CHAPTER XV
A REPRIEVE!
"My Lord of March, is Arthur Lord Balmerino guilty of High Treason?"
Lord March, youngest peer of the realm, profligate and scoundrel, laid hishand on the place where his heart ought to have been and passed judgmentunctuously.
"Guilty, upon my honour."
The Lord High Steward repeated the same question to each of the peers inorder of their age and received from each the same answer. As it becameplain that the prisoner at the bar was to be convicted thegentleman-gaoler gradually turned the edge of his axe toward Balmerino,whose manner was nonchalant and scornful. When the vote had been polled myLord bowed to the judges with dignity and remarked, "I am sorry to havetaken up so much of your time without avail, my lords. If I pleaded 'notguilty' my principal reason was that the ladies might not miss theirshow." Shortly afterward he was ushered out of Westminster Hall to hiscarriage.
From the view-point of the whigs Balmerino was undoubtedly guilty asLucifer and not all the fair play in the world could have saved him fromTower Hill. He was twice a rebel, having been pardoned for his part in"the '15," and 'twas not to be expected that so hardened an offender wouldagain receive mercy. But at the least he might have been given courtesy,and that neither he nor his two fellows, Kilmarnock and Cromartie, did atall receive. The crown lawyers to the contrary took an unmanly delight ingirding and snapping at the captives whom the fortune of war had put intheir power. Monstrous charges were trumped up that could not besubstantiated, even the Lord High Steward descending to vituperation.
Horry Walpole admitted Balmerino to be the bravest man he had ever seen.Throughout the trial his demeanour had been characteristic of the man,bold and intrepid even to the point of bravado. The stout old lordconversed with the official axe-bearer and felt the edge of the ominousinstrument with the unconcern of any chance spectator. There was present alittle boy who could see nothing for the crowd and Balmerino alone wasunselfish enough to think of him. He made a seat for the child besidehimself and took care that he missed nothing of the ceremony. When theSolicitor-General, whose brother, Secretary Murray, had saved his own lifeby turning evidence against Balmerino, went up to the Scotch Lord andasked him insolently how he dared give the peers so much trouble,Balmerino drew himself up with dignity and asked, "Who is this person?"Being told that it was Mr. Murray, "Oh!" he answered smiling, "Mr. Murray!I am glad to see you. I have been with several of your relations; the goodlady your mother was of great use to us at Perth."
Through the crowd I elbowed my way and waited for the three condemnedScotch lords to pass into their carriages. Balmerino, bluff and soldierly,led the way; next came the tall and elegant Kilmarnock; Lord Cromartie,plainly nervous and depressed, brought up the rear. Balmerino recognizedme, nodded almost imperceptibly, but of course gave no other sign ofknowing the gawky apprentice who gaped at him along with a thousandothers. Some one in the crowd cried out, "Which is Balmerino?" The oldlord turned courteously, and said with a bow, "I am Balmerino." At thedoor of the coach he stopped to shake hands with his fellow-sufferers.
"I am sorry that I alone cannot pay the debt, gentlemen. But after all'tis but what we owe to nature sooner or later, the common debt of all. Ibear in mind what Sir Walter Raleigh wrote the night before his head paidforfeit.
"'Cowards fear to die; but courage stout, Rather than live in snuff, will be put out.'
"Poor Murray drags out a miserable life despised by all, but we go to ourGod with clean hands. By St. Andrew, the better lot is ours."
"I think of my poor wife and eight fatherless bairns," said Cromartiesadly.
Rough Arthur Elphinstone's comforting hand fell on his shoulder.
"A driech outlook, my friend. You must commend them to the God of orphansif the worst befalls. As for us-- Well, in the next world we will not betried by a whig jury."
Balmerino stepped into the coach which was waiting to convey him to theTower. The gentleman-gaoler followed with the official axe, the edge ofwhich still pointed toward its victim. He must have handled it carelesslyin getting into the carriage, for I heard Balmerino bark out,
"Take care, man, or you'll break my shins with that d----d axe."
