Ferguson has left it on record—and, presumably, he had Fletcher's word for it—that it was no part of the Scot's intent to do Mr. Dare a mischief. He had but drawn the pistol to intimidate him into better manners, but in his haste he accidentally pulled the trigger.
However that may be, there was Dare as dead as the stones on which he lay, and Fletcher with a smoking pistol in his hand.
After that all was confusion. Fletcher was seized by those who had witnessed the deed; there was none thought it an accident; indeed, they were all ready enough to say that Fletcher had received excessive provocation. He was haled to the presence of the Duke with whom were Grey and Wilding at the time; and old Dare's son—an ensign in Goodenough's company—came clamouring for vengeance backed by such goodly numbers that the distraught Duke was forced to show at least the outward seeming of it.
Wilding, who knew the value of this Scottish soldier of fortune who had seen so much service, strenuously urged his enlargement. It was not a time to let the fortunes of a cause suffer through such an act as this, deplorable though it might be. The evidence showed that Fletcher had been provoked; he had been struck, a thing that might well justify the anger in the heat of which he had done this thing. Grey was stolid and silent, saying nothing either for or against the man who had divided with him under the Duke the honours of the supreme command.
Monmouth, white and horror-stricken, sat and listened first to Wilding, then to Dare, and lastly to Fletcher himself. But it was young Dare—Dare and his followers, who prevailed. They were too numerous and turbulent, and they must at all costs be conciliated, or there was no telling to what extremes they might not go. And so there was an end to the share of Andrew Fletcher of Saltoun in this undertaking—the end of the only man who was of any capacity to pilot it through the troubled waters that lay before it. Monmouth placed him under arrest and sent him aboard the frigate again, ordering her captain to sail at once. That was the utmost Monmouth could do to save him.
Wilding continued to plead with the Duke after Fletcher's removal, and to such good purpose that at last Monmouth determined that Fletcher should rejoin them later, when the affair should have blown over, and he sent word accordingly to the Scot. Even in this there were manifestations of antagonism between Mr. Wilding and Lord Grey, and it almost seemed enough that Wilding should suggest a course for Lord Grey instantly to oppose it.
The effects of Fletcher's removal were not long in following. On the morrow came the Bridport affair, and Grey's shameful conduct when, had he stood his ground, victory must have been assured the Duke's forces instead of just that honourable retreat by which Colonel Wade so gallantly saved the situation. Mr. Wilding did not mince his words in putting it that Grey had run away.
In his room at the George Inn, Monmouth, deeply distressed, asked Wilding and Colonel Matthews what action he should take in the matter—how deal with Grey.
“There is no other general in Europe would ask that, Your Grace,” answered Matthews gravely, and Mr. Wilding added without an instant's hesitation that His Grace's course was plain.
“It would be an unwise thing to expose the troops to the chance of more such happenings.”