CHAPTER XXXIX.
The morning of Sunday the 13th dawned dull and heavily. The flames of the burning houses had been extinguished without doing much damage, although, had there been any wind, it is probable that Preston would have been reduced to a heap of ashes. The firing from the houses continued at intervals, and, once or twice, parties of King George's troops appeared in the streets, but instantly retreated under a sharp fire, by which several of the soldiers and officers were killed or wounded. A small number of prisoners, too, were made by the insurgents, and, amongst the common men, high spirit and resolution were displayed, though the officers shared little in their anticipations of success. It is true, the latter had better means of judging; for the first prisoners that were made on that morning brought the intelligence that forces were pouring in upon Preston from different quarters, and that General Carpenter, with three regiments of cavalry, had passed the night at the small town of Clitheroe, about twelve miles distant. The next who came in informed them that General Carpenter was within sight; and, a few minutes after, some of their own men, from the higher buildings of the town, discovered his force advancing at a quick trot.
The soldiery were eager for action, and murmured loudly at the inactivity of their commanders. But no movement of any kind was made. Forster, Lord Widrington, Colonel Oxburgh, and some others, continued in close consultation at the Mitre; and Smeaton, after having obtained all the information he could from the gentlemen who thronged the lower story of that inn, walked away by himself, and, entering the church, mounted as high as he could in the tower, to observe the motions of the enemy without. Two or three gentlemen were there before him, and they pointed out the newly arrived regiments of cavalry, which were drawn up in fine order on the right of General Wills's army. Smeaton said nothing, except "They have no cannon, I see," and continued to gaze from the tower with very little satisfaction at the sight presented. Two officers, followed by a small party of dragoons, were seen to ride away at a slow pace from the main body of the army, and to direct their course completely round the town, sometimes exposed to view as they crossed the open fields and meadows, sometimes hidden by the trees and hedgerows. From time to time they stopped; and, more than once, a trooper was suddenly detached from the escort, and galloped away to one of the regiments which were in position. Immediately, a small body would advance, and, riding quietly on, station themselves opposite to one or other of the many entrances to the town.
To the experienced eye of Smeaton, the proceedings which were taking place were very clear. He saw that a mind of greater intelligence than that of General Wills was now brought to act against the insurgents in Preston, that General Carpenter was changing all his predecessor's arrangements, and that, in a very short time, the town would be completely invested, and all chance of escape cut off. The thought of abandoning the cause individually had never crossed his mind. He had taken part in the insurrection most unwillingly; but, having done so, he considered himself entirely identified with it. Nevertheless, he could not see without a sigh the chance of the whole army effecting a retreat pass away. But despair begets indifference, and, from the moment he beheld the movements of General Carpenter, he felt that all was lost. He hummed a gay French air as he descended the narrow staircase from the tower; and, though his face was thoughtful, it bore no trace of despondency.
Some gentlemen were gathering round the great gate of the churchyard, and about to take up their old position within its walls; but the young Earl turned towards the little door on the left, near which was passing at the moment, on horseback, a merry Northumbrian physician, named Alcock or Walker (for he had an alias), who had acted as principal surgeon to the army during the preceding day. Anxious to obtain some intelligence of his servant, Smeaton hurried after him and laid his hand upon the bridle. The doctor seemed somewhat in haste; but, as soon as the young nobleman mentioned the subject of his anxiety, he replied:
"Oh yes, my Lord, yes, the poor devil is shot in the stomach; and, if he have not the strength of an ostrich, he will not easily digest his yesterday's supper. By the way, I recollect he was exceedingly anxious to see you; but I did not know where you were."
The doctor seemed very desirous to move forward; but Smeaton still detained him, and, asking where poor Higham was to be found, learned that the man had been carried into a private house near the barricade where he had fallen. The young nobleman then proceeded to ask some further questions regarding the man's state; but the worthy doctor's impatience could be restrained no longer; and, leaning down his head, he whispered in Smeaton's ear--
"I beseech you, my noble Lord, let me go. I have made up my mind that we cannot do any service here, now that Carpenter and his bullies have arrived; and, as I reconnoitred the ground pretty strictly yesterday, I know that I can get out by Fishergate Street, across the meadows and the ford, and away. If you will take my advice, you will do the same."
Smeaton shook his head, saying, with a smile:
"Make haste, doctor, make haste! Carpenter is altering all the posts, and in five minutes he will be in those same meadows, across which lies your way."
Thus saying, he let go the bridle, and Doctor Alcock trotted off. I may add that he was just in time; for he and two or three others contrived to get out of the town and across the ford, under the very eyes of General Carpenter, who probably did not think it worth while to detach any of his escort in pursuit.
