The three foremost of the dragoons, without hesitation, spurred their horses at the ditch. One of them swerved to the left; another came against the opposite bank and fell back upon his rider, who extricated himself with difficulty from his perilous situation. The third leaped short, and came into the ditch on his legs: he floundered on for a short way in the mud, the dragoon preserving his seat as steadily as if he had been on parade, until a low place in the bank enabled him to scramble back to his companions. The moon was now setting, and farther pursuit appeared to be not only useless, but dangerous.
The excitement occasioned by the short but vigorous conflict having ceased, Henry Stanwick found his strength beginning to fail. Exhausted by pain and fatigue, and faint from the loss of blood, he sunk down on the sea bank. One of his men, however, quickly contrived to tap one of the kegs, which had been dropped in the confusion, and gave him a small quantity of brandy, by which he was a good deal revived. As his men were anxiously proffering assistance, "Never mind me," said he, "I am only hurt in the arm, and shall do well enough; but there's a poor fellow there, who stands much more in need of assistance than I do." At the same time, he pointed to a man in a seaman's jacket, who was lying on the ground at a short distance from him. His hat was off, he had received a severe gash in the forehead, and a pistol ball had passed through the upper part of his body near the right shoulder. An old musket which appeared to have been recently discharged, and the stock of which was broken, was lying near him. When Stanwick's men approached him, he was hardly able to articulate. They, however, made out, that he wished to be conveyed to Folkestone.
They accordingly carried him carefully down the beach, and placed him in the boat, in the easiest posture they could. Henry Stanwick was able to get on board without much assistance.
They rowed slowly back to Sandgate, and having landed their Lieutenant, proceeded on to Folkestone.
It was not without difficulty that the wounded man was lifted from the boat; and then, some of his brother townsmen having taken a door off the hinges, and gently laid him on it, set off with slow and heavy steps towards his house. As Waldron had told his wife not to expect him till the next day, she had gone to bed, and was quietly asleep with her children. Hannah Reeves, a poor woman who lived near the pier, had kindly gone forward to prepare Mary for what she had to go through, and knocked gently at her door. She started up in her bed immediately, for the anxious state in which she had been living had accustomed her to awake at the slightest noise. Having put on a few clothes, and struck a light, she hurried down stairs. In the countenance and manner of her kind-hearted neighbour, she immediately saw that she had some sad intelligence to communicate; but when she heard that her husband had been brought to Folkestone severely wounded, her eyes grew dizzy, her head swam, and she would have fallen to the ground had not Hannah supported her.
It was no time, however, for giving way to grief, and, by a strong effort, she almost immediately roused herself. Understanding that there might be some difficulty in getting her husband up the narrow winding staircase, she set to work, with the assistance of Hannah Reeves, to bring the matress on which she slept into a little back room, the floor of which was boarded. She made it as comfortable as she could, and had hardly completed her preparations, when the heavy tread of a number of men was heard approaching the door. Mary was unable to speak, but silently assisted in placing her unhappy husband on the bed, that she had got ready for him. The rough weather-beaten countenances of the men who had brought him, were softened to an expression of mournful sympathy; the eyes of several of them were filled with tears. As soon as they found they could be of no farther use, they quietly withdrew.
Waldron had hardly shewn any signs of life, excepting by uttering now and then a deep and heavy groan: but when the men were gone, he contrived to raise himself a little in the bed; and taking the hand of his wife, who was hanging over him in speechless agony, said in a voice, almost inarticulate from weakness and emotion, "Oh! Mary, why did I not listen to your advice! I might have earned my bread in an honest way, and been happy with you and the children; but I listened to the persuasion of evil men, and now, smuggling has brought me to this." He would have said more, but the effort which he had made was too much for him—he sank down on the bed, and after one or two deep but feeble groans, expired.
Mary did not immediately perceive what had happened; but when the dreadful reality burst upon her, the shock was too powerful for her frame, exhausted as it was by anxiety and grief. While there was an immediate call for exertion—while there was any thing to be done for her husband—the exertion had roused and supported her. That support was now at an end, and she fell senseless on the floor.
Hannah Reeves was up stairs with the children, one of them having begun to cry, and she had succeeded in quieting and lulling it asleep. Upon returning to the back room, she found Mary Waldron extended motionless by the side of her husband. Gently raising her up, she endeavoured to restore her to herself by throwing cold water in her face, applying burnt feathers to her nostrils, and making use of such other remedies, as either she, or two or three neighbours, who had come in to her assistance, could think of. For a long time their endeavours were ineffectual. At length a slight convulsive tremor seemed to pass over her. Her lips, which had been deadly pale, began to assume something of their natural colour, and after one or two deep and long drawn sighs, she appeared to breathe with some degree of freedom. The first care of her kind attentive neighbours was, to remove her from the sad object which was stretched out by her side. With difficulty they got her up stairs, and undressing her, laid her in the same bed with her children.
Hannah Reeves was anxiously watching over her, when she opened her eyes, and said in a faint voice, "What, is it you, Hannah? What brings you here so early in the morning? But I suppose it is time for me to think of getting up.—Oh! Hannah, I have had such a dreadful dream! But it is all over now, I am so glad that you woke me." And then after a little pause, added, "How soon do you think James will be home again? He told me that he should come back before night." Poor Hannah turned away her head, and seemed to busy herself in another part of the room, and Mary again fell into an unquiet slumber.