Preston Fight: or, The Insurrection of 1715

As he emerged with a crestfallen look, he was jeered by Sir John and her ladyship. The sheriff, too, blamed him for the blunder he had made.

“I am certain the Pretender is in the carriage, Sir William,” he said.

“Then find him,” cried the sheriff.

“Ay, find him, fellow, if you can,” added Sir John, derisively.

“He is here,” cried Jesmond, pointing to the footman, a tall, handsome young man.

An exclamation from Sir John was checked by her ladyship, who made a private sign to the footman to hold his tongue.

“You are not making a second blunder, I trust?” said the sheriff.

“No, no! rest easy, Sir William! All right now! I didn’t recognise him at first in his disguise. But now I’ll swear to him.”

“You will swear that I am the Chevalier de Saint George, whom you call the Pretender?” cried the footman.

“I will,” said Jesmond.

Again Sir John would have interfered, if a look from her ladyship had not kept him quiet.

“You need have no hesitation, Sir William,” said Jesmond. “I will take all consequences on my own head.”

“But your head is nothing,” rejoined the sheriff.

After a moment’s consideration, he told Sir John Webb he must turn back, and accompany him to Newcastle.

Sir John protested vehemently against the order, and declared it would put him to the greatest inconvenience.

“I cannot help that,” said the sheriff. “I own I am somewhat perplexed, but a great responsibility rests with me, and I am afraid of committing an error.”

“Then I warn you that you will commit a very great error indeed, if you take me to Newcastle,” said Sir John.

“We are wasting time here,” cried the sheriff. “Your ladyship will be pleased to re-enter the carriage,” he added, in a polite, but authoritative tone to Lady Webb – “and you, Sir John.”

The women servants followed, and the footman was about to shut the door, when the sheriff told him he must get in likewise.

Finding Sir John was about to resist the intrusion, Jesmond pushed the young man in, vociferating in a mocking voice:

“Room for his majesty, King James the Third!”

Irritated to the last point, Sir John would certainly have resented the insult if Lady Webb had not held him fast.

She could not, however, prevent him from putting his head out from the window, and shouting to the sheriff:

“Where is this farce to end, Sir William?”

“Most likely at the Tower of London,” was the sarcastic reply.

“Make no rejoinder, Sir John,” said Lady Webb. “You’ll have the laugh against him by-and-by.”

The coach was then turned round, and guarded by the troop of yeomen, proceeding slowly towards Newcastle.

III. – LORD WIDDRINGTON

Very different was the progress of the prince and his party from that made by the occupants of the coach. While the latter were crawling along the highway, the others were flying across the country, as if chasing the deer.

Over broad wide moors they speeded – across valley, and through wood – past ancient castles, and along the banks of rushing streams – allowing nothing to stop them – not even the Piets’ wall, through a gap in which they dashed – till after traversing many a wild and waste such as only can be seen in Northumberland, they came in sight of the great German Ocean, and the rugged coast that bounds it.

Sixteen miles and upwards had been accomplished in a marvellously short space of time, but then all were well mounted. Throughout this long stretch, Anna, who we have said rode splendidly, kept by the side of Lord Derwentwater, and as he led the way, she shared any risk he might run.

A pretty sight it was to see them together, and drew forth the admiration of those who followed in their course. Somehow or other, they got ahead, and the Prince and Dorothy Forster, who were next behind, made no effort to come up with them. The rest of the party kept well together.

At length a point was reached from which, as we have just mentioned, the broad expanse of the ocean could he surveyed. On the right was Camboise Bay, spreading out with all its rocky headlands as far as Tynemouth and South Shields. On the left was Druridge Bay with Coquet Island in the distance. Behind them a few miles off was Morpeth, with the ruins of its castle, and its old church, and beyond Morpeth lay the wild district they had traversed.

As yet they had made no halt, Lord Derwent water’s intention being to stop at Widdrington Castle, which could now be descried about a mile off, beautifully situated near the coast. It was a picturesque structure, surrounded by fine timber, and though of great antiquity, seemed in excellent repair.

Lord Widdrington was a devoted partisan of the House of Stuart, and it was therefore certain that his castle would be thrown open to the prince, and that his highness might tarry there as long as he pleased if he deemed it as safe as Bamborough.

After contemplating the fine old structure with delight for a few minutes, the prince moved on, and followed by the whole party rode down the eminence, and entered the park.

They had not gone far, when they met the noble owner of the mansion.

Lord Widdrington chanced to be riding about his grounds at the time, and seeing the party enter the lodge-gate, he hastened towards them.

How great was his astonishment when he learnt who was his visitor! He instantly flung himself from his horse to pay homage to him whom he regarded as his king.

But the prince was as quick as himself, and anticipating his design, dismounted and embraced him, expressing the greatest delight at beholding him.

Lord Widdrington had quite the air of a country gentleman. About five and thirty, he was well-made, though somewhat robust, with good features, lighted up by grey eyes, and characterised by a frank, manly expression. He wore a blue riding-dress trimmed with silver, a blonde peruke and riding-boots.

By this time Lord Derwentwater had come up, and explanations were quickly given as to the position in which the prince was placed.

Lord Widdrington looked grave, and after a few moments’ deliberation said:

“Your majesty must be certain that nothing would gratify me more than to receive you as my guest, but your safety is the first consideration. I am bound, therefore, to state, that in case of pursuit, you would not be as safe here as at Bamborough.”

“Such is my own opinion,” remarked Lord Derwentwater.

“There are a hundred hiding places in the old castle,” pursued Lord Widdrington; “and besides, a boat can be always in readiness, so that your majesty could be taken to Lindisfarne, where you might be concealed for a month.

“Whatever course you advise, my lord, I will adopt,” said the prince. “But I must not be deprived of the power of retreat.”

“‘Tis therein especially that Bamborough has the advantage over this mansion, my liege,” said Forster, who had come up. “I will answer with my life that you shall not fall into the hands of your enemies.”

“And I dare not assert as much, since I might not be able to make good my words,” said Lord Widdrington.

“That decides me,” cried the prince. “I shall take up my quarters at Bamborough.”