“Will you take us away?” she cried.
“Impossible!” he replied. “I must remain here. I have much to do.”
“We will stay till you can go with us,” she cried, still clinging to him.
“Nay, this must not be,” he said, extricating himself from her embrace. “Not a moment must be lost. Come with me all of you! The man who brought me here will take you safely from the town. Come quickly!”
“I will go with them,” said Rosworm.
“Come, then,” cried Standish.
Taking Engracia’s hand, he led her from the room, and hastily descended the staircase followed by the others.
The lower part of the house, as already intimated, was filled with musketeers, but they drew aside to allow Standish and his companions to pass through their midst.
A short flight of stone steps brought them to a vault, where they found Stephen Marsh with a lighted lantern.
Standish then left them, having previously confided them to Rosworm’s care.
“Take them to Lathom House,” he said; “and fear not to go there. The countess will receive you well.”
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V
The Second Assault, and the Massacre
As soon as the firing from the walls announced that Lord Derby had come up, Standish sallied forth from the house at the head of his party of musketeers, and rushed towards the barricade.
So completely were the enemy taken by surprise by this sudden attack, that they could offer little resistance, and almost every man was killed.
From the barricade, the victorious party hurried on to the gate which we have said was defended by stout posts and chains.
In vain the guard stationed here strove to oppose the furious onset. Though aided by their comrades on the walls, as far as was practicable, they gave way after a short but sanguinary conflict, and Standish was master of the gate.
A loud shout from his men announced their success, and they proceeded to unfasten the chains, and throw open the gate.
As soon as these obstacles were removed, the Earl of Derby dashed in with his cuirassiers, shouting with a loud voice, “No quarter!”
These terrible orders were strictly obeyed. Exasperated by the slaughter of their comrades in the previous assault, the men swore not to sheathe their swords till they had slaked their thirst for vengeance.
Headed by the earl the first troop galloped along the main street towards the market-place, cutting down all they encountered. Shrieks and groans were heard on all sides, but no pity was shown.
Other troops rode to the right and the left, or plunged into the narrow thoroughfares shouting out, “Kill! kill—spare not—spare not.”
Frightful scenes occurred. Blinded by fury, the men slaughtered their unresisting victims like sheep, utterly disregarding their cries for compassion, and trampling the still breathing bodies under their horses’ feet.
In the back streets, the wretched inhabitants were quite undefended, and sought to escape from the merciless soldiers, leaving their wives and children to their fate.
In the market-place, however, the Earl of Derby found a great number of pikemen, together with a troop of horse.
With savage satisfaction, he perceived that the latter were commanded by Captain Bootle, and burning for vengeance, he instantly charged them.
The fierce onset could not be resisted, and such of the Parliamentarians as were not cut down took to flight, their retreat being aided by the pikemen.
But their leader was captured and disarmed, and at once brought before Lord Derby.
Bootle could not mistake the look fixed upon him by the earl. Nevertheless, he sued for quarter.
“Spare me, my lord,” he cried, “and I will deliver Rigby into your hands.”
“Thou art false to the last, perfidious villain!” cried the earl. “Already thou hast betrayed me, and now thou wouldst betray him thou art bound to serve. I will not spare thee.”
Stabbed to the heart, the traitor fell from his horse.
By this time, Prince Rupert had entered the devoted town with the whole of his army, and the work of destruction was then carried on with greater fury than before.
No such massacre took place during the civil wars in Lancashire as occurred at Bolton on that day.