but he still
remembered how the Roundhead soldiers had lorded it there, when his
father was away fighting with the army of the king; how they had
seated themselves at the board, and had ordered his mother about as
if she had been a scullion, jeering her with cruel words as to what
would have been the fate of her husband, if they had caught him
there, until, though but eight years old, he had smitten one of the
troopers, as he sat, with all his force. What had happened after
that, he did not recollect, for it was not until a week after the
Roundheads had ridden away that he found himself in his bed, with
his mother sitting beside him, and his head bandaged with cloths
dipped in water. He always maintained that, had the house been
fortified, it could have held out until help arrived, although, in
later years, his father assured him that it was well it was not in
a position to offer a defence.

"We were away down south, Marmaduke, and the Roundheads were
masters of this district, at the time. They would have battered the
place around your mother's ears, and, likely as not, have burnt it
to the ground. As it was, I came back here to find it whole and
safe, except that the crop-eared scoundrels had, from pure
wantonness, destroyed the pictures and hacked most of the furniture
to pieces. I took no part in the later risings, seeing that they
were hopeless, and therefore preserved my property, when many
others were ruined.

"No, Marmaduke, it is just as well that the house was not
fortified. I believe in fighting, when there is some chance, even a
slight one, of success, but I regard it as an act of folly, to
throw away a life when no good can come of it."

Still, Sir Marmaduke never ceased to regret that Lynnwood was not
one of the houses that had been defended, to the last, against the
enemies of the king. At the Restoration he went, for the first time
in his life, to London, to pay his respects to Charles the Second.
He was well received, and although he tired, in a very short time,
of the gaieties of the court, he returned to Lynnwood with his
feelings of loyalty to the Stuarts as strong as ever. He rejoiced
heartily when the news came of the defeat of Monmouth at Sedgemoor,
and was filled with rage and indignation when James weakly fled,
and left his throne to be occupied by Dutch William.

From that time, he became a strong Jacobite, and emptied his glass
nightly "to the king over the water." In the north the Jacobites
were numerous, and at their gatherings treason was freely talked,
while arms were prepared, and hidden away for the time when the
lawful king should return to claim his own. Sir Marmaduke was
deeply concerned in the plot of 1696, when preparations had been
made for a great Jacobite rising throughout the country. Nothing
came of it, for the Duke of Berwick, who was to have led it, failed
in getting the two parties who were concerned to come to an
agreement. The Jacobites were ready to rise, directly a French army
landed. The French king, on the other hand, would not send an army
until the Jacobites had risen, and the matter therefore fell
through, to Sir Marmaduke's indignation and grief. But he had no
words strong enough to express his anger and disgust when he found
that, side by side with the general scheme for a rising, a plot had
been formed by Sir George Barclay, a Scottish refugee, to
assassinate the king, on his return from hunting in Richmond
Forest.

"It is enough to drive one to become a Whig," he exclaimed. "I am
ready to fight Dutch William, for he occupies the place of my
rightful sovereign, but I have no private feud with him, and, if I
had, I would run any man through who ventured to propose to me a
plot to assassinate him. Such scoundrels as Barclay would bring
disgrace on the best cause in the world. Had I heard as much as a
whisper of it, I would have buckled on my sword, and ridden to
London to warn the Dutchman of his danger. However, as it seems
that Barclay had but some forty men with him, most of them foreign
desperadoes, the Dutchman must see that English gentlemen, however
ready to fight against him fairly, would have no hand in so
dastardly a plot as this.

"Look you, Charlie, keep always in mind that you bear the name of
our martyred king, and be ready ever to draw your sword in the
cause of the Stuarts, whether it be ten years hence, or forty, that
their banner is hoisted again; but keep yourself free from all
plots, except those that deal with fair and open warfare. Have no
faith whatever in politicians, who are ever ready to use the
country gentry as an instrument for gaining their own ends. Deal
with your neighbours, but mistrust strangers, from whomsoever they
may say they come."

Which advice Charlie, at that time thirteen years old, gravely
promised to follow. He had naturally inherited his father's
sentiments, and believed the Jacobite cause to be a sacred one. He
had fought and vanquished Alured Dormay, his second cousin, and two
years his senior, for speaking of King James' son as the Pretender,
and was ready, at any time, to do battle with any boy of his own
age, in the same cause. Alured's father, John Dormay, had ridden
over to Lynnwood, to complain of the violence of which his son had
been the victim, but he obtained no redress from Sir Marmaduke.

"The boy is a chip of the old block, cousin, and he did right. I
myself struck a blow at the king's enemies, when I was but eight
years old, and got my skull well-nigh cracked for my pains. It is
well that the lads were not four years older, for then, instead of
taking to fisticuffs, their swords would have been out, and as my
boy has, for the last four years, been exercised daily in the use
of his weapon, it might happen that, instead of Alured coming home
with a black eye, and, as you say, a missing tooth, he might have
been carried home with a sword thrust through his body.

"It was, to my mind, entirely the fault of your son. I should have
blamed Charlie, had he called the king at Westminster Dutch
William, for, although each man has a right to his own opinions, he
has no right to offend those of others--besides, at present it is
as well to keep a quiet tongue as to a matter that words cannot set
right. In the same way, your son had no right to offend others by
calling James Stuart the Pretender.

"Certainly, of the twelve boys who go over to learn what the Rector
of Apsley can teach them, more than half are sons of gentlemen
whose opinions are similar to my own.

"It would be much better, John Dormay, if, instead of complaining
of my boy, you were to look somewhat to your own. I marked, the
last time he came over here, that he was growing loutish in his
manners, and that he bore himself with less respect to his elders
than is seemly in a lad of that age. He needs curbing, and would
carry himself all the better if, like Charlie, he had an hour a day
at sword exercise. I speak for the boy's good. It is true that you
yourself, being a bitter Whig, mix but little with your neighbours,
who are for the most part the other way of thinking; but this may
not go on for ever, and you would, I suppose, like Alured, when he
grows up, to mix with others of his rank in the county; and it
would be well, therefore, that he should have the accomplishments
and manners of young men of his own age."

John Dormay did not reply hastily--it was his policy to keep on
good terms with his wife's cousin, for the knight was a man of far
higher consideration, in the county, than himself. His smile,
however, was not a pleasant one, as he rose and said:

"My mission has hardly terminated as I expected, Sir Marmaduke. I
came to complain, and I go away advised somewhat sharply."

"Tut, tut, man!" the knight said. "I speak only for the lad's good,
and I am sure that you cannot but feel the truth of what I have
said. What does Alured want to make enemies for? It may be that it
was only my son who openly resented his ill-timed remarks, but you
may be sure that others were equally displeased, and maybe their
resentment will last much longer than that which was quenched in a
fair stand-up fight. Certainly, there need be no malice between the
boys. Alured's defeat may even do him good, for he cannot but feel
that it is somewhat disgraceful to be beaten by one nearly a head
shorter than he."

"There is, no doubt, something in what you say, Sir Marmaduke,"
John Dormay said blandly, "and I will make it my business that,
should the boys meet again as antagonists, Alured shall be able to
give a better account of himself."

"He is a disagreeable fellow," Sir Marmaduke said to himself, as he
watched John Dormay ride slowly away through the park, "and, if it
were not that he is husband to my cousin Celia, I would have nought
to do with him. She is my only kinswoman, and, were aught to happen
to Charlie, that lout, her son, would be the heir of Lynnwood. I
should never rest quiet in my grave, were a Whig master here.

"I would much rather that he had spoken wrathfully, when I
straightly gave him my opinion of the boy, who is growing up an
ill-conditioned cub. It would have been more honest. I hate to see
a man smile, when I know that he would fain swear. I like my cousin
Celia, and I like her little daughter Ciceley, who takes after her,
and not after John Dormay; but I would that the fellow lived on the
other side of England. He is out of his place here, and, though men
do not speak against him in my presence, knowing that he is a sort
of kinsman, I have never heard one say a good word for him.

"It is not only because he is a Whig. There are other Whig gentry
in the neighbourhood, against whom I bear no ill will, and can meet
at a social board in friendship. It would be hard if politics were
to stand between neighbours. It is Dormay's manner that is against
him. If he were anyone but Celia's husband, I would say that he is
a smooth-faced knave, though I altogether lack proof of my words,
beyond that he has added half a dozen farms to his estate, and, in
each case, there were complaints that, although there was nothing
contrary to the law, it was by sharp practice that he obtained
possession, lending money freely in order to build houses and
fences and drains, and then, directly a pinch came, demanding the
return of his advance.

"Such ways may pass in a London usurer, but they don't do for us
country folk; and each farm that he has taken has closed the doors
of a dozen good houses to John Dormay. I fear that Celia has a bad
time with him, though she is not one to complain. I let Charlie go
over to Rockley, much oftener than I otherwise should do, for her
sake and Ciceley's, though I would rather, a hundred times, that
they should come here. Not that the visits are pleasant, when they
do come, for I can see that Celia is always in fear, lest I should
ask her questions about her life at home; which is the last thing
that I should think of doing, for no good ever comes of
interference between man and wife, and, whatever I learned, I could
not quarrel with John Dormay without being altogether separated
from Celia and the girl.

"I am heartily glad that Charlie has given Alured a sound
thrashing. The boy is too modest. He only said a few words, last
evening, about the affair, and I thought that only a blow or two
had been exchanged. It was as much as I could do, not to rub my
hands and chuckle, when his father told me all about it. However, I
must speak gravely to Charlie. If he takes it up, every time a Whig
speaks scornfully of the king, he will be always in hot water, and,
were he a few years older, would become a marked man. We have got
to bide our time, and, except among friends, it is best to keep a
quiet tongue until that time comes."

To Sir Marmaduke's disappointment, three more years went on without
the position changing in any way. Messengers went and came between
France and the English Jacobites, but no movement was made. The
failure of the assassination plot had strengthened William's hold
on the country, for Englishmen love fair play and hate assassination,
so that many who had, hitherto, been opponents of William of Orange,
now ranged themselves on his side, declaring they could no longer
support a cause that used assassination as one of its weapons. More
zealous Jacobites, although they regretted the assassination plot,
and were as vehement of their denunciations of its authors as were
the Whigs, remained staunch in their fidelity to "the king over the
water," maintaining stoutly that his majesty knew nothing whatever
of this foul plot, and that his cause was in no way affected by the
misconduct of a few men, who happened to be among its adherents.

At Lynnwood things went on as usual. Charlie continued his studies,
in a somewhat desultory way, having but small affection for books;
kept up his fencing lesson diligently and learned to dance;
quarrelled occasionally with his cousin Alured, spent a good deal
of his time on horseback, and rode over, not unfrequently, to
Rockley, choosing, as far as possible, the days and hours when he
knew that Alured and his father were likely to be away. He went
over partly for his own pleasure, but more in compliance with his
father's wishes.

"My cousin seldom comes over, herself," the latter said. "I know,
right well, that it is from no slackness of her own, but that her
husband likes not her intimacy here. It is well, then, that you
should go over and see them, for it is only when you bring her that
I see Ciceley. I would she were your sister, lad, for she is a
bright little maid, and would make the old house lively."

Therefore, once a week or so, Charlie rode over early to Rockley,
which was some five miles distant, and brought back Ciceley,
cantering on her pony by his side, escorting her home again before
nightfall. Ciceley's mother wondered, sometimes, that her husband,
who in most matters set his will in opposition to hers, never
offered any objection to the girl's visits to Lynnwood. She thought
that, perhaps, he was pleased that there should be an intimacy
between some member, at least, of his family, and Sir Marmaduke's.
There were so few houses at which he or his were welcome, it was
pleasant to him to be able to refer to the close friendship of his
daughter with their cousins at Lynnwood. Beyond this, Celia, who
often, as she sat alone, turned the matter over in her mind, could
see no reason he could have for permitting the intimacy. That he
would permit it without some reason was, as her experience had
taught her, out of the question.