Smeaton, in the mean time, with a quick step, took his way towards the other end of the town, in order to visit the poor wounded man; but, to reach the place, he had to pass the door of the Mitre Inn, and he soon saw symptoms of confusion and turbulence, which caused him to pause for a moment. The common soldiers were by this time all stationed once more at the barricades, and a good number of the gentlemen volunteers were collected in the churchyard; but some thirty or forty gentlemen, not of the highest rank, were either standing round the door or crowding the passage of the inn. All were talking together eagerly; some were gesticulating vehemently, and one young man, of the name of Murray (not Lord Charles Murray), between whom and Smeaton a certain degree of intimacy had sprung up, as soon as he perceived the latter, ran up to him and caught him by the arm, saying, in a low but stern and eager voice,
"My Lord, I pray you come with me for five minutes. These men within are betraying us; they are for giving us up into the hands of the enemy; the enemy we conquered yesterday at every point. Come with me, I beseech you. You are a man of rank, and also of experience; a soldier, a brave man. They must listen to you."
"They have listened to me very little," returned Smeaton; "otherwise, we should not have been in our present situation; but go on. I will follow you."
Murray, whose eyes were flashing fire, and whose whole face was working with excitement, instantly darted back to the crowd, pushing his way fiercely through it and along the passage. Smeaton followed with a calm grave air, more to learn what was taking place, than with any hope of his voice being attended to. His young acquaintance reached the stairs, and mounted, taking three steps at a time, till he reached the door of a room, at which stood a man with a drawn sword in his hand.
"You cannot pass, sir," said the man. "The officers are at council."
"We must be of their council, too," responded Murray; and, without hesitation, he threw open the door and entered, followed by Smeaton, the sentinel making no effort to oppose them.
The scene within was already turbulent enough; for the whole party, consisting of some ten or twelve, were talking together loudly and vehemently. Colonel Oxburgh, Lord Widrington, a Jesuit named Pierre, Sir James Anderton, and one or two others, were standing round General Forster, with a small table between them and another party, who seemed arguing some question with them very fiercely.
"Sir," said Forster, with a flushed face, in answer to something which had just been said, "you are insulting. I place before you the plain straightforward facts of the case. There is no chance for us whatever, except in taking advantage of the success of yesterday to obtain a favourable capitulation."
"Capitulation! Who talks of capitulation?" exclaimed young Murray, pushing forward quickly.
"I do, sir," replied Forster; "I, the general of this army, by the commission of King James. We are completely surrounded, outnumbered, and our store of powder is failing fast. I have not spared my person. I have not shrunk from the fire of the enemy; but I can see and judge of what is necessary as well as any rash boy in England; and I say, the only chance of our not being slaughtered to a man, is to endeavour to make terms."
"What, with fifteen hundred gallant men, who would cut their way through a rock of stone rather than surrender!" exclaimed Murray, violently. "I will tell you what, General Forster; the soldiers--the brave common soldiers--will not hear of surrender. There are some gentlemen and noblemen amongst us, too, who are men of heart, and will not permit this. Here stands the Earl of Eskdale; a man of great experience, and as unprejudiced as any one. His voice, I am sure, is not for surrender."
"Certainly not," replied Smeaton; "for I would rather die with my sword in my hand, face to face with the enemy, than lay my head down on a block on Tower Hill; and I believe that is the only choice."
"My lord, you are in no command here," said Forster. "I am the general in command of these troops, by the King's authority; and, so long as I live, no one else shall command them."
"I do not in the least seek to do so," rejoined Smeaton. "I only give an opinion."
Before he could conclude the sentence, however, Captain Murray interrupted, exclaiming in a loud voice--
"This shall annul a traitor's commission which he is unworthy to hold!" And, drawing a pistol out of his belt, he levelled it at Forster's head, and pulled the trigger. Some one,[[2]] however, struck up the muzzle just as he was in the act of firing, and the ball lodged in the wainscot, about two feet above the mark.
A scene of indescribable confusion ensued, in the midst of which the vehement young officer was arrested and removed from the room. It was not for several minutes that anything like tranquillity was restored, and then Smeaton turned towards General Forster, saying--
"I regret this event exceedingly, General Forster; but I trust that the young man's intemperance and criminal conduct will not divert your attention from the truth of what he said. My belief is, that you will find it impossible to persuade the common soldiers to surrender, though they would risk less by it than we should; and I do not think any man would be safe who would propose such a thing to them."
"Nobody proposes to surrender, my lord, except upon favourable terms," retorted Forster, sharply; "and, if those could be obtained, I suppose nobody would be fool enough to refuse them. However, permit me to say that the advice which you have withheld from us during the whole campaign is not now desired."
"My advice was freely offered in the beginning," returned Smeaton, coolly, "but was treated, as all reasonable advice has been treated, with contempt, and was therefore never volunteered again till my own honour and life were concerned. I now not only give my advice, but protest, in the face of these gentlemen, against surrender upon any terms but those which shall secure our honour; and, having said thus much, I wish you good morning."
"Depend upon it, my lord," said Forster, in a milder tone, "if we do treat for surrender at all, which is not yet determined, it shall be only on such terms as shall be satisfactory to all."
