Crown and Sceptre Part 81

Samson had taken a strip of linen out of his morion, and after twisting it round the slight, freely bleeding cut on his finger, held it up for Fred to tie.

"Thank ye kindly, sir. I meant that for a leg or a wing, but it will do again for them."

"I am very sorry, Samson," said Fred, giving the knot a final pull.

"Oh, it don't matter, sir; only don't try any o' them games again. So you thought I was a spy?"

"Yes."

"And what was you going to do with me?"

"Make you a prisoner, and take you down to camp."

"Well, you are a one!" said Samson, looking at his young master, and laughing. "Think of a whipper-snapper like you trying to capture a big chap like me."

Fred winced angrily.

"Well, not so much of a whipper-snapper as Master Scarlett, sir; but you haven't got much muscle, you know."

"Muscle enough to try."

"Yes, sir," said the ex-gardener, thoughtfully; "but it isn't the muscle so much as the try. It's the thinking like and scheming. You see a bit of rock stands up, and you can't move it with muscle, but if you put a little bit of rock close to it, and then get a pole or an iron bar, and puts it under the big rock and rests it on the little, and then pushes down the end, why, then, over the big rock goes, and it's out of your way."

"Yes, Samson," said Fred, thoughtfully, as he watched the advance; "and so you didn't care to go to the attack?"

"No, sir, I wouldn't; but it was tempting, though; ay, that it was."

"Tempting?"

"Well, you see, Master Fred, Nat has got some chyce cabbage seed, and he'd never give me a pinch, try how I would; no, nor yet sell a man a pen'orth. He kept it all to himself, just out of a nasty greedy spirit, so that his cabbages might be bigger and heavier than ours at the Manor.

I'd have had some of that seed if I'd gone, for he couldn't have come and stopped me now."

"No, poor fellow! I wonder how he is?"

"Getting better, sir. He's as tough as fifty-year-old yew. Nothing couldn't kill him; but look, sir, look! See how they're getting up to the terrace. Ah!"

This exclamation was made as a white puff suddenly seemed to dart from one of the windows of the Hall, and then there was another, and another, the reports seeming to follow, and then to echo from the next hill.

But no one in the attacking force seemed to fall, neither did it check them. On the contrary, they appeared to be spurred into action, and instead of creeping on as it were in a slow steady march, they broke up into little knots, and dashed forward, while a second line kept steadily on.

"Look at them! look at them, Master Fred! Don't it make you feel as if you wished you was in it?" cried Samson, excitedly. "That's it; fire away; but you won't stop 'em. All Coombeland boys, every man-jack of 'em, and you can't stop them when they mean business."

"No," said Fred between his teeth, as he tried to keep down the feelings of elation engendered by the gallantry of the attack, by forcing himself to think of how it would be were he Scarlett Markham, and these men enemies attacking his home. "Look, look, Samson!" he whispered, with his throat dry, his tongue clinging to the roof of his mouth, and the scar of his worst wound beginning to throb.

"Yes, I'm a-looking, sir," said Samson, in as husky a voice. "There, they've got a ladder up against the big long window, and they're swarming up it. They'll be in directly, and drive the long-haired gentlemen flying like leaves before a noo birch broom."

"No," said Fred, shading his eyes with his hands; "no. Ah, did you hear the crash? How horrible! Some of them must be killed."

"Not they, Master Fred. But I don't see how they did it. Fancy turning the ladder right back with seven or eight lads running up it! But it was well done."

"Can you see whether any one is hurt?"

"Not at this distance, sir. Not they, though, unless they've got any of those long thin swords skewered into them. I've tumbled twice that height out of apple-trees, and no one to fall upon. They'd all got some one to tumble on, except the bottom one, and I don't suppose he's much hurt."

"Hurt, man? He must be killed."

"Tchah! not he, sir. T'others would be too soft. Look, sir; don't lose none of it. You may never have such a chance again. Yes; there, they've got the ladder up once more, and some's holding it while the others goes up. Yes. Huzza! they'll do it now. No. If they haven't overturned it again."

"Yes," said Fred, sadly, and yet unable to help feeling pleased, so thoroughly were his sympathies on both sides. "They're giving it up, Samson; they're retiring."

"No, sir; only carrying some of the hurt ones out of the fight. There goes another ladder up--two. Hah! look at that!"

Fred's eyes were already riveted on the fresh scene, for, plainly seen even at that distance, the strong oaken-boarding screen nailed over the window at the end of the terrace on the ground floor was suddenly thrown down, and with a shout which was faintly heard on the hill, a party of about five and twenty Cavaliers rushed out, sword in hand, taking the attacking party in the flank with such vigour that they gave way, the two scaling-ladders were overturned, and for the moment the Puritans took to flight, and the attack seemed to have failed.

"Beaten, Samson," said Fred, unable to crush down a feeling of satisfaction, even at the reverse of his own party.

"Beaten, sir? Not they. Only driven back. It's just like the waves down by the cave, yonder; they come back again stronger than ever. Told you so, sir. Look at that."

Samson Dee was right, for a solitary figure had suddenly stepped forward from the second rank, rallied the beaten men, and advanced with them slowly and steadily. There was a desperate _melee_, as the Cavaliers, reinforced by more from within, tried to complete their rout, and then, as it seemed to the excited watchers, the Royalists were driven back step by step, by sheer force of numbers. Then in the midst of a seething confusion, all swayed here and there along the terrace, and on and on, till the barricaded windows and porch were reached, and then, as they were checked by the stubborn walls as water is stopped by a pier, they struggled fighting ever sidewise, a stream of mingled men along the front of the house and over the broken-down boarding, till the tide of confusion set right through the open window into the Hall.

At first this human current was a mingling of both sides; then the Cavalier element seemed to disappear, and as Fred watched with starting eyes, he could see at last that it was a steady stream of their own men which flowed through the opening.

"They're in, Master Fred! The day's ours. Hark! Hear them firing inside? Look! Look!"

It was plain enough to see: from the window, whence the scaling-ladders were thrown down, men come dropping forth sword in hand, Cavaliers evidently, to be encountered by those of the Puritan party still without. Then out came other Puritans, to take the Cavaliers in the rear, as they fought together in a knot facing all round, with their swords flashing as they made their gallant defence.

Then a rush seemed to take place, and they were overpowered, while the smoke came slowly rolling out from the open window, though the firing had ceased.

The fighting still went on within for a few minutes; then a rush as made out from door and window, and a tremendous cheer arose, loud enough to strike well upon the spectators' ears, helmets were seen flashing, swords flourished in the air, and it was plain enough that resistance had ceased, while the attacking force were gathering together once again.

"Smoke seems long while rolling out, Master Fred; must ha' been a deal o' firing we did not hear."

"Oh!" shouted Fred, as like a flash the truth came home to him.

"What's the matter, lad? Are you hurt?" cried Samson.

"No, no; look! The dear old Hall!" cried Fred. "Don't you see?"

"Smoke, sir? Yes."

"No, no, my good fellow, not smoke alone; the poor old place is on fire."

And without another word, Fred, followed closely by Samson, dashed down the hill.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

"IS THERE NOTHING WE CAN SAVE?"

It was too true.