Percy F. Westerman – The Complete Collection

Chapter 5

Once round that bend, surely there would be a house or some succour; but no, only another stretch of chalky road. Then I thought to leave the road and climb the steep, grassy slope on my left, and before my pursuers had turned the corner I was staggering madly up the bank, where, under the frail shelter of a stunted bush, I lay down and panted like a hunted hare.

In a very short time the first of my pursuers appeared round the bend. It was the one with the scarred face, and, being in addition grimed with sweat and dust, and panting heavily, he presented a truly ferocious aspect.

When he saw the open road with no sign of his quarry he stopped, swearing and blaspheming horribly, till his fellow rogues came up. From my hiding place I could distinctly hear and see all, they being but forty yards away, and some fifty feet below me. In spite of my terror I kept them in view, and, being weaponless, I looked around for some means of defence. Close to my feet was a large rabbit hole, and knowing from past experience that these animals frequently throw up flints and other stones from their burrows, I plunged my hand into the newly excavated earth, and to my delight found a large jagged flint, and soon after my armoury consisted of five good-sized stones. Then a piece of wood, lying within two yards of the bush, and evidently a part of a hurdle, met my eye. This I seized, but the act led to my undoing, for one of the men, happening to look my way, saw me as I cautiously backed towards my shelter.

A volley of hideous oaths greeted my discovery, and immediately the black-bearded fellow and the man who had proved the fastest of the three began to climb the hill.

I retreated slowly, so as to save my breath. Again the wealed-faced man outdistanced his companion, and soon I could hear his deep panting behind me.

Then suddenly I turned, and, throwing one of the largest stones, hit him fairly in the midriff. With a loud howl he dropped on his knees and pressed his hands to his injured part, his cudgel rolling down the slope till stopped by the other man.

The third rogue, seeing how matters stood, also began to climb the slope. For my part, flushed with my success, I slowly edged away, intending to make a detour, regain the road, and then retrace my steps towards Petersfield; for I knew what sort of road I had already passed, but was in ignorance of the distance to which this wild valley extended.

Still climbing, I reached the sloping ridge round the base of which the road bent. Once again I could follow the highway leading to the chalk cutting, and to my unbounded delight I saw for the third time that ponderous coach with its attendant troopers descending the hill at a sharp pace.

The strong wind that was blowing towards the approaching cavalcade, and the dusty road, both tended to deaden the sound of the horses' hoofs and the dull rumble of the carriage, and as yet the villains were unaware of their danger.

On the summit of the ridge I turned towards them. Instinctively they separated, yet came on apace--the man whom I had hit with the stone limping onward with an effort, the others, each with a knife in his hand, working away on either side with the intention of preventing my escape. As the bearded ruffian came within throwing distance I flung a stone with all my might, and had he not quickly bounded aside, there would have been another point in my favour.

As soon as he gained the top of the ridge, though some feet below me, I made a sudden rush towards him, intending to make a feint and then run towards the troopers. The man stood on his guard, his knife glittering in the sunlight, though evidently astonished at my apparent rashness.

When close upon him I darted to one side and ran quickly down the hill. Suddenly my foot caught in a rabbit hole, and I fell headlong, rolling over and over in my descent.

With a savage curse my assailant rushed towards my prostrate body, and even as he did so he caught sight of the troopers.

His cursing changed into a howl of terror as he vainly tried to check his descent; but ere he could recover himself three of the horsemen had spurred their steeds betwixt him and the rest of the troop. He lay on the ground whining dismally, while the soldiers hastily trussed him up with a length of stout cord.

Meanwhile the coach had stopped, and as I approached, limping from the effects of my fall, its two occupants looked out of the window to enquire the cause of the disturbance.

Hastily I told my story, and hardly had I finished, when the elder of the two officers called to the sergeant: "Quickly, Sedgewyke! Secure those other rascals!"

Half a dozen troopers were quickly out of their saddles, and, leaving their horses in the care of two others, made their way up the slope towards the spot where the remaining rogues were last seen. He of the scarred face was quickly captured, being well-nigh winded with the effects of the stone I had thrown; but the third was a more determined quarry, though, in his stupidity, instead of climbing upwards (being far lighter than the soldiers, encumbered as they were with breast-pieces and riding-boots), he must needs make for the road, where he raced off at breakneck speed.

"A crown for the man who brings him down, dead or alive!" shouted the officer, who looked upon the pursuit with the eagerness of a sportsman.

Already the soldiers had regained their horses, and, leaving four as a guard over the prisoners, dashed in pursuit of the fugitive. Too late the wretch saw his mistake, and again ran from the road towards a steep bank of chalk that towered up for nearly fifty feet above the stretch of level grassland at its base.

