The march of the surrendered army was about to begin.
[1] It must be borne in mind that Humphrey Markham's narrative deals with the Civil War from the standpoint of an ardent young Royalist. Both sides were doubtless guilty of many excesses.
[Illustration: With undiminished speed the horse shot into space.]
CHAPTER IX
MY MEETING WITH AN OLD FOE
FOR over an hour a continuous stream of men in soiled buff coats passed in more or less military precision. Their arms, save those of the officers, had been piled or stacked, their colours handed over, and their cannons, most of which they themselves had spiked, were already parked and placed under a strong guard.
In many instances the men were still suffering from wounds, bandaged heads and limbs in slings being numerous.
The completeness of the surrender was, however, marred by the fact that on the previous night the rebel Earl of Essex had escaped from the town and taken boat to Fowey, whence, we afterwards learnt, a brig had conveyed him to Plymouth.