So quickly were the preparations made
that by the time the cavalry came riding back from
Moor Fields they found the way barred to them.
The commander of the cavalry ordered his men to charge.
Harry, who had now taken the command of the crowd,
ordered a few of the apprentices to stand before the
first line of chains, so that these would not be visible
until the horses were close upon them. Behind
the chains he placed a strong body of watermen with
their oars, while behind these, and at the windows
of the houses, were the apprentices, each armed with
a quantity of stones and broken bricks. The cavalry
charged down upon the defense. When they reached
within a few yards of the apprentices in front, these
slipped under the chain. The leading troopers
halted, but were pressed by those behind them gainst
the chain. Then a ram of stones and brickbats
opened upon them, and the watermen struck down men
and horses with their heavy oars. In vain the
troopers tried with their swords to reach their opponents.
In vain they fired their pistols into the mass.
They were knocked down by the stones and brickbats
in numbers, and at last, their commander having been
struck senseless, the rest drew off, a tremendous
cheer greeting their retreat, from the crowd.
“Now,” Harry shouted,
taking his position on a doorstep, whence he could
be seen, “attend to me. The battle has only
begun yet, and they will bring up their infantry now.
Next time we will let them enter the street, and defend
the chains at the other end a party must
hold these do some of you fill each lane
which comes down on either side, and do ten of you
enter each house and take post at the upper windows,
with a good store of ammunition. Do not show yourselves
until the head of their column reaches the chain.
Then fling open the windows and pour volleys of stones
and bricks upon them. Then let those in the side
streets, each headed by parties of watermen, fall upon
their flanks. Never fear their musketry.
They can only give fire once before you are upon them.
The oars will beat down the pikes, and your clubs will
do the rest. Now let the apprentices of each
street form themselves into parties, each under their
captain. Let all be regular and orderly, and
we will show them what the Londoners can do.”
With a cheer the crowd separated,
and soon took post as Harry had directed. He
stationed himself at the barricade at the head of the
street. A quarter of an hour later the militia
were seen approaching in close column followed by
the cavalry. On arriving at the end of the street
the assailants removed the chain, and again advanced.
The street was silent until they neared its end.
The watermen had, under Harry’s direction, torn
up the paving stones, and formed a barricade breast
high, behind which, remaining crouched, they awaited
the assault.
The fight began by a volley of stones
from the apprentices behind the barricade. The
leading rank of the column discharged their muskets,
and rushed at the barricade; the watermen sprang to
oppose them. At the sound of the first shot every
window in the street opened, and a rain of bricks
and heavy stones poured down on all sides upon the
column, while at the same time dense masses flung
themselves upon its flanks, from every lane leading
into it. Confused and broken by the sudden onslaught
in the narrow street, the column halted, and endeavored
to open a fire upon the upper windows. This,
however, effected but little harm, while every brick
from above told upon their crowded mass. The column
was instantly in confusion, and Harry and his followers,
leaping over the barricade, and followed by the watermen
and apprentices behind, fell upon it with fury.
In vain did the Roundheads strive to repulse the attack.
Their numbers melted away as they fell, killed or senseless,
from the rain of missiles from above. Already
the column was rent by their assailants on the flanks,
and in less than five minutes from the commencement
of the assault those who remained on their legs were
driven headlong out into Moor Fields.
Loud rose the triumphant cry of the
defenders, “God and King Charles.”
Some hours elapsed before any attempt was made to renew
the assault. Then toward evening fresh troops
were brought up from Westminster, and the attack was
renewed on two sides. Still the apprentices held
their own. Attack after attack was repulsed.
All night the fight continued, and when morning dawned
the Royalists were still triumphant.
“How will it go, think you, Jacob?” Harry
asked.
“They will beat us in the long
run,” Jacob said. “They have not been
properly led yet. When they are, guns and swords
must prevail against clubs and stones.”
At eleven o’clock in the morning
a heavy body of cavalry were seen approaching from
Westminster. The Roundheads had brought up Cromwell’s
Ironsides, the victors in many a hard-fought field,
against the apprentice boys of London. The Roundhead
infantry advanced with their horse. As they approached
the first barricade the cavalry halted, and the infantry
advanced alone to within thirty yards of it. Then,
just as its defenders thought they were going to charge,
they halted, divided into bodies, and entered the
houses on either side, and appeared at the windows.
Then, as the Ironsides came down at a gallop, they
opened a heavy fire on the defenders of the barricade.
Harry saw at once that the tactics now adopted were
irresistible, and that further attempts at defense
would only lead to useless slaughter. He therefore
shouted:
“Enough for to-day, lads.
Every man back to his own house. We will begin
again when we choose. We have given them a good
lesson.”