Ciceley never troubled her head about the matter. Her visits to
Lynnwood were very pleasant to her. She was two years younger than
Charlie Carstairs; and although, when he had once brought her to
the house, he considered that his duties were over until the hour
arrived for her return, he was sometimes ready to play with her,
escort her round the garden, or climb the trees for fruit or birds'
eggs for her.

Such little courtesies she never received from Alured, who was four
years her senior, and who never interested himself in the slightest
degree in her. He was now past eighteen, and was beginning to
regard himself as a man, and had, to Ciceley's satisfaction, gone a
few weeks before, to London, to stay with an uncle who had a place
at court, and was said to be much in the confidence of some of the
Whig lords.

Sir Marmaduke was, about this time, more convinced than ever that,
ere long, the heir of the Stuarts would come over from France, with
men, arms, and money, and would rally round him the Jacobites of
England and Scotland. Charlie saw but little of him, for he was
frequently absent, from early morning until late at night, riding
to visit friends in Westmoreland and Yorkshire, sometimes being
away two or three days at a time. Of an evening, there were
meetings at Lynnwood, and at these strangers, who arrived after
nightfall, were often present. Charlie was not admitted to any of
these gatherings.

"You will know all about it in time, lad," his father said. "You
are too young to bother your head with politics, and you would lose
patience in a very short time. I do myself, occasionally. Many who
are the foremost in talk, when there is no prospect of doing
anything, draw back when the time approaches for action, and it is
sickening to listen to the timorous objections and paltry arguments
that are brought forward. Here am I, a man of sixty, ready to risk
life and fortune in the good cause, and there are many, not half my
age, who speak with as much caution as if they were graybeards.
Still, lad, I have no doubt that the matter will straighten itself
out, and come right in the end. It is always the most trying time,
for timorous hearts, before the first shot of a battle is fired.
Once the engagement commences, there is no time for fear. The
battle has to be fought out, and the best way to safety is to win a
victory. I have not the least doubt that, as soon as it is known
that the king has landed, there will be no more shilly-shallying or
hesitation. Every loyal man will mount his horse, and call out his
tenants, and, in a few days, England will be in a blaze from end to
end."

Charlie troubled himself but little with what was going on. His
father had promised him that, when the time did come, he should
ride by his side, and with that promise he was content to wait,
knowing that, at present, his strength would be of but little
avail, and that every week added somewhat to his weight and sinew.

One day he was in the garden with Ciceley. The weather was hot, and
the girl was sitting, in a swing, under a shady tree, occasionally
starting herself by a push with her foot on the ground, and then
swaying gently backward and forward, until the swing was again at
rest. Charlie was seated on the ground, near her, pulling the ears
of his favourite dog, and occasionally talking to her, when a
servant came out, with a message that his father wanted to speak to
him.

"I expect I shall be back in a few minutes, Ciceley, so don't you
wander away till I come. It is too hot today to be hunting for you,
all over the garden, as I did when you hid yourself last week."

It was indeed but a short time until he returned.

"My father only wanted to tell me that he is just starting for
Bristowe's, and, as it is over twenty miles away, he may not return
until tomorrow."

"I don't like that man's face who brought the message to you,
Charlie."

"Don't you?" the boy said carelessly. "I have not noticed him much.
He has not been many months with us.

"What are you thinking of?" he asked, a minute later, seeing that
his cousin looked troubled.

"I don't know that I ought to tell you, Charlie. You know my father
does not think the same way as yours about things."

"I should rather think he doesn't," Charlie laughed. "There is no
secret about that, Ciceley; but they don't quarrel over it. Last
time your father and mother came over here, I dined with them for
the first time, and I noticed there was not a single word said
about politics. They chatted over the crops, and the chances of a
war in Europe, and of the quarrel between Holstein and Denmark, and
whether the young king of Sweden would aid the duke, who seems to
be threatened by Saxony as well as by Denmark. I did not know
anything about it, and thought it was rather stupid; but my father
and yours both seemed of one mind, and were as good friends as if
they were in equal agreement on all other points. But what has that
to do with Nicholson, for that is the man's name who came out just
now?"

"It does not seem to have much to do with it," she said doubtfully,
"and yet, perhaps it does. You know my mother is not quite of the
same opinion as my father, although she never says so to him; but,
when we are alone together, sometimes she shakes her head and says
she fears that trouble is coming, and it makes her very unhappy.
One day I was in the garden, and they were talking loudly in the
dining room--at least, he was talking loudly. Well, he said--But I
don't know whether I ought to tell you, Charlie."

"Certainly you ought not, Ciceley. If you heard what you were not
meant to hear, you ought never to say a word about it to anyone."

"But it concerns you and Sir Marmaduke."

"I cannot help that," he said stoutly. "People often say things of
each other, in private, especially if they are out of temper, that
they don't quite mean, and it would make terrible mischief if such
things were repeated. Whatever your father said, I do not want to
hear it, and it would be very wrong of you to repeat it."

"I am not going to repeat it, Charlie. I only want to say that I do
not think my father and yours are very friendly together, which is
natural, when my father is all for King William, and your father
for King James. He makes no secret of that, you know."

Charlie nodded.

"That is right enough, Ciceley, but still, I don't understand in
the least what it has to do with the servant."

"It has to do with it," she said pettishly, starting the swing
afresh, and then relapsing into silence until it again came to a
standstill.

"I think you ought to know," she said suddenly. "You see, Charlie,
Sir Marmaduke is very kind to me, and I love him dearly, and so I
do you, and I think you ought to know, although it may be nothing
at all."

"Well, fire away then, Ciceley. There is one thing you may be quite
sure of, whatever you tell me, it is like telling a brother, and I
shall never repeat it to anyone."

"Well, it is this. That man comes over sometimes to see my father.
I have seen him pass my window, three or four times, and go in by
the garden door into father's study. I did not know who he was, but
it did seem funny his entering by that door, as if he did not want
to be seen by anyone in the house. I did not think anything more
about it, till I saw him just now, then I knew him directly. If I
had seen him before, I should have told you at once, but I don't
think I have."

"I daresay not, Ciceley. He does not wait at table, but is under
the steward, and helps clean the silver. He waits when we have
several friends to dinner. At other times he does not often come
into the room.

"What you tell me is certainly curious. What can he have to say to
your father?"

"I don't know, Charlie. I don't know anything about it. I do think
you ought to know."

"Yes, I think it is a good thing that I should know," Charlie
agreed thoughtfully. "I daresay it is all right, but, at any rate,
I am glad you told me."

"You won't tell your father?" she asked eagerly. "Because, if you
were to speak of it--"

"I shall not tell him. You need not be afraid that what you have
told me will come out. It is curious, and that is all, and I will
look after the fellow a bit. Don't think anything more about it. It
is just the sort of thing it is well to know, but I expect there is
no harm in it, one way or the other. Of course, he must have known
your father before he came to us, and may have business of some
sort with him. He may have a brother, or some other relation, who
wants to take one of your father's farms. Indeed, there are a
hundred things he might want to see him about. But still, I am glad
you have told me."

In his own mind, Charlie thought much more seriously of it than he
pretended. He knew that, at present, his father was engaged heart
and soul in a projected Jacobite rising. He knew that John Dormay
was a bitter Whig. He believed that he had a grudge against his
father, and the general opinion of him was that he was wholly
unscrupulous.

That he should, then, be in secret communication with a servant at
Lynnwood, struck him as a very serious matter, indeed. Charlie was
not yet sixteen, but his close companionship with his father had
rendered him older than most lads of his age. He was as warm a
Jacobite as his father, but the manner in which William, with his
Dutch troops, had crushed the great Jacobite rebellion in Ireland,
seemed to him a lesson that the prospects of success, in England,
were much less certain than his father believed them to be.

John Dormay, as an adherent of William, would be interested in
thwarting the proposed movement, with the satisfaction of, at the
same time, bringing Sir Marmaduke into disgrace. Charlie could
hardly believe that his cousin would be guilty of setting a spy to
watch his father, but it was certainly possible, and as he thought
the matter over, as he rode back after escorting Ciceley to her
home, he resolved to keep a sharp watch over the doings of this man
Nicholson.

"It would never do to tell my father what Ciceley said. He would
bundle the fellow out, neck and crop, and perhaps break some of his
bones, and then it would be traced to her. She has not a happy
home, as it is, and it would be far worse if her father knew that
it was she who had put us on our guard. I must find out something
myself, and then we can turn him out, without there being the least
suspicion that Ciceley is mixed up in it."

The next evening several Jacobite gentlemen rode in, and, as usual,
had a long talk with Sir Marmaduke after supper.

"If this fellow is a spy," Charlie said to himself, "he will be
wanting to hear what is said, and to do so he must either hide
himself in the room, or listen at the door, or at one of the
windows. It is not likely that he will get into the room, for to do
that he must have hidden himself before supper began. I don't think
he would dare to listen at the door, for anyone passing through the
hall would catch him at it. It must be at one of the windows."

The room was at an angle of the house. Three windows looked out on
to the lawn in front; that at the side into a large shrubbery,
where the bushes grew up close to it; and Charlie decided that
here, if anywhere, the man would take up his post. As soon, then,
as he knew that the servants were clearing away the supper, he took
a heavy cudgel and went out. He walked straight away from the
house, and then, when he knew that his figure could no longer be
seen in the twilight, he made a circuit, and, entering the
shrubbery, crept along close to the wall of the Muse, until within
two or three yards of the window. Having made sure that at present,
at any rate, no one was near, he moved out a step or two to look at
the window.

His suspicions were at once confirmed. The inside curtains were
drawn, but the casement was open two or three inches. Charlie again
took up his post, behind a bush, and waited.

In five minutes he heard a twig snap, and then a figure came along,
noiselessly, and placed itself at the window. Charlie gave him but
a moment to listen, then he sprang forward, and, with his whole
strength, brought his cudgel down upon the man's head. He fell like
a stone. Charlie threw open the window, and, as he did so, the
curtain was torn back by his father, the sound of the blow and the
fall having reached the ears of those within.

Sir Marmaduke had drawn his sword, and was about to leap through
the window, when Charlie exclaimed:

"It is I, father. I have caught a fellow listening at the window,
and have just knocked him down."

"Well done, my boy!

"Bring lights, please, gentlemen. Let us see what villain we have
got here."

But, as he spoke, Charlie's head suddenly disappeared, and a sharp
exclamation broke from him, as he felt his ankles grasped and his
feet pulled from under him. He came down with such a crash that,
for a moment, he was unable to rise. He heard a rustling in the
bushes, and then his father leapt down beside him.

"Where are you, my boy? Has the scoundrel hurt you?"

"He has given me a shake," Charlie said as he sat up; "and, what is
worse, I am afraid he has got away."

"Follow me, gentlemen, and scatter through the gardens," Sir
Marmaduke roared. "The villain has escaped!"

For a few minutes, there was a hot pursuit through the shrubbery
and gardens, but nothing was discovered. Charlie had been so shaken
that he was unable to join the pursuit, but, having got on to his
feet, remained leaning against the wall until his father came back.

"He has got away, Charlie. Have you any idea who he was?"

"It was Nicholson, father. At least, I am almost certain that it
was him. It was too dark to see his face. I could see the outline
of his head against the window, and he had on a cap with a cock's
feather which I had noticed the man wore."

"But how came you here, Charlie?"

"I will tell you that afterwards, father. Don't ask me now."

For, at this moment, some of the others were coming up. Several of
them had torches, and, as they approached, Sir Marmaduke saw
something lying on the ground under the window. He picked it up.

"Here is the fellow's cap," he said. "You must have hit him a
shrewd blow, Charlie, for here is a clean cut through the cloth,
and a patch of fresh blood on the white lining. How did he get you
down, lad?"

"He fell so suddenly, when I hit him, that I thought I had either
killed or stunned him; but of course I had not, for it was but a
moment after, when I was speaking to you, that I felt my ankles
seized, and I went down with a crash. I heard him make off through
the bushes; but I was, for the moment, almost dazed, and could do
nothing to stop him."

"Was the window open when he came?"

"Yes, sir, two or three inches."

"Then it was evidently a planned thing.

