The Yeoman Adventurer Part 47

"I am thankful," said the Colonel to Margaret. "Murray told me you'd been taken to jail."

"You heard the news with great content, I suppose," said Margaret.

"I did, because--" He stopped to frown into the snuff-box.

"Because of what? Pray observe, gentlemen, what an affectionate father I have!"

"Because he also told me the name of your jailer!"

"You don't deserve to have a daughter," declared Margaret, with such a pretence of vehemence that her cheeks, between and beneath her coils of yellow hair, blazed like two poppies in a wheat-shook.

"I've made up for it by deserving something even better, and that's a good supper. Pull the bell, Oliver!"

Arrived in the great chamber at Exeter House, we found Charles making his last stand. Feeling ran riot; there was little regard for the regents.h.i.+p of the Prince; true to itself to the end, the Stuart cause was dying in a babel of broken counsels.

The ladies of the party were collected, uncertain and disquieted, on the hearth, where Margaret joined them, while the Colonel and I made our way and stood behind the Prince.

"His Grace of Perth desires to go on," said Charles. "So does Glencoe. So do my faithful Irish friends. Your men, as you well know, expect to go on.

To get them to go back, you must start in the dead of night and lie to them, telling them they are going on. Only you, their chiefs and fathers, want to go back."

"To h.e.l.l with the Iris.h.!.+" cried one from the background. "They're no'

worth the dad of a bonnet."

"It's no matter to them," said another man by him. "They've neither haid nor maid to lose."

This fetched O'Sullivan to his feet in a tearing rage. "We've got lives to lose," he cried, "and, by G--, we're not afraid to lose 'em!"

At this the yelling must have been heard in the square, and the gesticulating and grimacing would have been amusing on a less serious occasion. At last, in a lull in the gale, the Colonel, addressing the Prince, curtly demanded, "Who is the chief military commander of your army, sir?"

"My Lord George Murray," answered Charles bitterly.

"Then it's time your commander commanded. This spells disaster whether we go on or go back."

"It's the plain truth you're telling, Colonel Waynflete," said Lord Ogilvie loudly. In an undertone I heard him say, "Oot wi' it, Geordie!"

When Murray arose, everybody knew the finis.h.i.+ng touch was to be put to the business, and a strained silence fell on the a.s.sembly.

"I have advised ye to go back, sir," he said, "because, in the complete absence of the support we were led to expect, it is foolish to go on. Your Royal Highness wants to go on, and there's not a man here who does not honour you for your courage. Now, sir, I will go on, and so shall every man here I can command or influence, if those who hae tell't ye behind my back that they think we ought to go on will put their opinion down in writing and subscribe their names to it, here and now. One condition more, sir. That writing, so subscribed, shall be sent by a sure hand direct from this town to His Majesty in Rome, so that he may judge each man justly."

"I agree," said Charles eagerly. "Pen and paper, Mr. Secretary!"

It at once became clear, however, that Murray had taken the measure of the men he had to deal with.

"Why make flesh of one and fish of another?" asked O'Sullivan, and old Sir Thomas nodded approval of the question.

"The decision should be the decision of the Council," said the Duke of Perth.

"Will ye write your names to it, or will ye not?" demanded Murray.

No one spoke.

"That settles it, sir," said Murray. "But I desire you, Mr. Secretary, to make a note of my offer and its reception."

"Have your way!" said Charles, in sullen anger. "But it settles another thing for ye. I call no more councils."

He turned and strode out of the room. The Stuart cause was in its coffin, and it only remained for us to give it a fair burial.

When the door closed behind the Prince, the Colonel whispered in my ear, "Slip off and tell Freake!"

I did the journey at a run, and found Master Freake sitting, quietly meditative, but booted and spurred for his journey.

"Well, Oliver?"

"We go back to-night."

In five minutes I was standing in the Ironmarket at his grey mare's head.

"I'm not deserting you, lad," said he, gripping my hand heartily.

"Of course not, sir. Good-bye, and good luck!"

"My love to Margaret. Look out for the sergeant. Good-bye!"

CHAPTER XXII

A BROTHER OF THE LAMP

Two days afterwards, towards six o'clock on a bitter evening, I rode wearily into Leek. I was having a hard apprentices.h.i.+p in soldiering under a master who had no idea of sparing either me or himself. For the Colonel had accepted the post of second, under Murray, in command of our rear-guard, and had made it a condition of acceptance that I should be with him. Some thirty Highlanders, mostly Macdonalds, picked dare-devils, had been mounted and turned into dragooners, and I, thanks to the Colonel, had been made Captain over them.

"The lad's no experience, but he's got sense," he said to my lord George Murray.

"I ken him weel aneugh," said his lords.h.i.+p. "He threatened to knock my head off. D'ye ca' that sense, Kit Waynflete?"

"Since your head's still on your shoulders," said the Colonel, fumbling for his snuff, "I do. He knocked Maclachlan's Donald into a log of timber, and, damme, I hardly saw his hand move."

"That's only a trick, sir," I protested.

"Weel, Captain Wheatman," said Murray, "keep your ugly English tricks to y'rsel. Mind ye, colonel or no colonel, I'll break ye first chance ye gie me."

Maclachan was, I must say, very obliging and complimentary over my promotion. He gave me Donald to be my sergeant and personal servant, finding him, how I knew not, a horse strong enough to carry him easily.

"It is ferra guid," said Donald to his chief. "Er shall pe lookit to as if her were ma mither's own son."

To me, Captain Wheatman, clinking about in the corridor waiting for the Colonel, comes William, suave and confidential as ever.