The next morning the Scotch army moved
after that of Cromwell, which had fallen back to Dunbar,
and took post on the Doon hill facing him there.
Cromwell’s army occupied a peninsula, having
on their face a brook running along a deep, narrow
little valley. The Scotch position on the hill
was an exceedingly strong one, and had they remained
there Cromwell’s army must have been driven
to surrender. Cromwell himself wrote on that
night, “The enemy hath blocked up our way at
the pass at Copperspath, through which we cannot pass
without almost a miracle. He lieth so upon the
hills that we knoweth not how to come that way without
much difficulty, and our lying here daily consumeth
our men, who fall sick beyond imagination.”
The Scotch had, in fact, the game
in their hands, had they but waited on the ground
they had taken up. The English had, however, an
ally in their camp. The Earl of Argyll strongly
urged that an attack should be made upon the English,
and he was supported by the preachers and fanatics,
who exclaimed that the Lord had delivered their enemies
into their hands. General Leslie, however, stood
firm. The preachers scattered in the camp and
exhorted the soldiers to go down and smite the enemy.
So great an enthusiasm did they excite by their promises
of victory that in the afternoon the soldiers, without
orders from their general, moved down the hill toward
the enemy. The more regular body of the troops
stood firm, but Leslie, seeing that the preachers had
got the mastery, and that his orders were no longer
obeyed, ordered these also to move forward, in hopes
that the enthusiasm which had been excited would yet
suffice to win the victory.
Cromwell saw the fatal mistake which
had been committed, and in the night moved round his
troops to his left, and these at daybreak fell upon
the Scottish right. The night had been wet, and
the Scottish army were unprovided with tents.
Many of their matchlocks had been rendered useless.
At daybreak on the morning of the 3d of September the
English, led by General Lambert, fell upon them.
The Scotch for a time stood their ground firmly; but
the irregular troops, who had by their folly led the
army into this plight, gave way before the English
pikemen. The preachers, who were in vast numbers,
set the example of flight. Many of the regiments
of infantry fought most fiercely, but the battle was
already lost. The Scotch cavalry were broken by
the charge of the Ironsides, and in less than an hour
from the commencement of the fighting the rout was
complete. Three thousand Scotch were killed, and
ten thousand taken prisoners.
Harry’s regiment was but slightly
engaged. It had been one of the last to march
down the hill on the evening before, and Harry and
Jacob foresaw the disaster which would happen.
“If I were the king,” Harry said, “I
would order every one of these preachers out of camp,
and would hang those who disobeyed. Then I would
march the army on to the hill again. If they
wait there the English must attack us with grievous
disadvantage, or such as cannot get on board their
ships must surrender. Charles would really be
king then, and could disregard the wrath of the men
of the conventicles. Cromwell will attack us to-morrow,
and will defeat us; his trained troops are more than
a match for these Scotchmen, who think more of their
preachers than of their officers, and whose discipline
is of the slackest.”
“I agree with you entirely,”
Jacob said. “But in the present mood of
the army, I believe that half of them would march
away if the general dismissed the preachers.”
The next day, when the fight began,
Harry moved forward his regiment to the support of
the Scottish right, but before he came fairly into
the fray this had already given away, and Harry, seeing
that the day was lost, halted his men, and fell back
in good order. Again and again the Ironsides
charged them. The leveled pikes and heavy musketry
fire each time beat them off, and they marched from
the field almost the only body which kept its formation.
Five thousand of the country people among the prisoners
Cromwell allowed to depart to their homes. The
remainder he sent to Newcastle, where great numbers
of them were starved to death by the cruelty of the
governor, Sir Arthur Hazelrig. The remainder were
sent as slaves to New England.
Leslie, with the wreck of his army,
fell back to Stirling, while Charles, with the Scotch
authorities, went to Perth. Here the young king,
exasperated beyond endurance at the tyranny of Argyll
and the fanatics, escaped from them, and with two
or three friends rode fifty miles north. He was
overtaken and brought back to Perth, but the anger
of the army was so hot at his treatment that the fanatics
were henceforth obliged to put a curb upon themselves,
and a strong king’s party, as opposed to that
of the Covenant, henceforth guided his counsels.
The winter passed quietly. The
English troops were unable to stand the inclemency
of the climate, and contented themselves with capturing
Edinburgh Castle, and other strongholds south of the
Forth. Cromwell was compelled by ill health to
return for some months to England. Leslie’s
army was strongly intrenched round Stirling. In
June Cromwell again took the field, and moved against
Perth, which he captured on the 31st of July.