"Well, gentlemen, we may as well go indoors. The fellow is well out
of our reach now, and we may be pretty sure he will never again
show his face here. Fortunately he heard nothing, for the serving
men had but just left the room, and we had not yet begun to talk."

"That is true enough, Sir Marmaduke," one of the others said. "The
question is: how long has this been going on?"

Sir Marmaduke looked at Charlie.

"I know nothing about it, sir. Till now, I have not had the
slightest suspicion of this man. It occurred to me, this afternoon,
that it might be possible for anyone to hear what was said inside
the room, by listening at the windows; and that this shrubbery
would form a very good shelter for an eavesdropper. So I thought,
this evening I would take up my place here, to assure myself that
there was no traitor in the household. I had been here but five
minutes when the fellow stole quietly up, and placed his ear at the
opening of the casement, and you may be sure that I gave him no
time to listen to what was being said."

"Well, we had better go in," Sir Marmaduke said. "There is no fear
of our being overheard this evening.

"Charlie, do you take old Banks aside, and tell him what has
happened, and then go with him to the room where that fellow slept,
and make a thorough search of any clothes he may have left behind,
and of the room itself. Should you find any papers or documents,
you will, of course, bring them down to me."

But the closest search, by Charlie and the old butler, produced no
results. Not a scrap of paper of any kind was found, and Banks said
that he knew the man could neither read nor write.

The party below soon broke up, considerable uneasiness being felt,
by all, at the incident of the evening. When the last of them had
left, Charlie was sent for.

"Now, then, Charlie, let me hear how all this came about. I know
that all you said about what took place at the window is perfectly
true; but, even had you not said so, I should have felt there was
something else. What was it brought you to that window? Your story
was straight-forward enough, but it was certainly singular your
happening to be there, and I fancy some of our friends thought that
you had gone round to listen, yourself. One hinted as much; but I
said that was absurd, for you were completely in my confidence, and
that, whatever peril and danger there might be in the enterprise,
you would share them with me."

"It is not pleasant that they should have thought so, father, but
that is better than that the truth should be known. This is how it
happened;" and he repeated what Ciceley had told him in the garden.

"So the worthy Master John Dormay has set a spy upon me," Sir
Marmaduke said, bitterly. "I knew the man was a knave--that is
public property--but I did not think that he was capable of this.
Well, I am glad that, at any rate, no suspicion can fall upon
Ciceley in the matter; but it is serious, lad, very serious. We do
not know how long this fellow has been prying and listening, or how
much he may have learnt. I don't think it can be much. We talked it
over, and my friends all agreed with me that they do not remember
those curtains having been drawn before. To begin with, the
evenings are shortening fast, and, at our meeting last week, we
finished our supper by daylight; and, had the curtains been drawn,
it would have been noticed, for we had need of light before we
finished. Two of the gentlemen, who were sitting facing the window,
declared that they remembered distinctly that it was open. Mr.
Jervoise says that he thought to himself that, if it was his place,
he would have the trees cut away there, for they shut out the
light.

"Therefore, although it is uncomfortable to think that there has
been a spy in the house, for some months, we have every reason to
hope that our councils have not been overheard. Were it otherwise,
I should lose no time in making for the coast, and taking ship to
France, to wait quietly there until the king comes over."

"You have no documents, father, that the man could have found?"

"None, Charlie. We have doubtless made lists of those who could be
relied upon, and of the number of men they could bring with them,
but these have always been burned before we separated. Such letters
as I have had from France, I have always destroyed as soon as I
have read them. Perilous stuff of that sort should never be left
about. No; they may ransack the place from top to bottom, and
nothing will be found that could not be read aloud, without harm,
in the marketplace of Lancaster.

"So now, to bed, Charlie. It is long past your usual hour."

Chapter 2: Denounced.

"Charlie," Sir Marmaduke said on the following morning, at
breakfast, "it is quite possible that that villain who acted as
spy, and that other villain who employed him--I need not mention
names--may swear an information against me, and I may be arrested,
on the charge of being concerned in a plot. I am not much afraid of
it, if they do. The most they could say is that I was prepared to
take up arms, if his majesty crossed from France; but, as there are
thousands and thousands of men ready to do the same, they may fine
me, perhaps, but I should say that is all. However, what I want to
say to you is, keep out of the way, if they come. I shall make
light of the affair, while you, being pretty hot tempered, might
say things that would irritate them, while they could be of no
assistance to me. Therefore, I would rather that you were kept out
of it, altogether. I shall want you here. In my absence, there must
be somebody to look after things.

"Mind that rascal John Dormay does not put his foot inside the
house, while I am away. That fellow is playing some deep game,
though I don't quite know what it is. I suppose he wants to win the
goodwill of the authorities, by showing his activity and zeal; and,
of course, he will imagine that no one has any idea that he has
been in communication with this spy. We have got a hold over him,
and, when I come back, I will have it out with him. He is not
popular now, and, if it were known that he had been working against
me, his wife's kinsman, behind my back, my friends about here would
make the country too hot to hold him."

"Yes, father; but please do not let him guess that we have learnt
it from Ciceley. You see, that is the only way we know about it."

"Yes, you are right there. I will be careful that he shall not know
the little maid has anything to do with it. But we will think of
that, afterwards; maybe nothing will come of it, after all. But, if
anything does, mind, my orders are that you keep away from the
house, while they are in it. When you come back, Banks will tell
you what has happened.

"You had better take your horse, and go for a ride now. Not over
there, Charlie. I know, if you happened to meet that fellow, he
would read in your face that you knew the part he had been playing,
and, should nothing come of the business, I don't want him to know
that, at present. The fellow can henceforth do us no harm, for we
shall be on our guard against eavesdroppers; and, for the sake of
cousin Celia and the child, I do not want an open breach. I do not
see the man often, myself, and I will take good care I don't put
myself in the way of meeting him, for the present, at any rate.
Don't ride over there today."

"Very well, father. I will ride over and see Harry Jervoise. I
promised him that I would come over one day this week."

It was a ten-mile ride, and, as he entered the courtyard of Mr.
Jervoise's fine old mansion, he leapt off his horse, and threw the
reins over a post. A servant came out.

"The master wishes to speak to you, Master Carstairs."

"No ill news, I hope, Charlie?" Mr. Jervoise asked anxiously, as
the lad was shown into the room, where his host was standing beside
the carved chimney piece.

"No, sir, there is nothing new. My father thought that I had better
be away today, in case any trouble should arise out of what took
place yesterday, so I rode over to see Harry. I promised to do so,
one day this week."

"That is right. Does Sir Marmaduke think, then, that he will be
arrested?"

"I don't know that he expects it, sir, but he says that it is
possible."

"I do not see that they have anything to go upon, Charlie. As we
agreed last night, that spy never had any opportunity of
overhearing us before, and, certainly, he can have heard nothing
yesterday. The fellow can only say what many people know, or could
know, if they liked; that half a dozen of Sir Marmaduke's friends
rode over to take supper with him. They can make nothing out of
that."

"No, sir; and my father said that, at the worst, it could be but
the matter of a fine."

"Quite so, lad; but I don't even see how it could amount to that.
You will find Harry somewhere about the house. He has said nothing
to me about going out."

Harry Jervoise was just the same age as Charlie, and was his
greatest friend. They were both enthusiastic in the cause of the
Stuarts, equally vehement in their expressions of contempt for the
Dutch king, equally anxious for the coming of him whom they
regarded as their lawful monarch. They spent the morning together,
as usual; went first to the stables and patted and talked to their
horses; then they played at bowls on the lawn; after which, they
had a bout of sword play; and, having thus let off some of their
animal spirits, sat down and talked of the glorious times to come,
when the king was to have his own again.

Late in the afternoon, Charlie mounted his horse and rode for home.
When within half a mile of the house, a man stepped out into the
road in front of him.

"Hullo, Banks, what is it? No bad news, I hope?"

And he leapt from his horse, alarmed at the pallor of the old
butler's face.

"Yes, Master Charles, I have some very bad news, and have been
waiting for the last two hours here, so as to stop you going to the
house."

"Why shouldn't I go to the house?"

"Because there are a dozen soldiers, and three or four constables
there."

"And my father?"

"They have taken him away."

"This is bad news, Banks; but I know that he thought that it might
be so. But it will not be very serious; it is only a question of a
fine," he said.

The butler shook his head, sadly.

"It is worse than that, Master Charles. It is worse than you
think."

"Well, tell me all about it, Banks," Charlie said, feeling much
alarmed at the old man's manner.

"Well, sir, at three this afternoon, two magistrates, John Cockshaw
and William Peters--"

("Both bitter Whigs," Charlie put in.)

"--Rode up to the door. They had with them six constables, and
twenty troopers."

"There were enough of them, then," Charlie said. "Did they think my
father was going to arm you all, and defend the place?"

"I don't know, sir, but that is the number that came. The
magistrates, and the constables, and four of the soldiers came into
the house. Sir Marmaduke met them in the hall.

"'To what do I owe the honour of this visit?' he said, quite cold
and haughty.

"'We have come, Sir Marmaduke Carstairs, to arrest you, on the
charge of being concerned in a treasonable plot against the king's
life.'

"Sir Marmaduke laughed out loud.

"'I have no design on the life of William of Orange, or of any
other man,' he said. 'I do not pretend to love him; in that matter
there are thousands in this realm with me; but, as for a design
against his life, I should say, gentlemen, there are few who know
me, even among men like yourselves, whose politics are opposed to
mine, who would for a moment credit such a foul insinuation.'

"'We have nothing to do with that matter, Sir Marmaduke,' John
Cockshaw said. 'We are acting upon a sworn information to that
effect.'

"Sir Marmaduke was angry, now.

"'I can guess the name of the dog who signed it,' he said, 'and,
kinsman though he is by marriage, I will force the lie down his
throat.'

"Then he cooled down again.

"'Well, gentlemen, you have to do your duty. What do you desire
next?'

"'Our duty is, next, to search the house, for any treasonable
documents that may be concealed here.'

"'Search away, gentlemen,' Sir Marmaduke said, seating himself in
one of the settles. 'The house is open to you. My butler, James
Banks, will go round with you, and will open for you any cupboard
or chest that may be locked.'

"The magistrates nodded to the four soldiers. Two of them took
their post near the chair, one at the outside door, and one at the
other end of the room. Sir Marmaduke said nothing, but shrugged his
shoulders, and then began to play with the ears of the little
spaniel, Fido, that had jumped up on his knees.

"'We will first go into the study,' John Cockshaw said; and I led
them there.

"They went straight to the cabinet with the pull-down desk, where
Sir Marmaduke writes when he does write, which is not often. It was
locked, and I went to Sir Marmaduke for the key.

"'You will find it in that French vase on the mantel,' he said. 'I
don't open the desk once in three months, and should lose the key,
if I carried it with me.'

"I went to the mantel, turned the vase over, and the key dropped
out.

"'Sir Marmaduke has nothing to hide, gentlemen,' I said, 'so, you
see, he keeps the key here.'

"I went to the cabinet, and put the key in. As I did so I said:

"'Look, gentlemen, someone has opened, or tried to open, this desk.
Here is a mark, as if a knife had been thrust in to shoot the
bolt.'

"They looked where I pointed, and William Peters said to Cockshaw,
'It is as the man says. Someone has been trying to force the
lock--one of the varlets, probably, who thought the knight might
keep his money here.'

"'It can be of no importance, one way or the other,' Cockshaw said
roughly.

"'Probably not, Mr. Cockshaw, but, at the same time I will make a
note of it.'

"I turned the key, and pulled down the door that makes a desk. They
seemed to know all about it, for, without looking at the papers in
the pigeonholes, they pulled open the lower drawer, and took two
foreign-looking letters out from it. I will do them the justice to
say that they both looked sorry, as they opened them, and looked at
the writing.

"'It is too true,' Peters said. 'Here is enough to hang a dozen
men.'

"They tumbled all the other papers into a sack, that one of the
constables had brought with him. Then they searched all the other
furniture, but they evidently did not expect to find anything. Then
they went back into the hall.

