Patty Whinchat had snatched up a taper before quitting the room, and others of the household, when issuing from the buttery and kitchen, had brought lamps with them, so there was now light enough to reveal the disguised Royalists near the door. Deceived by their accoutrements, the old Cavalier took them for Parliamentary soldiers, and naturally concluded they were marching off with the prisoner. But his blood was now up, and although Mr. Beard besought him not to interfere and so jeopardize his own safety, he shouted out to the supposed Roundheads to set free their prisoner instantly. Then turning to his household, he vociferated,
“Upon them, my men!—upon them!—strike hard, and fear not!—I will be down with you on the instant, and will show you how such crop-eared curs ought to be dealt with. Upon them, I say! Wherefore do you hesitate?”
“They do well to hesitate in attacking friends and supporters of the good cause, Colonel Maunsel,” cried Lord Wilmot.
“Royalists in the garb of rebels!” exclaimed the old Cavalier.
“Ay, Royalists!” cried Clavering. “If you do not recognize Lord Wilmot, surely my voice cannot be strange to you?”
“Methinks your honour will recognize mine?” John Habergeon called out.
“And mine also, I am assured?” Ninian added.
“I know you all now,” cried the colonel, who had been for a moment speechless with astonishment. “Come to my arms, my dear boy, that I may embrace thee once more!” he added, hurrying down the staircase in a delirium of joy, while Clavering sprang forward to meet him. “Art thou indeed free?” he cried, catching the young man in his arms, and folding him to his breast.
“Free as yourself, father,” Clavering rejoined. “We have left those caitiff Roundheads in our places in the church.”
“Amazement!” exclaimed the colonel. “This passes all my comprehension.”
“Your honour would be still more amazed if you could hear how it has been accomplished,” John Habergeon remarked; “but there is not time to tell it now.”
While this was going on, the trooper who had kept guard over Colonel Gunter had been attacked by a strong body of the household, and was now dragged forth by them in triumph, with his arms pinioned with his own belt. Seeing this, Lord Wilmot consigned the sentinel to Moppet and Crundy, bidding them take both rascals away, and shoot them if they thought proper.
“Nay, we will not put them to death,” said Moppett, “but we will clap them with their comrades in the cellar.” And both prisoners were haled away.
“I must perforce tear your son from your embraces, Colonel Maunsel,” said Lord Wilmot. “We shall have the Ironsides back from the church, and then all our trouble will be lost. We came here to liberate a brother Royalist—Colonel Gunter of Racton,” he added, in a low voice, to the old Cavalier.
“Ha!” exclaimed Colonel Maunsel, warmly grasping the hand of the newly-liberated prisoner. “I knew him not, but was about to make an effort for his liberation. However, you have got the start of me.
“Nevertheless, I thank you as heartily, Colonel Maunsel, as if you had been first to help me,” said Colonel Gunter. And he then added, in a low tone, “We came to consult with you about procuring a vessel, either at Newhaven or Shoreham, to convey his Majesty to France.”
“A word, ere I answer you!” exclaimed the old Cavalier, eagerly. “You can assure me, I trust, that his Majesty is in safety?”
“We have every reason to believe so,” replied Gunter. “Lord Wilmot left him at Boscobel in the care of loyal liegemen, who will guard him with their life—as you would guard him, colonel. But how think you? Can a vessel be procured?”
“I doubt it not,” said the old Cavalier. “There is a skipper of Shoreham, named Nicholas Tattersall, who is master of a fast-sailing brig, called the Swiftsure. I know him to be an honest fellow, who may be trusted in such an enterprise; but, unluckily, he is away at present—at Plymouth, I believe—and his return is uncertain.”
“Nicholas Tattersall! I shall not forget the name, colonel,” replied Gunter. “If his Majesty should not otherwise be provided, Tattersall shall be our man.”