Roger Kyffin's Ward

Mabel had been so agitated by the attack of the footpads that she had been unable to speak. She now eagerly asked Jacob why he wished to see her.

“It is about a shipmate of mine, please you, miss, as true-hearted a lad as ever stepped – one Harry Tryon, though in speaking to you, miss, I ought to call him Master Harry.”

“Go on, I entreat you,” said Mabel, eagerly.

“You have heard talk of the mutiny, miss, and how the seamen thought they had not got their rights, and how they held out against their officers? Well, the chief of the mutineers, and I have not much to say in his favour, was aboard our ship, and because Harry was a gentleman and could write a good hand, he made him act as his secretary. Now do you see Harry did not wish to do so, to my certain knowledge, but somehow or other, after Parker, who was the chief in the business, was tried and hung, Harry was brought in guilty of helping him. I don’t know how it was I was not called as a witness, or I could have proved that Parker held a pistol to Harry’s head and made him write what he told him. The long and short, however, of it is that poor Harry has been condemned to death, and lies on board the prison ship with a number of other fellows, to be run up one of these days to the yard-arm. Now I thought to myself, he has got friends down at Lynderton who I know would help him. As I could not get away from the ship to give the news, I got a messmate, howsomdever, to write to my Mary, you know her, miss, and tell her all about it. At last, however, yesterday morning, Jack Veal here and I got leave to come ashore and spend a fortnight at home. We lost no time as soon as we stepped on shore, you may depend on it, miss, but came along as fast as our two legs would carry us, and a pretty good job it is we did come, or we should have missed the chance of knocking those fellows on the head and doing you a service, miss.”

“It is indeed most fortunate, and I have to thank you very heartily,” answered Mabel; “and if, instead of going on to Lynderton you will accompany us, you may be of still greater service. I am going up to London, on purpose to see what can be done for Mr Tryon. If nobody else can assist me, I will go to our good King, and ask him to grant his pardon. If you are able to bear evidence that he did not willingly join the mutineers, I am sure his Majesty will grant our request.”

“With all the pleasure in life, miss,” answered Jacob. “I would go a hundred miles to give a helping hand to any shipmate, much more to so true-hearted a chap as Harry Tryon, or Andrew Brown, for that’s the name he goes by. I told you when I wrote through him to Mary how he had saved your honoured father’s life, and if he was in England all things would go right, for he would be able to prove what an obedient well-behaved seaman Harry always was with him.”

“I am right glad to hear you say that, Jacob,” put in Paul. “To my mind, Miss Mabel, it is fortunate we fell in with these two lads, but let us lose no further time. They must keep alongside our horses till we can get a cart or coach of some sort to carry them on. It is very clear there is no time to be lost, and if we get in early to London something may be done even to-day.”

“Make sail ahead, then,” cried Jacob; “Jack and I will keep up with you, and if we can we will lay hands on a craft of some sort to carry us on.”

They had not gone far when they saw the footpads return and carry off their wounded companions. Under other circumstances Paul would have given notice of what had occurred, but he knew by so doing they might have to undergo considerable delay, which for Harry’s sake it was most important should be avoided. They therefore pushed on till they arrived at a small inn on the London side of the heath, where Paul had on several occasions stopped. The landlord knew him, and he was able, therefore, without difficulty, to hire a horse on which the two sailors might proceed. It was the only one in the stable, but as it had an unusually long back, Jacob and Jack agreed that it would answer their purpose quite as well as two.

“Each can take his trick at the helm by turns,” observed Jacob, “though seeing that when a little boy I used often to ride the horses to water, I may be the better hand of the two.”

The stable boy was about to put on a saddle.

“No, no, off with that thing,” observed Jacob, throwing himself on the animal’s back. “Here, Jack, give us your hand. Now sit yourself astern. That will do. Good-bye, Master Gibson, we will send the horse back to you safe and sound, never fear.”

Saying this, Jack and his companion rode out of the stable-yard, and followed Mabel and Gauntlett, who had just before left it.

As Mabel approached London, her eagerness to see her godfather and Mr Kyffin increased. She could scarcely refrain from urging on her steed to its topmost speed, though restrained every now and then by Paul’s voice requesting her to proceed at a more leisurely pace, both for her own sake and for that of Jacob and his companion, who were following on their rough-trotting horse. Before noon she drew rein at the door of Mr Thornborough’s house. She threw herself from her horse, and ran up the steps. Miss Thornborough stood ready to receive her in her arms.

“My dear Mabel, we have heard all about it from Mr Kyffin,” she said. “He is up-stairs with your godfather, and will do all he can; but, my dear child, what a journey for you to take!”

Mabel, thanking her kind old friend, explained that she had brought companions who might be of great service, and begged that they and their horses might be looked after.

“That shall be attended to. And now, my dear Mabel, you must come and rest yourself, and after dinner you shall hear what your friends propose doing.”

“Oh, let me hear at once,” answered Mabel, unconsciously lifting up her hands to Miss Thornborough; “I cannot endure any longer this suspense. Do they think that Harry can be saved? I must see my godfather and Mr Kyffin, and hear what they propose from their own lips.”