In an instant the crowd dispersed,
and by the time the Ironsides had dismounted, broken
the chains, and pulled down the barricade sufficiently
to enable them to pass, Ludgate Hill was deserted,
the apprentices were back in their masters’
shops, and the watermen standing by their boats ready
for a fare.
Seeing that their persons were known
to so many of the citizens, and would be instantly
pointed out to the troops by those siding with the
army, who had, during the tumult, remained quietly
in their houses, watching from the windows what was
going on, Harry and his friends hurried straight to
Aldersgate, where they passed out into the country
beyond. Dressed in laborers’ smocks, which
they had, in preparation for any sudden flight, left
at the house of a Royalist innkeeper, a mile or two
in the fields, they walked to Kingston, crossed the
river there, and made for Southampton.
The king was now closely confined
in Carisbrook Castle. For the first three months
of his residence in the Isle of Wight he could have
escaped with ease, had he chosen, and it is probable
that Cromwell and the other leaders of the army would
have been glad that he should go, and thus relieve
the country from the inconvenience of his presence.
They had become convinced that so long as he lived
quiet could not be hoped for. While still pretending
to negotiate with them, he had signed a treaty with
the Scots, promising to establish Presbyterianism in
England, and their army was already marching south.
To the Irish Papists he had promised free exercise
of their religion, and these were taking up arms and
massacring all opposed to them, as was the custom in
that barbarous country. In Wales a formidable
insurrection had broken out. Essex and Kent were
up in arms, and, indeed, all through the country the
Royalists were stirring. The leaders had therefore
determined upon bringing the king to trial.
At Southampton Harry found Sir John
Berkeley concealed in a house where he had previously
instructed Harry he might be looked for. He told
him that the king was now a close prisoner, and would
assuredly escape if means could be provided.
Leaving Sir John, Harry joined his followers, and
after telling them the circumstances, they walked down
to the port. Here they entered into conversation
with an old sailor. Seeing that he was an honest
fellow, and in no way disposed toward the fanatics,
Harry told him that he and those with him were Cavaliers,
who sought to cross over into France.
“There is a boat, there,”
the sailor said, pointing to a lugger which was lying
at anchor among some fishing boats, “that will
carry you. The captain, Dick Wilson, is a friend
of mine, and often makes a run across to France on
dark nights, and brings back smuggled goods. I
know where he can be found, and will lead you to him,
if it so pleases you.” Upon their gladly
accepting the offer he led them to a small inn by the
water side, and introduced them to the captain of
the Moonlight, for so the lugger was called.
Upon receiving a hint from the sailor that his companions
wished to speak to him in private, Wilson led the way
upstairs to the chamber he occupied. Here Harry
at once unfolded to him the nature of the service
he required. He was to lay with his boat off
the bank of the island, making to sea before daylight,
and returning after dusk, and was to take his station
off a gap in the cliffs, known as Black Gang Chine,
where a footpath from above descended to the beach.
Upon a light being shown three times at the water’s
edge he was to send a boat immediately ashore, and
embarking those whom he might find there, sail for
France. If at the end of the week none should
come, he would know that his services would not be
required, and might sail away whither he listed.
He was to receive fifty guineas at once for the service,
and if he transported those who might come down to
the shore, to France, he would, on arriving there,
be paid two hundred and fifty more.
“It is the king, of course,
who seeks to escape,” the sailor said.
“Well, young gentlemen, for such I doubt not
that you are, I am ready to try it. We sailors
are near all for the king, and the fleet last week
declared for him, and sailed for Holland. So,
once on board, there will be little danger. Pay
me the fifty guineas at once, and you may rely upon
the Moonlight being at the point named.”
Harry handed over the money, and arranged
that on the third night following the lugger should
beat the post appointed, and that it should at once
run them across and land them at Cowes. It was
now the middle of May, and Harry and his friends,
who were still in the disguise of countrymen, walked
across to Newport. Their first step was to examine
the castle. It lay a short distance from the town,
was surrounded by a high wall with towers, and could
offer a strong resistance to an attacking force.
At the back of the castle was a small postern gate,
at which they decided that his escape must, if possible,
be made. Harry had been well supplied with money
by Sir John Berkeley before leaving Southampton, Sir
John himself, on account of his figure being so well
known at Newport, during his stay there with the king,
deeming it imprudent to take any personal part in
the enterprise. After an examination of the exterior
of the castle Harry bought a large basket of eggs,
and some chickens, and with these proceeded to the
castle. There was a guard at the gate, but persons
could freely enter. As Harry’s wares were
exceedingly cheap in price, he speedily effected a
sale of them to the soldiers and servants of the officers.
