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Smuggler

<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> There was a solitary light in an upstairs window of Farmer Harris's house; and, by its dim ray, sat Harding the smuggler, watching the inanimate form of her upon whom all the strong affections of his heart had been concentrated. No persuasions could induce him to entrust "the first watch," as he called it, to others; and there he sat, seldom taking his eyes from that pale but still beautiful countenance, and often stooping over to print a kiss upon the cold and clay-like forehead of the dead. His tears were all shed: he wept not--he spoke not; but the bitterness which has no end was in his heart, and, with a sleepless eye, he watched through the livelong night. It was about three o'clock in the morning, when a hard knocking was heard at the door of the farm; and, without a change of feature, Harding rose and went down in the dark. He unlocked the door, and opened it, when a hand holding a paper was thrust in, and instantly withdrawn, as Harding took the letter. "What is this?" he said; but the messenger ran away without reply; and the smuggler returned to the chamber of death. The paper he had taken was folded in the shape of a note, but neither sealed nor addressed; and, without ceremony, Harding opened it, and read. It was written in a free, good hand, which he recognised at once, with rage and indignation all the more intense because he restrained them within his own breast. He uttered not a word; his face betrayed, only in part, the workings of strong passion within him. It is true, his lip quivered a little, and his brow became contracted, but it soon relaxed its frown; and, without oath or comment--though very blasphemous expletives were then tolerated in what was called the best society, and were prevalent amongst all the inferior classes,--he proceeded to read the few lines which the letter contained, and which something--perhaps the emotions he felt--had prevented him from seeing distinctly at first. The epistle was, as we have seen, addressed to no one, and was drawn up, indeed, more in the form of a general notice than anything else. Many, of nearly the same import, as was afterwards discovered, had been delivered at various farm-houses in the neighbourhood; but, as all were in substance the same, one specimen will suffice. "We give you to know," so the letter ran, "that, unless Edward Ramley and his two comrades are set free before daylight to-morrow, we will come to Goudhurst, and burn the place. Neither man, woman, nor child, shall escape. We are many--more than you think--and you know we will keep our word. So look to it, if you would escape-- "Vengeance!" Harding approached the bed, with the letter in his hand, gazed steadfastly upon the corpse for several minutes, and then, without a word, quitted the room. He went straight to the chamber which Farmer Harris and his wife now occupied, and knocked sharply at the door, exclaiming, "Harris--Harris! I want to speak with you!" The good farmer was with difficulty roused; for though no man felt more warmly, or, indeed, more vehemently, yet the corporeal had its full share with the mental; and when the body was fatigued with more than its ordinary portion of labour, the mind did not keep the whole being waking. At length, however, he came out, still drowsy, and taking the letter, gazed on it by the light of the candle, "with lack lustre eye!" But Harding soon brought him to active consciousness, by saying, "They threaten to burn the village, Harris, unless the murderers be suffered to escape. I am going up to the church, where they are kept.--Wake some one to sit up-stairs.--I will die before a man of them goes out." "And so will I," cried Harris; "let me see--let me see! My heart's asleep still, but I'll soon wake up. Why, where the mischief did this come from?" and he read the letter over again, with more comprehension of its contents. When he had done, he swore vehemently, "They shall find that the men of Goudhurst can match them," he cried; "but we must set about it quick, Harding, and call up all the young men.--They will come, that is certain; for the devil himself has not their impudence; but they must be well received when they do come. We'll give them a breakfast, Harding, they shan't forget. It shall be called the Goudhurst breakfast, as long as men can remember. Stay, I'll just put on my coat, and get out the gun and the pistols--we shall want as many of those things as we can muster. I'll be back in a minute." From that hour till five o'clock, the little village of Goudhurst was all alive. Intimation of the danger was sent to all the neighbouring farmers; every labouring man was roused from his bed with directions to meet the rest in the church-yard; and there, as the sky became grey, a busy scene was displayed, some sixty stout men being assembled before the porch, most of them armed with old muskets or fowling pieces. Amongst those to whom age or habitual authority assigned the chief place, an eager consultation went on as to their proceedings; and though there was, as is generally the case in such meetings, a great difference upon many points, yet three acts were unanimously decided upon; first, to send all the women and children out of the village--next, to despatch a messenger to Woodchurch for military aid--and, next, to set about casting bullets immediately, as no shot larger than slugs were to be found in the place. The reader will probably ask, with a look of surprise, "Is this a scene in North America, where settlers were daily exposed to the incursions of the savages?"