Mike, when night fell, moved away
toward the castle, which lay about a quarter of a
mile from the village. Approaching to within fifty
yards of the gate, he sat down to watch. About
eleven o’clock he heard the creak of the gate,
and presently was startled by seeing two horsemen ride
past him. “They must have muffled their
horses’ feet,” he said to himself.
“They are up to no good. I wish there had
only been one of them.” Mike slipped off
his shoes and started in pursuit, keeping just far
enough behind the horsemen to enable him to observe
the outline of their figures. For half a mile
they proceeded quietly. Then they stopped, dismounted,
removed the cloths from their horses’ feet, and
remounting rode forward at a gallop. Mike’s
old exercise as a runner now rendered him good service.
He could already tell, by the direction which the
horsemen were taking, that they were bearing to the
east of Edinburgh, but he resolved to follow as far
as possible in order to see exactly whither they went.
The road, or rather track, lay across a moorland country.
The ground was often deep and quaggy, and the horsemen
several times checked their speed, and went at a slow
walk, one advancing on foot along the track to guide
the way. These halts allowed breathing time for
Mike, who found it hard work to keep near them when
going at full speed. At last, after riding for
an hour, the horsemen halted at a solitary house on
the moorland, Here several horses, held by troopers,
were standing. Mike crept round to the back of
the house, and looked in at the window. He saw
two English officers sitting by a fire, while a light
burned on a table. Mike at once recognized in
one of them the dreaded General Cromwell, whom he
had seen at Drogheda.
“What a fool I was,” he
muttered to himself, “to have come without my
pistol. I would have shot him as he sits, and
so wiped out Drogheda.”
At the moment the door opened, and
a trooper in Scotch uniform entered. “I
have brought this letter,” he said, “from
Alan Campbell.”
The general took the letter and opened
it. “Campbell promises,” he said
to the other officer, “to open fire upon the
detachment in the village with the guns of the castle
as soon as we attack. One of the men who has
brought this will remain here and guide our troops
across the morass. He suggests that two hundred
foot and as many horse should be here at eight to-morrow
evening. All he stipulates for is that Colonel
Furness, the Royalist who commands the enemy’s
detachment, shall be given over to him, he having,
it seems, some enmity with Argyll. Furness? ah,
that is the officer whom I sent to the Bermudas
from Drogheda. We had advices of his having got
away and captured a ship with other prisoners on board.
A bold fellow, and a good officer, but all the more
dangerous. Let Campbell do with him as he likes.”
The other officer drew out an inkhorn
and wrote, at Cromwell’s dictation, his adherence
to the terms offered by Alan Campbell. Cromwell
signed the paper, and handed it to the messenger.
Then the English general and his escort mounted and
rode off. Campbell’s retainers sat for
half an hour drinking together. Then they came
to the door. One mounted, and saying to the other,
“I would rather have twenty-four hours’
sleep such as you have before you, than have to ride
back to Kirkglen to-night; the mist is setting in
thickly,” rode off into the darkness.
Mike kept close to him, until at last
the man dismounted to follow the track where the morass
was most dangerous. In an instant Mike sprang
upon him and buried his dagger in his body. Without
a cry the trooper fell. Mike felt in his doublet
for Cromwell’s letter. Placing this in
his breast, he went a few paces from the path where
he found that he sunk to his knees, the water being
some inches deep over the bog. Then he returned,
lifted the body of the trooper, carried it as far into
the bog as he dared venture, and then dropped it.
He placed his foot on the iron breastpiece, and pressed
until the body sank in the soft ooze, and the water
completely covered it. Then he went back to the
horse, and taking the reins, followed the track until
completely clear of the moorland country, where, mounting,
he rode back to Kirkglen, and presented himself to
Harry. The latter had, hours before, gone to bed,
having posted strong guards around the village.
He struck a light and listened to Mike’s relation
of what he had done, and ended by the production of
the document with Cromwell’s signature.
“Another debt to the Earl of
Argyll,” Harry said grimly. “However,
although this proves the treachery of his kinsman,
it does not convict Argyll himself, although the evidence
is strong enough to hang any other man. Now,
Leslie, what do you advise? Shall we send and
seize the man left at the hut?”
“It is a doubtful question,”
Leslie answered, after a pause. “When Campbell
finds that his messenger does not return before morning,
he will like enough send others off to learn the reason
why. If they find him gone, Campbell may suspect
that his plan has failed and may send warning to Cromwell.”
“At any rate,” Harry continued,
“we need not decide before morning. But
at daybreak, Leslie, plant a party of men on the road
and stop any horseman riding out. Let the sergeant
in charge say only that he has my orders that none
are to pass eastward. It would be a natural precaution
to take, and when the news comes back to the castle,
Campbell will not necessarily know that his scheme
has been detected.”
