Legends of Lancashire

by Peter Landreth

“Prevent them,” cried the governor, “from recovering the dead body of their comrade. Let him at least be useful in his death, and be a meal to the crows and the vultures.”

But although the musketry wrought havock among the Roundheads who approached, they bore off Obadiah, whilst they put to the sword all the inhabitants whom they met scouring the streets in their fear. They returned reinforced, in spite of the cannon, which was now also turned against them, and they entered the church, and from the broken windows took aim at the besieged with their muskets.

Cromwell remained with the soldiers on the hill, and was seen whenever the dense smoke was occasionally rolled away by sharp breezes which arose, walking from cannon to cannon, encouraging and giving directions. Many a ball was aimed at him, but he seemed to escape unhurt.

“Old Noll, is invincible,” said one of the soldiers, “for, now, I loaded my musket with a silver coin, and took such a correct aim, that I could have wagered that the very wart on his nose would receive the charge, and yet, there he is moving about, and raising his prospective glass. He is the son of a witch!”

Throughout the whole summer’s day the cannons thundered. They had taken effect upon the highest battlements, as well as on the gateway, for these were sadly shattered. Many of the Royalists had fallen as they sallied forth upon the Roundheads, in the church; and a few had been wounded, as they manned the castle walls and served the cannon. But the governor, a brave old man, refused to surrender, as long as one stone of the fortress was left.

“See, my soldiers, the flag of Charles, still waves true to him, although it be in rags. Let us be as faithful.”

At sunset, a signal of truce was displayed, on the hill, and the cannons ceased; but the party who had occupied the church still kept up the fire, and the governor directed his men not to cannonade the church but to retire to the turrets, where the roundhead musketry would be harmless. As night came on, the inmates of the church, however, found that there was little good cheer to be had in Zion. The vestry had been ransacked, the communion cups examined, but no wine could be found, and there was not bread enough to supper a church mouse.

“Well,” exclaimed one, “it is of no use firing, let us barricade the doors, and compose ourselves to rest. I choose the pulpit for my bed. Soft cushions to dose on!”

The same spirit of sleep had descended upon the soldiers of the castle, and even some of the sentries were stretched out on the battlements. The governor and his son, did not awake them, as they walked together. Their eyes were fixed upon the enemy’s camp, when suddenly a wide flash was seen, and a cannon shot struck against the turrets. The firing continued, and soon, it was as regularly returned, when loud shouts arose within the lower courts. The next moment a party of roundheads were among the governor’s men, headed by Cromwell and Captain Birch, who had just arrived to act in concert with the general. The governor was seized and bound, and, along with his son, placed under a strong guard, while his men were put to the sword, overcome by the unexpected attack. The Royal flag was lowered, and in a short time the castle was in the possession of the roundhead troops!

“Captain,” said Cromwell, “our stratagem has succeeded. By playing the cannon, we diverted their attention to the hill where we were posted, and thus we advanced unseen. But where is the gallant officer of your department, who led the way, and clambered up the gateway?”