They were the last words I ever heard from his lips. The door slammed andthe coach drove away to the prison, from which my Lord came forth only tomeet the headsman and his block.
Sadly I made my way towards the city through the jostling crowds ofsightseers. Another batch of captives from the North was to pass throughthe town that day on their way to prison, and a fleering rabble surged toand fro about the streets of London in gala dress, boisterous, jovial,pitiless. From high to low by common consent the town made holiday. Abovethe common ruck, in windows hired for the occasion, the fashionable world,exuding patronage and perfume, sat waiting for the dreary procession topass. In the windows opposite where I found standing room a party from theWest End made much talk and laughter. In the group I recognized AntoinetteWesterleigh, Sir James Craven, and Topham Beauclerc.
"Slitterkins! I couldn't get a seat at Westminster Hall this morning forlove or money," pouted Mistress Westerleigh. "'Tis pity you men can't findroom for a poor girl to see the show."
"Egad, there might as well have been no rebellion at all," said Beauclercdryly. "Still, you can go to see their heads chopped off. 'Twill be somecompensation."
"I suppose you'll go, Selwyn," said Craven to that gentleman, who withVolney had just joined the group.
"I suppose so, and to make amends I'll go to see them sewn on again,"returned Selwyn.
"I hear you want the High Steward's wand for a memento," said Beauclerc.
"Not I," returned Selwyn. "I did, but egad! he behaved so like an attorneythe first day and so like a pettifogger the second that I wouldn't takethe wand to light my fire with."
"Here they come, sink me!" cried Craven, and craned forward to get a firstglimpse of the wretched prisoners.
First came four wagon-loads of the wounded, huddled together thick asshrimps, their pallid faces and forlorn appearance a mute cry forsympathy. The mob roared like wild beasts, poured out maledictions ontheir unkempt heads, hurled stones and sticks at them amid furious din andclamour. At times it seemed as if the prisoners would be torn from thehands of their guard by the excited mob. Scarce any name was found toovile with which to execrate these unfortunate gentlemen who had beenguilty of no crime but excessive loyalty.
Some of the captives were destined for the New Prison in Southwark, othersfor Newgate, and a few for the Marshalsea. Those of the prisoners who wereable to walk were handcuffed together in couples, with the exception of afew of the officers who rode on horseback bound hand and foot. Among thehorsemen I easily recognized Malcolm Macleod, who sat erect, dour,scornful, his strong face set like a vise, looking neither to the rightnor the left. Another batch of foot prisoners followed. Several of thepoor fellows were known to me, including Leath, Chadwick, and the lawyerMorgan. My roving eye fell on Creagh and Captain Roy shackled together.
From the window above a piercing cry of agony rang out.
"Tony! Tony!"
Creagh slewed round his head and threw up his free hand.
"'Toinette!" he cried.
But Miss Westerleigh had fainted, and Volney was already carrying her fromthe window with the flicker of a grim smile on his face. I noticed withrelief that Craven had disappeared from sight.
My relief was temporary. When I turned to leave I found my limbs cloggedwith impedimenta. To each arm hung a bailiff, and a third clung like aleech to my legs. Some paces distant Sir James Craven stood hulloing themto the sport with malign pleasure.
"To it, fustian breeches! Yoho, yoho! There's ten guineas in it for eachof you and two hundred for me. 'Slife, down with him, you red-hairedfellow! Throw him hard. Ecod, I'll teach you to be rough with Craven, mycockerel Montagu!" And the bully kicked me twice where I lay.
They dragged me to my feet, and Craven began to sharpen his dull wit onme.
"Two hundred guineas I get out of this, you cursed rebel highwayman,besides the pleasure of seeing you wear hemp--and that's worth a hundredmore, sink my soul to hell if it isn't."
"Your soul is sunk there long ago, and this blackguard job sends you onecircle lower in the Inferno, Catchpoll Craven," said a sneering voicebehind him.
