When Charles the First Was King

there to another, always selecting such as I knew to be well-disposed to the King, and doing what we could to induce likely looking fellows to join in with us. And amongst the yeomanry and the farmers, especially the younger men, we found many a man willing enough to join the Royalist army and to find horse and arms, but held back by the same obstacles which held me. There was a wife and child to protect, or an aged mother to care for; there were the farm and stock to manage, and so on. But we had many an expression of goodwill, and many a promise to do the right thing if occasion came that way.

Now, as we moved about amongst the crowd, I noticed that we were watched more than once by old Master Oldthwaite, who, as you will remember, expressed his sentiments somewhat freely at my merrymaking a few nights before. I knew Master Oldthwaite to be a strong partisan of the Parliamentary party, for I had heard him say that no king at all was better than a bad king, and he oft gave utterance to severe gibes and taunts against Laud and the bishops, saying that they were wolves which ate up the sheep, rather than shepherds that took care of their flocks. He was indeed somewhat celebrated in Pontefract for his sentiments, for as he carried on the trade of a corn-dealer in that town, he was often heard in the inn-parlours, where the tradesmen meet to discuss all sorts of matters. Nevertheless, since I and my father before me had had many a transaction with Master Oldthwaite, and always been good friends with him, I did not think he would do me an injury or conspire against any friend of mine. But it would appear that his political sympathies overcame his better feelings, for he took steps which presently resulted in much inconvenience to me and my companions.

It was drawing towards evening, and we three were standing in a quiet corner in the market square, conversing with a knot of young farmers, who were listening with great attention while Philip Lisle talked to them. There were a great many people round about us, and the noise and bustle of the market was as great as ever. Looking round I caught sight of Master Nicholas Pratt, a magistrate of the town, making for us through the crowd, followed in the rear by Master Oldthwaite and several others whom I knew to be stanch Parliamentarians. And then I felt that something was about to happen. In which presentiment I was not wrong, for Master Pratt, coming hastily to us, cried in a rough and insolent tone:

“How now, gentlemen, what do you mean by turning this public market into a recruiting-ground for the King? Do you not know that you are committing a breach of the peace?”

Now, we had all three, and those with us, turned upon him when he first spoke, and we now stared at him with astonishment. He was a large round-bellied man, with impudent manners and much pride, and as he stood swelling over us, I was reminded of our great turkey-cock at home.

“No, sir,” said Philip Lisle, “we do not know that we are breaking the peace.”

“Are you not recruiting for that traitor, Charles Stuart?” shouted the other, getting very red and fiery.

“We are recruiting for his Majesty the King, sir,” answered Philip Lisle, “as we have a right to do.”

“We will not have it in this free town, sir. Get you gone to where you came from. You are not known here. And you, Masters Dale and Drumbleforth, have a care what you do, and do not disgrace yourselves by associating yourselves with adventurers and braggadocios.”

“What, sir!” cried Philip Lisle, laying his hand on his sword, “do you dare to insult one of his Majesty’s officers?”

“Officers, quotha!” shouted a mocking voice from behind the magistrate. “Why, sirs, ’tis Black Phil, the highwayman. Pretty officer! If the King’s officers are of this kidney he must have scoured them from the gaols.”

Now, Philip Lisle was so much enraged at this insult that he instantly drew his sword, and rushed forward to wreak his vengeance on the speaker. This was the signal for an immediate raising of sticks and staves, and Jack and I, nothing loath, got back to back behind Philip Lisle and began to lay about us with energy, so that there was some very pretty fighting went on for the space of five or six minutes. But we were outnumbered by twelve to one, and presently Philip and Jack received such blows that they fell, and I was powerless.

“Carry them into my cellar,” shouted Pratt to his men, “and lock them up there till such time as justice can be done upon them.”

And therewith they haled us across the Marketplace and shoved us into the magistrate’s cellar, and locked us up with our bruises and our reflections, which just then were not at all pleasant.

XV

Of Our Escape from the Magistrate’s Custody

Now, what with the noise and confusion of the last few minutes, taken together with a somewhat hard blow that lighted upon the back of my head, I was so dazed and astonished that it was some moments before I fully recovered my senses. However, when I became master of myself, there I was, sure enough, in the cellar underneath the worthy magistrate’s house. A remarkably dull and quiet place it was, and felt very damp and cold to my touch when I stretched out my hands and encountered the walls and floor on which we had been unceremoniously thrown. There was rather more than a little water trickling down those walls, and my fingers encountering it bred in me a feeling of much resentment against our captors for treating us in such scurvy fashion. Moreover, the hole was so dark that I could see nothing, and there was not a single ray