Mistress Barbara accordingly conducted Mabel up-stairs. Mr Kyffin came forward in a kind and courteous manner to conduct her to a seat, before taking which, however, she hurried up to her godfather, who kissed her affectionately.

“You must not be cast down, my child,” he said; “Harry’s guardian and I will do all that we can for the lad.”

Mabel felt her spirits somewhat raised on hearing this. Still she saw that Mr Kyffin’s countenance was very grave, as if his hopes of success were but small. As, however, she described having fallen in with Jacob Tuttle and another shipmate of Harry’s, his looks brightened somewhat.

“Yes, I see it,” he answered; “there is hope if we have them as witnesses, but we must be quick in our movements.”

“Oh! yes, yes,” exclaimed Mabel. “I am ready to go down to Windsor at once, where I hear the King is. He may remember me. I little thought that his visit to Stanmore would have been of so much consequence.”

“You will be over-fatiguing yourself, young lady,” said Mr Kyffin, looking compassionately at Mabel. “After a ride of nearly one hundred miles, you are scarcely fit to undertake another journey.”

“Oh, yes, I would mount my horse this instant,” answered Mabel. “I care not for food or rest, when Harry’s life hangs in the balance.”

“To relieve your mind we will go at once, then, I promise you,” answered Mr Kyffin. “A coach and four will be in readiness within an hour. In the meantime you must take some refreshment and rest, and we shall be in time to see the King this very afternoon. After that we must be guided by his Majesty’s reply.”

The road from London to Windsor, as it was traversed frequently by royalty, was in those days one of the best in the country.

A carriage was proceeding along it in the early part of the afternoon, drawn by four horses galloping at a furious rate. Its passengers were Mabel, Mistress Barbara, who had come to take care of her, and Mr Kyffin, while outside was Paul Gauntlett, who would not lose sight of his young mistress, and Jacob Tuttle with his companion, who sat on the box and frequently leant forward urging the postillions to drive faster and faster.

The more Jacob thought of the peril in which Harry was placed, the more anxious he became about him. He had already seen many unhappy men run up at the yard-arms of their respective ships in consequence of their active participation in the dangerous mutiny lately quelled, and he could not help feeling that Harry Tryon might be among the next victims. Many of them were young men, strong, active, intelligent fellows, misled by designing knaves. It is especially painful to see such men, who, though criminal, differ greatly from ordinary culprits, suddenly launched into eternity. Such has been the fate demanded by stern justice of many fine seamen, and undoubtedly those executions had struck a wholesome terror into the minds of British seamen generally. From that day forward no mutiny of any consequence has ever occurred in the British fleet.

At length the numerous towers of Windsor’s proud castle were seen by the travellers. Mabel’s heart beat even quicker than before as the carriage dashed on. At length they reached the foot of the ascent which leads to the terrace. On one side were the walls of the castle, on the other stretched away the greensward, the wide-spreading trees, and the long glades of Windsor forest. Along the terrace were scattered numerous groups of persons, some standing on either side, others walking slowly up and down in conversation, now bowing to those they passed, now stopping to speak a few words to acquaintances. Below, the park was crowded with persons of every degree, all of them in gala costume. The eyes of the greater number turned frequently up towards the terrace, where some object especially attracted their attention. Mistress Barbara and Mabel, with Mr Kyffin, had no difficulty in passing the guards, but their attendants were stopped and told that they could not be admitted on the terrace.

“Oh, but we want them especially to come; it is a matter of greatest importance,” exclaimed Mabel. “We want them to see the King.”

“What is it? who do you want to see?” said a middle-aged gentleman, stepping forward from among several younger people by whom he was surrounded.

“The King,” answered Mabel, advancing. “Your Majesty – it is yourself!” she added, looking up and discovering that she was in the presence of George the Third, who, with several of his own family and three or four of his favourite courtiers and visitors, had just reached the end of the terrace.

“Ah! surely I have seen your face, young lady,” said the King, in his kind, gentle way. “Tell me all about it.”

“I had the honour of seeing your Majesty at Stanmore, the house of my uncle, Colonel Everard,” answered Mabel, “when your Majesty was last there.”

“Ah, yes, and I never forget a face,” said the King; “and how is your uncle? – he is an old friend of mine.”

“He has been called hence, your Majesty,” answered Mabel; “he is dead.”

“Ah! dear, dear,” said the King; “I had heard of it; my friends die quickly, and there are few to replace them; I ought to have remembered. But tell me what you require of me – what can I do for you?”

Mabel endeavoured to explain in a few words, and as clearly as possible, the object of her visit to the King. He listened attentively.

“A sad thing that mutiny, though; but are you certain that young man is not guilty? Can you prove it? There’s the question,” said the King. “People want proofs in these matters. We must not be governed by our feelings.”

“Oh, yes, your Majesty, I know, I am sure he is not guilty!” exclaimed Mabel, clasping her hands, and looking up imploringly at the King. “My liege, you have the power of saving him; oh! let me entreat you to do so. Exert your royal prerogative, and save the life of one who is innocent of the fearful charges brought against him.”