Charles, who had joined his army at Stirling, broke
up his camp and marched toward England, the road being
open to him owing to Cromwell and his army being further
north at Perth.
During the time which had elapsed
since the battle of Dunbar no events had happened
in Harry’s life. Remaining quietly in camp,
where the troops, who had been disgusted by the conduct
of the fanatics at Dunbar, were now ill disposed toward
Argyll and his party, he had little fear of the machinations
of the earl, who was with the king at Perth.
Argyll refused to join in the southern
march, and the army with which Leslie entered England
numbered only eleven thousand men. As soon as
he crossed the border, Charles was proclaimed king,
and proclamations were issued calling on all loyal
subjects to join him.
The people were, however, weary of
civil war. The Royalists had already suffered
so heavily that they held back now, and the hatred
excited, alike by the devastations of the Scotch army
on its former visit to England, and by the treachery
with which they had then sold the king, deterred men
from joining them. A few hundred, indeed, came
to his standard; but upon the other hand, Lambert
and Harrison, with a strong force, were marching against
him, and Cromwell, having left six thousand men in
Scotland, under Monk, was pressing hotly behind with
the victors of Dunbar. On the 22d of August Charles
reached Worcester. On the 28th Cromwell was close
to the town with thirty thousand men.
“This is the end of it all,
Jacob,” Harry said that night. “They
outnumber us by three to one, and even if equal, they
would assuredly beat us, for the Scotch are dispirited
at finding themselves so far from home, in a hostile
country. Things look desperate. If all is
lost to-morrow, do you and William Long and Mike keep
close to me. Get a horse for Mike to-night.
You and Long are already mounted. If all is lost
we must try and make our way to the seacoast, and take
boat for France or Holland. But first of all
we must see to the safety of the king. It is
clear that at present England is not ready to return
to the former state of things. We must hope that
some day she will weary of the Roundhead rule, and
if the king can reach the Continent he must remain
there till England calls him. At present she only
wants peace. It is just nine years now since
King Charles’ father set up his standard at
Nottingham. Nine years of wars and troubles!
No wonder men are aweary of it. It is all very
well for us, Jacob, who have no wives, neither families
nor occupations, and are without property to lose,
but I wonder not that men who have these things are
chary of risking them in a cause which seems destined
to failure.”
Upon the 3d of September, 1651, the
anniversary of the battle of Dunbar, Cromwell advanced
to the attack. Harry’s regiment was placed
among some hedges around the city, and upon them the
brunt of the fight first fell. In spite of the
immense numbers brought against them they defended
themselves with desperate bravery. Some of the
Scottish troops came up, and for a time Cromwell’s
footmen could make but little way. At other parts,
however, the resistance was more feeble, and the Scotch
fell rapidly into confusion. Contesting every
foot of the way, Harry’s regiment was driven
back into the town, where a terrible confusion reigned.
Still keeping his men together, he marched to the marketplace.
Here he found the king with a considerable body of
horse. The greater part, however, of the horse
had fled through the town without drawing rein, while
the foot were throwing away their arms and flying in
all directions.
“If all my troops had fought
like your regiment, Colonel Furness, we should have
won the day,” the king said. “As it
is now, it is a hopeless rout. It is useless
for your brave fellows to throw away their lives further.
They will only be cut down vainly, seeing that the
rest of my army are disbanded. Thank them from
me for their services, and bid them seek their homes
as best they may and wait for better times. They
are English, and will meet with better treatment from
the country people than will the Scotch. Then
do you join me. I am going to head my horsemen
here in a charge against the Roundhead cavalry, and
so give more time for the army to get away.”
Harry rode up to his troops, now reduced
to half their former strength. Leslie and Grahame
had both been killed, and William Long was sorely
wounded. He gave the men the message from the
king, and the brave fellows gave a cheer for King
Charles, the last he was to hear for ten years.
Then they marched away in orderly array, with their
arms, intending to beat off all who might attack them
before nightfall, and then to break up and scatter,
each for himself. William Long had friends near
Gloucester, and as his wound would prevent him from
traveling rapidly with Harry, he took farewell of
him, and rode away with the regiment. Harry,
with Jacob and Mike, rejoined the king, and they rode
toward the gate by which the Roundhead troops were
already entering the town. The horsemen, however,
had but little stomach for the fight, and as the king
advanced, in twos and threes they turned their horses’
heads and rode off.
