Micah Clarke: His Statement as made to his three grandchildren Joseph, Gervas and Reuben During the Hard Winter of 1734Doyle, Arthur Conan
History
Micah Clarke: His Statement as made to his three grandchildren Joseph, Gervas and Reuben During the Hard Winter of 1734
Doyle, Arthur Conan
Grandparent and child -- Fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Stuarts, 1603-1714 -- Fiction
‘Do but look at that vanguard as they breast the slope,’ he cried.
‘Where is the advance party, or Vorreiter, as the Germans call them?
Where, too, is the space which should be left between the fore-guard and
the main battle? By the sword of Scanderbeg, they remind me more of a
drove of pilgrims, as I have seen them approaching the shrine of St.
Sebaldus of Nurnberg with their banners and streamers. There in
the centre, amid that cavalcade of cavaliers, rides our new monarch
doubtless. Pity he hath not a man by him who can put this swarm of
peasants into something like campaign order. Now do but look at those
four pieces of ordnance trailing along like lame sheep behind the flock.
Caracco, I would that I were a young King’s officer with a troop of
light horse on the ridge yonder! My faith, how I should sweep down yon
cross road like a kestrel on a brood of young plover! Then heh for cut
and thrust, down with the skulking cannoniers, a carbine fire to cover
us, round with the horses, and away go the rebel guns in a cloud of
dust! How’s that, Sir Gervas?’
‘Good sport, Colonel,’ said the baronet, with a touch of colour in his
white cheeks. ‘I warrant that you did keep your Pandours on the trot.’
‘Aye, the rogues had to work or hang--one or t’other. But methinks our
friends here are scarce as numerous as reported. I reckon them to be a
thousand horse, and mayhap five thousand two hundred foot. I have been
thought a good tally-man on such occasions. With fifteen hundred in the
town that would bring us to close on eight thousand men, which is no
great force to invade a kingdom and dispute a crown.’
‘If the West can give eight thousand, how many can all the counties of
England afford?’ I asked. ‘Is not that the fairer way to look at it?’
‘Monmouth’s popularity lies mostly in the West,’ Saxon answered. ‘It
was the memory of that which prompted him to raise his standard in these
counties.’
‘His standards, rather,’ quoth Reuben. ‘Why, it looks as though they had
hung their linen up to dry all down the line.’
‘True! They have more ensigns than ever I saw with so small a force,’
Saxon answered, rising in his stirrups. ‘One or two are blue, and the
rest, as far as I can see for the sun shining upon them, are white, with
some motto or device.’
Whilst we had been conversing, the body of horse which formed the
vanguard of the Protestant army had approached within a quarter of a
mile or less of the town, when a loud, clear bugle-call brought them to
a halt. In each successive regiment or squadron the signal was repeated,
so that the sound passed swiftly down the long array until it died away
in the distance. As the coil of men formed up upon the white road, with
just a tremulous shifting motion along the curved and undulating line,
its likeness to a giant serpent occurred again to my mind.
‘I could fancy it a great boa,’ I remarked, ‘which was drawing its coils
round the town.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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