--and he may add, "This could not have happened in England!" But I beg to say, this happened in the county of Kent, less than a century ago; and persons are still living, who remember having been sent with the women and children out of the village, that the men might not be impeded by fear for those they loved, while defending the spot on which they were born. A fire of wood was speedily lighted by some of the men in the church-yard; others applied themselves, with what moulds could be procured, to the casting of ball; others, again, woke the still slumbering inhabitants of the cottages and houses round, and warned the women to remove to the neighbouring farms, and the men to come and join their friends at the rendezvous; and a few of the best instructed proceeded to arrange their plan of defence, barricading the gates of the cemetery, and blocking up a stile, which at that time led from the right hand wall, with an old grave-stone, against which they piled up a heap of earth. The vestry, in which the prisoners had been confined--after having been brought from Mr. Broughton's at too late an hour to convey them to gaol--was luckily protected by strong iron bars over the windows, and a heavy plated door between it and the church; and the old tower of the building afforded a strong point in the position of the villagers, which they flattered themselves could not easily be forced. "How many men do you think they can muster, Harding?" asked Farmer Harris, when their first rude preparations were nearly complete. "I can but guess," answered the smuggler; "perhaps two hundred. They had more than that in the Marsh, of whom I hear some fifty were taken or killed; but a good many were not there, who may, and will be here to-day--old Ramley for one, I should think." "Then we had better get into the church when they come," replied the farmer; "they cannot force us there till the soldiers come." "Did you send for them?" asked Harding. "Oh, yes," answered the farmer, "half-an-hour ago. I sent the young boy, who would be of no good here, on the pony; and I told him to let Sir Robert know, as he passed; for I thought the soldiers might not meddle if they had not a magistrate with them." "Very well," replied Harding, and set himself to work away again. Six o'clock was now past, seven approached and went by; the hand of the dial moved half-way on to eight, and yet nothing indicated the approach of the smugglers. In a few minutes after, however, the sound of horses' feet galloping was heard; and a young man, who had been placed in the belfry to look out, shouted down to those below, "Only two!" and the next moment a horseman in military half dress, with a servant behind him, rode up at speed to the principal entrance of the church-yard. "I am come to help you, my men," cried Sir Edward Digby, springing to the ground, and giving his rein to his servant--"Will you let us in to your redoubt? The dragoons will soon be over; I sent your messenger on." "Perhaps, sir, you may have your trouble for your pains, after all," answered young Harris, opening the gate, to let Digby and his horses in; "the fellows have not shown themselves, and very likely wont come." "Oh, yes, they will," said the young baronet, advancing amongst them, and looking round on every side, "I saw a long line of men on horseback moving over the hill as I came. Put the horses under cover of that shed, Somers. You should cut down those thick bushes near the wall. They will conceal their movements.--Have you any axes?" "Here is one," cried a young man, and immediately he set to work, hewing down the shrubs and bushes to which Digby pointed. In the meantime, the young officer ran over the groups with his eye, calculating their numbers, and at length he said: "You had better confine yourselves to defending the church--you are not enough to meet them out here. I counted a hundred and fifty, and there may be more. Station your best marksmen at the windows and on the roof of the tower, and put a few stout resolute fellows to guard the door in case these scoundrels get nearer than we wish them. As we all act upon our own responsibility, however, we had better be cautious, and abstain from offensive measures, till they are absolutely necessary for the defence of ourselves and the security of the prisoners. Besides, if they are kept at bay for some time, the dragoons will take them in flank, and a good number may be captured." "We can deal with them ourselves," said the voice of Harding, in a stern tone. He had been standing by, listening, in grave silence, with a gun in his hand, which he had borrowed at farmer Harris's; and now, as soon as he had spoken, he turned away, walked into the church, and climbed to the roof of the tower. There, after examining the priming of the piece, he seated himself coolly upon the little parapet, and looked out over the country. The moment after, his voice was heard, calling from above--"They are coming up, Harris!--Tell the officer." Sir Edward Digby had, in the meantime, advanced to the gates to insure that they were securely fastened; but he heard what Harding said, and turning his head, exclaimed--"Go into the church; and garnish the windows with marksmen, as I said! I will be with you in a moment.--Here, Somers, help me here for a moment. They will soon pull this down;" and he proceeded calmly to fasten the barricade more strongly. Before he had accomplished this to his satisfaction, men on horseback were seen gathering thick in the road, and on the little open space in front; but he went on without pausing to look at them, till a loud voice exclaimed--"What are you about there?