Barnaby Rudge: A Tale of the Riots of 'Eighty
the banner rustle pleasantly above his head. There was a freedom and
freshness in the sound and in the time, which chimed exactly with his
mood. He was happier than ever.
He was leaning on his staff looking towards the declining sun, and
reflecting with a smile that he stood sentinel at that moment over
buried gold, when two or three figures appeared in the distance, making
towards the house at a rapid pace, and motioning with their hands as
though they urged its inmates to retreat from some approaching danger.
As they drew nearer, they became more earnest in their gestures; and
they were no sooner within hearing, than the foremost among them cried
that the soldiers were coming up.
At these words, Barnaby furled his flag, and tied it round the pole. His
heart beat high while he did so, but he had no more fear or thought of
retreating than the pole itself. The friendly stragglers hurried past
him, after giving him notice of his danger, and quickly passed into the
house, where the utmost confusion immediately prevailed. As those within
hastily closed the windows and the doors, they urged him by looks and
signs to fly without loss of time, and called to him many times to do
so; but he only shook his head indignantly in answer, and stood the
firmer on his post. Finding that he was not to be persuaded, they took
care of themselves; and leaving the place with only one old woman in it,
speedily withdrew.
As yet there had been no symptom of the news having any better
foundation than in the fears of those who brought it, but The Boot had
not been deserted five minutes, when there appeared, coming across the
fields, a body of men who, it was easy to see, by the glitter of their
arms and ornaments in the sun, and by their orderly and regular mode of
advancing--for they came on as one man--were soldiers. In a very little
time, Barnaby knew that they were a strong detachment of the Foot
Guards, having along with them two gentlemen in private clothes, and a
small party of Horse; the latter brought up the rear, and were not in
number more than six or eight.
They advanced steadily; neither quickening their pace as they came
nearer, nor raising any cry, nor showing the least emotion or anxiety.
Though this was a matter of course in the case of regular troops,
even to Barnaby, there was something particularly impressive and
disconcerting in it to one accustomed to the noise and tumult of an
undisciplined mob. For all that, he stood his ground not a whit the less
resolutely, and looked on undismayed.
Presently, they marched into the yard, and halted. The
commanding-officer despatched a messenger to the horsemen, one of whom
came riding back. Some words passed between them, and they glanced at
Barnaby; who well remembered the man he had unhorsed at Westminster, and
saw him now before his eyes. The man being speedily dismissed, saluted,
and rode back to his comrades, who were drawn up apart at a short
distance.
The officer then gave the word to prime and load. The heavy ringing of
the musket-stocks upon the ground, and the sharp and rapid rattling of
the ramrods in their barrels, were a kind of relief to Barnaby, deadly
though he knew the purport of such sounds to be. When this was done,
other commands were given, and the soldiers instantaneously formed in
single file all round the house and stables; completely encircling them
in every part, at a distance, perhaps, of some half-dozen yards; at
least that seemed in Barnaby’s eyes to be about the space left between
himself and those who confronted him. The horsemen remained drawn up by
themselves as before.
The two gentlemen in private clothes who had kept aloof, now rode
forward, one on either side the officer. The proclamation having been
produced and read by one of them, the officer called on Barnaby to
surrender.
He made no answer, but stepping within the door, before which he had
kept guard, held his pole crosswise to protect it. In the midst of a
profound silence, he was again called upon to yield.
Still he offered no reply. Indeed he had enough to do, to run his eye
backward and forward along the half-dozen men who immediately fronted
him, and settle hurriedly within himself at which of them he would
strike first, when they pressed on him. He caught the eye of one in the
centre, and resolved to hew that fellow down, though he died for it.
Again there was a dead silence, and again the same voice called upon him
to deliver himself up.
Next moment he was back in the stable, dealing blows about him like a
madman. Two of the men lay stretched at his feet: the one he had marked,
dropped first--he had a thought for that, even in the hot blood and
hurry of the struggle. Another blow--another! Down, mastered, wounded in
the breast by a heavy blow from the butt-end of a gun (he saw the weapon
in the act of falling)--breathless--and a prisoner.
An exclamation of surprise from the officer recalled him, in some
degree, to himself. He looked round. Grip, after working in secret all
the afternoon, and with redoubled vigour while everybody’s attention was
distracted, had plucked away the straw from Hugh’s bed, and turned up
the loose ground with his iron bill. The hole had been recklessly filled
to the brim, and was merely sprinkled with earth. Golden cups, spoons,
candlesticks, coined guineas--all the riches were revealed.
They brought spades and a sack; dug up everything that was hidden there;
and carried away more than two men could lift. They handcuffed him
and bound his arms, searched him, and took away all he had. Nobody
questioned or reproached him, or seemed to have much curiosity about
him. The two men he had stunned, were carried off by their companions in
the same business-like way in which everything else was done. Finally,
he was left under a guard of four soldiers with fixed bayonets, while
the officer directed in person the search of the house and the other
buildings connected with it.
