Chapter 11

________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER ELEVEN.

The assize at Dorchester was opened on the 3rd of September. Jeffreys had already passed through Hampshire, and succeeded in Winchester in pronouncing sentence on the Lady Lisle for harbouring two fugitives from Sedgemoor. He condemned her to be burnt alive that very afternoon, but, happily, the excessive barbarity moved the feelings of the clergy of the cathedral, who induced him to put off the execution; and though every effort was made to obtain her pardon, the utmost that was gained was that her sentence should be commuted from burning to being beheaded. She was put to death on a scaffold in the market-place of Winchester, and underwent her fate with serene courage. At Dorchester more than three hundred prisoners were to be tried. The court was hung with scarlet, an indication of the bloody purpose of the Chief Justice. It would seem that the work would require a long time to get through. Jeffreys, to make it light, let it be understood that the only chance to obtain a pardon or respite was to plead guilty. On the following morning he attended Divine service at Saint Mary's Church. When the clergyman, in his sermon, spoke of mercy, Jeffreys was observed to laugh,--an omen of coming vengeance. The sermon over, the Judge, attended by many of the principal gentry of Dorset, Somerset, and Devon, entered the Great Hall. Without loss of time he commenced his charge to the Grand Jury in a tone of voice and language which astonished and alarmed all who heard it. He warned them that their business was to make most strict inquiries not only after principals but after aiders and abettors, the fact being that many of the jury had sheltered refugees, thus making them accessory to high treason after the fact. As not only weeks but months might have been consumed had the ordinary process been proceeded with, to avoid this the Judge adopted a plan to shorten the business, and to procure a confession, without which not a tenth part would have been legally proved guilty. Two officers, such was his plan, were sent into the jail to call over and take the names of the prisoners; they were to promise pardon or execution. If the prisoners confessed, they were told that they might expect mercy, otherwise not; and as many were induced to accept the proffered mercy, these officers were in a condition to appear as witnesses of their confession. The first thirty, however, mistrusting the cruel Judge, preferred the chances of an ordinary trial. This was on Saturday. The same evening Jeffreys signed a warrant to hang thirteen on the following Monday, which was punctually performed. Nearly the whole of the remainder were executed. Witnesses were brow-beaten in a most fearful manner. Jeffreys thundered at them, using the most abusive language; but the scenes which took place are too horrible, too disgraceful, to be dwelt on. No less than two hundred and ninety-two persons received sentence of death at Dorchester alone. Among them were the two Battiscombes; they had nothing to plead, except that they had taken up arms under the firm belief that they were fighting for the defence of the Protestant faith against Popery. Very many others were in the same case. Mr Battiscombe did not venture to plead for his sons, for he might himself have been seized and condemned by the unjust Judge, while he was utterly powerless to assist them openly. The health of the Colonel did not allow him to leave home, or, interested as he was in the fate of his young friends, he would have gone to try and help them. Mr Willoughby, however, who was dauntless in a good cause, offered to attend the assize to be ready to take advantage of any opening which might occur. As he listened, however, to the language of the Judge, who looked more like a drunken madman than a minister of justice, he was in despair; he exerted himself to ascertain the places and time of execution of the different prisoners. He found that Andrew, together with Colonel Holmes, Dr Temple--the Duke's physician--Mr Tyler, who had read the Declaration, were to be executed at Lyme, near the spot where the Duke of Monmouth had landed, about half a mile west of the town. It gave him slight hope that Stephen might escape; but he in vain endeavoured to see him or to ascertain what was to be his fate. He was returning from the Court to his inn, when he saw before him a slight female figure in a riding-dress; it was Alice.

"Oh, uncle Willoughby!" she exclaimed, taking his hand; "do not blame me; while there is life there is hope. I cannot let Stephen perish without endeavouring to save him; I should never forgive myself."

"I cannot blame you, Alice," said Mr Willoughby. "How are you going to proceed? What means have you at your disposal?"

"I know that I can promise any sum that Mr Battiscombe has it in his power to pay, and I propose seeing the Judge himself," said Alice. "I will tell him that the death of one brother is sufficient to appease the demands of justice."

