A Lad of Grit: A Story of Adventure on Land and Sea in Restoration Times Read online

  CHAPTER II--Of the Arrest and Escape of Increase Joyce

  When I came to, the first vague impressions of consciousness were theexcited chatterings of what seemed to me a multitude of people. Then Isaw the flashing of the light of a log fire lightening the dark oakbeams of a room. I lay still, my temples throbbing like to burst, andmy head swimming till I felt ready to vomit. Trying to collect mythoughts, I realized that I was in the kitchen of our own house. Thenin an instant the whole scene of the tragedy in the pine-shrouded laneburst upon me in all its horror, and I raised myself on one elbow andfeebly articulated: "Father, say it is but a dream!"

  Gentle hands firmly put my head back upon a pillow, and a voice, which Irecognized as that of Master Salesbury, the chirurgeon, said: "The ladwill surely recover. No more letting of blood or cupping is needful. Ahot posset will not come amiss, good Mistress Heatherington, ere I takemy leave, for 'tis cold abroad."

  "Thou art right, Master Salesbury," replied another, Sir George Lee,who, I afterwards found out, had been summoned as a Justice of the Peaceto take down such evidence as could be obtained. "And as for you, sir,I must ask you to accompany me as my guest till this unfortunate mattercan fully be gone into."

  "Right gladly would I, worthy sir, but I ride hot-foot on affairs ofState. By ten of the clock I must deliver a sealed packet into thehands of Master Jack Tippets, the Mayor of Portsmouth."

  I started, and strove again to rise; the voice seemed but too familiarto my ears; but once more I was soothed into repose.

  "To Portsmouth, say you? Then why, may I ask, were you so far from thehighway?"

  "I had also to summon the Squire of Trotton----"

  "Trotton, say you? Then why didst take this road, seeing that theturning at Milland is the right and proper one?" demanded Sir Georgesternly.

  "I must have missed the right road, and, hearing shots, I suspected somefoul crime, and rode hither----"

  In an instant I connected that voice with that of the murderer, IncreaseJoyce, and with what strength yet remained I shouted: "Seize him; he ismy father's murderer!"

  Immediately all was commotion. Women shrieked--men shouted. Sir GeorgeLee sprang to his feet and whipped out his sword. "Arrest him," heordered. Two men, who were attendants at the Court Leet, placed theirhands on Joyce's shoulder.

  "Unhand me, men!" he exclaimed; "'tis a mistake--a grave mistake. Wouldye pay heed to the ravings of a light-headed child?"

  A wave of indecision swept over the people present; but, in spite ofextreme physical pain, I had raised myself on my elbow, and in reply Irepudiated the Roundhead's taunt. "I am not light-headed nor is it amistake. That man shot my father with a petronel not a furlong fromthis house."

  But Joyce doggedly followed up his line of argument. "Look, worthysir," he reiterated, "the lad is still wandering. Why, when I came uponthem, the boy was stretched senseless on the roadway. I pray you, orderyour men to release me. I journey on the business of the Commonwealth."

  The two men released their hold, but Sir George turned on them with arage quite unusual to him. "Were ye told to unhand him, dolts?" heshouted. "A messenger of the Commonwealth or no messenger, I take theresponsibility. Bind him, and away to Midhurst with him at once."

  With an oath the scoundrel shook off his two captors and threw himselfbodily on Sir George. Taken unawares, the knight could ill defendhimself, and before the bystanders could interfere, a knife flashed inthe firelight and was buried in his body. Then the two henchmengrappled with the Roundhead, and all three rolled in a heap on thefloor. It was not until the miscreant was stunned by a blow from amilking stool that he was finally secured, and attention could be givento Sir George Lee.

  The knight was leaning against the wall, his head slightly bent, while adeadly pallor overspread his face, on which, however, lurked apeculiarly grim smile.

  "Art hurt, Sir George?" asked Master Salesbury.

  "Nay, Doctor, 'tis not a case for your hands this time, thanks to LawyerWhitehead; I am but winded."

  "To Lawyer Whitehead! How?"

  "Ay, to Lawyer Whitehead! 'Tis the first time in twenty-nine years thatI have been well served by a lawyer, and even this once it was not as adeliberate act of kindness." And, drawing from his pocket a thickbundle of parchment, partly cut through by the villain's knife, he heldit up for inspection.

  At that moment the door opened and a sturdy countryman entered, pullinghis forelock as a mark of respect to Sir George, and handed him apetronel which I recognized only too well.

  "Zure, sir, I did find 'e but d'ree paces from t' road where they killedMaister Wentworth."