--Do you intend to give the men up, or not?" Sir Edward Digby then raised his head, and replied: "Certainly not!--Oh, Mr. Richard Radford--you will have the goodness to remark that, if you advance one step towards these gates, or attempt to pass that wall, you will be fired on from the church." While he was speaking, he took a step back, and then walked slowly towards the building, making his servant go first; but half-way thither he paused, and turning towards the ruffians congregated at a little distance from the wall, he added aloud, addressing Richard Radford--"You had better tell your gang what I say, my good friend, for they will find we will keep our word." As he spoke, some one from the mass fired a pistol at him; but the ball did not take effect, and Digby raised his hand, waving to those in the church not to fire, and at the same time hurrying his pace a little till he had passed the door and ordered it to be shut. "They have now fair warning," he said to one of the young Harris's, who was on guard at the door; "but I will go up above and call to you when I think anything is necessary to be done.--Remember, my good fellows, that some order must be kept; and as you cannot all be at the windows, let those who must stand back, load while the rest fire." Thus saying, he mounted to the top of the tower with a quick step, and found Harding and five others on the roof. The horsemen in front of the church, were all gathered together at a little distance, and seemed in eager consultation; and amongst them the figures of young Radford and the two Ramleys, father and son, were conspicuous from the vehement gestures that they made--now pointing to the top of the tower, now to the wall of the churchyard. "I think we could bring a good many down as they stand now," said young William Harris, moving his gun towards his shoulder, as if the inclination to fire were almost irresistible. "Stay--stay! not yet," replied Sir Edward Digby; "let it be clearly in our own defence. Besides, you must remember these are but fowling pieces. At that distance, few shots would tell." "One shall tell, at least, before this day is over," said Harding, who had remained seated, hardly looking at the party without. "Something tells me, I shall have vengeance this day." "Hallo! they are going to begin!" cried another man; and the same moment, the gang of miscreants spread out, and while some advanced on horseback towards the wall, at least fifty, who were armed with guns, dismounted and aimed deliberately at the tower and the windows. "Down with your heads behind the parapet!" cried Digby, though he did not follow the caution himself; "no use of exposing your lives needlessly. Down--down, Harding!" But Harding sat where he was, saying, bitterly, "They'll not hit me.--I know it--they've done worse already." As he spoke, a single gun was fired, and then a volley, from the two sides of the churchyard wall. One of the balls whizzed close by Sir Edward Digby's head, and another struck the parapet near Harding; but neither were touched, and the stout seaman did not move a muscle. "Now up, and give it them back!" exclaimed Digby; and, speaking down the trap that led to the stairs, he called to those below, "Fire now, and pick them off!--Steadily--steadily!" he continued, addressing his companions on the roof, who were becoming somewhat too much excited. "Make every shot tell, if you can--a good aim--a good aim!" "Here goes for one!" cried William Harris, aiming at Jim Ramley, and hitting him in the thigh; and instantly, from the roof and the windows of the church, blazed forth a sharp fire of musketry, which apparently was not without severe effect; for the men who had dismounted were thrown into great confusion, and the horsemen who were advancing recoiled, with several of their horses plunging violently. The only one on the roof who did not fire was Harding, and he remained with his gun resting on the parapet beside him, gazing, with a stern, dark brow, upon the scene. "There are three down," cried one of the men, "and a lot of horses!" But Richard Radford was seen gesticulating vehemently; and at length taking off his hat, he waved it in the air, shouting, so loud that his words reached those above, "I will show you the way, then; let every brave man follow me!" And as he spoke he struck his spurs into his horse's sides, galloped on, and pushed his beast at the low wall of the churchyard. The animal, a powerful hunter, which had been sent to him by his father the day before, rose to the leap as if with pride. But just then, Harding raised his gun, aimed steadily, and pulled the trigger. The smoke for a moment obscured Digby's view; but the instant after he saw Richard Radford falling headlong from the saddle, and his shoulder striking the wall as the horse cleared it. The body then fell over, bent up, with the head leaning against a tombstone and the legs upon an adjoining grave. "There!