Being thus gotten under the hills, and a mile off the way, and the day just shut in, we kept on apace, resolving, if possible, to get out of the reach of our pursuers before they should miss us or know anything of our being gone.
We plied our time so well and travelled so hard that by five o’clock in the morning, we were at a little village whose name I forget; but they told us that we were within eight miles of the Tweed, and that as soon as we should be over the river we were on English ground.
We refreshed a little here, but marched on with but little stay. However, it was half-an-hour past eight in the morning before we reached the Tweed, so it was at least twelve miles, when they told us it was but eight. Here we overtook two more of the same regiment, who had deserted from Haddington, where another part of the recruits were quartered.
Those were Scotchmen, and very poor, having not one penny in their pockets, and had no more when they made their escape but 8s. between them. And when they saw us, whom they knew to be of the same regiment they took us to be pursuers, and that we came to lay hold of them; upon which they stood upon their defence, having the regiment swords on, as we had also, but none of the mounting or clothing; for we were not to receive the clothing till we came to the regiment in Flanders.
It was not long before we made them understand that we were in the same circumstances with themselves, and so we soon became one company; and after resting some time on the English side of the river (for we were heartily tired, and the others were as much fatigued as we were)—I say, after resting awhile, we set forwards towards Newcastle, whither we resolved to go to get our passage by sea to London; for we had not money to hold us out any farther.
Our money was ebbed very low; for though I had one piece of gold in my pocket, which I kept reserved for the last extremity, yet it was but half-a-guinea, and my captain had bore all our charges as far as his money would go, so that when we came to Newcastle we had but sixpence left in all to help ourselves, and the two Scots had begged their way all along the road.
We contrived to come into Newcastle in the dusk of the evening, and even then we durst not venture into the public part of the town, but made down towards the river, something below the town, where some glass-houses stand. Here we knew not what to do with ourselves; but, guided by our fate, we put a good face upon the matter, and went into an alehouse, sat down, and called for a pint of beer.
The house was kept by a woman only—that is to say, we saw no other; and as she appeared very frank and entertained us cheerfully, we at last told our condition, and asked her if she could not help us to some kind master of a collier that would give us a passage to London by sea. The subtle devil, who immediately found us proper fish for her hook, gave us the kindest words in the world, and told us she was heartily sorry she had not seen us one day sooner; that there was a collier-master, of her particular acquaintance, that went away but with the morning tide; that the ship was fallen down to Shields, but she believed was hardly over the bar yet, and she would send to his house and see if he was gone on board; for sometimes the masters do not go away till a tide after the ship, and she was sure, if he was not gone, she could prevail with him to take us all in; but then she was afraid we must go on board immediately, the same night.
We begged her to send to his house, for we knew not what to do, and if she could oblige him to take us on board, we did not care what time of night it was; for, as we had no money, we had no lodging, and we wanted nothing but to be on board.
We looked upon this as a mighty favour, that she sent to the master’s house, and, to our greater joy, she brought us word about an hour after that he was not gone, and was at a tavern in the town, whither his boy had been to fetch him, and that he had sent word he would call there in the way home.