“Retain it you shall not,” cried Dare, flourishing a cane which he held in his hand. “Whether you are a cavalry officer or not, I will make you dismount from that horse,” and he advanced with a threatening gesture towards the high-spirited Scotchman. A fatal moment. Fletcher drew a pistol and ordered Dare to stand back. Dare still advanced, when, to the horror of all the bystanders, the pistol exploded, and Dare fell mortally wounded to the ground. Stephen and others ran to lift up the fallen man, but life had fled. Fletcher was instantly seized with remorse at the fatal act he had committed, when he saw Dare was no more. Numbers gathered from all parts, and among them came the son of the slain man, accompanied by a number of the new levies, who demanded punishment of the assassin. The Duke of Monmouth, hurrying up, in vain endeavoured to allay their anger. They threatened that if Fletcher was not arrested, they would take the law into their own hands and tear him to pieces. The poor Duke was almost distracted by this unfortunate event. In Dare he had lost a devoted partisan, while Fletcher was the only man besides himself in his whole army who had seen service, who, by his talents, was capable of acting as a General. As the only way to save him, he told him to consider himself under arrest and, turning to Stephen, directed him to convey Mr Fletcher on board his frigate, which still lay in the outer roads.
“I regret the duty I am called on to perform, Mr Fletcher,” said Stephen; “you must at once accompany me to the harbour.”
“I am under your command,” answered Mr Fletcher.
Upon which Stephen surrounded him with a party of his own men, who with difficulty kept off the followers of Mr Dare, who were thirsting for his blood. They however reached the quay in safety, when Stephen, with his prisoner and four of his men, embarked on board one of the frigate’s boats, which had just come to the shore. There was still a risk of their being pursued, so Stephen ordered the boat to pull off immediately for the frigate.
“I hope, sir, when it is known what provocation Mr Dare gave you, that the anger of the people will be appeased, and that you will be able to return and take command of the army.”
“Though disappointed with the class of persons who have flocked to the Duke’s standard, I will still gladly risk all for the sake of the noble cause in which he has embarked,” said Fletcher, “and I may hope that in a few days the tide will turn in my favour, though I confess with the deepest regret the result of my hasty temper.”
“Can I, in the meantime, be of any use to you on shore?” asked Stephen.
“Thank you, sir,” answered Fletcher. “I shall be obliged to you if you will bring my valise and papers which I left at the George; and as I may not have an opportunity of seeing the Duke for some time, I beg that you will express to him how deeply I regret what has taken place.”
Mr Fletcher was silent for the greater part of the way, and Stephen, having seen his prisoner on board, returned with his men to the shore. On landing he was met by frowning looks from many of those who had accompanied Mr Dare. Stephen at once made his way back to report what he had done to the Duke, who replied, “I must send you back once more with orders to the master of the ship to sail immediately, and to proceed along the coast to Bristol. I have given directions to have a mariner, one John Kerridge, impressed, as he is a skilful pilot, and will be able to conduct the ship to Bristol. You will engage a boat from the shore, and put him with Mr Fletcher on board.”
With these directions Stephen returned to the quay, where he found John Kerridge, who seemed in no wise desirous of performing the duty imposed upon him. However, being in the hands of armed men, he could not help himself, and was placed with a guard in the boat, in which Stephen conveyed him on board the frigate. Whenever Stephen had left her side, he saw her crew making preparations for getting under weigh. Her anchor was hove up, her sails set, and the wind being off shore, she at once stood out to sea.