"'Well, gentlemen,' Sir Marmaduke said, 'have you found anything of
a terrible kind?'

"'We have found, I regret to say,' John Cockshaw said, 'the letters
of which we were in search, in your private cabinet--letters that
prove, beyond all doubt, that you are concerned in a plot similar
to that discovered three years ago, to assassinate his majesty the
king.'

"Sir Marmaduke sprang to his feet.

"'You have found letters of that kind in my cabinet?' he said, in a
dazed sort of way.

"The magistrate bowed, but did not speak.

"'Then, sir,' Sir Marmaduke exclaimed, 'you have found letters that
I have never seen. You have found letters that must have been
placed there by some scoundrel, who plotted my ruin. I assert to
you, on the honour of a gentleman, that no such letters have ever
met my eye, and that, if such a proposition had been made to me, I
care not by whom, I would have struck to the ground the man who
offered me such an insult.'

"'We are sorry, Sir Marmaduke Carstairs,' Mr. Peters said, 'most
sorry, both of us, that it should have fallen to our duty to take
so painful a proceeding against a neighbour; but, you see, the
matter is beyond us. We have received a sworn information that you
are engaged in such a plot. We are told that you are in the habit
of locking up papers of importance in a certain cabinet, and there
we find papers of a most damnatory kind. We most sincerely trust
that you may be able to prove your innocence in the matter, but we
have nothing to do but to take you with us, as a prisoner, to
Lancaster.'

"Sir Marmaduke unbuckled his sword, and laid it by. He was quieter
than I thought he could be, in such a strait, for he has always
been by nature, as you know, choleric.

"'I am ready, gentlemen,' he said.

"Peters whispered in Cockshaw's ear.

"'Ah yes,' the other said, 'I had well-nigh forgotten,' and he
turned to me. 'Where is Master Charles Carstairs?'

"'He is not in the house,' I said. 'He rode away this morning, and
did not tell me where he was going.'

"'When do you expect him back?'

"'I do not expect him at all,' I said. 'When Master Charles rides
out to visit his friends, he sometimes stays away for a day or
two.'

"'Is it supposed,' Sir Marmaduke asked coldly, 'that my son is also
mixed up in this precious scheme?'

"'It is sworn that he was privy to it,' John Cockshaw said, 'and
is, therefore, included in the orders for arrest.'

"Sir Marmaduke did not speak, but he shut his lips tight, and his
hand went to where the hilt of his sword would have been. Two of
the constables went out and questioned the grooms, and found that
you had, as I said, ridden off. When they came back, there was some
talk between the magistrates, and then, as I said, four constables
and some soldiers were left in the house. Sir Marmaduke's horse was
brought round, and he rode away, with the magistrates and the other
soldiers."

"I am quite sure, Banks, that my father could have known nothing of
those letters, or of any plot against William's life. I have heard
him speak so often of the assassination plot, and how disgraceful
it was, and how, apart from its wickedness, it had damaged the
cause, that I am certain he would not have listened to a word about
another such business."

"I am sure of that, too," the old butler said; "but that is not the
question, Master Charles. There are the papers. We know that Sir
Marmaduke did not put them there, and that he did not know that
they were there. But how is it to be proved, sir? Everyone knows
that Sir Marmaduke is a Jacobite, and is regarded as the head of
the party in this part of the country. He has enemies, and one of
them, no doubt, has played this evil trick upon him, and the
putting of your name in shows what the motive is."

"But it is ridiculous, Banks. Who could believe that such a matter
as this would be confided to a lad of my age?"

"They might not believe it in their hearts, but people often
believe what suits their interest. This accusation touches Sir
Marmaduke's life; and his estate, even if his life were spared,
would be confiscated. In such a case, it might be granted to
anyone, and possibly even to the son of him they would call the
traitor. But the accusation that the son was concerned, or was, at
any rate, privy to the crime intended by the father, would set all
against him, and public opinion would approve of the estates
passing away from him altogether.

"But now, sir, what do you think you had best do?"

"Of course I shall go on, Banks, and let them take me to join my
father in Lancaster jail. Do you think I would run away?"

"No, sir, I don't think you would run away. I am sure you would not
run away from fear, but I would not let them lay hands on me, until
I had thought the matter well over. You might be able to do more
good to Sir Marmaduke were you free, than you could do if you were
caged up with him. He has enemies, we know, who are doing their
best to ruin him, and, as you see, they are anxious that you, too,
should be shut up within four walls."

"You are right, Banks. At any rate, I will ride back and consult
Mr. Jervoise. Besides, he ought to be warned, for he, too, may be
arrested on the same charge. How did you get away without being
noticed?"

"I said that I felt ill--and I was not speaking falsely--at Sir
Marmaduke's arrest, and would lie down. They are keeping a sharp
lookout at the stables, and have a soldier at each door, to see
that no one leaves the house, but I went out by that old passage
that comes out among the ruins of the monastery."

"I know, Banks. My father showed it to me, three years ago."

"I shall go back that way again, sir, and no one will know that I
have left the house. You know the trick of the sliding panel,
Master Charles?"

"Yes, I know it, and if I should want to come into the house again,
I will come that way, Banks."

"Here is a purse," the butler said. "You may want money, sir.
Should you want more, there is a store hidden away, in the hiding
place under the floor of the Priest's Chamber, at the other end of
the passage. Do you know that?"

"I know the Priest's Chamber of course, because you go through that
to get to the long passage, but I don't know of any special hiding
place there."

"Doubtless, Sir Marmaduke did not think it necessary to show it you
then, sir, but he would have done it later on, so I do not consider
that I am breaking my oath of secrecy in telling you. You know the
little narrow loophole in the corner?"

"Yes, of course. There is no other that gives light to the room. It
is hidden from view outside by the ivy."

"Well, sir, you count four bricks below that, and you press hard on
the next, that is the fifth, then you will hear a click, then you
press hard with your heel at the corner, in the angle of the flag
below, and you will find the other corner rise. Then you get hold
of it and lift it up, and below there is a stone chamber, two feet
long and about eighteen inches wide and deep. It was made to
conceal papers in the old days, and I believe food was always kept
there, in case the chamber had to be used in haste.

"Sir Marmaduke uses it as a store place for his money. He has laid
by a good deal every year, knowing that money would be wanted when
troops had to be raised. I was with him about three weeks ago, when
he put in there half the rents that had been paid in. So, if you
want money for any purpose, you will know where to find it."

"Thank you, Banks. It may be very useful to have such a store,
now."

"Where shall I send to you, sir, if I have any news that it is
urgent you should know of?"

"Send to Mr. Jervoise, Banks. If I am not there, he will know where
I am to be found."

"I will send Will Ticehurst, Master Charles. He is a stout lad, and
a shrewd one, and I know there is nothing that he would not do for
you. But you had best stop no longer. Should they find out that I
am not in the house, they will guess that I have come to warn you,
and may send out a party to search."

Charlie at once mounted, and rode back to Mr. Jervoise's.

"I expected you back," that gentleman said, as he entered. "Bad
news travels apace, and, an hour since, a man brought in the news
that Sir Marmaduke had been seen riding, evidently a prisoner,
surrounded by soldiers, on the road towards Lancaster. So that
villain we chased last night must have learnt something. I suppose
they will be here tomorrow, but I do not see what serious charge
they can have against us. We have neither collected arms, nor taken
any steps towards a rising. We have talked over what we might do,
if there were a landing made from France, but, as there may be no
landing, that is a very vague charge."

"Unfortunately, that is not the charge against my father. It is a
much more serious business."

And Charlie repeated the substance of what Banks had told him,
interrupted occasionally by indignant ejaculations from Mr.
Jervoise.

"It is an infamous plot," he said, when the lad had concluded his
story. "Infamous! There was never a word said of such a scheme, and
no one who knows your father would believe it for an instant."

"Yes, sir, but the judges, who do not know him, may believe it. No
doubt those who put those papers there, will bring forward evidence
to back it up."

"I am afraid that will be the case. It is serious for us all," Mr.
Jervoise said thoughtfully. "That man will be prepared to swear
that he heard the plot discussed by us all. They seized your
father, today, as being the principal and most important of those
concerned in it, but we may all find ourselves in the same case
tomorrow. I must think it over.

"It is well that your man warned you. You had best not stay here
tonight, for the house may be surrounded at daybreak. Harry shall
go over, with you, to one of my tenants, and you can both sleep
there. It will not be necessary for you to leave for another two or
three hours. You had better go to him now; supper will be served in
half an hour. I will talk with you again, afterwards."

Harry was waiting outside the door, having also heard the news of
Sir Marmaduke's arrest.

"It is villainous!" he exclaimed, when he heard the whole story.
"No doubt you are right, and that John Dormay is at the bottom of
it all. The villain ought to be slain."

"He deserves it, Harry; and, if I thought it would do good, I would
gladly fight him, but I fear that it would do harm. Such a
scoundrel must needs be a coward, and he might call for aid, and I
might be dragged off to Lancaster. Moreover, he is Ciceley's
father, and my cousin Celia's husband, and, were I to kill him, it
would separate me altogether from them. However, I shall in all
things be guided by your father. He will know what best ought to be
done.

"It is likely that he, too, may be arrested. This is evidently a
deep plot, and your father thinks that, although the papers alone
may not be sufficient to convict my father, the spy we had in our
house will be ready to swear that he heard your father, and mine,
and the others, making arrangements for the murder of William of
Orange; and their own word to the contrary would count but little
against such evidence, backed by those papers."

They talked together for half an hour, and were then summoned to
supper. Nothing was said, upon the subject, until the servitors had
retired, and the meal was cleared away. Mr. Jervoise was, like Sir
Marmaduke, a widower.

"I have been thinking it all over," he said, when they were alone.
"I have determined to ride, at once, to consult some of my friends,
and to warn them of what has taken place. That is clearly my duty.
I shall not return until I learn whether warrants are out for my
apprehension. Of course, the evidence is not so strong against me
as it is against Sir Marmaduke; still, the spy's evidence would
tell as much against me as against him.

"You will go up, Harry, with your friend, to Pincot's farm. It lies
so far in the hills that it would probably be one of the last to be
searched, and, if a very sharp lookout is kept there, a body of men
riding up the valley would be seen over a mile away, and there
would be plenty of time to take to the hills. There Charlie had
better remain, until he hears from me.

"You can return here, Harry, in the morning, for there is no
probability whatever of your being included in any warrant of
arrest. It could only relate to us, who were in the habit of
meeting at Sir Marmaduke's. You will ride over to the farm each
day, and tell Charlie any news you may have learnt, or take any
message I may send you for him.

"We must do nothing hastily. The first thing to learn, if possible,
is whether any of us are included in the charge of being concerned
in a plot against William's life. In the next place, who are the
witnesses, and what evidence they intend to give. No doubt the most
important is the man who was placed as a spy at Sir Marmaduke's."

"As I know his face, sir," Charlie said eagerly, "could I not find
him, and either force him to acknowledge that it is all false, or
else kill him? I should be in my right in doing that, surely, since
he is trying to swear away my father's life by false evidence."

"I should say nothing against that, lad. If ever a fellow deserved
killing he does; that is, next to his rascally employer. But his
death would harm rather than benefit us. It would be assumed, of
course, that we had removed him to prevent his giving evidence
against us. No doubt his depositions have been taken down, and they
would then be assumed to be true, and we should be worse off than
if he could be confronted with us, face to face, in the court. We
must let the matter rest, at present."

"Would it be possible to get my father out of prison, sir? I am
sure I can get a dozen men, from among the tenants and grooms, who
would gladly risk their lives for him."

"Lancaster jail is a very strong place," Mr. Jervoise said, "and I
fear there is no possibility of rescuing him from it. Of course, at
present we cannot say where the trial will take place. A commission
may be sent down, to hold a special assizes at Lancaster, or the
trial may take place in London. At any rate, nothing whatever can
be done, until we know more. I have means of learning what takes
place at Lancaster, for we have friends there, as well as at most
other places. When I hear from them the exact nature of the charge,
the evidence that will be given, and the names of those accused of
being mixed up in this pretended plot, I shall be better able to
say what is to be done.

