CHAPTER XII.

There may be joys Which to the strange o’erwhelming of the soul Visit the lover’s breast beyond all others; E’en now, how dearly do I feel there may! But what of them? they are not made for me, The hasty flashes of contending steel Must serve instead of glances of my love.

JOANNA BAILLIE’S _Basil_.

While Adelaide thus soothed her perturbed spirit, Warenne’s rose as he approached the scene of danger. His dark eye sparkled, and his noble brow expanded, when he again looked upon his old comrades, with whom he had passed triumphantly through so many fields; he turned his mind from the busy reminiscences of love, and with that power of abstraction, which practical men possess, fixed it on the probable events of the coming evening. Adelaide’s form, perhaps, sometimes met his mental eye, when it should have fallen upon the serried ranks of armed warriors; but he did not suffer even her form to occupy him to the prejudice of his duty. Its only effect was to stimulate him to a desire of fresh honours, that, whether he stood or fell, he might be deserving of her good opinion. He arrived at Charnstead about three o’clock, and found there the troop he had sent forward, and the Charnstead troop, neither of them having yet started on their route to Fisherton. An express had arrived in the morning from Major Stuart, stating that in consequence of information he had received, he should only send the Fisherton troop as far as Swalesford, a place about five miles from Fisherton, and begging Captain Paulet to join them there, in time for them to enter Fisherton in a body shortly after dusk. Warenne immediately proceeded forward with the two troops, and picked up the Fisherton troop at Swalesford; when about a mile from the town, he galloped forward by himself, in order to communicate with Stuart about the disposition of the troops. He found that officer, and Mr. Seaforth, occupying his old quarters at the inn.

“I thought,” said his friend Stuart, holding out his hand, “that yours would be the first soldier’s face we should see to-night.”

“And you would rather have seen any other,” answered Warenne laughing. “A senior officer is a sad bore on occasions like this. But what shall we have to do?”

Stuart laid before him the intelligence he had been able to collect since the alarm given by Nicholas, and Seaforth the result of his observations and inquiries, which he had unceasingly continued since their last interview. Both reports agreed in confirming the account of the intended attack upon the town, and stated the force of the insurgent peasantry at from seven to eight hundred, which was to be joined, shortly before entering the place, by a body of smugglers, mounted and well-armed, in number from one hundred and fifty, to two hundred. To assist in the defence of the town, Seaforth had sworn in as special constables all the most respectable inhabitants, and such of the working classes as could be trusted. Warenne, in turn, informed them of the troops he brought with him, and of the disposition of them which he contemplated. They soon completed their arrangements. The soldiers were to be concentrated in the yard of the Cross Keys inn, which, as has been said, commanded both the entrances into the town. The by-streets, which were not practicable for cavalry, were consigned to the care of the constables, of whom a party was ordered to remove the women and children from the houses most open to attack. Arrangements were made to receive these poor outcasts in the dwellings of the wealthier townspeople, and in the parish church. Some of the neighbouring gentry who had come in, volunteered to act as scouts, and to give notice of the approach of the enemy. These measures being taken, Warenne placed himself under Seaforth’s orders.

“I will not, you may depend upon it, call upon you unnecessarily,” said Seaforth in return. “Till the work of devastation is commenced, or is so evidently on the point of commencement as not to be prevented by other means, I would not have you stir. I shall ride to meet the fellows, as soon as we hear of their approach, and try to deter them from their enterprise; if I fail, I must have recourse to you.”

“You will fail,” said Warenne, “and you will incur great danger in meeting them.”

“Very likely,” replied his spirited companion, “but it must be done.”

During this time the three troops had arrived, and Warenne placed them for the present in some large farm stables and barns which were at the back of the inn. The horses remained bridled, and the men by them, ready to act on a moment’s notice. He and Stuart then walked all over the town, and carefully examined each street, in order to be certain that no barricades were erected in any part, nor preparations made to embarrass the soldiery.