The next morning Leslie volunteered
to go out with a couple of men and capture the guide,
and arraying himself in his clothes, to take his place,
and lead the Roundhead troops astray.
“Were the country other than
it is,” Harry said, “I would accept your
offer, my brave Leslie, even though it might entail
your death, for it would be difficult for you to slip
away. But over such ground there is no need of
this. Let the guide lead the Roundhead troops
along the path. We will reconnoiter the morass
to-day, and when night falls will so post our men
as to open a fire on either flank of him as he comes
across the track. Not more than four footmen
can march abreast, according to what Mike says, and
we shall surprise him, instead of he surprising us.”
An hour later two horsemen rode out
from the castle, but upon reaching the guard Leslie
had placed were turned back. They returned to
the castle, and a short time afterward a trooper rode
down into the village with a note from Alan Campbell,
demanding haughtily by what warrant Colonel Furness
ventured to interfere with the free passage of his
retainers. Harry replied that he had, as a military
precaution, stationed guards on the various roads
leading toward the enemy’s quarter, and that
they were ordered to turn back all, whomsoever they
might be, who might seek to pass.
Alan Campbell returned a furious answer,
that he should sally out with his garrison, and ride
where he listed. Harry replied by marching fifty
men up to the road leading to the castle, and by sending
a message to Alan Campbell that, although he should
regret to be obliged to treat him as an enemy, yet
that assuredly if he strove by force to break the
military rules he had laid down, he should be compelled
to fire upon him. Leaving the detachment under
charge of Lieutenant Long, and the main body in the
village under that of Hugh Grahame, Harry, accompanied
by Donald Leslie and Mike, rode off to reconnoiter
the morass. They found that it was particularly
bad at two points, while between these the ground
was firm for a distance of twenty yards on each side
of the track. Beyond the swamp was very deep
for thirty or forty yards on both sides, and then
it was again somewhat firmer.
Harry decided to post twenty-five
men behind these quagmires. Their orders would
be to remain perfectly quiet until the column, passing
the first morass, should have entered the second;
then, when Harry, with the main body, opened fire
upon them there, they were to commence upon the flanks
of the column.
Returning to the camp, Harry sent
forty men with shovels, obtained in the village, to
dig a trench, twelve feet wide, and as deep as they
could get for the water, across the track, at the near
side of the morass.
At nightfall, leaving twenty-five
men under William Long in front of the castle, with
orders to let none issue forth, and to shoot down any
who might make the attempt, Harry marched out with
the rest of his command. Crossing the ditch which
had been dug, he led fifty forward, and posted them,
as he had planned with Leslie; with twenty-five, he
took up his own station behind the breastwork formed
by the earth thrown out from the trench. The
remaining fifty he bade advance as far as they safely
could into the swamp on either side. Two hours
later a dull sound was heard, the occasional clink
of arms, and the muffled tread of many feet on the
soft ground. The Roundhead infantry, two hundred
strong, led the way, followed by their horse, the
guide walking with the officer at the head of the
column. When it approached within twenty yards
of the ditch Harry gave the word, and a flash of fire
streamed from the top of the earthwork. At the
same moment those on either side opened fire into the
flanks of the column, while the fifty men beyond poured
their fire into the cavalry in the rear of the column.
For a moment all was confusion.
The Roundheads had anticipated no attack, and were
taken wholly by surprise. The guide had fallen
at the first discharge and all were ignorant of the
ground on which they found themselves. They were,
however, trained to conflict. Those on the flank
of the column endeavored to penetrate the morass, but
they immediately sank to the middle, and had much
ado to regain the solid track. The head of the
column, pouring a volley into their invisible foes,
leveled their pikes, and rushed to the assault.
A few steps, and they fell into a deep hole, breast
high with water, and on whose slippery bottom their
feet could scarce find standing. In vain they
struggled forward. From front and flank the fire
of their enemy smote them. Those who reached the
opposite side of the trench were run through with pikes
as they strove to climb from it.
For ten minutes the desperate struggle
continued, and then, finding the impossibility of
storming such a position in the face of foes of whose
strength they were ignorant, the Roundhead infantry
turned, and in good order marched back, leaving half
their number dead behind them. The cavalry in
the rear had fared but little better. Finding
the ground on either side was firm when the fire opened
on their flanks, they faced both ways, and charged.