Harry was riding close to the king,
and looking round said at length, “It is useless,
your majesty. There are not a dozen men with us.”
The king looked round and checked
his horse. Besides his personal friends, Buckingham,
Wilmot, and one or two other nobles, scarce a man
remained. The king shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, gentlemen, as we cannot fight, we must
needs run.” Then the party turned their
horses and galloped out on the other side of Worcester.
The country was covered with fugitives. They
soon came upon a considerable body of horse, who at
once attached themselves to the party. “These,
gentlemen,” the king said, “would not
fight when I wanted them to, and now that I would fain
be alone, they follow me.”
At last, when darkness came on, the
king, with his personal friends and some sixty others,
slipped away down a by-road, and after riding for
some hours came to a house called the White Ladies.
Here for a few hours they rested. Then a council
was held. They had news that on a heath near
were some three thousand Scotch cavalry. The king’s
friends urged him to join these and endeavor to make
his way back into Scotland, but Charles had already
had more than enough of that country, and he was sure
that Argyll and his party would not hesitate to deliver
him up to the Parliament, as they had done his father
before him. He therefore determined to disguise
himself, and endeavor to escape on foot, taking with
him only a guide. The rest of the party agreed
to join the Scotch horse, and endeavor to reach the
border. After a consultation with Jacob, Harry
determined to follow the example of the king, and to
try and make his way in disguise to a seaport.
He did not believe that the Scotch cavalry would be
able to regain their country, nor even if they did
would his position be improved were he with them.
With the destruction of the Royalist army, Argyll
would again become supreme, and Harry doubted not
that he would satisfy his old grudge against him.
He was right in his anticipations. The Scots
were a day or two later routed by the English horse,
and comparatively few of them ever regained their
country. Out of the eleven thousand men who fought
at Worcester, seven thousand were taken prisoners,
including the greater part of the Scottish contingent.
The English, attracting less hostility and attention
from the country people, for the most part reached
their homes in safety.
As soon as the king had ridden off,
Harry with Jacob and Mike, started in another direction.
Stopping at a farmhouse, they purchased from the master
three suits of clothes. Harry’s was one
of the farmer’s own, the man being nearly his
own size. For Jacob, who was much shorter, a dress,
cloak and bonnet of the farmer’s wife was procured,
and for Mike the clothes of one of the farmer’s
sons. One of the horses was left here, and a
pillion obtained for the other. Putting on these
disguises, Harry mounted his horse, with Jacob seated
behind him on a pillion, while Mike rode by his side.
They started amid the good wishes of the farmer and
his family, who were favorable to the Royalist cause.
Harry had cut off his ringlets, and looked the character
of a young farmer of twenty-four or twenty-five years
old well enough, while Jacob had the appearance of
a suitable wife for him. Mike was to pass as his
brother.
In the course of the first day’s
journey they met several parties of Roundhead horse,
who plied them with questions as to whether they had
seen any parties of fugitives. Making a detour,
they rode toward Gloucester, not intending to enter
that town, where there was a Parliamentary garrison,
but to cross the river higher up. They stopped
for the night at a wayside inn, where they heard much
talk concerning the battle, and learned that all the
fords were guarded to prevent fugitives crossing into
Wales, and that none might pass who could not give
a good account of themselves. They heard, too,
that on the evening before a proclamation had been
made at Gloucester and other towns offering a reward
of a thousand pounds for the capture of Charles, and
threatening all with the penalties of treason who should
venture to aid or shelter him; a systematic watch
was being set on all the roads.
They determined to ride again next
morning toward Worcester, and to remain in that neighborhood
for some days, judging that less inquiry would be
made there than elsewhere. This they did, but
journeyed very slowly, and slept a mile or two from
Worcester.
Before reaching their halting-place
they took off a shoe from Mike’s horse, and
with a nail wounded the frog of the foot, so that the
animal walked lame. Under this pretense they
stopped three days, feigning great annoyance at the
delay. They found now that orders had been issued
that none should journey on the roads save those who
had passes, and these had to be shown before entering
any of the large towns. They therefore resolved
to leave their horses, and to proceed on foot, as they
could then travel by byways and across the country.
There was some debate as to the best guise in which
to travel, but it was presently determined to go as
Egyptians, as the gypsies were then called. Harry
walked into Worcester, and there, at the shop of a
dealer in old clothes, procured such garments as were
needed, and at an apothecary’s purchased some
dyes for staining the skin.