"But I fear, Alice, that he will say both are equally guilty," observed Mr Willoughby. "And you must be prepared for a refusal. Still, I would not hinder you from seeing the Judge, terrible as he is in his manner and appearance."

"I have thought over everything," answered Alice, "and resolved to brave the lion in his den. He condemned the elder brother to death, and he may be induced to suppose that the younger was led to join the Duke by his influence."

"I fear much, Alice, that he will be influenced by no other consideration beyond the amount you can offer him," said Mr Willoughby.

Strong in the justice of her cause, and prompted by her devotion to Stephen, in spite of the savage nature of the Judge, her aim was to see him before he entered the Court; for she heard that once there, inflamed and excited by his drams of spirits, and by his remarks to prisoners, witnesses, counsel, and jury, she was less likely to induce him to listen to her petition, or to understand its object. She had therefore to remain all night in an agony of doubt and fear in a room next to Mr Willoughby's. She awoke at early dawn from hearing a noise in the street, and, looking out of her window, the first figure she recognised was that of Andrew Battiscombe; there were two other gentlemen whom she knew by having seen them in court, and who she heard were condemned to death. Her eye ranged over the others, in dread lest Stephen might be seen; but he was not there. She felt relieved, and yet she knew how he must be grieving for the loss of his brother. She hurriedly dressed, in the hopes of being able to say a few words of comfort to poor Andrew, to hear from him of his parting with his brother, also to tell him of her intention of having an interview with the Judge. Scarcely, however, had she reached the street than the mournful procession, guarded by a strong band of soldiers, was ordered to march on. She would have rushed forward to speak to Andrew, as others were doing to their friends and relatives, but the soldiers closed round them, and kept every one off. She returned to her room to finish her toilet, so that she might be prepared to set out with Mr Willoughby as soon as it was likely that the Judge would have risen. Mr Willoughby was soon ready, and as it was understood the Judge breakfasted early, she was eager to start. She had nerved herself up for the encounter, fully prepared for whatever might be said to her. She had heard of the language Jeffreys was accustomed to use towards people of all classes, and she did not suppose her sex and youth would enable her to escape. She was glad, however, to lean on Mr Willoughby's arm as they approached the house where the Chief Justice had taken up his quarters. Alice had a letter ready, requesting to see him on an important matter. In a short time the servant, to whom she had given the letter, appeared and said that the Chief Justice would see her. Mr Willoughby thought it prudent to remain in the court below. He knew that, should he go in with her, unpleasant questions would be asked, and he would probably be branded as a Puritan, and perhaps sent off to prison to undergo his trial. Alice, without trembling, followed her guide and was ushered into a large room, at the further end of which sat the Chief Justice before a plentifully-spread breakfast-table. His eyes were ferrety, his nose and cheeks fiery red, his countenance even in rest had a savage expression.

"Well, young woman, who are you, and what do you want?" he asked in a gruff tone.

"Please, my lord, I am grand-daughter of a Cavalier who died fighting for his king; my father was a loyal gentleman, and I have been brought up by my guardian, Colonel Tregellen, an old Cavalier. I have had no sympathy with the late Duke of Monmouth, and yet I come to plead for the life of one who has been implicated in his rebellion."

"Some crop-eared knave with whom thou hast fallen in love, wench," growled the Chief Justice. "Out on thee, for an idle baggage!"

"I come to plead for the life of my betrothed husband," said Alice. "And, my lord, there are those who value him for his honesty and other good qualities, and are ready to pay as large a sum of money as they can collect, to obtain his pardon, and I am authorised to hand it over to your Lordship, that you may do with it as you think fit."

Jeffrey's eyes sparkled as he turned them towards Alice. "What is the name of this precious youth, thy betrothed husband, wench? I warrant he thinks thou art worth living for."

"Stephen Battiscombe," answered Alice.

"Why, he is one I yesterday sentenced to death; he should have been hung by this time, so you are too late, wench."

"Please you, my lord, it was his elder brother, Andrew Battiscombe," said Alice. "Were he even more criminal than he is, surely the death of one in the family is sufficient to satisfy the ends of justice."