But ere the horses had gone twenty strides they were
struggling to their girths in the morass. Their
foes kept up a steady fire, at forty yards’
distance, into the struggling mass, and before they
could extricate themselves and regain the pathway,
many leaving their horses behind, a third of their
number had fallen. Joined by the beaten infantry,
they retired across the track, and made their way
back toward their camp.
Leaving a strong guard at the morass
to resist further attempts, Harry returned with his
force to the village having inflicted a loss of a
hundred and fifty upon enemy, while he himself had
lost but eight men. He intrenched the position
strongly, and remained there unmolested, until a week
later he received orders to march back to Edinburgh.
The following day he was summoned before King Charles.
He found there General Leslie, the Earl of Argyll,
Alan Campbell, and several of the leaders of the Covenant.
“What is this I hear of you,
Colonel Furness?” the king said. “General
Leslie has reported to me that you have inflicted a
very heavy defeat upon a rebel force which marched
to surprise you. This is good service, and for
it I render you my hearty thanks. But, sir, the
Earl of Argyll complains to me that you have beleaguered
his kinsman, Alan Campbell, in his hold at Kirkglen,
and treated him as a prisoner, suffering none to go
out or in during your stay there.”
“This, sire, is the warranty
for my conduct,” Harry said, producing the document
signed by Cromwell. “This was taken by one
of my men from a trooper who had borne a dispatch
from Alan Campbell to the enemy. My man watched
the interview between him and Cromwell himself, heard
the terms of the dispatch, and saw Cromwell write
and give this letter to the trooper, whom he afterward
slew, and brought me the letter. The other trooper,
who acted as guide to the enemy, fell in the attack.”
The king took the letter and read
it. “My lord,” he said, “this
is a matter which gravely touches your honor.
This is a letter of General Cromwell’s in answer
to a traitorous communication of your kinsman here.
He has offered to betray Colonel Furness and the troops
under him to Cromwell, and has sent a guide for the
English troops. He stipulates only that Colonel
Furness shall be handed over to him to do as he likes
with. As it was manifest to me here some time
since that you and Colonel Furness are not friends,
this touches you nearly.”
“I know nothing of it,”
the earl said. “My kinsman will tell you.”
“I do not need his assurances,”
King Charles said coldly. “He, at least,
is proved to be a traitor, and methinks, my lord earl,
that the preachers who are so fond of holding forth
to me upon the wickedness of my ways might with advantage
bestow some of their spare time in conversing with
you upon the beauty and godliness of straightforwardness.
General Leslie, you will arrest at once, on his leaving
our presence, Colonel Alan Campbell, and will cause
a court of inquiry to sift this matter to the bottom.
And hark you, my lord of Argyll, see you that no more
of your kinsmen practice upon the life of my faithful
Colonel Furness. This is the third time that he
has been in jeopardy at your hands. I am easy,
my lord earl, too easy, mayhap, but let no man presume
too far upon it. My power is but limited here,
but remember the old saying, ‘Wise men do not
pull the tails of lions’ whelps.’
The day may come when Charles II. will be a king in
power as well as in name. Beware that you presume
not too far upon his endurance now.” So
saying, the king turned from Argyll, and bidding Harry
follow him, and tell him the story of the defeat of
the English troops, left the earl standing alone,
the picture of rage and mortification.
“You had best beware, Master
Furness,” the king said. “He needs
a long spoon they say, who sups with the deil.
The Earl of Argyll is the real king of Scotland at
present, and it is ill quarreling with him. You
have got the best of it in the first three rubbers,
but be sure that Argyll will play on till the cards
favor him. And if you are once in his power,
I would not give a baubee for your life. The proud
earl treats me as a master would teach a froward pupil,
but I tell you, Master Furness, and I know you are
discreet and can be trusted, that as surely as the
earl brought Montrose to the block, so surely shall
Argyll’s head roll on the scaffold, if Charles
II. is ever King of England. But I fear for you,
Master Furness. I can help you here not at all,
and the lecture which, on your behalf, I administered
to the earl and in faith I wonder now at
my own courage will not increase his love
for you. You will never be safe as long as you
remain in Scotland. What do you say? Will
you south and join one or other of the Royalist bodies
who are in arms there?”
“Not so, your majesty.
With your permission, I will play the game out to
the end, although I know that my adversary holds the
strongest cards. But even did I wish to leave,
it would be as hazardous to do so as to stay here.
So long as I am with my regiment I am in safety.
I could not gain England by sea, for the Parliament
ships bar the way, and did I leave my regiment and
go south with only a small party, my chance of crossing
the border alive would be but small. No, your
majesty, I have the honor to command a king’s
regiment, and whether against Cromwell in the field,
or against Argyll’s plots and daggers, I shall
do my duty to the end.”