“I should like to do so, young lady, indeed I should,” said the King, kindly, “but I want proofs. Those are what the lawyers require. What proofs can you bring forward?”

“Here, your Majesty, are two men who were on board the ship in which Mr Tryon served, and they are able to bear evidence that he was compelled by the ringleader to perform the acts for which he has been condemned.”

“Ah! let them come forward, and I will hear what they have to say,” said the King. “Are those the men outside who came with you? Let them be admitted immediately!”

On this Jacob and Jack Veal were allowed instantly to go on the terrace, Paul Gauntlett slipping in with them. The King beckoned them forward. Doffing their hats, they stood in a row before his Majesty, Paul a little behind the others ready to make a military salute, while Jacob and Jack kept hauling away at one of the love-locks with which their foreheads were bedecked.

“Let me hear all about it. What have you got to say, my man?” asked the King, looking at Jacob.

“Please your Majesty, he no more wanted to mutiny against your Majesty than the babe unborn,” began Jacob. “Please your Majesty, there’s not a more loyal subject of your Majesty’s in England, not except old Pike, whom your Majesty recollects at Lynderton, and who used to get drunk regularly on your Majesty’s birthday drinking your Majesty’s health.”

“What, do you know old Pike?” exclaimed the King, laughing; “I hope he is well.”

“Oh! bless you, your Majesty, he was well and as merry as a cricket when I was last at home. I have been foreign since then, and have not seen him or my old mother for many a day.”

“Ah, well, I wish all my subjects were as loyal as old Pike,” observed the King, turning round and narrating the anecdote of the prostration performed by the old mace-bearer before him. “And now about this young man, you say he is innocent, but how can you prove it?”

“Why, your Majesty, I can swear my Bible oath that I saw Richard Parker clap a pistol to his head and tell him if he did not obey orders he would blow his brains out. Now, your Majesty, do you see, he thought to himself, ‘If my brains are blown out I can never serve the King again, and if I merely write as I am made to do there can be no great harm in that, and the time will come when I may be able to serve my good King as before.’ Now, your Majesty, I ask if a man was to treat you like that, whether you would not think it was wiser to obey him than to kick up a row about it?”

“As to that, it would depend very much upon what the man wanted me to do,” answered the King. “However, it is clear your young friend acted on compulsion, if your oath is of any value; and what does your shipmate there say?”

“Please your Majesty, I can swear the same thing,” answered Jack Veal, “and what is more, we can bring several other men to prove that what we say is the truth.”

“And what do you say, my tall friend?” said the King, looking up at Paul.

“Please your Majesty, I have known the lad from his boyhood. He is true and loyal to the backbone,” answered Paul, making a salute. “His grandfather, General Tryon, served your Majesty, and perhaps your Majesty remembers the ride he took with you through the forest after your Majesty’s visit to Stanmore.”

“Ah! yes, yes, let me see. I remember the youth well,” said the King. “A well-mannered, intelligent lad. It would be a great pity to have him hung, of course it would,” he remarked, turning round, to the Queen and princesses who were standing with him. “But, my dear young lady, I cannot act in this matter without the advice of my ministers. You must go and see Mr Pitt, and learn what he has to say. If he consents, I will pardon the lad with all my heart.”

“Most deeply do I thank your Majesty for those kind words,” answered Mabel; “but time is precious. Any instant he may be led out to execution, and some time would pass before we could apply to the minister.”

“Oh, that gentleman will help you,” answered the King, turning to Mr Kyffin, “he looks like a lawyer, a clever man, I am sure. You will help the young lady, will you not?” said the King.

“Armed with a line signed by your Majesty I certainly could do so,” answered Mr Kyffin, bowing. “We will hasten back to town and see Mr Pitt, and in the meantime, provided with the order to stay the execution, we will proceed to the ship where the prisoner is confined.”

“Come along, then,” said the King, with a kind encouraging glance at Mabel. “You shall have the paper; I hope it is not unconstitutional. What is the lad’s name?”

“Harry Tryon,” answered Mabel.

“Please your Majesty, that is his real name,” put in Jacob Tuttle, hearing the answer; “but the name he is to be hung by is Andrew Brown; and please your Majesty, if you only give the order to stop Harry Tryon being hung, poor Andrew Brown may be hung up notwithstanding.”

“I see, I see,” said the King. “Well, then, as you are in a hurry, my dear young lady, we will draw out the paper.”

On this the King, with several members of the royal family, attended by Mabel and Mr Kyffin, entered the castle by the side door. The King walked rapidly on through several passages till he entered his private room. Sitting down at a desk he began to write, the rest of the party standing at a respectful distance round him.

“There, my dear young lady, this, I believe, will have its effect,” he observed, as he finished the papers and handed them to Mabel. “You will not lose them, eh? The one you can send on board the ship and the other to the minister. He will attend to my request, I hope. Now speed ye well, and God bless you.”