SON CHRISTOPHER.
AN HISTORIETTE. BY HARRIET MARTINEAU.
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CHAPTER V. THE TWELFTH OF JUNE IN LYME.
For thirty-six hours the Squire remained on duty before he allowed himself any rest. The difficulty of the case was so extreme to all but those who joined Monmouth’s standard, that the vast number of those who did was less and less to be wondered at. Unless the Mayor was really gone to London, nobody could tell where he was. Sir Henry Foley’s promises of loyal troops, to appear immediately, were not fulfilled; and next morning it became known that the defensive force was to assemble at Bridport. The Red Regiment of Dorsets Militia and the Yellow Regiment of Somersets were already gone there,—the dastardly bearing of the company at Lyme having left a damp on the spirit of the place. Already Monmouth’s force amounted to fifteen hundred men, before he stepped out of Lyme; and the families of those fifteen hundred held the market-place and streets and neighbouring downs for “King Monmouth.” A troop rode in from Taunton, and reported of that place and all Somersetshire being in a passion of loyalty to the Protestant prince. They would take care that the Duke of Albemarle did not get to Bridport without an effective check. The whole country was up; and Monmouth could not be more of a king in Westminster Abbey than he now was in the George Inn at Lyme.
The louder such jubilations, the more assiduous and ubiquitous was the town-guard under the Squire. They served in relays: but he remained, hour after hour, in expectation of the departure of the invaders. When they began to quarrel among themselves, his presence was more needful than ever: and the Duke himself appealed to him to protect the life of one of his own commanders. This Captain Fletcher and the officer who had been recruiting at Taunton quarrelled about a horse,—each being unwilling to ride a steed fresh from the plough. High words, the whip, a pistol-shot followed each other; and the recruiting agent, Dare, lay dead in the street. But for the