When, upon his return to the camp,
Harry told his friends the purport of the interview
between himself and Argyll, of Alan Campbell being
put under arrest and the earl openly reproved by the
king, Donald Leslie raised his hands in despair.
“If you get through this, Furness,”
he said, “I shall for the rest of my life be
convinced that you have a charmed existence, and that
your good genius is more powerful than the evil one
of Argyll. The gossips say that he is in alliance
with the evil one himself, and I can well believe
them. But I beg you, in all seriousness, to confine
yourself to the camp. So long as you are here
you are safe. But once beyond its limits your
life will not be worth a straw.”
Jacob added his entreaties to those
of Leslie, and Harry promised that until the decisive
battle was over he would keep among his men, unless
compelled by duty to appear at court.
Four days afterward a soldier entered
Harry’s tent, and handed him a missive.
It was as follows: “Upon receipt of this,
Colonel Furness will proceed to Leith and will board
the vessel, the Royalist, which has just arrived from
Holland. There he will inspect the newly arrived
recruits, who will be attached to his regiment.
He will examine the store of arms brought by her,
and will report on their state and condition. David
Leslie, commanding his majesty’s armies.”
The duty was one of mere routine.
Harry showed the note to Jacob, and said, “You
may as well come with Hie, Jacob. Your drilling
is over for the day, and you can aid me looking through
the stores. Mike,” he said, “we shall
be back to supper. We are only going down to the
port.” The two officers buckled on their
swords, and at once started on foot for the port,
which was but half a mile distant. Mike looked
anxiously after his master. Since the day when
danger had first threatened him he had scarce let
him out of his sight, following close to his heels
like a faithful dog. His present business seemed
assuredly to forbode no danger. Nevertheless,
the lad felt restless and anxious when he saw his
master depart. A few minutes later he went to
William Long’s tent. “Master Long,”
he said, “will you see that my master’s
servant gets supper in readiness at the usual hour.
He has gone down to the port to inspect some recruits
just arrived from Holland, by order of General Leslie,
and said he would return by supper. I know that
it is foolish, but since the affair with Alan Campbell
I am never easy when he is not near. In this
case, I do not see that there can possibly be any lurking
danger. Argyll could not know of his proceeding
to the port, nor would he venture to attack him there
where the streets swarm with our soldiers. Nevertheless,
I would fain go down and assure myself that all is
well.”
William Long at once promised to look
after the supper, and Mike hurried away after Harry
and his companion. These had, however, too far
a start to be overtaken, and when he reached the wharf
he saw a boat rowed by two men, and having two sitters
in the stern. It was already some distance from
shore, and appeared to be proceeding toward a vessel
which lay at anchor several hundred yards further
out from the shore than the others.
“Can you tell me,” he
asked a sailor, “whether that ship lying there
is the Royalist?”
“That is the name she goes by
to-day,” the sailor said, “for as I rowed
past her this morning on my way from fishing, I saw
the name newly painted on her stern. They have
put it on her boat too, which you now see lowing toward
her, and which has been lying by the pier all day,
in readiness to take out any one who might wish to
go off to her.”
“But have they changed her name,
then?” Mike asked. “What have they
been doing that for?”
“She has been called the Covenant
for the last two years,” the sailor said.
“But I suppose Johnny Campbell, her master, thought
the other more suited to the times.”
The name of the captain at once aroused
Mike’s uneasiness to the fullest.
“Tell me,” he said, “good
fellow, did that ship arrive this morning from Holland?”
“From Holland!” repeated
the sailor. “No. She came down the
coast from the north three days ago, with beasts for
the army.”
Mike stood for a moment thunderstruck.
Then, without a word to the sailor, he turned and
ran back at full speed through the town up to the
camp. At a headlong pace he made his way through
the camp until he stopped at the tent of General Leslie.
He was about to rush in without ceremony when the
sentinel stopped his way.
“Please let me pass,”
he panted. “I would see the general on a
matter of the utmost importance.”
The sentries laughed.
“You don’t suppose,”
one of them said, “that the general is to be
disturbed by every barefooted boy who wants to speak
to him. If you have aught to say, you must speak
first to the lieutenant of the guard.”
“Every moment is of importance,”
Mike urged. “It is a matter of life and
death. I tell you I must see the general.”
Then at the top of his voice he began to shout, “Sir
David Leslie! Sir David Leslie!”
“Silence there, young varmint,
or I will wring thy neck for thee!” exclaimed
the soldier, greatly scandalized, seizing Mike and
shaking him violently. But the boy continued
to shout out at the top of his voice, “Sir David
Leslie! Sir David Leslie!”