"Now, I must mount and ride without further delay. I have to visit
all our friends who met at Lynnwood, and it will take me until
tomorrow morning to see and confer with them."

A few minutes after Mr. Jervoise had ridden off, his son and
Charlie also mounted. A man went with them, 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 to get a fresh hold. The moment
I was down, I ran along by the foot of the wall until I got round
behind, made a dash into that clump of fir trees, crawled along in
a ditch till I thought I was safe, and then made a run for it. I
was so afraid of being followed that I have been at least three
miles round, but I don't mind, now that my father hasn't arrived. I
was in such a fright that he might come and go before I got here."

Chapter 3: A Rescue.

The two lads walked slowly down the hill together. Harry had heard
no more than Charlie had done, of what was going on. The messenger
from his father was a young fellow, of seventeen or eighteen, with
a gipsy face and appearance. How he had managed to elude the
vigilance of the men on watch, Harry did not know. He, himself, had
only learnt his presence when, as he passed some bushes in the
garden, a sharp whisper made him stop, and a moment later a hand
was thrust through the foliage. He took the little note held out,
and caught sight of the lad's face, through the leaves, as he leant
forward and said:

"Go on, sir, without stopping. They may be watching you."

Harry had thrust the note into his pocket, and sauntered on for
some time. He then returned to the house, and there read the
letter, with whose contents Charlie was already acquainted.
Eagerly, they talked over what each had been thinking of since they
had parted, early on the previous day; and discussed Charlie's idea
of an attack on Lancaster jail.

"I don't know whether I could get as many men as you say, Charlie.
I don't think I could. If my father were in prison, as well as
yours, I am sure that most of the young fellows on the estate would
gladly help to rescue him, but it would be a different thing when
it came to risking their lives for anyone else. Of course I don't
know, but it does not seem to me that fifty men would be of any
use, at all, towards taking Lancaster Castle. It always seemed to
me a tremendously strong place."

"Yes, it does look so, Harry; but perhaps, on examining it closely,
one would find that it is not so strong as it looks, by a long way.
It seems to me there must be some way or other of getting father
out, and, if there seems even the least bit of a chance, I shall
try it."

"And you may be sure I will stand by you, Charlie, whatever it is,"
Harry said heartily. "We have been just like brothers, and, of
course, brothers ought to stick to each other like anything. If
they don't, what is the use of being brothers? I daresay we shall
know more, when we hear what my father has to say; and then we may
see our way better."

"Thank you, Harry. I knew you would stick by me. Of course, I don't
want to do any mad sort of thing. There is no hurry, anyhow, and,
as you say, when we know more about it, we may be able to hit upon
some sort of plan."

It was not until eight o'clock that Mr. Jervoise arrived. He looked
grievously tired and worn out, but he spoke cheerfully as he came
in.

"I have had a busy two days of it, boys, as you may guess. I have
no particularly good news to tell you, but, on the other hand, I
have no bad news. I was in time to warn all our friends, and when
the soldiers came for them in the morning, it was only to find that
their nests were empty.

"They have been searching the houses of all Sir Marmaduke's
tenants, Charlie, and questioning man, woman, and child as to
whether they have seen you.

"Ah! Here is supper, and I am nearly famished. However, I can go on
talking while I eat. I should have been here sooner, but I have
been waiting for the return of the messenger I sent to Lancaster.

"Yesterday morning there was an examination of your father,
Charlie, or rather, an examination of the testimony against him.
First the two letters that were discovered were put in. Without
having got them word for word, my informer was able to give me the
substance of them. Both were unsigned, and professed to have been
written in France. The first is dated three months back. It alludes
to a conversation that somebody is supposed to have had with Sir
Marmaduke, and states that the agent who had visited him, and who
is spoken of as Mr. H, had assured them that your father was
perfectly ready to join, in any well-conceived design for putting a
stop to the sufferings that afflicted the country, through the wars
into which the foreign intruder had plunged it, even though the
plan entailed the removal of the usurper. The writer assured Sir
Marmaduke of the satisfaction that such an agreement on his part
had caused at Saint Germains, and had heightened the high esteem in
which Sir Marmaduke was held, for his long fidelity to the cause of
his majesty. It then went on to state that a plan had been already
formed, and that several gentlemen in the south were deeply pledged
to carry it out, but that it was thought specially advisable that
some from the north should also take part in it, as, from their
persons being unknown near the court, they could act with more
surety and safety. They would, therefore, be glad if he would take
counsel, with the friends he had mentioned, as to what might seem
to them the best course of proceeding. There was no occasion for
any great haste and, indeed, some weeks must elapse before the blow
was struck, in order that preparations should be made, in France,
for taking instant advantage of it.

"The rest of the letter was to the same purpose, but was really a
repetition of it. The second letter was dated some time later, and
was, as before, an answer to one the knight was supposed to have
written. It highly approved of the suggestions therein made; that
Sir Marmaduke and his friends should travel, separately and at a
few days' interval, to London, and should take lodgings there in
different parts of the town, and await the signal to assemble, near
Richmond, when it was known that the king would go hunting there.
It said that special note had been made of the offer of Sir
Marmaduke's son, to mingle among the king's attendants and to fire
the first shot, as, in the confusion, he would be able to escape
and, being but a boy, as he said, none would be able to recognize
him afterwards.

"In the event, of course, of the first shot failing, the rest of
the party, gathered in a body, would rush forward, despatch the
usurper, cut their way, sword in hand, through any who barred their
path to the point where their horses were concealed, and then at
once scatter in various directions. For this great service, his
majesty would not fail to evince the deepest gratitude, upon his
restoration to his rightful throne, and pledged his royal word that
each of the party should receive rank and dignity, together with
ample estates, from the lands of which the chief supporters of the
usurper would be deprived.

"So you see, Charlie, you were to have the honour of playing the
chief part in this tragedy."

"Honour indeed!" Charlie exclaimed passionately. "Dishonour, sir.
Was there ever so infamous a plot!"

"It is a well-laid plot, Charlie, and does credit to the scoundrel
who planned it. You see, he made certain that Sir Marmaduke would
be attainted, and his estates forfeited, but there existed just a
possibility that, as you are but a boy, though a good big one, it
might be thought that, as you were innocent of the business, a
portion at least of the estate might be handed to you. To prevent
this, it was necessary that you also should be mixed up in the
affair."

"Has John Dormay appeared in the matter so far, Mr. Jervoise?"

"Not openly, Charlie. My informant knows that there have been two
or three meetings of Whig magistrates, with closed doors, and that
at these he has been present, and he has no doubt, whatever, that
it is he who has set the ball rolling. Still, there is no proof of
this, and he did not appear yesterday. The man who did appear was
the rascal who tried to overhear us the other night. He stated that
he had been instigated by a gentleman of great loyalty--here one of
the magistrates broke in, and said no name must be mentioned--to
enter the household of Sir Marmaduke, a gentleman who, as he
believed, was trafficking with the king's enemies. He had agreed to
do this, in spite of the danger of such employment, moved thereto
not so much by the hope of a reward as from his great loyalty to
his majesty, and a desire to avert from him his great danger from
popish plots. Having succeeded in entering Sir Marmaduke's service,
he soon discovered that six gentlemen, to wit, myself and five
friends, were in the habit of meeting at Lynnwood, where they had
long and secret talks. Knowing the deep enmity and hostility these
men bore towards his gracious majesty, he determined to run any
hazard, even to the loss of his life, to learn the purport of such
gatherings, and did, therefore, conceal himself, on one occasion
behind the hangings of a window, and on another listened at an open
casement, and did hear much conversation regarding the best manner
in which the taking of the king's life could be accomplished. This,
it was agreed, should be done in the forest at Richmond, where all
should lie in wait, the said Sir Marmaduke Carstairs undertaking
that he and his son would, in the first place, fire with pistol or
musquetoon, and that, only if they should fail, the rest should
charge forward on horse, overthrow the king's companions, and
despatch him, Mr. William Jervoise undertaking the management of
this part of the enterprise. No date was settled for this wicked
business, it being, however, agreed that all should journey
separately to London, and take up their lodging there under feigned
names; lying hid until they heard from a friend at court, whose
name was not mentioned, a day on which the king would hunt at
Richmond. He further testified that, making another attempt to
overhear the conspirators in order that he might gather fuller
details as to the manner of the plot, he was seen by Master Charles
Carstairs, who, taking him by surprise, grievously assaulted him,
and that he and the others would have slain him, had he not
overthrown Master Carstairs and effected his escape before the
others, rushing out sword in hand, had time to assail him.

"During his stay at Lynnwood he had, several times, watched at the
window of the room where Sir Marmaduke Carstairs sits when alone,
and where he writes his letters and transacts business, and that he
observed him, more than once, peruse attentively papers that seemed
to be of importance, for, after reading them, he would lay them
down and walk, as if disturbed or doubtful in mind, up and down the
room; and these papers he placed, when he had done with them, in
the bottom drawer of a desk in his cabinet, the said desk being
always carefully locked by him.

"That is all that I learnt from Lancaster, save that instructions
have been given that no pains should be spared to secure the
persons of those engaged in the plot, and that a special watch was
to be set at the northern ports, lest they should, finding their
guilt discovered, try to escape from the kingdom. So you see that
your good father, Sir Marmaduke, is in a state of sore peril, and
that the rest of us, including yourself, will be in a like strait
if they can lay hands on us."

"But it is all false!" Charlie exclaimed. "It is a lie from
beginning to end."

"That is so, but we cannot prove it. The matter is so cunningly
laid, I see no way to pick a hole in it. We are Jacobites, and as
such long regarded as objects of suspicion by the Whig magistrates
and others. There have been other plots against William's life, in
which men of seeming reputation have been concerned. This man's
story will be confirmed by the man who set him on, and by other
hidden papers, if necessary. As to the discovery of the documents,
we may know well enough that the fellow himself put them there, but
we have no manner of proof of it. It is evident that there is
nothing for us but to leave the country, and to await the time when
the king shall have his own again. My other friends, who were with
me this afternoon when the news came from Lancaster, all agreed
that it would be throwing away our lives to stay here. We all have
money by us, for each has, for years, laid by something for the
time when money will be required to aid the king on his arrival.

"Having agreed to take this course, we drew up a document, which we
all signed, and which will be sent in when we have got clear away.
In it we declare that being informed that accusations of being
concerned in a plot against the life of William of Orange have been
brought against us, we declare solemnly before God that we, and
also Sir Marmaduke Carstairs and his son, are wholly innocent of
the charge, and that, although we do not hesitate to declare that
we consider the title of the said William to be king of this realm
to be wholly unfounded and without reason, and should therefore
take up arms openly against it on behalf of our sovereign did
occasion offer, yet that we hold assassination in abhorrence, and
that the crime with which we are charged is as hateful in our sight
as in that of any Whig gentleman. As, however, we are charged, as
we learn, by evilly disposed and wicked persons, of this design,
and have no means of proving our innocence, we are forced to leave
the realm until such time shall arrive when we can rely on a fair
trial, when our reputation and honour will weigh against the word
of suborned perjurers and knaves.

"We were not forgetful of your father's case, and we debated long
as to whether our remaining here could do him service. We even
discussed the possibility of raising a force, and attacking
Lancaster Castle. We agreed, however, that this would be nothing
short of madness. The country is wholly unprepared at present. The
Whigs are on the alert, and such an attempt would cost the lives of
most of those concerned in it. Besides, we are all sure that Sir
Marmaduke would be the first to object to numbers of persons
risking their lives in an attempt which, even if, for the moment,
successful, must bring ruin upon all concerned in it. Nor do we see
that, were we to remain and to stand in the dock beside him, it
would aid him. Our word would count for no more than would this
protest and denial that we have signed together. A prisoner's plea
of not guilty has but a feather's weight against sworn evidence.

