CHAPTER XVI
WITHOUT THE WALLS OF CARISBROOKE
I TOOK up my abode in a little cottage overlooking Wootton Creek in the Isle of Wight, hard by the village of Wootton. It was a peaceful spot, where the tide of war had not swept, though near enough, 'tis true, to see the scenes of many a stern conflict in former days.
On either side of the creek, well-wooded hills sloped down to the water's edge when the tide was up, or to the fringe of the mudflats when 'twas low water. Just within shelter of the land the creek was of sufficient depth to float a few fishing boats, whence a narrow, winding channel led to the blue waters of the Solent.
My life, or rather existence, at Wootton was of a particularly quiet nature. I lived at peace with my neighbours, and though at first they were certainly inquisitive to the extreme, after a while they found that nothing could be obtained of my former life, and in consequence I was little troubled in that respect.
I thought it advisable to adopt another name, and finally I selected that of Giles White, which seemed sufficiently common to avoid further inquiries of my antecedents.
Of the events that were taking place in the kingdom at large I heard but little for a time.
Of Colonel Firestone and Ralph Granville I heard not a word. Whether they were alive or dead, and how they had fared after leaving Chalton, remained a mystery as far as I was concerned, yet I had a conviction that ere long things would mend, and that I should once again see my old comrades.
Then news began to come in apace. A fisherman brought the tidings that His Majesty had escaped from the power of the Independents, and had sought refuge at Titchfield House, whence he had been escorted by Colonel Hammond to the castle of Carisbrooke. To me, a loyal Cavalier, the news was encouraging, for, though nominally a prisoner, the King was within a few miles of the place where I existed in comparative poverty and obscurity.
One evening I was returning in a small boat from a day's fishing off the mouth of the creek, and just as I was rowing past the little hard on the Fishbourne side, I saw three men standing under the trees. For a while they watched me intently, then one of them called, "Ho, fisherman, can you put us across?"
"Right willingly," I answered, inwardly smiling at their mistake, which was natural enough under the circumstances, and running the boat aground, I told them to jump in.
"What sort of road lieth betwixt here and Newport?" inquired one, a dark-featured man dressed in russet cloth, and armed with rapier and pistols.
"Hilly, but not easily mistaken," I replied. "'Tis an hour and a half's good walk."
Two of the men were sitting astern, and one in the bows. As we neared the opposite side of the creek I turned my head to see how the boat was heading, and, to my surprise, the stranger who sat in the bows gave me a resounding smack on the back.
"Markham!" he cried. "By the powers! What are you doing here—and in this garb?"
In a moment I recalled the man's features 'twas Captain Dixon, the same who was the transport officer at Dartmouth Castle. A few words sufficed to explain my presence in the Isle of Wight then the captain interrupted me by asking:
"And you know the island well?"
"As a fox knows its lair."
"Then come with us if ye be a true Cavalier. In Brading Harbour lies the Happy Adventure. I trove you remember her full well? Peste! A wretched mess we have made of things up to now, for we have been hopelessly lost amid these winding lanes. Canst lead us to Carisbrooke ere midnight?"
"With ease," I replied confidently.
"Then do so, and a greater service to His Majesty you'll never again perform."
By this time the boat had reached the opposite shore, and tying it safely to an iron ring, I set off briskly for the hill, the three cavaliers panting at my heels. Seeing that they were armed, I left them for a time to get my sword from the cottage, then once more we resumed our journey.
Naturally, I was curious to know the nature of our midnight errand, and the three officers (for they were all of Sir Henry Cary's regiment) were not loth to tell me.
"With the blessing of Heaven we hope, ere dawn, to have his sacred Majesty safely aboard the Happy Adventure, and well on his way to France!" explained Captain Dixon. "All preparations are complete; swift horses are in readiness in Carisbrooke Village, where Fire—Fire——"
"Firestone?" I asked eagerly.
"Nay, but I cannot call the man's name to mind."
"'Tis Firebrace, His Majesty's page," explained another, Major Hosken.
"Ay, Firebrace. Well, where Firebrace has arranged to meet us."
"His Majesty is a close prisoner?"
"Close after a fashion, though not so unguarded as before poor Captain Burley's blundering attempt at rescue. No good came of it, for His Majesty was detained within the walls, and Burley was hanged, drawn, and quartered for his pains. Heaven forfend that will not be our lot."
"Burley had courage, but lacked caution, and his hotheadedness was his undoing. We, I take it, have laid our plans aright, using discretion tempered with bravery. Therein lies the difference; though we be willing to risk our lives in His Majesty's cause, we take good care to keep open every possible channel of escape."
Talking of their possibilities of success, the three officers kept up the hot pace I had set, and it was just before eleven as we descended the steep hill leading into Newport.
The familiar streets of the old town were almost deserted, and, unchallenged, we passed along the High Street, and gained the outskirts on the Carisbrooke side.