“I should like,” he said
to the man to whom he disposed of the last of the
contents of his basket, “to catch a sight of
the king. I ha’ never seen him.”
“That’s easy enough,”
the man said. “Just mount these stairs with
me to the wall. He is walking in the garden at
the back of the castle.”
Harry followed the man, and presently
reached a spot where he could look down into the garden.
The king was pacing up and down the walk, his head
bent, his hands behind his back, apparently in deep
thought. An attendant, a short distance behind
him, followed his steps.
“Be that the king?” Harry
asked. “He don’t look like a king.”
“That’s him,” the
man said, “and he’s not much of a king
at present.”
“Where does he live now?” Harry asked.
“That is his room,” the
man said, pointing to a window some ten feet from
the ground. After a little further conversation
Harry appeared to be satisfied, and returning to the
courtyard, made his way from the castle. During
that day and the next they remained quiet, except that
Jacob walked over to Cowes, where he purchased two
very fine and sharp saws, and a short length of strong
rope, with a hook. The following night they hired
a cart with a fast horse, and this they placed at a
spot a quarter of a mile from the castle.
Leaving the man in charge of it there,
Harry and his companions made for the back of the
castle. They could tell by the calls upon the
walls that the sentries were watchful, but the night
was so dark that they had no fear whatever of being
seen. Very quietly they crossed the moat, which
was shallow, and with but little water in it.
Then with an auger they cut four holes in a square
two feet each way in the door, and, with a saw, speedily
cut the piece inclosed by them out, and creeping through,
entered the garden. The greater part of the lights
were already extinguished, but that in the king’s
chamber was still burning. They made their way
quietly until they stood beneath this window, and waited
until the light here was also put out. Then Harry
climbed on to the shoulders of his companions, which
brought his face on a level with the window.
He tapped at it. The king, who had been warned
that his friends would attempt to open a means of
escape, at once came to the window, and threw open
the casement.
“Who is there?” he asked, in low tones.
“It is I, Harry Furness, your
majesty. I have two trusty friends with me.
We have cut a hole through the postern gate, a cart
is waiting without, and a ship lies ready to receive
you on the coast.”
“I am ready,” the king
said. “Thanks, my faithful servant.
But have you brought something to cut the bars?”
“The bars!” Henry exclaimed,
aghast. “I did not know that there were
bars!”
“There are, indeed, Master Furness,”
the king said, “and if you have no file the
enterprise is ruined.”
Harry put his hands on the stonework
and pulled himself up, and felt the bars within the
window.
“They are too strong for our
united strength,” he said, in a tone of deep
disappointment. “But methinks it is possible
to get between them.” Putting his head
between the bars he struggled though, but with great
difficulty. “See, your majesty, I have got
through.”
“Ay, Master Furness, but you
are slighter in figure than I, although you are changed
indeed since first the colonel, your father, presented
you to me at Oxford. However, I will try.”
The king tried, but in vain. He was stouter than
Harry, although less broadly built, and had none of
the lissomness which enabled the latter to wriggle
through the bars. “It is useless,”
he said at last. “Providence is against
me. It is the will of God that I should remain
here. It may be the decree of Heaven that even
yet I may sit again on the throne of my ancestors.
Now go, Master Furness. It is too late to renew
the attempt to-night. Should Charles Stuart ever
reign again over England, he will not forget your faithful
service.”
Harry kissed the king’s hand,
and with a prayer for his welfare he again made his
way through the bars and dropped from the window, by
the side of his companions, the tears streaming down
his cheeks with the disappointment and sorrow he felt
at the failure of his enterprise. “It is
all over,” he said. “The king cannot
force his way through the bars.”
Without another word they made their
way down to the postern, passed through it, and replaced
the piece of wood in its position, in the faint hope
that it might escape notice. Then they rejoined
the driver with the cart, paid him handsomely, and
told him that his services would not be required that
night at least. They then returned to their lodgings
in the town. The next morning early Jacob started
for Cowes to buy some sharp files and aquafortis,
but an hour later the news passed through Newport
that an attempt had been made in the night to free
the king, that a hole had been cut in the postern,
and the marks of footsteps discovered under the king’s
window. Perceiving that it would be useless to
renew the attempt now that the suspicions of the garrison
were aroused, Harry and William Long, fearing that
a search would be instituted, at once started for
Cowes. They met Jacob close to that town, crossed
in a boat to the mainland, and walked to Southampton.
They hesitated whether they should join Lord Goring,
who had risen in Kent, or Lord Capel and Sir Charles
Lucas, who had collected a large force at Colchester.
They determined upon the latter course, as the movement
appeared to promise a better chance of success.