"At the same time, Charlie, I do not intend to leave the country
until I am sure that nothing can be done. As force is out of the
question, I have advised the others to lose not an hour in trying
to escape and, by this time, they are all on the road. Two are
making for Bristol, one for Southampton, and two for London. It
would be too dangerous to attempt to escape by one of the northern
ports. But, though force cannot succeed, we may be able to effect
your father's escape by other means, and it is for this purpose
that I am determined to stay, and I shall do so until all hope is
gone. Alone you could effect nothing; but I, knowing who are our
secret friends, may be able to use them to advantage.

"We will stay here tonight, but tomorrow we must change our
quarters, for the search will be a close one. During the day we
will go far up over the hills, but tomorrow night we will make for
Lancaster. I have warned friends there to expect us, and it is the
last place where they would think of searching for us."

"You will take me with you, too, father?" Harry exclaimed eagerly;
while Charlie expressed his gratitude to Mr. Jervoise, for thus
determining to risk his own life in the endeavour to effect the
escape of Sir Marmaduke.

"Yes, I intend to take you with me, Harry. They will pretend, of
course, that, in spite of our assertions of innocence, our flight
is a confession of guilt, and you may be sure that we shall be
condemned in our absence, and our estates declared confiscated, and
bestowed upon some of William's minions. There will be no place for
you here.

"My own plans are laid. As you know, your mother came from the
other side of the border, and a cousin of hers, with whom I am well
acquainted, has gone over to Sweden, and holds a commission in the
army that the young king is raising to withstand Russia and Saxony;
for both are thinking of taking goodly slices of his domains. I
could not sit down quietly in exile, and, being but forty, I am not
too old for service, and shall take a commission if I can obtain
it. There are many Scottish Jacobites who, having fled rather than
acknowledge Dutch William as their king, have taken service in
Sweden, where their fathers fought under the great Gustavus
Adolphus; and, even if I cannot myself take service, it may be that
I shall be able to obtain a commission for you. You are nearly
sixteen, and there are many officers no older.

"Should evil befall your father, Charlie, which I earnestly hope
will not be the case, I shall regard you as my son, and shall do
the same for you as for Harry.

"And now, I will to rest, for I have scarce slept the last two
nights, and we must be in the saddle long before daybreak."

The little bedroom, that Charlie had used the two previous nights,
was given up to Mr. Jervoise; while Harry and Charlie slept on some
sheep skins, in front of the kitchen fire. Two hours before
daybreak they mounted and, guided by the farmer, rode to a
shepherd's hut far up among the hills. Late in the afternoon, a boy
came up from the farm, with the news that the place had been
searched by a party of troopers. They had ridden away without
discovering that the fugitives had been at the farm, but four of
the party had been left, in case Mr. Jervoise should come there.
The farmer, therefore, warned them against coming back that way, as
had been intended, naming another place where he would meet them.

As soon as the sun was setting they mounted and, accompanied by the
shepherd on a rough pony, started for Lancaster. After riding for
three hours, they stopped at a lonely farm house, at which Mr.
Jervoise and his friends had held their meeting on the previous
day. Here they changed their clothes for others that had been sent
for their use from Lancaster. Mr. Jervoise was attired as a small
trader, and the lads in garb suitable to boys in the same rank of
life. They still, however, retained their swords, and the pistols
in their holsters.

Three miles farther they met their host, as arranged, at some
crossroads, and rode on until within three miles of Lancaster. They
then dismounted, placed their pistols in their belts, and handed
their horses to the two men, who would take them back to the hut in
the hills, where they would remain until required.

It was two o'clock in the morning when they entered Lancaster and,
going up to a small house, standing in a garden in the outskirts of
the town, Mr. Jervoise gave three low knocks in quick succession.
The door was opened almost immediately. No light was shown, and
they entered in the dark, but as soon as the door was closed behind
them, a woman came out with a candle from an inner room.

"I am glad to see you safe, Mr. Jervoise," a man said. "My wife and
I were beginning to be anxious, fearing that you might have fallen
into the hands of your enemies."

"No, all has gone well, Herries; but it is a long ride from the
hills here, and we walked the last three miles, as we wanted to get
the horses back again before daylight. We are deeply grateful to
you for giving us shelter."

"I would be ready to do more than that," the man said, "for the
sake of the good cause. My wife's father and mine both fell at
Naseby, and we are as loyal to the Stuarts as they were. You are
heartily welcome, sir, and, as we keep no servant, there will be
none to gossip. You can either remain in the house, in which case
none will know of your presence here; or, if you wish to go abroad
in the town, I will accompany you, and will introduce you to any
acquaintance I may meet as a cousin of my wife who, with his two
sons, has come over from Preston to pay us a visit. I don't think
that anyone would know you, in that attire."

"I will run no more risks than are necessary, Herries. Those I wish
to see will visit me here, and, if I go out at all, it will not be
until after dark."

For a fortnight they remained at the house. After dark each day, a
man paid Mr. Jervoise a visit. He was the magistrates' clerk, and
had an apartment in the castle. From him they learned that a
messenger had been despatched to London, with an account of the
evidence taken in Sir Marmaduke's case; and that, at the end of
twelve days, he had returned with orders that all prisoners and
witnesses were to be sent to town, where they would be examined, in
the first place, by his majesty's council; and where Sir
Marmaduke's trial for high treason would take place. They were to
be escorted by a party of twelve troopers, under the command of a
lieutenant.

The fugitives had, before, learned that the search for Mr. Jervoise
had been given up; it being supposed that he, with his son and
young Carstairs had, with their accomplices, all ridden for the
coast at the first alarm, and had probably taken ship for France
before the orders had arrived that all outgoing vessels should be
searched.

Harry and Charlie had both been away for two or three days, and had
been occupied in getting together ten young fellows, from the two
estates, who would be willing and ready to attempt to rescue Sir
Marmaduke from his captors' hands. They were able to judge, with
tolerable accuracy, when the messenger would return from London
and, two days previously, the men had been directed to ride, singly
and by different roads, and to put up at various small inns in
Manchester, each giving out that he was a farmer in from the
country, either to purchase supplies, or to meet with a customer
likely to buy some cattle he wished to dispose of. Charlie had paid
a visit to Lynnwood, and had gone by the long passage into the
Priest's Chamber, and had carried off the gold hidden there.

As soon as it was known that the messenger had returned, Herries
had borrowed a horse, and had ridden with a note to the farmer,
telling him to go up to the hills and bring the horses down, with
one of his own, to the place where he had parted from them, when
they entered Lancaster. There he was met by Mr. Jervoise and the
lads and, mounting, they started with the spare horse for
Blackburn, choosing that line in preference to the road through
Preston, as there were troops stationed at the latter town.

The next day they rode on to Manchester. They went round, that
evening, to the various inns where the men had put up, and directed
them to discover whether, as was probable, the escort was to arrive
that night. If so, they were to mount at daybreak, and assemble
where the road crossed the moor, three miles north of Chapel le
Frith, where they would find Mr. Jervoise awaiting them.

At nine o'clock that evening the troop rode in and, at daybreak,
Mr. Jervoise and the boys started. Two of the men were already at
the spot indicated, and, half an hour later, the whole of them had
arrived.

Mr. Jervoise led them back to a spot that he had selected, where
the road dipped into a deep valley, in which, sheltered from the
winds, was a small wood. Leaving one at the edge, to give warning
directly the escort appeared on the road over the brow, he told the
rest to dismount. Most of them were armed with pistols. All had
swords.

"Do you," he said, "who are good shots with your pistols, fire at
the men when I give the word--let the rest aim at the horses. The
moment you have opened fire, dash forward and fall on them. We are
already as numerous as they are, and we ought to be able to
dismount or disable four or five of them, with our first fire. I
shall give the order as Sir Marmaduke arrives opposite me. Probably
the officer will be riding. I shall make the officer my special
mark, for it may be that he has orders to shoot the prisoner, if
any rescue is attempted.

"I don't suppose they will be at all prepared for an attack. They
were vigilant, no doubt, for the first two days but, once out of
Lancashire, they will think that there is no longer any fear of an
attempt at rescue. Pursue those that escape for half a mile or so,
and then draw rein, and, as soon as they are out of sight, strike
due north across the fells. Keep to the east of Glossop, and then
make your way singly to your homes. It will be better for you to
travel up through Yorkshire, till you are north of Ingleborough, so
as to come down from the north to your farms.

"I know that you have all engaged in this affair for love of Sir
Marmaduke or myself, and because you hate to see a loyal gentleman
made the victim of lying knaves; but when we come back with the
king, you may be sure that Sir Marmaduke and I will well reward the
services you have rendered."

It was an hour before the man on the lookout warned them that the
troop had just appeared over the hill. They mounted now, and,
pistol in hand, awaited the arrival of the party. Two troopers came
first, trotting carelessly along, laughing and smoking. A hundred
yards behind came the main body, four troopers first, then the
lieutenant and Sir Marmaduke, followed by the other six troopers.

With outstretched arm, and pistol pointed through the undergrowth,
Mr. Jervoise waited till the officer, who was riding on his side of
the road, came abreast of him. He had already told the boys that he
intended to aim at his shoulder.

"They are the enemies of the king," he said, "but I cannot, in cold
blood, shoot down a man with whom I have no cause for quarrel. I
can depend upon my aim, and he will not be twelve paces from the
muzzle of my pistol."

He fired. The officer gave a sudden start, and reeled on his horse,
and, before he could recover himself, the band, who had fired at
the flash of the first pistol, dashed out through the bushes and
fell upon the troopers. Four men had dropped, one horse had fallen,
and two others were plunging wildly as, with a shout, their
assailants dashed upon them. All who could turn their horse's head
rode furiously off, some along the road forward, others back
towards Manchester. The lieutenant's horse had rolled over with
him, as that of Mr. Jervoise struck it on the shoulder, with the
full impetus of its spring.

"It is all over, Sir Marmaduke, and you are a free man. We have
nothing to do now but to ride for it."

And, before the knight had fairly recovered from his astonishment,
he found himself riding south across the moor, with his son on one
side of him, and Mr. Jervoise and Harry on the other.

"You have saved my life, Jervoise," he said, holding out his hand
to his friend. "They had got me so firmly in their clutches, that I
thought my chances were at an end.

"How are you, Charlie? I am right glad to see you, safe and sound,
for they had managed to include you in their pretended plot, and,
for aught I knew, you had been all this time lying in a cell next
mine in Lancaster Castle.

"But who are the good fellows who helped you?"

Mr. Jervoise briefly gave an account of the affair.

"They are only keeping up a sham pursuit of the soldiers, so as to
send them well on their way. I told them not to overtake them, as
there was no occasion for any further bloodshed, when you were once
out of their hands. By tomorrow morning they will all be at work on
their farms again, and, if they keep their own counsel, need not
fear."

Suddenly Sir Marmaduke reined in his horse.

"We are riding south," he said.

"Certainly we are," Mr. Jervoise said. "Why not? That is our only
chance of safety. They will, in the first place, suspect us of
having doubled back to the hills, and will search every farmhouse
and cottage. Our only hope of escape is to ride either for Bristol,
or one of the southern ports."

"I must go back," Sir Marmaduke said doggedly. "I must kill that
scoundrel John Dormay, before I do anything else. It is he who has
wound this precious skein, in order to entrap us, expecting, the
scoundrel, to have my estates bestowed on him as a reward."

"It were madness to ride back now, Sir Marmaduke. It would cost you
your life, and you would leave Charlie here fatherless, and with
but little chance of ever regaining the estate. You have but to
wait for a time, and everything will right itself. As soon as the
king comes to his own, your estates will be restored, and then I
would not seek to stay your hand, if you sought vengeance upon this
cunning knave."

"Besides, father," Charlie put in, "much as he deserves any
punishment you can give him, you would not kill cousin Celia's
husband and Ciceley's father. When the truth is all made known, his
punishment will be bitter enough, for no honest man would offer him
a hand, or sit down to a meal with him.

"Ciceley has been as a young sister to me, and her mother has ever
been as kind as if she had been my aunt. I would not see them
grieved, even if that rogue came off scot free from punishment;
but, at any rate, father, I pray you to let it pass at present.
This time we have happily got you out of the clutches of the Whigs,
but, if you fell into them again, you may be sure they would never
give us another chance."