In the village hard by the church, a man, his features muffled in a dark cloak, was waiting under the shadow of a row of trees. Feigning to ignore him, we passed on; but bef ore we had gone a few steps he tapped thrice with a stick against the stump of a tree. Thereupon we retraced our footsteps, and the man introduced himself as the royal page, Firebrace.
Without further parley, for each man seemed thoroughly to understand his work, we turned down N a side street, through which a brook babbled, the rippling of the water sounding in the night air. Then we began to climb the steep hill on which the castle stands.
Neither lights nor any other signs of human beings were to be seen, and without misadventure we gained the base of the barbican. Here we took shelter in the dry moat, concealing ourselves underneath the centre of three low arches that carried the road from the outwork of the embattled gateway.
Captain Dixon pulled out a gold watch, and holding it close to his face, announced in a low tone that it was a quarter to twelve. Then we heard the tramp of the musketeers relieving guard, every sound of the instructions given to the sentry at the barbican being distinctly audible.
"'Tis Captain Titus," whispered Firebrace, "and he is with us."
This seemed to be the case, for we heard him tell the musketeer to pay no attention to any sounds he might hear without the castle, and to this the man readily complied, he also being a party to the enterprise.
"Now 'tis time," whispered the page; and walking swiftly along the bed of the dry moat, we at length came to a part of the castle where the walls were considerably lower than the rest. Here a stout rope was dangling from the battlements.
"Five minutes will decide whether we have set our heads in a rat trap or not," said Major Hosken. "Now, Dixon, you first—up you go."
Seizing the rope with both hands, the captain swung himself lightly up the sheer face of the wall, and instantly afterwards a shake of the hemp announced that he had reached the battlements in safety. Firebrace followed, and I ascended third, followed in turn by Hosken, while the remaining officer stayed without to facilitate our descent.
I found myself on a narrow stone ledge, protected on its outer side by a parapet breast-high, while the inner side was unfenced. A slip or a false step in the dark, and we should have fallen a depth of thirty feet on the ground of the base-court.
With the air of a man who knows his business, Firebrace led the way along the narrow pathway for about twenty paces. Here a flight of stone steps afforded a descent to the ground, while but three yards away rose the outlines of a detached building.
"'Tis the Great Hall—His Majesty's apartments," whispered the page, as we gained the level of the basecourt. "Watch yonder window."
We had not long to wait, for the hour of twelve was striking. Everything was perfectly still, and though a light gleamed through a window in the gatehouse, there were no signs of any of the guards.
Presently there came the sound of a casement being cautiously opened, and we could see a white face looking down between the bars of a window on the first floor.
Instantly we uncovered, then expectantly awaited His Majesty's appearance. The end of a stout rope fell at our feet, and then the head of our royal master emerged betwixt the bars of the window.
For a brief space we waited in suspense. Then——
"I am stuck fast!" exclaimed the King in a low voice.
"Nay, sire," said the page. "Where Your Majesty's head passes through, your body will surely follow."
"Nay, I repeat, I cannot move either forward or backward," said the King, with a long-drawn groan, wrung from him by the result of his exertions.
Whilst he stuck I heard him groan again and again; yet we could not come to help him, even though Dixon climbed the rope, and grasping the bars with his hands, tried in vain to wrench them asunder—at the risk of his neck had the iron given way suddenly.
In five minutes the attempt was at an end, for His Majesty, using the cord to force his way back into the room, succeeded in freeing himself from the embraces of the iron bars. Then, having suffered the devoted captain to kiss his hand, he retired; whereupon Dixon, muttering softly under his breath at our impotence, slid softly to earth.
For a few moments more we waited beneath the window. Why we tarried I know not, unless we thought that some miracle would bring our royal master to our side.
Then his room became illuminated, and bearing a candle in his hand (which he set in the window as a prearranged sign that he had abandoned the attempt, though we knew to our cost that such was the case already), the King stood before the window, the light shining on his classic features.
As if in final benediction, he raised his right hand in token of farewell, then, as we brought our swords to the salute, he disappeared from view.
'Twas fated to be the last glimpse I had of the face of the Royal Martyr.
I was recalled to the danger of my position by Dixon's hand being laid on my shoulder, and regaining the wall, we slid down the rope to the moat, where we communicated the dismal news of our failure to our comrade.
Then, descending the hill, we each selected a horse, and were soon galloping down the road to Newport.
* * * * *
Firebrace, the page, remained in the village, but I accompanied the officers as far as the ford across the creek at Wootton.
They wished me to retain the horse I was using, but, much against my will, I was obliged to refuse, for the presence of the animal at my cottage would give rise to well-founded suspicions. Then, having set them on the right road to Brading Harbour, I bade them farewell, and sick in mind and tired in body, I walked back to my humble dwelling.
Yet I could not sleep, and after tossing restlessly on my bed till daylight streamed into the room, I dressed and went out. A strong easterly wind had sprung up with the rising of the sun, and looking in the direction of Spithead, I saw the drawing sails of a small vessel bowling along on her westward course.
It was the Happy Adventure.