This was soon completed. The soldiers formed again in the yard; he was
marched out, with his guard about him; and ordered to fall in, where a
space was left. The others closed up all round, and so they moved away,
with the prisoner in the centre.
When they came into the streets, he felt he was a sight; and looking up
as they passed quickly along, could see people running to the windows a
little too late, and throwing up the sashes to look after him. Sometimes
he met a staring face beyond the heads about him, or under the arms of
his conductors, or peering down upon him from a waggon-top or coach-box;
but this was all he saw, being surrounded by so many men. The very
noises of the streets seemed muffled and subdued; and the air came stale
and hot upon him, like the sickly breath of an oven.
Tramp, tramp. Tramp, tramp. Heads erect, shoulders square, every man
stepping in exact time--all so orderly and regular--nobody looking at
him--nobody seeming conscious of his presence,--he could hardly believe
he was a Prisoner. But at the word, though only thought, not spoken, he
felt the handcuffs galling his wrists, the cord pressing his arms to
his sides: the loaded guns levelled at his head; and those cold, bright,
sharp, shining points turned towards him: the mere looking down at
which, now that he was bound and helpless, made the warm current of his
life run cold.
Chapter 58
They were not long in reaching the barracks, for the officer who
commanded the party was desirous to avoid rousing the people by the
display of military force in the streets, and was humanely anxious
to give as little opportunity as possible for any attempt at rescue;
knowing that it must lead to bloodshed and loss of life, and that if the
civil authorities by whom he was accompanied, empowered him to order his
men to fire, many innocent persons would probably fall, whom curiosity
or idleness had attracted to the spot. He therefore led the party
briskly on, avoiding with a merciful prudence the more public and
crowded thoroughfares, and pursuing those which he deemed least likely
to be infested by disorderly persons. This wise proceeding not only
enabled them to gain their quarters without any interruption, but
completely baffled a body of rioters who had assembled in one of the
main streets, through which it was considered certain they would pass,
and who remained gathered together for the purpose of releasing the
prisoner from their hands, long after they had deposited him in a place
of security, closed the barrack-gates, and set a double guard at every
entrance for its better protection.
Arrived at this place, poor Barnaby was marched into a stone-floored
room, where there was a very powerful smell of tobacco, a strong
thorough draught of air, and a great wooden bedstead, large enough for a
score of men. Several soldiers in undress were lounging about, or eating
from tin cans; military accoutrements dangled on rows of pegs along the
whitewashed wall; and some half-dozen men lay fast asleep upon their
backs, snoring in concert. After remaining here just long enough to
note these things, he was marched out again, and conveyed across the
parade-ground to another portion of the building.
Perhaps a man never sees so much at a glance as when he is in a
situation of extremity. The chances are a hundred to one, that if
Barnaby had lounged in at the gate to look about him, he would have
lounged out again with a very imperfect idea of the place, and would
have remembered very little about it. But as he was taken handcuffed
across the gravelled area, nothing escaped his notice. The dry, arid
look of the dusty square, and of the bare brick building; the clothes
hanging at some of the windows; and the men in their shirt-sleeves and
braces, lolling with half their bodies out of the others; the green
sun-blinds at the officers’ quarters, and the little scanty trees in
front; the drummer-boys practising in a distant courtyard; the men at
drill on the parade; the two soldiers carrying a basket between them,
who winked to each other as he went by, and slily pointed to their
throats; the spruce serjeant who hurried past with a cane in his hand,
and under his arm a clasped book with a vellum cover; the fellows in the
ground-floor rooms, furbishing and brushing up their different articles
of dress, who stopped to look at him, and whose voices as they
spoke together echoed loudly through the empty galleries and
passages;--everything, down to the stand of muskets before the
guard-house, and the drum with a pipe-clayed belt attached, in one
corner, impressed itself upon his observation, as though he had noticed
them in the same place a hundred times, or had been a whole day among
them, in place of one brief hurried minute.
He was taken into a small paved back yard, and there they opened a great
door, plated with iron, and pierced some five feet above the ground with
a few holes to let in air and light. Into this dungeon he was walked
straightway; and having locked him up there, and placed a sentry over
him, they left him to his meditations.
The cell, or black hole, for it had those words painted on the door, was
very dark, and having recently accommodated a drunken deserter, by no
means clean. Barnaby felt his way to some straw at the farther end, and
looking towards the door, tried to accustom himself to the gloom, which,
coming from the bright sunshine out of doors, was not an easy task.
There was a kind of portico or colonnade outside, and this obstructed
even the little light that at the best could have found its way through
the small apertures in the door. The footsteps of the sentinel echoed
monotonously as he paced its stone pavement to and fro (reminding
Barnaby of the watch he had so lately kept himself); and as he passed