They all sprung up. Tournier himself sprung
up. A general fight seemed imminent. But the greater part were gentlemen, and Tournier, still calm, said with a smile, “Take no notice of it, my friends. Let us withdraw. At least we will bear away the palm of victory over our tempers.”
The malcontents were disconcerted at this magnanimity.
Only Villemet would have a parting shot, and as he retired, said, “If ever I meet that coquin outside these cursed walls, I’ll horsewhip him black and blue.”
The man was making for Villemet, but his companions pulled him back.
Within an hour Captain Martin had returned with a troop of yeomanry. They had just had a field-day, and for some reason, one of the troops had not been dismissed like the rest. So, without waiting a moment, officers and men galloped off to Norman Cross. The other troops of yeomanry were to follow as soon as they could be got together, along with three or four companies of volunteers and militia.
The tumult was still continuing among the prisoners, though with more frequent spells of comparative quiet: symptoms, perhaps, of exhaustion. No opening had yet been discovered in the palisades, though the soldiers thought they sometimes heard, when a lull in the uproar occurred, the sound of heavy blows against them, which almost directly ceased when the uproar abated. And it made some entertain the idea, that the otherwise childish shouting was not without a rational object, namely, to drown the noise of blows.
At length darkness came on. It promised to be an intensely dark night—one of those nights, of which there are only a few in every year, when you cannot, as we say, see your own hand.
Watch-fires were kindled at every station where a detachment was posted round the prison enclosure. All the troops were under arms through the night; the gunners in the block-house ready for action; and the yeomanry
patrolling the Peterborough and Great North roads. At about three in the morning a sentinel fired his piece, and the nearest detachment fell in, and hurried at the double to the spot. The prisoners were escaping through an opening in one of the palisades, but the prompt arrival of the soldiers quickly stopped the exodus. Some were thrust back again, and an array of bayonets at the charge, together with a volley from the rear ranks, fired, at first, by the commandant’s express orders, into the air, effectually prevented all further attempt. Nine prisoners escaped, and got clear away, surmounting the difficulty of the last palisading of all by friendly help from outside, as it was supposed, a rope with a hook at the end being found next morning at a certain spot. In all probability it was a sweet-heart’s act, some acquaintance formed at the barrack market.