Cruikshank's Water Colours

by William Harrison Ainsworth; Charles Dickens; W. H. Maxwell

It was a beautfully bright night—the moon being at the full, and the sky filled with fleecy clouds. On the left lay ridges of pointed-roofed houses, covered with the warm-looking and mellow-tinted tile, so preferable to the cold blue slate—broken with stacks of chimneys of every size and form—dormer windows, gables, overhanging storeys and other picturesque and fantastic projections; and the view being terminated, at some quarter of a mile’s distance, by the tall towers and part of the roof of Westminster Abbey.

Viewed thus, the whole picture looked exquisitely tranquil and beautiful. The fires in the houses were almost all extinguished, and little or no smoke issued from the chimneys to pollute the clear atmosphere. Above the venerable and majestic fane hung the queen of night, flooding its towers—seen at such an hour to the greatest advantage—with silvery light, and throwing some of the nearer buildings and projections into deep shadow, and so adding to the beauty of the scene. On the right, the view extended over other house-tops to the gardens and fields of Pimlico. Behind was Saint James’s Park, with its stately avenues of trees, its long canal, and Rosamond’s Pond glimmering in the moonlight; while in front lay the New Artillery Ground, and the open and marshy grounds constituting Totnill Fields. But it will be readily imagined that neither Firebras nor his companions looked to the right or to the left. They were only conscious of the danger by which they were menaced, and were further discouraged by Father Verselyn, who at that moment scrambled over the roof they were about to cross, to inform them that the door by which they hoped to escape could not be got open.

‘Everything seems to have gone wrong! cried Verselyn in an ecstasy of terror. ‘What will become of us?’

‘Jacta est alea,’ replied Sir Norfolk composedly. ‘We must fight for it, father.’

‘Heaven and all its saints protect us,’ cried the priest, crossing himself.

‘Be composed, father,’ rejoined Firebras sternly. ‘You ought to be equal to any circumstances in which you may be placed.

The latter exclamation was occasioned by a joyous shout, announcing that their friends had succeeded in opening the door; and the next moment the good news was confirmed by Sir Bulkeley Price, who clambered over the roof to acquaint them with it. On hearing this the party instantly beat a retreat; and their flight was accelerated by the officer and the tall grenadier, who at that moment sprung out of the window. Even Sir Norfolk was urged to a little more expedition than usual; and two or three of his mighty strides brought him to the top of the roof. Cardwell Firebras would not have been much behind him, if Father Verselyn had not caught hold of his coat-tails to help himself up the ascent, which he felt wholly unable to accomplish without assistance. By this time the officer was well-nigh upon them; and, finding his summons to surrender wholly disregarded, he made a pass at the priest, which took effect in the fleshy part of his leg, restoring him at once to more than his former agility. Uttering a loud yell, and clapping his hand to the wounded limb to stanch the blood, Father Verselyn bounded over the roof, and made to the door through which the landlord and Mr. Travers had already disappeared, and through which Mr. Cripps was now darting. Between the two roofs lay a small flat space, used by its former proprietor as a place for drying clothes, as was evident from the four tall posts at the corners.

Here Firebras and Sir Norfolk came to a stand, resolved to dispute the passage with their pursuers. Sword in hand, and calling to them to surrender, the foremost officer dashed down the roof; but his precipitation placed him at the mercy of Fire-bras; for his foot slipping, the latter struck his sword from his grasp. Sir Norfolk, in the interim, had encountered another foeman with equal success. This was the tall grenadier, who, as he descended, made a thrust at the baronet with his halberd, which the latter very adroitly parried, and, lunging in return, disabled his adversary by a wound in the arm. At the same moment, too, the tiles gave way under the weight of the grenadier, and he sank above the knees in the roof. Other foes were now at hand. The second officer, carrying a lantern in one hand, and a drawn sword in the other, appeared on the roof; while the tall caps and bayonets of the rest of the grenadiers were seen above it. Though Sir Norfolk, whose blood was up, would have willingly awaited the advance of these new opponents, he yielded to the entreaties of Firebras, and followed him through the door, which was instantly secured behind them by a couple of strong bolts.

The house in which the Jacobites had taken refuge was expressly hired by them for an occasion like the present, and kept wholly uninhabited. The mode of communication between it and the Rose and Crown will, it is hoped, be sufficiently understood from the foregoing description. That so many unforeseen accidents should have occurred at a time when, if ever, things ought to have been in readiness, almost drove the poor landlord distracted; but if he could have watched Mr. Cripps’s manoeuvres, he would have speedily found out the cause of the delays. In the first instance, a penknife, dexterously slipped by the valet into the groove of the window, prevented it from moving, and had well-nigh, as has been seen, occasioned the capture of the fugitives. This difficulty having been overcome by the strenuous efforts of Sir Bulkeley and Mr. Travers, Mr. Cripps was the first to scramble through the window.

‘Which way?’ he cried to the landlord, who was following.