Friends, though divided: A Tale of the Civil WarHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
Friends, though divided: A Tale of the Civil War
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Juvenile fiction
It would have been well had King Charles here ceased the struggle, for
the cause of the Royalists was now hopeless. Infatuated to the last,
however, and deeming ever that the increasing contentions and ill-will
between the two parties in Parliament would finally end by one of them
bidding for the Royal support, and agreeing to his terms, the king
continued the contest. Here and there isolated affrays took place;
risings in Kent and other counties occurring, but being defeated
summarily by the vigor of Fairfax and his generals.
The time passed but slowly with Harry at Reading. He and his
fellow-prisoners were assigned quarters in a large building, under the
guard of a regiment of Parliament troops. Their imprisonment was not
rigorous. They were fairly fed and allowed exercise in a large courtyard
which adjoined the house. The more reckless spirits sang, jested, wrote
scurrilous songs on the Roundheads, and passed the time as cheerfully as
might be. Harry, however, with the restlessness of his age, longed for
liberty. He knew that Prince Charles was in command of the army in the
west, and he longed to join him and try once more the fortunes of
battle. The guard set round the building was close and vigilant, and the
chances of escape appeared small. Still, Harry thought that if he could
escape from an upper window on a dark night he could surely make his way
through the line of sentries. He had observed on moonlight nights the
exact position which each of these occupied. The intervals were short
between them; but it would be quite possible on a dark night for a
person to pass noiselessly without being perceived. The watch would have
been even more strict than it was, had not the Puritans regarded the
struggle as virtually at an end, and were, therefore, less careful as to
their prisoners than they would otherwise have been. Harry prepared for
escape by tearing up the blankets of his bed and knotting them into
ropes. A portion he wrapped round his shoes, so as to walk noiselessly,
and taking advantage of a dark, moonless night, when the fog hung thick
upon the low land round Reading, he opened his window, threw out his
rope, and slipped down to the ground.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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