Roger Willoughby: A Story of the Times of Benbow

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Our father’s ale and cider are pretty strong, and if these fellows wake we are more than a match for them. We may either bind them and keep them prisoners somewhere in the neighbourhood, or we may put them to death, or you may escape by yourselves, while you lame their horses to prevent them from following you.”

“If we had the power we would choose the latter course,” said Stephen. “May they not revenge themselves by imprisoning your father and destroying his farm?”

“He will be far away from this before morning,” answered young Stubbs. “They will not catch a sight of any of us if we are in hiding, and they can scarcely injure our poor old mother, who will know nothing of your flight.”

“Then by all means let us try the latter course,” said Stephen, his spirits rising as he thought of once more obtaining his liberty.

“Come along then,” said young Stubbs. “One of us is going with you, the rest remain, for we are safer in hiding close to the farm than we should be in travelling across the country. We wish to serve you as we know you well. Mother will remain in the house, and be as much surprised as the soldiers when they find you, their prisoners, have gone. She is a wonderful woman, and will not yield an inch, besides which, we shall be at hand; should any violence be offered her by the soldiers, we will be ready to astonish them.”

Simon said this while he led the way to the stables. He quickly led out Stephen’s and Andrew’s horses, with one for himself.

“Mount,” he said. “There is no time to lose. My brothers will look after the troopers’ animals, and take good care that they are not in a fit condition to follow us. They have had no food all this time, poor brutes. Some they will lame, others they will let loose. Stay, there is one thing we forgot. The uniforms you wear are likely to betray you. It will be better to change them for my brothers’ clothing. Wait here, and I will be back in a minute.” Simon, who had not yet mounted, hurried into the house. He soon returned, bringing a couple of bundles, with two countrymen’s hats. “Now we will mount and away, and change these when we are farther on the road, before daybreak.”

At first they walked the horses, till they had got out of hearing of the house, then stuck their spurs into the animals’ flanks and galloped on. Simon knew the road, and did not pull rein for a dozen miles or more. He proposed, he said, riding right across Devonshire so as to reach the southern coast, where they might find a vessel going over to France, or still better, to Holland, where they would be among friends. Stephen and Andrew felt their spirits rise at thus finding themselves again at liberty, and they doubted not that this time they should make their escape. Simon was evidently a very intelligent fellow, and up to all sorts of plans and projects for eluding the enemy. As daylight approached he proposed entering a thick wood, in which he said he had no doubt a stream could be found for watering their horses; they could here change their clothes, and hide their uniforms in some place where they were not likely to be found. Stephen was inclined implicitly to follow his advice, and without hesitation did as he suggested; but after refreshing themselves, they changed their dresses, as proposed. Hunting about they found a hollow beneath an old tree; here they put in their uniforms, and covered the hole up again with light earth and leaves; they then remounting their horses, rode on again for a couple of hours more. Even should the Cornet and his men follow them, it was impossible that they could reach thus far for several hours to come; they accordingly dismounted by the side of a stream where there was sufficient grass for their horses; thanks to Simon’s forethought, they had food to last them, he calculated, till they could reach the coast. The next two stages were made at night, thus avoiding any dangerous questions being asked by the people they would have met if they had travelled by day. At length they considered that they might venture to travel during part of the day. Accordingly, after breakfasting near a stream, of which they found an abundance on their road, they pushed forward during the morning. As they kept as much as possible on the by-roads, and avoided the villages, they met but few people. Some of them looked at them askance, others addressed them and inquired where they were going, but the greater number took but little notice of them, supposing, probably, that they were farmers from a distance. A few, seeing that they were coming from the north, asked for information regarding the Duke of Monmouth’s misadventure. Of course, they could say they knew nothing of the Duke’s movements, and as to the battles which had been fought, the less said about them the better; they might be taken for partisans of one side or the other, and all they wanted just now was to attend to their own affairs, important enough to them, whatever they might be to others. This answer satisfied the inquirers, and the travellers got on with less inconvenience than they had expected. They were not generally very acute persons, or they might have suspected that Stephen and his brother, who were fine-looking young men, were not farmers, though Simon, both in his dialect and appearance, showed his real character. At length the coast was reached. It was one of those rocky secluded little bays, or coves as they are called, which abound on the shores of Devonshire; three or four fishermen’s cottages were scattered about on the sides of the cliffs; one was considerably larger and better built than the rest. In the centre of the bay floated a boat, or rather a little vessel.

“The probabilities are that that boat belongs to the owner of the cottage. She is large enough to carry us to France or Holland. If the owner will let her to us we can procure sufficient provisions.”

“Let us inquire then,” said Andrew. “Simon and I will stand by the horses, you will go down to the cottage.”