"I would stamp out the whole brood of vipers, could I catch them," said Jeffreys.

Poor Alice felt her heart sink, but she was not to be defeated.

"Whatever his crime, my lord, the sum I am authorised to place in your Lordship's hands, on receiving his pardon, will, I hope, condone it."

"Ho, ho," said the Chief Justice, eyeing the notes and rolls of gold; then, turning to a list he had by his side: "I see he is condemned to be hung, and should have been strung up with his brother this afternoon. To pardon him is impossible. All I can do is to commute his sentence, and condemn him to be sent as a slave to the West Indies. There, do not be weeping, wench. You have obtained your lover's life, at a cheap rate too. If you care for him you will rejoice. You have saved him for a trumpery thousand pounds."

"But can he not be pardoned, can he not be pardoned, my lord?" exclaimed Alice, clasping her hands. "To be banished to the West Indies as a slave is a terrible punishment."

"We can hang him instead," said Jeffreys.

"Then, will you give me a paper stating that his sentence is commuted?"

"You doubt my word, wench? Well, you shall have it to satisfy your incredulity," and he wrote a few lines. "Stephen Battiscombe, sentenced to death, punishment commuted to ten years' slavery in Jamaica."

Alice could scarcely refrain from giving a cry of dismay as she saw this. "Could he not be sent to Virginia?" she asked.

"Could you not go out and join him there?" exclaimed the Judge, tauntingly. "If you are not content with having saved your crop-eared lover's life, you shall have his dead body by to-morrow morning, wench, and I will order him to be hung forthwith."

"Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Alice, clasping her hands. "Let him live--in your clemency let him live!" and, scarcely waiting to pay a formal farewell to the Judge, she hastened out to rejoin Mr Willoughby. He had in the meantime discovered the prison where Stephen was confined. It was not a place into which Alice could have entered alone, but she was able to accompany him. Together they sought out the officer who had charge of the prisoners, and presented the document which the Judge had given to Alice, to prevent the risk of any mistake being made. The man looked well pleased. "A live prisoner is worth ten dead ones, and you may depend on it we will not hang him if we can help it."

Alice had hoped to have been allowed to see Stephen, to communicate to him the fact that his life had been spared. This the jailer said was impossible, though he promised to do so as soon as he could. Alice remained another day with her kind friend Mr Willoughby, and at length succeeded in obtaining an interview. Stephen had heard the change in his fate. "While there is life there is hope," he said. "I may reach Jamaica; when there, I may succeed in obtaining my liberation, and happier days may be in store for England, and I may be able to return without let or hindrance."

Alice was equally hopeful, and they parted, she having the satisfaction of believing that she had contributed to save Stephen's life.

The Colonel received her with a look of approbation as she arrived. "You have acted like a brave girl," he said. "I trust that we shall welcome Stephen back again some day, though."

The Colonel tried to keep up Alice's spirits, and did not tell her of the cruel execution which had taken place at Lyme a few days before, when twelve gentlemen, all of education and high character, were put to death, including poor Andrew Battiscombe.

The fate of those who were transported was still more cruel. They were indiscriminately sold to West India merchants, planters, and others, who shipped them off crowded together in small vessels to Jamaica. Stephen, with upwards of eight hundred poor wretches, who had been condemned to be sold as slaves by Jeffreys, arrived in London, having been carried there in carts. Here they were awarded to the various noblemen, courtiers, and others who had applied for them, who sold them for the sum of ten pounds each. Few of them were of the rank of gentlemen-- nearly all Monmouth's officers having been executed, with the exception of such as could pay heavy fines for their lives. Lord Grey, Ferguson, Wade, and other leading men were allowed to live, the former paying forty thousand pounds to the Lord Treasurer, and smaller sums to other courtiers, for their lives. In London the slaves met many of the followers of Argyll, who had, like them, been condemned to the West Indies. Stephen, with about sixty others, was shipped on board a small vessel, the _Surge_, Captain Hawkins, which, with seven other vessels freighted in the same way, set sail together from the Thames. Never a sadder fleet left the shores of England. The unhappy passengers knew that they were never likely to see those shores again; they had been torn from their families, their relatives and friends, and were going to a pestiferous climate, to be employed in the open air under a burning sun, like the negroes from Africa,--a climate which, under such circumstances, is sure to prove fatal to Europeans. Stephen, notwithstanding what he had gone through, was in tolerable health, and he did his utmost to keep up his spirits. Scarcely was the fleet free of the Channel than, a heavy gale springing up, the _Surge_ was separated from her consorts, and proceeded on her voyage alone. The passengers were secured together below like African slaves, on a deck extending nearly fore and aft, with low benches on which they could sit, a bar running behind it with iron rings to which they were chained. Here they were compelled to sleep and take their meals, a few only being allowed on deck at a time. Stephen contrived to make himself known to the Captain, who listened with interest to the account of his adventures in Africa, and allowed him more liberty than the rest. The _Surge_ had not made much progress when she encountered another gale, in which she received much damage. A heavy sea came sweeping over her deck.