--that's done!" said Harding; and laying down the gun again, he betook himself quietly to his seat upon the parapet once more. "The dragoons! the dragoons!" cried a young man from the other side of the tower. But ere he spoke, the gang of villains were already in retreat, several galloping away, and the rest wavering. Loading as fast as they could, the stout yeomanry in the church continued firing from the windows and from the roof, accelerating the movements of their assailants, who seemed only to pause for the purpose of carrying off their wounded companions. Sir Edward Digby, however, ran round to the opposite side of the tower, and, clearly seeing the advance of some cavalry from the side of Cranbrook--though the trees prevented him from ascertaining their numbers--he bade the rest follow, and ran down into the body of the church. "Now out, and after them!" he exclaimed; "we may make some prisoners!" But as soon as the large wooden doors were thrown back and the peasantry were seen pouring forth, old Ramley, who was amongst the last that lingered, turned his horse and galloped away, his companions following as fast as they could. Four men were found on the outside of the churchyard wall, of whom two were living; but Sir Edward Digby advanced with several others to the spot where Richard Radford was lying. He did not appear to have moved at all since he fell; and on raising his head, which had fallen forward on his chest as he lay propped up by the gravestone, a dark red spot in the centre of the forehead, from which a small quantity of blood had flowed down over his eyes and cheeks, told how fatally true the shot had gone to the mark. When he had gazed on him for a moment, Digby turned round again, to look for Harding; but the man who had slain him, did not approach the corpse of Richard Radford; and Digby perceived him standing near a low shed, which at that time encumbered the churchyard of Goudhurst, and under which the young baronet's horses had been placed. Thither the strong hunter, which Radford had been riding, had trotted as soon as his master fell; and Harding had caught it by the bridle, and was gazing at it with a thoughtful look. The last time Sir Edward Digby had seen him, before that morning, he was in high happiness by the side of poor Kate Clare; and when the young officer looked at him, as he stood there, with a sort of dull despair in his whole aspect, he could not but feel strong and painful sympathy with him, in his deep grief. "Mr. Harding," he said, approaching him, "the unhappy man is quite dead." "Oh, yes, sir," answered Harding, "dead enough, I am sure. I hope he knew whose hand did it." "I am sorry to give you any further pain or anxiety, at this moment," continued Digby, sinking his voice, "but I have heard that you are supposed to have taken some part in landing the goods which were captured the other day. For aught we know, there may be information lodged against you; and probably there will be some officer of Customs with the troop that is coming up. Would it not be better for you to retire from this scene for a little?" "Thank you, sir,--thank you! That is kind!" answered Harding. "Life's a load to me; but a prison is another thing. I would have given any of those clumsy fellows a hundred guineas to have shot me as I sat there but no man shall ever take me, and clap me up in a cell. I could not bear that; and my poor Kate lying dead there, too!--I'll go, as you say." But before he could execute his purpose, a small party of dragoons, commanded by a lieutenant, with Birchett, the riding officer, and two or three of his companions, came up at a trot, and poured through the gate of the churchyard, which was now open. Sir Edward Digby advanced at once towards them--if the truth must be told, to cover Harding's retreat; but Birchett's quick, shrewd eye had run round the place in an instant; and, before the young baronet had taken two steps along the path, he cried, "Why, there is Harding! Stop him!--stop him! We have information against him. Don't let him pass!" "I will pass, though," cried Harding, leaping at once upon the back of Richard Radford's horse. "Now, stop me if you can!" and striking it with his heel, he turned the animal across the churchyard, taking an angle, away from the dragoons. Birchett spurred after him in a moment; and the other officers followed; but the soldiers did not move. Passing close by the spot where young Radford lay, as the officers tried to cut him off from the gate, Harding cried, with a wild and bitter laugh, "He is a good leaper, I know!" and instantly pushed his horse at the wall. The gallant beast took it at once, and dashed away with its rider along the road. The officers of Customs dared not trust their own cattle with the same feat; but Birchett exclaimed, in a loud and imperative tone, turning to the lieutenant of dragoons, "I require your aid in capturing that man. He is one of the most daring smugglers on the whole coast. We can catch him easily, if we are quick." "I do not know that I am authorized," said the lieutenant, not well pleased with the man's manner; "where no armed resistance is apprehended, I doubt if----" "But there may be resistance, sir," replied Birchett, vehemently; "he is gone to join his comrades.--Well, the responsibility be on your head! I claim your aid! Refuse it or not, as you shall think fit.--I claim and require it instantly!" "What do you think, sir?" asked the young officer, turning to Digby. "Nay, I am not in command here," answered the other; "you know your orders." "To give all lawful aid and assistance," said the lieutenant. "Well, take a Serjeant's guard, Mr. Birchett." In haste, the men were drawn out, and followed: Birchett leading them furiously on the pursuit; but ere they had quitted the churchyard, Harding was half-a-mile upon the road; and that was all he desired. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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