It was now past seven o’clock—the constables had brought in the inhabitants of the houses which they expected to be fired, and all was ready for the reception of the rioters. Eight o’clock struck—nine—ten, and Warenne and Seaforth were beginning to doubt whether the night for the attack had not been changed, when one of their most advanced scouts returned with the intelligence that all the labouring population, between Fisherton and the coast, seemed to be collecting on the coast road, about three miles from the town.

Soon another and another scout came with similar reports; and lastly Nicholas, who had returned from Calbury to the Plashetts at an early hour, and had ridden in to be of service to his friends, brought an account that a large body of mounted men had come up, and that they were marching together on the town. Warenne immediately drew his men out in front of the inn. Seaforth rode gently forward to meet the insurgents. They had halted to drill their ranks, and their leaders were ordering their variously armed forces to their respective places, having brought forward to the front the mounted smugglers, who were all armed with pistols and a cutlass.

Seaforth, with one or two of his friends, cantered up to them. He pulled up short, when within about two horse-lengths of the leading rank, and with a loud voice demanded the meaning of the present tumultuous assembly, and the cause of their entering Fisherton at such an hour of night.

“I warn you,” said he, “that you are breaking the king’s peace, and acting contrary to the laws. I am a magistrate, and I charge you in the king’s name to disperse immediately.”

“We know you well enough, Mr. Seaforth,” said a rough voice beside him, which he had heard before in his life, and which recalled unpleasant recollections; “I have reason to know you; take yourself off, or perhaps I shall give you reason to know me.”

“Emlett?” exclaimed Seaforth. “Nay then, I fear I shall do little good, if you are at the head of this business; I know of old that you are not easily shaken from your purpose. Nevertheless, some of these poor misguided men may listen to me;” and raising his voice to the highest pitch, again he warned them to retire, repeating the words of the Riot Act.

“Beware,” said Emlett, “we are not to be trifled with,” then adding a tremendous execration, he bade Seaforth “begone, or he would settle old scores with him there as he stood.”

“You will do as you please,” answered the gallant magistrate. “Disperse, I pray you, my men; we are prepared to receive you—we have a strong body of dragoons just arrived.”

“Take this, then, you prattling fool,” growled Emlett, exasperated at his undaunted defiance of his threats, and alarmed lest his address should shake his followers; and he fired his pistol at his head. Happily for all who knew, and what was the same thing, valued Seaforth, he missed his aim, and the voice of his intrepid antagonist was again heard—

“Even now, deluded men—” but it was soon drowned in the savage exclamations of Emlett, who, with the most horrible curses at himself for his awkwardness, called out to his comrades—

“Cut him down, kill him, stop his tongue any way you can,” at the same time spurring his horse at him, and raising his cutlass to strike him. Seaforth just wheeled his horse round upon his haunches in time to save himself, and galloped back at speed into the town. Emlett and his men pursued him a little way, and then returned to the main body. The first person he met was Warenne, who had advanced a short distance in front of his men.

“Colonel Warenne,” said he, “I believe I must call on you,—yet wait one moment.” The rioters were now within the street.

“Firemen,” cried Emlett, “to your work, and do you, my men,” speaking to the peasantry, “get possession of the by-streets; we’ll manage the soldiers.”

It had been his plan, as was afterwards ascertained, to have entered the town before the inhabitants were aware of his approach; and having surrounded with his men the different public-houses at which the soldiers were billeted, to have disarmed them, or at least prevented their assembling; and then taking possession of the streets, to have systematically plundered the town from one end to the other. Finding the townspeople on their guard, and hearing from Seaforth that the troops were prepared to receive his attack, he gave up the former part of his design. But not believing that any increase of force had arrived, and calculating that the troop which in the common course of events would have replaced that previously quartered at Fisherton, would not know the ground, and therefore would be unable to act with decision;—being also himself an outlaw—being recognised by Seaforth—with all to gain, and nothing to lose, he now determined to fall vigorously on the soldiers with his band of smugglers, who he knew would stand by him to the last gasp.

“Comrades!” shouted he, “it is not the first time we’ve had a brush with the red-coats—forward!” and spurring his horse, with the whole body of his associates at his heels, he galloped up the town. At the same moment a glare of light burst from three or four neighbouring houses, and discovered a party of constables retiring in confusion from the post they had been directed to occupy.