Craven swung on his heel in a fury, but Volney's easy manner--and perhapsthe reputation of his small sword too--damped the mettle of his courage.He drew back with a curse, whispered a word into the ear of the nearestbailiff, and shouldered his way into the crowd, from the midst of which hewatched us with a sneer.
"And what mad folly, may I ask, brought you back to London a-courting thegallows?" inquired Volney of me.
"Haven't you heard that Malcolm Macleod is taken?" I asked.
"And did you come to exchange places with him? On my soul you're madderthan I thought. Couldn't you trust me to see that my future brother-in-lawcomes to no harm without ramming your own head down the lion's throat?Faith, I think Craven has the right of it: the hempen noose is yawning forsuch fools as you."
The bailiffs took me to the New Prison and thrust me into an undergroundcell about the walls of which moisture hung in beads. Like the rest of theprisoners I was heavily ironed by day and fastened down to the floor by astaple at night. One hour in the day we were suffered to go into the yardfor exercise and to be inspected and commented upon by the great number ofvisitors who were allowed access to the prison. On the second day of myarrival I stood blinking in the strong sunlight, having just come up frommy dark cell, when two prisoners shuffled across the open to me, theirfetters dragging on the ground. Conceive my great joy at finding Creaghand Donald Roy fellow inmates of New Prison with me. Indeed Captain Royoccupied the very next cell to mine.
I shall not weary you with any account of our captivity except to statethat the long confinement in my foul cell sapped my health. I fell victimto agues and fevers. Day by day I grew worse until I began to think that'twas a race between disease and the gallows. Came at last my trial, andprison attendants haled me away to the courts. Poor Leath, white to thelips, was being hustled out of the room just as I entered.
"By Heaven, Montagu, these whigs treat us like dogs," he criedpassionately to me. "They are not content with our lives, but must heapfoul names and infamy upon us."
The guards hurried us apart before I could answer. I asked one of themwhat the verdict had been in Leath's case, and the fellow with an evillaugh made a horrid gesture with his hands that confirmed my worst fears.
In the court room I found a frowning judge, a smug-faced yawning jury, androw upon row of eager curious spectators come to see the show. Besidesthese there were some half-score of my friends attending in the vain hopeof lending me countenance. My shifting glance fell on Charles, Cloe, andAileen, all three with faces like the corpse for colour and despairingeyes which spoke of a hopeless misery. They had fought desperately for mylife, but they knew I was doomed. I smiled sadly on them, then turned toshake hands with George Selwyn.
He hoped, in his gentle drawl, that I would win clear. My face lit up athis kindly interest. I was like a drowning man clutching at straws. Eventhe good-will of a turnkey was of value to me.
"Thanks, Selwyn," I said, a little brokenly. "I'm afraid there's no chancefor me, but it's good hearing that you are on my side."
He appeared embarrassed at my eagerness. Not quite good form he thoughtit, I dare say. His next words damped the glow at my heart.
"'Gad, yes! Of course. I ought to be; bet five ponies with Craven that youwould cheat the gallows yet. He gave me odds of three to one, and Ithought it a pretty good risk."
It occurred to me fantastically that he was looking me over with the eyeof an underwriter who has insured at a heavy premium a rotten hulk boundfor stormy seas. I laughed bitterly.
"You may win yet," I said. "This cursed prison fever is eating me up;" andwith that I turned my back on him.
I do not intend to go into my trial with any particularity. From first tolast I had no chance and everybody in the room understood it. There were adozen witnesses to prove that I had been in the thick of the rebellion.Among the rest was Volney, in a vile temper at being called on to givetestimony. He was one of your reluctant witnesses, showed a decidedacrimony toward the prosecution, and had to have the facts drawn out ofhim as with a forceps. Such a witness, of high social standing andevidently anxious to shield me, was worth to the State more than all theother paltry witnesses combined. The jury voted guilty without leaving thecourt-room, after which the judge donned his black cap and pronounced thehorrible judgment which was the doom of traitors. I was gash with fear,but I looked him in the face and took it smilingly. It was Volney who ledthe murmur of approval which greeted my audacity, a murmur which brokefrankly into applause when Aileen, white to the lips, came fearlessly upto bid me be of good cheer, that she would save me yet if the importunityof a woman would avail aught.
