A little way up the slope, above my semicircle of men, stood an old pollard willow, which I climbed as a post of observation, keeping my body in the shelter of its trunk, and having my face well shielded among the young shoots. I could see no Mulgrave livery in the crowd, so I concluded Boswell held the earl's men in reserve. The mob came along in a straggling fashion, and did not appear to look for any kind of defence outside the house, or to note our preparations, so well were my men covered. When they came within fifty or sixty paces, I cried, "Halt, or we fire."
The foremost of them stood and stared; but those behind pressed them forward. Some of them espied me, and sent a shower of bolts and stones about my head. At the same moment my men fired, and a dozen of the enemy fell. This, or some command from the middle of the crowd, brought them to a stand long enough for my men to reload and prime. There was no howling or yelling on the part of the others, which assured me of the presence among them of men who understood something of discipline, I heard a low buzz of talk among them, and then Boswell came to the front.
"Give me a hearing, you men of Belton. We have no quarrel with you. We want the murderer of my Lord Sheffield," he shouted.
"And the witch!" bawled and screamed a score of voices.
"And the witch," added Boswell.
"Steady, men. Don't let him draw your fire," said I. "There's a rush coming. Shoot, and retire."
The words were scarce out of my mouth, when the mob hurled a volley of shots, stones, and bolts, very much at random, and made forward at a run. Again more than a dozen of them dropped under my men's fire; but the rest continued the charge, breaking into shouts of triumph as they saw my Beltonians run to cover. Their shouts changed to yells and curses, as they received a well-directed fire from the second ring, and I hoped they would turn and run. But they came on, more enraged than daunted by their losses, and we were quickly engaged in a hand-to-hand fight, in which, strange to say, I had little active share, for four of my men gave me to understand they were my bodyguard, and they stuck to me so closely that I could not make play with my stout ash pole. So I made the best use of my eyes and ears, and it was well that I was compelled to do so, for while we were being swept to and fro, smiting and stabbing in a wild medley, some twenty-five or thirty horsemen came galloping along the lower road—Mulgrave men—with long muskets.
I blew my horn thrice, and the sound almost stopped the fight round the house. Up rose the trusty Mell and his men, and one half of them fired. Before the Mulgrave fellows could handle their pieces, four or five saddles were empty and two or three horses were down. The second half of Mell's men fired, while their comrades were reloading, with equal effect. The earl's retainers were not valiant enough to await a third volley, but fled helter-skelter the way they had come, all but those who could neither ride nor run. Mell followed them out of my view, and our scrambling struggle, which had slackened for the last few minutes, went on again fiercely.
There was a sort of method in the fighting of the Boswell party: they tried hard to drive or draw us to the rear of the house. Seeing this, I and my bodyguard worked round toward the front, and as we were doing so we heard a shot and a cry, "This way, Belton men!" The voice was John Drury's, I could swear. We rushed round, and for an instant stood as if thunderstricken, for, sure enough, there was John Drury at the landing-place, bare-headed, his face of a death-like pallor, raising gun to shoulder.
About fifty yards down stream were three boats filled with men. Some of them fired at us as we ran up to John, but did no hurt to any of us, while his shot brought down its man. Two of our men, who had disengaged themselves from the hurly burly, now loaded their guns and fired on the boats. To my unspeakable relief, Mell and his men ran up to our assistance, and poured such a steady fire on them as quickly drove them out of range.