Lifting me into the coach, the elder man gave orders to follow the chase, and soon we pulled up close to where the terror-stricken fugitive was making a desperate effort to scale the slippery bank.

"Middleton, we have some sport! I'll wager my largest snuffbox against thine that the rogue will outwit your eleven men."

"Taken," replied the other. "Now, men," he shouted, "remember, a crown, dead or alive!"

The troopers were drawn up in an irregular line along the edge of the road, and had drawn their pistols from their holsters.

Bang! A man on the extreme left had fired. The ball struck the cliff just above the fugitive's head, bringing down a small avalanche of chalk and dust. Digging his hands into the yielding soil, the wretched man raised himself another two feet. Being but thirty yards from us, his desperate efforts were plainly visible.

Bang! Bang! Two reports in quick succession echoed down the valley. This time, whether hit or not, the man slid some six feet downwards, till his foot caught in a projection and stopped his descent.

"Not so fast there," grumbled the sergeant. "If you fire like that, who can claim the reward? Now, then, Wagstaff!"

Calmly, as if at the butts, the row of men began to fire in turn. At the sixth shot the miserable villain made a feeble attempt to regain his former position, but ere he had ascended another two feet a shot struck him in the back of the head, and he tumbled to the bottom of the bank a hideously disfigured corpse.

Striding over to the body the sergeant turned it over on its back, made sure that life was extinct, then returned to the door of the coach, and, saluting, said: "Trooper Jenkins's shot, sir, brought the rogue down."

The elder man gave the sergeant the promised reward, then, turning to his companion, with a low bow, presented him with the snuffbox.

With this ceremonious display the tragedy was brought to a close, and the two officers, learning that I was on my way to Portsmouth, consented to let me ride with them.

The troopers formed up again, the prisoners firmly bound to two of their number, and the cavalcade passed onwards, leaving by the roadside a motionless object that had once been a man.

As we journeyed along, the officers plied me with questions, taking a great interest in my account of my meeting with the three footpads. The older of the two officers was about forty years of age, bronzed with the sun and wrinkled with exposure to the weather. His blue eyes twinkled in a kindly manner, while his lips, partly concealed by his closely trimmed moustache and beard, denoted both firmness and discretion.

His companion, apparently ten years younger, also wore a beard of Van Dyck cut. His appearance, however, denoted a man who was given to perform actions on the spur of the moment rather than to be ruled by deliberate counsel. He was addressed as Middleton by his companion, but I could not then gather what was the name of the elder man. Both men wore flowing lovelocks, and affected the rich apparel of the Cavaliers, which contrasted vividly with the sombre garb of their escort.

When I mentioned that I was on my way to my uncle, Master Anderson, the younger of the twain gave his companion a wink that did not escape me, and remarked: "Then, Master Aubrey, we'll see more of thee anon, if I mistake not."

The coach now descended a long declivity, at the bottom of which lay a straggling village, which, I was told, boasted of the name of Horndean. Here we rested the horses, my two benefactors going into the inn, from which presently a man came out bringing me a cup of milk and a plate of coarse brown bread and rich yellow cheese.

In half an hour the journey was resumed, the road leading up a short, steep incline and then plunging into a dense wood, which once formed a royal hunting-ground--the Forest of Bere.

At length we entered a deep, dark hollow, where the shade made a blinding contrast to the glare of the sun.

Suddenly there was a shrill whistle, followed by a sound of scuffling, a score of round oaths, and the sharp report of firearms.

The coach came to a sudden standstill, throwing me from my seat, while the others jumped out, unsheathing their swords as they did so.

I too made for the door, and could see the troopers preparing to fire into a thicket on the left-hand side of the road, while one of their number lay on the ground, his head bleeding from a severe wound.

After the next volley some of the men plunged into the underwood, encouraged by the voice of the sergeant shouting: "After him, men, at all costs; he cannot be far off."

A moment later there was a sound of harsh voices, the noise of stones striking against steel, more pistol-shots, and then quietness, broken at length by the return of the troopers bearing between them a man who moaned and cursed lustily as he was carried by none too tender hands.

"How now, Sedgewyke!" thundered his officer. "Who is this? 'Tis not the man we lost. Where is he?"

The sergeant saluted, and told his story: The troop was riding in a straggling manner, one of the men, who had a prisoner bound behind him (he with the scarred face), being in the rear. Without warning a stout rope that had been stretched between two trees on opposite sides of the road was dropped, and, catching the unfortunate soldier under the chin, hurled him and his prisoner to the ground. In a moment a party of men had run from the cover of the brushwood, freed the captive, and, after hamstringing the trooper's horse, had made their escape to the depths of the forest before the rest of the escort could realize what had occurred.