  Under guard, the villain, now in a half-dazed condition, was removed ina cart to the jail at Midhurst. Most of those present dispersed, and,faint and tired, I fell into a troubled sleep.

  A week passed ere I had sufficient strength to be able to sit up. Underthe careful nursing of Mistress Heatherington my bodily hurts werehealed, though the mental anguish of that terrible night still grippedme in a relentless grasp.

  It was on a Tuesday morning when Sir George came to the cottage toenquire how I progressed, and to tell me that he was taking me to thecourthouse at Midhurst on the following Monday morning, should I be wellenough to bear the journey.

  "Lad," he exclaimed, "I would I could fathom this mystery! Thy father'sslayer is no mean reaver or cutpurse; yet, though we have him safe bythe heels, manacled and leg-ironed, and threaten him with thethumbscrews, never a word can be wrung from him. Was there ever a feud'twixt thy sire and him?"

  I told the knight of the event that took place at the sign of the"Flying Bull", and of the meeting with the villain in the moonlit lane.Sir George listened attentively, and, proud of being privileged to talkto so exalted a personage as the wealthiest man for miles around Rake, Ilet my tongue run wild for the space of nigh on an hour.

  When I had finished, Sir George, who had never ceased to stroke hisbeard and play a tattoo with his fingers on the table, remained silentfor a few minutes; then suddenly he exclaimed:

  "Holwick! Captain Slingsby of Monk's Regiment of Horse! 'Tis passingstrange, yet----"

  His remarks were cut short by the thunder of a horse's hoofs, and a mansuddenly burst in through the door and exclaimed breathlessly: "Oh, SirGeorge! Sir George!"

  "Well, sirrah?"

  But the man could only stammer out: "Oh, Sir George!"

  This was more than the choleric old knight could stand. "Don't standthere babbling like a drunken mummer at Martinmas fair!" he shouted,with a round oath. "Deliver thy message, dolt!"

  "Oh, Sir George! The murderer Joyce hath escaped!"

  With another furious outburst the knight rushed out of the room, mountedhis horse, and, followed by his two servants and the messenger ofill-tidings, rode furiously down the road to Midhurst, the noise of thehorses' hoofs clattering on the frosty road testifying to the speed atwhich they were urged.

  News travels apace, and in less than an hour it was all over our villagethat Joyce had by some means obtained a file, cut through his fetters,and, after a murderous attack on his jailer, had broken out of MidhurstJail, and was last seen making his way towards the bleak Sussex Downs.

  My father had already been laid to rest in the quiet little churchyardof Trotton, and on making an examination of the little house where wedwelt, his will was discovered. The reading of this will, though oflittle interest to me (on account, I now suppose, of my youth), was theoccasion of an assembly of many of the friends of my father, the numbersurprising me; for, though highly respected, he was not one who was fondof associating with our neighbours.

  There were present, besides Sir George Lee, who appeared to take a greatinterest in me, Lawyer Whitehead, Howard Hobbs and Jack Alexander ofIping, both of whom had seen service under Prince Rupert; ArthurConolly, an Irish veteran who had served in the Low Countries, and whohad come over from Chichester for the occasion; Arthur Lewis, agentleman of Bramshott; Percy Young, an officer of the navy, who in hisearli
er days had lost a leg in the action of La Rochelle; HerbertCollings, a master mariner of Gosport, who used to be a frequent visitorat our house, and who greatly interested me with the account of hisadventures off the coast of Barbary; and Giles Perrin, the landlord ofthe "Flying Bull", who modestly seated himself on a stool in a remotecorner of the room. There were also several others whose names Iforget.

  Lawyer Whitehead, whose name did not belie his appearance, adjusted hishorn spectacles, and, unfolding a parchment, read the will, which is asfollows:--

  "In the Name of God, Amen, I, Owen Wentworth, late of Holwick in thecountie of Yorks" [here followed some word that had been erased and"yeoman" written above] "being whole of bodie and perfect of mynde, doordaine and make this my last will and testament in manner and formefollowinge: First, I commend my soule into the handes of Almightie Godmy Creator, and my bodie to be buried in the churchyarde at Trotton.Item, I give to the poor of the parish of Rake ten pounds to be dividedamongst them by the discretion of my Executors. Item, I give to SirGeorge Lee, knight, in token of friendship, my horse, alsoe a box andcontents now deposited with Master Whitehead, Lawyer of Midhurst. Item,to my sister Margaret, now wedded to George Anderson, Clerk of Ye Surveyat the Dockyarde neare Portesmouth, One hundred Pounds. Item, to thesaid George Anderson the sum of Twenty and five Pounds yearly, providedthat the said George Anderson doth fulfil to the letter the instructionsset forth by me and intrusted to the keeping of the aforesaid MasterWhitehead, Lawyer of Midhurst.