Sir Marmaduke still sat irresolute, and Charlie went on:

"Besides, father, Mr. Jervoise has risked his life in lingering in
Lancashire to save you, and the brave fellows who aided us to
rescue you have risked theirs, both in the fray and afterwards, if
their share in it should ever be known; and it would not be fair to
risk failure, after all they have done. I pray you, father, be
guided by the opinion of your good friend, Mr. Jervoise."

Sir Marmaduke touched his horse's flank with his heel.

"You have prevailed, Charlie. Your last argument decided me. I have
no right to risk my life, after my good friends have done so much
to save me. John Dormay may enjoy his triumph for a while, but a
day of reckoning will surely come.

"Now, tell me of the others, Jervoise. Have all escaped in safety?"

"All. Your boy brought me the news of your arrest, and that we were
charged with plotting William's assassination. I rode that night
with the news, and next day all were on the road to the coast, and
were happily on board and away before the news of their escape
could be sent to the ports."

"And now, what are your plans, Jervoise--that is, if you have any
plans, beyond reaching a port and taking ship for France?"

"I am going to Sweden," Mr. Jervoise said, and then repeated the
reasons that he had given Charlie for taking this step.

"I am too old for the wars," Sir Marmaduke said. "I was sixty last
birthday, and though I am still strong and active, and could strike
a shrewd blow in case of need, I am too old for the fatigues and
hardships of campaigning. I could not hope, at my age, to obtain a
commission in the Swedish service."

"No, I did not think of your joining the army, Sir Marmaduke,
though I warrant you would do as well as most; but I thought that
you might take up your residence at Stockholm, as well as at Saint
Germains. You will find many Scottish gentlemen there, and not a
few Jacobites who, like yourself, have been forced to fly. Besides,
both the life and air would suit you better than at Saint Germains,
where, by all accounts the life is a gay one, and men come to think
more of pleasure than of duty. Moreover, your money will go much
further in Sweden than in France."

Sir Marmaduke, checking the horse's speed, said, "I have not so
much as a penny in my pocket, and methinks I am like to have some
trouble in getting at the hoard I have been collecting, ever since
Dutch William came to the throne, for the benefit of His Majesty
when he arrives."

"You will have no trouble in getting at that, father," Charlie said
laughing, "seeing that you have nothing to do but to lean over, and
put your hand into my holsters, which are so full, as you see, that
I am forced to carry my pistols in my belt."

"What mean you, lad?"

"I mean, father, that I have the whole of the hoard, that was
stowed away in the priest's hiding place;" and he then related how
Banks had revealed to him the secret of the hiding place, and how
he had, the night before Sir Marmaduke was removed from Lancaster
Castle, visited the place and carried away the money.

"I could not see Banks," he said, "but I left a few words on a
scrap of paper, saying that it was I who had taken the money.
Otherwise he would have been in a terrible taking, when he
discovered that it was gone."

"That is right good news, indeed, lad. For twelve years I have set
aside half my rents, so that in those bags in your holsters there
are six years' income, and the interest of that money, laid out in
good mortgages, will suffice amply for my wants in a country like
Sweden, where life is simple and living cheap. The money itself
shall remain untouched, for your use, should our hopes fail and the
estates be lost for all time. That is indeed a weight off my mind.

"And you are, I hope, in equally good case, Jervoise, for if not,
you know that I would gladly share with you?"

"I am in very good case, Sir Marmaduke, though I none the less
thank you for your offer. I too have, as you know, put aside half
my income. My estates are not so large as those of Lynnwood. Their
acreage may be as large, but a good deal of it is mountain land,
worth but little. My fund, therefore, is not as large as yours, but
it amounts to a good round sum; and as I hope, either in the army
or in some other way, to earn an income for myself, it is ample. I
shall be sorry to divert it from the use for which I intended it,
but that cannot now be helped. I have had the pleasure, year by
year, of putting it by for the king's use, and, now that
circumstances have changed, it will be equally useful to myself."

"Do you know this country well, Jervoise?"

"Personally I know nothing about it, save that the sun tells me
that, at present, I am travelling south, Sir Marmaduke. But, for
the last few days I have been so closely studying a map, that I
know the name of every town and village on the various routes."

"And whither think you of going?"

"To London or Southampton. Strangers are far less noticed in large
towns than in small, and we could hardly hope to find a ship, bound
for Sweden, in any of the Dorset or Devon ports."

Chapter 4: In Sweden.

After much discussion, the party agreed that it would be best to
make for Southampton. The road thither was less frequented than
that leading to London, and there were fewer towns to be passed,
and less chance of interruption. Mr. Jervoise had brought with him
a valise and suit of clothes for Sir Marmaduke, of sober cut and
fashion. They avoided all large towns and, at the places where they
put up, represented themselves as traders travelling from the
Midlands to the southern coast, and they arrived at Southampton
without having excited the smallest suspicion. Indeed, throughout
the journey, they had heard no word of the affray near Chapel le
Frith, and knew, therefore, that the news had not travelled as fast
as they had.

At Southampton, however, they had scarcely put up at an inn when
the landlord said:

"I suppose, gentlemen, they are talking of nothing else, in London,
but the rescue of a desperate Jacobite by his friends. The news
only reached here yesterday."

"It has occasioned a good deal of scare," Mr. Jervoise replied. "I
suppose there is no word of the arrest of the man, or his
accomplices? We have travelled but slowly, and the news may have
passed us on the way."

"Not as yet," the landlord replied. "They say that all the northern
and eastern ports are watched, and they make sure of catching him,
if he presents himself there. The general opinion is that he will,
for a time, go into hiding with his friends, in the hills of
Cumberland or Westmoreland, or perhaps on the Yorkshire moors; but
they are sure to catch him sooner or later."

"It is a bad business altogether," Mr. Jervoise said, "and we can
only hope that all guilty persons will in time get the punishment
they so well deserve. How can trade be carried on, if the country
is to be disturbed by plots, and conspiracies?"

"How, indeed?" the landlord repeated heartily. "I do not meddle in
politics, being content to earn my living by my business, and to
receive all who can pay their reckoning, without caring a jot
whether they be Whigs or Tories."

The next morning Mr. Jervoise and Sir Marmaduke went down to the
port, leaving the lads to wander about the town at their pleasure,
as two persons were likely to attract less attention than four.
They found that there were two vessels in port, loading with
munitions of war for Sweden, and that one of them would sail
shortly. They at once went on board her, and saw the captain.

"Do you carry any passengers?"

"None have applied so far," the captain said; "but, if they were to
offer, I should not say no to them."

"We want to take passage for Sweden," Mr. Jervoise said. "The King
of that country is, as they say, fitting out an army. Clothes are
as necessary for troops as swords and guns, and we think we could
obtain a contract for these goods. There is no hope of doing so,
unless we ourselves go over, and, though sorely loath to do so, for
neither of us have ever before set foot on board a ship, we
determined on making the journey, together with our two clerks, for
whom we will take passage at the same rate as for ourselves, seeing
that they are both related to us."

"Have you any goods with you?"

"We shall take over but a bale or two of cloth, as samples of the
goods we can supply; but, beyond that, we have but little luggage,
seeing that our stay may be a very short one."

There was a little haggling for terms, as the two gentlemen did not
wish to appear eager to go; but the matter was finally settled to
the satisfaction of both parties.

On their return to the inn, Mr. Jervoise took the host aside.

"We have business connected with our trade in cloth in Sweden,
where we hope to obtain a large contract. The matter may occupy us
a week, or a month or two for aught we know, and we do not want our
horses to be eating their heads off, here, while we are away.
Besides, we may be able, on our return, to take a passage to one of
the Devonshire ports, which would suit us much better. But we
should not be able to do so, if there were need for returning here
for our horses. Therefore, we would fain dispose of them, and, if
you can find us a purchaser by tomorrow night, we will pay you a
fair commission on the money we receive."

"I doubt not that I can do that readily enough," the landlord said.
"Three of them are fine animals, fit for any gentleman's riding.
The other is a stout hackney. Trust me, I will get the best price I
can for them."

The next day he came up to their room.

"I have had a good offer for the horses," he said. "Two gentlemen,
who arrived yesterday from France, and are staying at the inn of a
friend of mine, are requiring horses for themselves and their
servants, and I have promised my friend a slice of my commission,
if he will bring them round hither. Will you name your price for
them?"

"No, I would rather not," Mr. Jervoise said cautiously. "If we
asked too high a figure, we might frighten the purchasers away. If
we should ask too little, we should be the losers. I daresay they
have named, to your friend, the price they are willing to give. You
had better ask from them a good bit above that, then you can come
down little by little, and maybe, seeing the horses are really good
ones, they may advance a bit. I am not used to a horse deal, and
will leave it to you to make the bargain. We are sorry to part with
the animals, but they might die on the voyage, or get so injured as
to be worthless; and, moreover, we shall have no use for them
there. Therefore, as we must sell, we are ready to take the best
terms we can get."

When they returned to the inn, after an absence of two hours, they
found that the landlord had sold the horses, for a sum nearly
approaching their value, the gentlemen being as anxious to purchase
them as they were to sell. The next day, they bought three or four
rolls of west country cloth, and a supply of clothes suitable to
their condition, together with trunks for their carriage. All these
were sent down to the ship, in the course of the afternoon, and
they themselves embarked late in the evening, as she was to set
sail at daybreak.

The lads, accustomed to spacious and airy rooms, were quite taken
aback at the small and stuffy cabin allotted to their joint use,
and slept but badly, for the loading of the ship continued by
torchlight, until within an hour of the time of their departure.
After tossing about for some hours in their narrow beds, they were
glad to go on deck, and to plunge their heads into a pail of water,
and were then, after combing their long hair, able to take an
interest in what was passing round them.

The sailors were busy; stowing away the cargo last received,
tidying the decks, and coiling down the ropes. There were but few
persons on the quay, for those who had been engaged in loading the
cargo had gone off to bed, as soon as the last bale was on board.

In half an hour the sailors began to hoist the sails, the hawsers
were thrown off, and, with a gentle wind blowing aft, the ship
glided along past the shore, being helped by the tide, which had
begun to ebb half an hour before. The lads were greatly interested
in watching the well-wooded slope on the left, with the stately
ruins of Tintern Abbey rising above the trees. Then they passed the
round fort, at the water's edge, on their right, and issued out
from Southampton Water into the broad sheet between the island and
the mainland.

It was dotted with sails; fishing craft and coasters for the most
part, but with some larger ships bound from the east to
Southampton, and others that had come in through the Solent. This
was very entertaining to the boys, and they were still more pleased
when they saw the fortifications of Portsmouth, with cannon
pointing seaward, and with many vessels riding in the strait by the
side of the town.

"That fort would give the French or the Dutch a hot reception, were
they at any time to think to capture the dockyard and shipping,"
Sir Marmaduke said.

"The Dutch have already captured the place, and that without
shedding a drop of blood," Mr. Jervoise remarked.

"'That is true enough," the knight said, stamping his foot angrily
on the deck, "but what has been won so easily may be lost as
quickly. I have seen several changes since I can first remember,
and I hope I may live to see another. However, we need not talk of
that now."

"No, indeed," Mr. Jervoise agreed. "It may be, Sir Marmaduke, that
it would be better if we had talked and thought less of it, during
the last twelve years; better for ourselves, and for these lads. We
might still have been ready to join His Majesty as soon as he
landed, but as, till then, we could do nothing, it seems to me now
that it would have been wiser had we gone about our business
without worrying our heads, to say nothing of risking them, about a
matter that may not take place during our lives; as we know, well
enough, the King of France uses the Stuarts only for his own
convenience, and at heart cares nothing for them or their cause. It
is convenient to have the means of creating trouble here, and of so
weakening William; and it may be that, some day or other, it may
suit him to send over an army here to fight William, with the aid
of the Stuarts' friends, instead of fighting him in Holland or
elsewhere. But whether he may think fit to do so in one year, or in
twenty years hence, who can say? It is a question solely of
military policy.