"Hold on for your lives," shouted the Captain. When the sea had passed, the second mate and two other men had disappeared; they were seen for an instant struggling in the waves astern. There was no hope of saving them; indeed, it seemed but too likely that the _Surge_ herself would ere long founder. The pumps were manned, but the crew were soon knocked up. Stephen proposed to the Captain to liberate the slaves, in order to get them to work the pumps, and explain to them that unless they did so, the vessel would sink, and they would lose their lives. To this they agreed, Stephen setting them the example. Many of them, who had suffered greatly from the voyage, were unequal to the task, and sank down exhausted. The crew, who had no intention again of working the pumps themselves, endeavoured to stir them up. Several declared their inability to labour, and proved it by dying shortly afterwards on the deck where they lay. Stephen, however, urged the stronger ones to persevere explaining to them that they were working for the common good. The leak continued, and though by keeping the pumps going the water did not gain on the ship, it was found impossible to discover it, and it was evident that only by the greatest exertions they could hope to reach their port. A fever, however, of a malignant character broke out among the unhappy passengers as soon as they got into warm latitudes. No surgeon had been sent on board. First one died, then another, and another. Stephen suggested to Captain Hawkins various means for remedying the malady by fumigating the vessel. Nothing seemed to have the slightest effect on those once stricken. Before long two of the crew were attacked, and died. The weather again became calm, and the leak with considerable exertion was kept under, but the fever did not abate. The death-ship sailed on, losing sometimes three or four of her crew or passengers daily. The Captain had asked Stephen to take charge of a watch, and he now enjoyed perfect liberty, and took possession of the cabin of the second mate, who had been lost overboard. Should the death-rate continue there would be few left on board when the vessel arrived at Jamaica, even should the fair wind and fine weather continue. The first mate did not appear to be much of a navigator, and on the fever attacking the crew as well as the passengers, he lost all heart. Stephen did his best to doctor him, but before long he also succumbed, and the _Surge_ was left with a very limited crew.