  "Item, to all persons hereinafter named" [here followed a long list ofnames, embracing all present and many besides], "provided that they payme the last respects due to me, I give XX*s*. Item, to John Alexanderand Arthur Lewis, my welbeloved friends and Executors, I give FivePounds apiece.

  "Item, to my deerly beloved sonne Aubrey I give the residue of myestate, to be held in trust by the aforesaid George Anderson till mysonne attain the age of XXI yeares, if he doe so long live.

  "It is my will alsoe that my sonne Aubrey shall take charge and have andhold the metal box that I do always carry attached to my belt, sufferingnot the same to go out of hys possession, so that it will help in asmall matter whereof he knoweth not yet.

  "Item, it is my will if the above named Aubrey my sonne doth dye withoutheires or before he come to the age of XXI years, the residue shallremain to my sister Margaret Anderson and her heires forever."

  There was a buzz of suppressed excitement when Master Whitehead hadended the reading of this lengthy will. Clearly my father was a farricher man than most people had wot of; moreover, there was a cloud ofmystery hanging over the will--that was evident by the darkly wordedpassage about keeping the instructions.

  But before there was time for discussion the lawyer brought out anotherbulky packet, fastened with a large red seal. This he broke andwithdrew the contents, revealing yet another sealed missive and a sheetof vellum written in my father's hand. The missive was addressed: "Intrust for my sonne Aubrey Wentworth. To Master George Anderson, dwellingin St. Thomas Street in Ye Burrough of Portesmouth. Not to be openedunder paine of my displeasure till my sonne attaine the age of XXIyears."

  The letter gave instructions for me to be sent to my uncle's atPortsmouth, to be provided for until I could choose for myself what Ishould be, at the same time exhorting me to serve faithfully His MajestyKing Charles II or his lawful successor, and to abstain from vain oridle longings to break the seals of the enclosed package till thestipulated time limit had expired.

  This the lawyer gravely handed to me, expressing his satisfaction at theprospect before me--a statement that left me more bewildered thanbefore.

  Then Sir George Lee spoke, enquiring where was the small metal box thatmy father had mentioned.

  Here was another mystery. No one knew or had seen the box. MistressHeatherington and both the servants, Giles and William, who had broughthome the body of my murdered sire, had been ignorant of its existence,and, at the request of Lawyer Whitehead, the clothes my father wore atthe time of his death were produced. There was the belt--a highlyornamented broad band of Spanish leather. The lawyer took and examinedit, then passed it on to Sir George, who also looked at it closely, evenbending and shaking it in the hope that the missing box might be hiddenbetween the layers of leather.

  "Ah, what has been here?" exclaimed the knight, pointing to a series ofminute holes round a patch of leather that was not quite so discolouredas the rest.

  Clearly the mysterious box was missing, and it was evident that it hadbeen forced away from the leathern belt. Then arose the question, howcould it have been detached, and who was the miscreant who had taken it?

  The debate lasted for a long while, but all present were agreed that thevillain Joyce must have annexed it for some particular motive, though'twas evident that robbery was not intended, the box being of someworthless metal.

  Master Whitehead then gave to Sir George an oaken box which my fatherhad mentioned in his will. The knight opened it, disclosing a lacehandkerchief marked with a deep brown stain, to which was fastened apiece of parchment inscribed: "Stained with y^e blood of y^e Martyr HisM^tie King Charles", the jewelled hilt of a sword, a ring, and severalpapers.

  The knight reverently pressed his lips to the royal relic, thenproceeded to peruse the various papers. The first he looked at intentlyfor some moments, then read aloud the following words:--

  "To Beverley Gate on fir trees that wall keeping from y^e 11J feete cometo of mine directions in desires I sonne having."

  Again he read these unmeaning words, his brows knitting in undisguisedperplexity; then he handed the paper to the lawyer, who, after severalvain attempts to produce a proper sentence, turned it over in his hand.Something was written on the back; but without saying a word he returnedthe paper to Sir George, first tapping the writing with his forefingerand clearly indicating that the knight should likewise keep silence.

  My sharp wits clearly told me that Sir George by his manner was angrywith himself for having read the paper aloud. Hastily thrusting it backinto the box, he slammed to the lid and prepared to take his departure.

  The rest of the assembled company followed his example, and, with an armaching with the result of vigorous handshakes, I was left alone withMistress Heatherington.

  It was the last I saw of kind Sir George Lee for many a long year.