The next day, telling the landlord
that they should leave the lame horse with him until
their return, they started as before, Mike walking
instead of riding. They presently left the main
road, and finding a convenient place in a wood, changed
their attire. Harry and Mike were dressed in
ragged clothes, with bright handkerchiefs round their
necks, and others round their heads. Jacob still
retained his attire as a woman, with a tattered shawl
round his shoulders, and a red handkerchief over his
head. All darkened their faces and hands.
They took the saddle from the horse, and placed the
bundles, containing the clothes they had taken off,
on his back. Mike took the bridle, Harry and Jacob
walked beside, and so they continued for some miles
along the lonely roads, until they came to a farmhouse.
Here they stopped. The farmer came out, and roughly
demanded what they wanted. Harry replied that
he wanted to sell their horse, and would take a small
sum for it.
“I doubt me,” the farmer
said, looking at it, “that that horse was not
honestly come by. It suits not your condition.
It may well be,” he said, “the horse of
some officer who was slain at Worcester, and which
you have found roaming in the country.”
“It matters not,” Harry
said, “where I got it; it is mine now, and may
be yours if you like it, cheap. As you say, its
looks agree not with mine, and I desire not to be
asked questions. If you will give me that donkey
I see there, and three pounds, you shall have him.”
The offer was a tempting one, but
the farmer beat them down a pound before he agreed
to it. Then shifting their bundles to the donkey,
they continued their way. At the next village
they purchased a cooking-pot and some old stuff for
a tent. Cutting some sticks, they encamped that
night on some wild land hard by, having purchased provisions
for their supper. Very slowly they traveled south,
attracting no attention as they passed. They
avoided all large towns, and purchased such things
as they needed at villages, always camping out on
commons and waste places. They could hear no
news of the king at any of their halting-places.
That he had not been taken was certain; also, that
he had not reached France, or the news of his coming
there would have been known. It was generally
supposed that he was in hiding somewhere in the south,
hoping to find an opportunity to take ship to France.
Everywhere they heard of the active search which was
being made for him, and how the houses of all suspected
to be favorable to him were being searched.
Traveling only a few miles a day,
and frequently halting for two or three days together,
the party crossed the Thames above Reading, and journeyed
west into Wiltshire. So they went on until they
reached the port of Charmouth, near Lime Regis.
Here, as in all the seaport towns, were many soldiers
of the Parliament. They did not enter the town,
but encamped a short distance outside, Harry alone
going in to gather the news. He found that numerous
rumors concerning the king were afloat. It was
asserted that he had been seen near Bristol, and failing
to embark there, was supposed to be making his way
east along the coast, in hopes of finding a ship.
The troops were loud in their expressions of confidence
that in a few days, if not in a few hours, he would
be in their hands, and that he would be brought to
the scaffold, as his father had been.
Uneasy at the news, Harry wandered
about the town, and at nightfall entered a small public
house near the port. Calling for some liquor,
he sat down, and listened to the talk of the sailors.
Presently these left, and soon after they did so three
other men entered. One was dressed as a farmer,
the other two as serving-men. Harry thought that
he noticed a glance of recognition pass between the
farmer and the landlord, and as the latter placed
some liquor and a candle on the table before the newcomers,
Harry recognized in the farmer Colonel Wyndham, a Royalist
with whom he was well acquainted. He now looked
more closely at the two serving-men, and recognized
in them the king and Lord Wilmot.
He sauntered across the room as if
to get a light for his pipe, and said, in low tones:
“Colonel Wyndham, I am Harry
Furness. Is there any way I can serve his majesty?”
“Ah! Colonel Furness, I
am glad to see you,” the king said heartily;
“though if you are hunted as shrewdly as I am,
your state is a perilous one.”
“The landlord is to be trusted,”
Colonel Wyndham said. “We had best call
him in. He said nothing before you, deeming you
a stranger.”
The landlord was called in, and told
Harry was a friend, whereupon he barred the door and
closed the shutters, as if for the night. Then
turning to Colonel Wyndham, whom alone he knew, he
said:
“I am sorry to say that my news
is bad, sir. An hour since I went round to the
man who had engaged to take you across to St. Malo,
but his wife has got an inkling of his intentions.
She has locked him into his room, and swears that
if he attempts to come forth she will give the alarm
to the Parliament troops; for that she will not have
herself and her children sacrificed by meddlings of
his in the affairs of state.”