“The police! down with them, cut them down!” was heard at once from an hundred voices; and in an instant the wretched special constables were knocked down, and ridden over by their fierce pursuers.

“Now, Colonel Warenne,” said Seaforth—before he could finish his sentence, Warenne was at the head of his men.

“Stuart, keep one troop in reserve, the other two come on with me—steady, my men—forwards, charge.” The two bodies of cavalry clashed together. The soldiers had not had time nor space to get to their full speed; their charge therefore lost the effect it would have had, if the order had been received a minute sooner. It was sufficient to check the advance of the rioters, and no more. They had still to conquer their antagonists, who in this sort of encounter, hand to hand, and man to man, were opponents not to be despised. For some minutes the conflict was savagely and equally maintained on both sides. The smugglers fought desperately, as men with halters around their necks. After a while the better horsemanship and swordsmanship of the dragoons began to prevail, rendered doubly effective by the consciousness of superiority, which habitual use gives a man in the practice of his profession. At first, by the light of the blazing houses, the soldiers, easily distinguished by their bright shakos from the smugglers, who had fur caps on their heads, seemed completely outnumbered. They clung, however, closely together, and amid all the flashing of swords, and firing of pistols, moved steadily on, a compact, well-disciplined body; by degrees they appeared more adequate to the other party in point of numbers, and to be pressing their adversaries back; still the conflict raged—the smugglers rallied—for a moment even turned the tide of war in their favour. It was their last effort. Presently one, and then another of them withdrew himself from the _mêlée_, and, with frocks stained with gore, galloped out of the town. Soon two or three small parties from the same side fled hastily in a similar direction.

On this the soldiers, perceiving their advantage, redoubled their efforts, and fairly established their superiority, though some of the most desperate of the smugglers, Emlett among the number, with his head uncovered, and streaming with blood, fought on, without receding an inch. At last he, and his more immediate followers falling, the remainder seemed to give up all hope at once; and turning their horses’ heads, endeavoured to save themselves by the rapidity of their flight. The dragoons pursued them without mercy to the end of the street, both parties dashing through the mob of peasantry, who were coming forward to the support of their friends. There, having received orders from Warenne on no account to venture into the open country, the dragoons wheeled round, and returned to clear the town of the foot people. But these last, as soon as they discovered the result of the fight, did not wait to be dispersed. Throwing away their weapons, and plunging into the by-streets, they made the best of their way to the fields, and to darkness.

After the lapse of about an hour from the time that Emlett had fired at Seaforth, the town was restored to comparative quiet, except where the inhabitants were busily engaged in quenching the flames of the burning houses, and where the groans of the dying and wounded fell sadly upon the ear.

Above thirty of the smugglers had been killed, and four or five soldiers. The wounded of the two parties were in an inverse proportion, there being several of the dragoons who had received severe injuries, and not above half-a-dozen of the smugglers, and these so dreadfully hurt, as to forbid all hope of their living beyond a few hours; all those who had sufficient strength to do so, had dragged themselves out of the town.

Emlett was not quite dead when Warenne and Seaforth went over the field of battle. He survived to throw one look of stern defiance on the latter, and to strike out his arm against him with impotent fury; then with a half-uttered imprecation, he turned his face to the ground, and died. In a few hours more the flames were all suppressed; the wounded removed to a place where they might receive proper attendance; and the soldiery, with the exception of one troop retained on duty for the protection of the town, established in comfortable quarters.

The night passed without disturbance. The following morning Warenne went round the town with Seaforth, took minutes of the devastation it had suffered, inspected the wounded men, gathered from the smugglers yet alive what information they were inclined to give, and forwarded an exact and detailed account of the whole transaction to head-quarters. After which, leaving the Charnstead and Fisherton troops under Stuart to guard the town, escort prisoners, &c., and directing the other to return as quickly as possible to its former station, he himself hastened back to Calbury, in order that he might be absent as short a time as possible from his command.