Every one knows what it is to begin to parley with an enemy superior in force to ourselves; and it would be tedious, even to the few readers who may be unacquainted with the events of that fatal day, to enter into details of all that occurred during the next four-and-twenty hours. Confusion, hurry, discontent, dismay, pervaded the whole town. Rumours spread of the intention to surrender; and the troops were more than once ready to fall upon their officers and put them to the sword, but were kept quiet by means of gross and shameful falsehoods. They were told that General Wills had sent in to offer honourable terms, promising that the lives and liberties of all would be guaranteed; and were assured that the coming and going of Colonel Oxburgh, and several of the royal officers, between the camp and the town, solely had reference to minute points in the capitulation. In the meanwhile, however, the messages which went out commenced with bold and somewhat excessive demands; but gradually firmness and courage oozed away. General Carpenter and General Wills sternly refused all terms, and only promised that, if the insurgent force surrendered at discretion, it should not at once be put to the sword. "No other terms," they said, "would be granted to rebels with arms in their hands." One small concession, however, was made: namely, that a cessation of arms should be granted till seven the next morning, in order to allow time to persuade the common soldiers to submit; but hostages were exacted to insure that no farther defences were thrown up in the town, and that no persons should be permitted to escape.
A night of intense anxiety, discussion, persuasion, turbulence, and confusion, succeeded; but, before the appointed hour, despair had taken possession of almost all hearts, though there is some doubt as to whether the Highland troops were not deceived to the very last, and induced to believe that they laid down their arms upon favourable conditions. Before seven o'clock, the noise and confusion had subsided into sullen and discontented submission; the Highlanders were drawn up in the market place; the noblemen and gentlemen who had joined in the insurrection remained at their various quarters; and, with drums beating and trumpets sounding, Generals Carpenter and Wills entered the town at the head of their troops, from the Manchester road on the one side and the Lancaster road on the other.
It was a moment of some anxiety; for there was no certainty, even to the last minute, whether the troops of the insurrection would not make use of their arms in one last desperate effort in the market-place. But they had no confidence in their officers, no plan arranged amongst themselves; and, surrounded by a large body of cavalry and infantry, any attempt at resistance would have brought on a massacre rather than a fight. They laid down their arms, therefore, at the word of command, and were marched off by companies to the church, where they were kept pent up for many days under a strict guard. Some of the royal officers were then sent to receive the arms of the officers and gentlemen volunteers, who were put under arrest in various inns and private houses; and thus ended an insurrection which had begun rashly, and been carried on without skill or even ordinary discretion.
In the transactions which preceded the surrender Smeaton had taken no part except that which I have mentioned. From the Mitre he had proceeded to the house where his servant, Thomas Higham, lay, and found the poor fellow in a weak and apparently sinking state. The surgeon, who was with him at the time, and who had just extracted the ball, would not suffer any conversation, but expressed some hope of his recovery if he were kept quite quiet; and Smeaton, leaving a small sum of money with him to provide any comforts he might require, departed with a promise to visit him again if possible.
When, about half past eight o'clock, one of the royal officers entered the young nobleman's quarters, he found him calmly writing letters, with his sword and pistols on the table before him. He treated his prisoner with perfect courtesy; received his arms and, handed them to an orderly behind; and then, pointing to the letters, said, "I fear these cannot be permitted to pass, my lord, without being submitted to the generals in command."
"I do not expect it," replied Smeaton; "but I think they will find nothing to object to. One is to my mother, which I should much wish forwarded to her as soon as possible, if she be still living. The other is to the Earl of Stair; and I should wish you to place it in the hands of General Carpenter, who will perceive that it refers to matters which have been already in discussion between us, and in regard to which I think I have been hardly treated. I know not, indeed, that it can have any influence on my ultimate fate; and that fate I trust I am prepared to meet as a man of courage and a man of honour; but I write it as a full explanation of my whole conduct, that no stain may be upon my character, and that it may be apparent that I have not in the slightest degree, or in any way, forfeited my given word. I trust that the Earl of Stair will be able to explain his conduct as satisfactorily. I do not accuse him; but there has been a fatal mistake somewhere."
The officer took the letters and promised to give them into the hands of General Carpenter, adding, in a kindly tone,
"If there is anything I can do for your convenience, my lord, consistent with my duty, you have merely to command me."
"Nothing that I know of," replied Smeaton; "except, indeed, if you would exert your influence to have kind treatment shown to a poor servant of mine, who was severely wounded on Saturday at Lord Charles Murray's barricade.
"I will see to his comfort myself," said the officer; and then, putting down his name and the house where he was to be found, he added, "I will see to this directly. I fear I must put a sentinel at your door, my lord, till you are otherwise disposed of; but he will have directions to consult your convenience as far as possible."
Thus saying, he withdrew; and Smeaton was left alone in his room, a prisoner.