Captain Hawkins was a stout-hearted man, and kept up his courage. He asked Stephen to select some of the passengers to assist him in working the ship. It was Stephen's afternoon watch, when he saw heavy clouds gathering in the west. They came on rapidly, while the sea below them was broken up into a mass of foam. He immediately sent and summoned the Captain, and ordered sail to be shortened. Short-handed as the _Surge_ was through the loss of so many of her crew, this was done but slowly. The Captain, who had quickly come on deck, and Stephen exerted themselves to the utmost, while they tried to obtain the assistance of some of the passengers; but those not labouring at the pumps were unable to be of much use. Before all the canvas could be reduced the hurricane struck her abeam. Had she been under her usual sail she would have been sent completely over and have foundered. As it was, she heeled before the blast. The next instant two loud crashes came; she rose on an even keel, but her masts were gone. The Captain and Stephen summoned all hands to clear away the wreck before the butt-ends of the masts should stave in the vessel with the tremendous thumps they were giving against the side. Axes were found, shrouds and other ropes which held fast the masts were speedily cut. Still the hapless vessel lay in the trough of the sea, the waves dashing against her sides, and threatening to sweep everything overboard. The great object now was to get a sail rigged on the stump of the foremast and put her before the wind. When the masts fell several people had been injured, the Captain among them. At first he made light of it. Now that he wished to exert himself more than ever, he was unable to do so. He called for a chair, and sat aft, giving his directions. Stephen had to take everything upon himself. The men obeyed him willingly. While he and the party were working forward, the sea came rolling up and struck the vessel amidships. They held on for their lives. The sea washed right aft, carrying everything before it. When it had disappeared, Stephen looked for the Captain, who was nowhere to be seen, nor were any of those who were standing in that part of the deck; the helmsman among them was gone. Another hand was sent to the helm, the sail, which had been got ready, hoisted, and the vessel put before the wind. Stephen now found himself in command of the _Surge_, but from her condition he had very little hope of ever arriving at a port. To go to Jamaica was not to be thought of, as he should be delivering his companions, and possibly himself, into slavery. He resolved, therefore, if he could save the _Surge_, to carry her to one of the New England settlements, where he and his companions would be received as friends; indeed, all those who had escaped from Sedgemoor had probably already arrived there, and would welcome him with open arms. The number of the passengers and crew were, however, sadly reduced. Of the former, scarcely twenty remained alive, while of the crew only six were fit for duty--not a single officer, the boatswain having succumbed to the fever. Stephen picked out two of the best men to act as mates, though neither of them could take an observation. When he informed the passengers of his intention of steering for New England, as soon as the hurricane should be over, they all willingly undertook to aid him to the utmost. Of late the vessel did not leak as much as before; something had apparently got into the opening which prevented the water entering. This tended to keep up the spirits of the storm-tossed party. Still they were in a very desperate condition. They could hope to get up only very imperfect jury-masts, and then, even should they obtain a favourable wind, they would be a long time in reaching a New England port. With their reduced numbers, and their provisions and water, they hoped to hold out, if all hands were at once put on an allowance. Stephen determined to see to this matter as soon as the gale was over. Still the fever continued among them. One of the crew and two more of the passengers died the day after the loss of the Captain. Poor fellows! it seemed a hard thing, in the prospect of liberty, thus to be summoned away after all they had gone through. Stephen had kept the deck nearly two days without once going below, having his food brought to him. At length, worn out with fatigue, he was compelled to seek an hour or two's rest in the cabin to enable him to continue his work. How long he had closed his eyes he could not tell, when he felt that the ship hove on her beam ends. He rushed up on deck, and shouted to the crew. No voices replied. It was very dark, but he made out that the jury-mast had been carried away, and the vessel lay in the trough of the sea. He went to the helm. The rudder had been injured, if not carried away; scarcely any of the bulwarks remained. The _Surge_ lay a complete wreck amid the wild raging waters. Another sea had apparently swept the deck and carried away every one within its power. As he went below to ascertain if any of the crew survived, cries and groans of the terrified passengers met his ears. He had little or no hope to offer them. Going forward, he could not discover one of the crew. He aroused the passengers, and urged them to turn to at the pumps. They might keep the vessel afloat till the morning, and then build a raft, or perchance a sail might heave in sight and rescue them. Few, however, were able to labour efficiently. It seemed a wonder to Stephen that his own strength had been kept up, when he saw stout fellows, accustomed to wield the scythe and flail, reduced to mere skeletons. The morning came, the _Surge_ still floated, but to build a raft seemed beyond the power of those on board. They wanted both strength and skill. Stephen urged them to try, however. Collecting all the spars and planks to be found, he commenced to work, showing them as far as he was able what to do. The wind had fallen, the sea was going down, or they could not possibly have made even the attempt. The ship, too, had risen more on an even keel than before. It seemed very doubtful whether she would exist much longer above water. The hours went slowly by. The poor fellows laboured as hard as they could. First one dropped, then another, some from fever, others from fatigue. The _Surge_ had been kept afloat during the day. Another night was approaching; nothing could be done during it; even seamen could have scarcely worked in the dark. Stephen, as he went below to kneel in prayer, as was his wont, did not expect to see the sun rise again over the waste of waters. _

Read next: Chapter 12

Read previous: Chapter 10

Table of content of Roger Willoughby: A Story of the Times of Benbow


GO TO TOP OF SCREEN

Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book