“Tail it is,” he said, and thrust the penny into his fob.
“By jinks I’m fain,” said Hall. “Aw owe the b——— one, and now aw’ll straighten wi’ him. He’ll rue the day he sacked Bill Hall for drinking.”
And for me I too was fain. For Rawfolds seemed a long way off, but Ottiwell’s was close by home.
“We’n got our work set,” said George. “It mun be a reight do. Cartwright sleeps in his mill every night. He has soldiers there, too, in the mill with him. The gates and doors have been strengthened. There are other soldiers billeted in the village. Th’ mill bell will alarm the country. But we can do it, lads, if yo’ are the men I take yo’ for. No flinching and we’ll strike such a blow at Rawfolds as will make old England ring again. And now, lads, to business.”
It were quite beyond me to tell all the plans we made that night. We fixed Saturday the 11th of April for the job, and a man called Dickenson promised to let his mates on that side know our arrangements. We were to meet at the Dumb Steeple by the Three Nuns at eleven of the night. There were to be men from Liversedge, Heckmondwike, Gomersall, Birstall, Cleckheaton, and even from Leeds; and on our side we promised a full muster. Soldier Jack was to see that everyone was warned, and such arms as could be begged, borrowed or stolen were to be got together. The boys were keen enough for work, and nothing doubted of success. We had had it all our own way up to now, and who was Cartwright that he should check us?
It was in the small hours when we stole out into the raw morning air, taking our several ways homewards.
I had not far to go, for I was to sleep with George at the Brigg.
“I’m glad it fell on Cartwright,” I said to my cousin, as we doffed our things that night.
“Aw thought tha would be,” said George.
“It wer’ a weight off me when it fell tails,” I added.