Wearily the days dragged themselves into weeks, and still no word of hopecame to cheer me. There was, however, one incident that gave me muchpleasure. On the afternoon before the day set for our execution Donald Roymade his escape. Some one had given him a file and he had been tinkeringat his irons for days. We were in the yard for our period of exercise, andhalf a dozen of us, pretending to be in earnest conversation together,surrounded him while he snapped the irons. Some days before this time hehad asked permission to wear the English dress, and he now coollysauntered out of the prison with some of the visitors quite unnoticed bythe guard.
The morning dawned on which nine of us were to be executed. Our coffee wasserved to us in the room off the yard, and we drank it in silence. Inoticed gladly that Macdonald was not with us, and from that argued thathe had not been recaptured.
"Here's wishing him a safe escape from the country," said Creagh.
"Lucky dog!" murmured Leath, "I hope they won't nail him again."
Brandy was served. Creagh named the toast and we drank it standing.
"King James!"
The governor of the prison bustled in just as the broken glasses shiveredbehind us.
"Now gentlemen, if you are quite ready."
Three sledges waited for us in the yard to draw us to the gallows tree.There was no cowardly feeling, but perhaps a little dilatoriness ingetting into the first sledge. Five minutes might bring a reprieve for anyof us, and to be in the first sledge might mean the difference betweenlife and death.
"Come, gentlemen! If you please! Let us have no more halting," said thegovernor, irritably.
Creagh laughed hardily and vaulted into the sledge. "Egad, you're right!We'll try a little haltering for a change."
Morgan followed him, and I took the third place.
A rider dismounted at the prison gate.
"Is there any news for me?" asked one poor fellow eagerly.
"Yes, the sheriff has just come and is waiting for you," jeered one of theguards with brutal frankness.
The poor fellow stiffened at once. "Very well. I am ready."
A heavy rain was falling, but the crowd between the prison and KenningtonCommon was immense. At the time of our trials the mob had treated us inruffianly fashion, but now we found a respectful silence. The lawyerMorgan was in an extremely irritable mood. All the way to the Common hepoured into our inattentive ears a tale of woe about how his coffee hadbeen cold that morning. Over and over again he recited to us the legalprocedure for bringing the matter into the courts with sufficient effectto have the prison governor removed from his position.
A messenger with an official document was waiting for us at the gallows.The sheriff tore it open. We had all been bearing ourselves boldly enoughI dare say, but at sight of that paper our lips parched, our throatschoked, and our eyes burned. Some one was to be pardoned or reprieved. Butwho? What a moment! How the horror of it lives in one's mind! Leisurelythe sheriff read the document through, then deliberately went over itagain while nine hearts stood still. Creagh found the hardihood at tha
tmoment of intense anxiety to complain of the rope about his neck.
"I wish the gossoon who made this halter was to be hanged in it. 'Slife,the thing doesn't fit by a mile," he said jauntily.
"Mr. Anthony Creagh pardoned, Mr. Kenneth Montagu reprieved," said thesheriff without a trace of feeling in his voice.
For an instant the world swam dizzily before me. I closed my eyes, partlyfrom faintness, partly to hide from the other poor fellows the joy thatleaped to them. One by one the brave lads came up and shook hands withCreagh and me in congratulation. Their good-will took me by the throat,and I could only wring their hands in silence.
On our way back to the prison Creagh turned to me with streaming eyes. "Doyou know whom I have to thank for this, Kenneth?"
"No. Whom?"
"Antoinette Westerleigh, God bless her dear heart!"
And that set me wondering. It might be that Charles and Aileen alone hadwon my reprieve for me, but I suspected Volney's fine hand in the matter.Whether he had stirred himself in my affairs or not, I knew that I tooowed my life none the less to the leal heart of a girl.