Taking passage in a coaster, they sailed to the mouth
of the Thames, and being landed near Tilbury, made
their way to Colchester. Harry was, on his arrival,
welcomed by the Royalist leaders, who were well acquainted
with him. They proposed to march upon London,
which would, they felt sure, declare for the king
upon their approach. They had scarcely set their
force in motion when they heard that Fairfax, at the
head of an army, was marching against them. A
debate was held among the leaders as to the best course
to pursue. Some were for marching north, but the
eastern counties had, from the commencement of the
troubles, been wholly on the side of the Parliament.
Others were for dispersing the bands, and awaiting
a better opportunity for a rising. Sir Charles
Lucas, however, urged that they should defend Colchester
to the last.
“Here,” he said, “we
are doing good service to the Royal cause, and by
detaining Fairfax here, we shall give time to our friends
in Wales, Kent, and other parts to rise and organize.
If it is seen that whenever we meet the Roundheads
we disperse at once, hope and confidence will be lost.”
The next day the town was invested
by Fairfax, and shortly after the siege began in earnest.
The Royalists fought with great bravery, and for two
months every attempt of the Roundheads to storm the
place was repulsed. At length, however, supplies
ran short, several breaches had been made in the walls
by the Roundhead artillery, and a council of war was
held, at which it was decided that further resistance
was useless, and would only inflict a great slaughter
upon their followers, who, in the event of surrender,
would for the most part be permitted to return to
their homes. Harry Furness was present at the
council and agreed to the decision. He said,
however, that he would endeavor, with his two personal
followers, to effect his escape, as, if he were taken
a prisoner to London, he should be sure to be recognized
there as the leader of the rising in May, in which
case he doubted not that little mercy would be shown
to him. The Royalist leaders agreed with him,
but pointed out that his chances of escape were small,
as the town was closely beleaguered. Harry, however,
declared that he preferred the risk of being shot
while endeavoring to escape, to the certainty of being
executed if carried to London.
That night they procured some bladders,
for although Jacob and Harry were able to swim, William
Long could not do so, and in any case it was safer
to float than to swim. The bladders were blown
out and their necks securely fastened. The three
adventurers were then lowered from the wall by ropes,
and having fastened the bladders around them, noiselessly
entered the water. A numerous flotilla of ships
and boats of the Commons lay below the town; the tide
was running out, however, and the night dark, and
keeping hold of each other, so as not to be separated
by the tide, they drifted through these unobserved.
Once safely out of hearing, Jacob and Harry struck
out and towed their companion to shore. While
at Colchester they had been attired as Royalist officers,
but they had left these garments behind them, and
carried, strapped to their shoulders, above water,
the countrymen’s clothes in which they had entered
the town. They walked as far as Brentwood, where
they stopped for a few days, and learned the news
of what was passing throughout the country.
Colchester surrendered on the 27th
of August, the morning after they left it. Lord
Capel was sent a prisoner to London to be tried for
his life; but Fairfax caused Sir Charles Lucas and
Sir George Lisle to be tried by court-martial, and
shot. On the 10th of July the town and castle
of Pembroke had surrendered to Cromwell, who immediately
afterward marched north to meet the Scotch army, which
six days before had entered England. The Duke
of Hamilton, who commanded it, was at once joined
by five thousand English Royalists under Sir Marmaduke
Langdale. General Lambert, who commanded the
Parliamentary troops in the north, fell back to avoid
a battle until Cromwell could join him.
The Scotch army could not be called
a national force. The Scotch Parliament, influenced
by the Duke of Hamilton and others, had entered into
an agreement with King Charles, and undertook to reinstate
him on the throne. The more violent section,
headed by Argyll, were bitterly hostile to the step.
The Duke of Hamilton’s army, therefore, consisted
entirely of raw and undisciplined troops. Cromwell
marched with great speed through Wales to Gloucester,
and then on through Leicester and Nottingham, and
joined Lambert at Barnet Castle on the 12th of August.
Then he marched against the Scotch army, which, straggling
widely and thinking Cromwell still at a distance,
was advancing toward Manchester. On the 16th
the duke with his advanced guard was at Preston, with
Langdale on his left. Cromwell attacked Langdale
with his whole force next morning, and the Royalists
after fighting stoutly were entirely defeated.
Then he fell upon the Duke of Hamilton and the force
under him at Preston, and after four hours’
sharp fighting in the inclosures round the place,
defeated and drove them out of the town. That
night the Scots determined to retreat, and at once
began to scatter. General Baillie, after some
hard fighting around Warrington, surrendered with his
division. The duke with three thousand men went
to Nantwich. The country was hostile, his own
troops, wearied and dispirited, mutinied, and declared
they would fight no longer; the Duke of Hamilton thereupon
surrendered, the Scotch invasion of England came to
an end.