"The Stuarts are simply used, by the French king, to pull English
chestnuts out of the fire. I would that they had established
themselves anywhere rather than in France. It does them harm with
vast numbers who would otherwise be their friends, at any rate in
England. In Scotland it is otherwise, for Scotland has always been
in alliance with France; but in England it is different. France has
always been the national foe; and, had not Charles and James proved
themselves so subservient to Louis, William of Orange would never
have been crowned king. There are vast numbers in England who would
rather see a Stuart than a Dutchman on the throne, but who will
never strike a blow to replace them there, and that because they
will come over backed up by French bayonets.

"Well, let us talk of something else. If the time ever comes to
act, we shall be ready, but till then we can let the matter sleep,
the more so as we have a new life before us, and plenty of other
things to occupy our thoughts."

"What is it, father," Harry asked, "that the Swedes and Danes are
going to fight about?"

"It is a difficult question, Harry; but there can be little doubt
that Denmark is in the wrong. The King of Sweden died in April,
1697. His death was unfortunate, for the powers contending in
Europe had all agreed to refer their quarrels to his mediation. At
his death, Denmark endeavoured to obtain the honour, but failed;
and by the mediation, chiefly, of the Swedish regency, peace was
concluded between France, England, and Holland, in the autumn of
that year; and, shortly afterwards, the struggle between the German
Emperor, France, and Spain was also concluded, but not at all to
the satisfaction of the Swedish mediators.

"While Sweden was occupied in this matter of the pacification of
Europe, the King of Denmark thought to take advantage of the fact
that Charles of Sweden was but a minor, to press Frederick, Duke of
Holstein, who was in close alliance with him.

"There had long been serious differences between the rulers of
Denmark and Holstein, both of whom were branches of the Oldenburg
family, and this in reference to the Duchy of Schleswig. The
quarrel had arisen from the act of Christian the Third, of Denmark,
who decreed that the descendants of his brother Adolphus should
govern Holstein, jointly with the King of Denmark, and that
Holstein and Schleswig should belong to them in common, neither
making any change in Holstein without the consent of the other A
more foolish arrangement could not have been conceived, for anyone
might have foreseen that it would lead to disputes and troubles. In
fact, quarrels continually arose, until, at the Peace of Rosahild,
in 1658, the duchy was adjudged to Denmark.

"Holstein, however, never acquiesced in this, and in 1675 there was
war, when, Holstein being defeated, the Danes imprisoned its duke,
Christian Albertus, until he signed a renunciation of all his
rights.

"His troops were disarmed, and all his towns and fortresses
garrisoned by Danish troops. On his release, the duke went to
Hamburg, where he remained till, at the Peace of Fontainebleau,
four years later, he was replaced in possession of his estates and
rights of sovereignty.

"But this did not last long. New troubles arose, but Sweden,
England, and Holland interested themselves in favour of the duke,
and a peace was concluded in 1689, by which he was confirmed in the
rights given him, ten years before, with full liberty to raise a
certain number of troops, and of building fortresses, on the
condition that he should raise none to the prejudice of Denmark.

"This was another of those stipulations which inevitably lead to
trouble, for it afforded to Denmark a pretext for continual
complaint and interference. When Frederick the Fourth succeeded his
father as Duke of Holstein, in 1694, the quarrel grew so hot that
Denmark would have invaded Holstein, had not the parties to the
Treaty of '89 interfered, and brought about a conference. This
lasted all through the year 1696, but the negotiators appointed to
settle the matter were unable to arrive at any conclusion.

"The following year, Charles of Sweden, who had just succeeded his
father, furnished the duke with some troops, to help him to build
some forts that were intended to protect the frontier, in case of
invasion by Denmark. Christian of Denmark at once attacked and
captured these forts, and levelled them to the ground. The duke,
being too weak to engage in a war with his powerful neighbour, did
not resent this attack, and the negotiations were continued as
before. In view of the danger of the situation, and the necessity
for a monarch at the head of affairs, the Swedish Diet met, at
Stockholm, to take part in the funeral of the late king, which was
to be performed on the 24th of November, and to deliberate upon the
situation.

"By the will of the late king, Charles was not to ascend the throne
until he reached the age of eighteen, but the diet passed a vote
overruling this, and, as the regency concurred, he was at once
crowned, and the alliance with Holstein was cemented by the
marriage, that had been previously arranged between Charles's
eldest sister and the Duke of Holstein, being celebrated at
Stockholm. Charles the Twelfth at once concluded treaties with
France, England, and Holland; while Denmark is reported to have
prepared for war by making a secret alliance with Augustus of
Saxony, King of Poland, and the Czar of Russia. Both these monarchs
were doubtless desirous of extending their dominions, at the cost
of Sweden, whose continental possessions are considerable.

"Augustus is not yet very firmly seated on the throne of Poland.
There are several parties opposed to him, and these united in
obtaining, from the diet, a refusal to pay the Saxon troops
Augustus had brought with him. The king, no doubt, considered that
these could be employed for the conquest of Livonia, and that the
addition of so large a territory to Poland would so add to his
popularity, that he would have no further troubles in his kingdom.

"Charles the Twelfth, being in ignorance of this secret agreement,
sent an embassy to Russia, to announce his accession to the throne.
The ambassadors were kept a long time waiting for an audience, as
the czar was bringing a war with the Turks to a conclusion, and did
not wish to throw off the mask until he was free to use his whole
force against Sweden. The ambassadors were, at last, received
civilly, but the czar evaded taking the usual oaths of friendship,
and, after long delays, the embassy returned to Sweden, feeling
somewhat disquieted as to the intentions of the czar, but having no
sure knowledge of them.

"The King of Poland was more successful in disguising his leaning
towards Denmark, sending the warmest assurances to Charles,
requesting him to act as mediator in the quarrel between himself
and the Duke of Brandenburg, and signing a treaty of alliance with
Sweden. But, while Sweden had no idea of the triple alliance that
had been formed against her, the intention of Denmark to make war
was evident enough, for King Christian was gathering a great naval
armament.

"The Duke of Holstein, becoming much alarmed at these preparations,
hastened on the fortifications of Tonningen, on the Eider, three
leagues from its mouth. The garrison of the place was a weak one,
and a thousand Swedish troops were thrown in to strengthen it. The
King of Denmark complained that this was a breach of the treaty,
but, as his own preparations for war were unmistakable, no one
could blame the Duke of Holstein for taking steps to defend his
territories.

"As you know, Christian of Denmark died about this time, and was
succeeded by his son Frederick the Fourth.

"Last August, he commenced the war, by sending a naval squadron to
cover the passage of four regiments into Pomerania. Charles of
Sweden, seeing that Holstein must be crushed by its powerful
neighbour, called upon Holland and the Duke of Lunenburg, who were
with Sweden guarantors of the treaty, to enforce its provisions;
and a joint protest was sent to the King of Denmark, who was
informed that, if he invaded Holstein, they should consider it a
breach of the Treaty of Altena, and treat him as a common enemy.
Frederick replied by sending some troops into the duchy.

"No active operations took place, until the beginning of this year.
Up to that time, Sweden had not doubted the friendship of the King
of Poland, and Charles, at first, could hardly believe the reports
he received from the governor of Livonia, that the Saxon troops
were approaching the frontier.

"A few days later, however, came the news that they were advancing
against Riga. The governor prepared for defence, and hastily
mounted cannon on the walls. His powers of resistance, however,
were lessened by the fact that the river Duna was frozen over.
Fleming, who commanded the Saxon troops, arrived before the town,
early in February, with four thousand men. The governor had set
fire to the suburbs on the previous day; and Fleming was surprised
to find that, instead of taking it by surprise, as he had hoped,
the place was in a position to offer a stout resistance. However,
he attacked the fort of Cobrun, on the opposite side of the river,
and carried it by assault.

"The news was brought to young Charles the Twelfth when he was out
hunting, a sport of which he is passionately fond. By all accounts,
he is an extraordinary young fellow. He is not content with hunting
bears and shooting them, but he and his followers engage them armed
only with forked sticks. With these they attack the bears, pushing
and hustling the great creatures, with the forks of their sticks,
until they are completely exhausted, when they are bound and sent
away. In this hunt Charles took fourteen alive, one of which nearly
killed him before it was captured. He did not break up the hunting
party, but continued his sport to the end, sending off, however,
orders for the concentration of all the troops, in Livonia and
Finland, to act against the Saxons.

"As soon as the King of Denmark heard of the siege of Riga, he
ordered the Duke of Wurtemberg-Neustadt, his commander-in-chief, to
enter Holstein with his army, sixteen thousand strong. All of that
country was at once overrun, the ducal domains seized, and great
contributions exacted from Schleswig and Holstein. Fleming and the
Saxons, after one severe repulse, forced the garrison of the fort
of Dunamund, commanding the mouth of the Duna, to surrender.
Tonningen is the only fortress that now holds out in Holstein. So
you see, lads, there is every chance of there being brisk fighting,
and I warrant the young King of Sweden will not be backward in the
fray. A man who is fond of engaging with bears, armed with nothing
but a forked stick, is not likely to hang back in the day of
battle.

"But, at present, we will say no more on the matter. Now that we
have got beyond the shelter of the island, the waves are getting
up, and the vessel is beginning to toss and roll. I see that Sir
Marmaduke has retired to his cabin. I mean to remain here as long
as I can, and I should advise you both to do the same. I have
always heard that it is better to fight with this sickness of the
sea, as long as possible, and that it is easier to do so in fresh
air than in a close cabin."

The lads quite agreed with this opinion, but were, in spite of
their efforts, presently prostrate. They remained on deck for some
hours, and then crawled to their cabin, where they remained for the
next three days, at the end of which time they came on deck again,
feeling better, but as weak as if they had suffered from a long
illness.

Mr. Jervoise had been in frequently to see them, having escaped the
malady, from which, as he told them, Sir Marmaduke was suffering to
the full as severely as they were.

"So you have found your feet again," the captain said, when they
appeared on deck. "You will be all right now."

"We feel much better," Harry said, "now that the storm is over."

"Storm! What storm? The weather has been splendid. We cannot wish
for anything better. It has been just as you see it now--a bright
sun, and just enough wind for her to carry whole sail."

The lads both looked astonished.

"Then why should we roll and toss about so much?" Harry asked.

"Roll and toss! Nonsense, lad! There has been a little movement, of
course, as there always must be when there is a brisk wind; but as
for rolling and tossing, you must wait till you see a storm, then
you will begin to have an idea of what the sea is."

The boys both felt rather crestfallen, for they had flattered
themselves that their sufferings were caused by something quite out
of the ordinary way, and it was mortifying to know that the weather
had been really fine, and there had been nothing even approaching a
storm.

The rest of the voyage was a pleasant one. They found they had
regained their appetites, and were able to enjoy their meals; still
they were not sorry when they saw the coast of Sweden, and, a few
hours later, entered the port of Gottenburg, where Sir Marmaduke,
for the first time, came on deck--looking a mere shadow of his
former jovial self.

"Well, lads," he said, "I was glad to hear that you got through
this business quicker than I did. Here we are in Sweden, and here
I, at least, am likely to stay, unless I can pass by land through
Holland, France, and across from Calais, for never again will I
venture upon a long voyage. I have been feeling very ungrateful,
for, over and over again, I wished that you had not rescued me, as
death on Tower Hill would have been nothing to the agonies that I
have been enduring!"

As soon as the vessel was warped alongside the quay, they landed,
and put up at an hotel, Sir Marmaduke insisting that the ground was
as bad as the sea, as it kept on rising and falling beneath his
feet. Mr. Jervoise agreed to return on board the following day, to
fetch the luggage, which would by that time have been got up from
the hold.

At the hotel, they met several persons able to speak English, and
from them learnt how matters had been going on since they had last
heard. The town and fortress of Tonningen had fallen, after a
vigorous defence; it had been bombarded for eight days, and had
repulsed one assault, but had been captured at the second attack.
England and Holland had agreed to furnish fleets, and an army of