St. George and St. Michael, Volume 3MacDonald, George
History
St. George and St. Michael, Volume 3
MacDonald, George
Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Fiction
These men, happening to meet, as I say, in the midst of the
surrounding tumult, had fallen into a conversation chiefly occupied
with reminiscences of that awful experience, whose terrors now
looked like an evil dream, and, in a place thus crowded with men and
women, buzzing with voices, and resounding with feet, as little
likely to return as a vanished thundercloud. In the course of their
conversation, therefore, they grew valiant; grew conscious next of a
high calling, and resolved therewith to take to themselves the
honour of giving the first sweep of the besom of destruction to
Raglan Castle. Satisfying themselves first therefore that their
wives were doing their duty for their household,--mistress Upstill
was as good as two men at least at appropriation,--they set out,
Cast-down taking the lead, master Sycamore, John Croning, and the
rest following, armed with crowbars, for the top of the great tower,
ambitious to commence the overthrow by attacking the very summit,
the high places of wickedness, the crown of pride; and after some
devious wandering, at length found the way to the stair.
When Caspar Kaltoff entered the castle, he made straight for the
keep, and to his delight found no one in the lower part. To make
certain however that he was alone in the place, ere he secured
himself from intrusion, he ran up the stair, gave a glance at the
doors as he ran, and reached the top just as Upstill in fierce
discrowning pride was heaving the first capstone from between two
battlements. Casper was close by the cocks; instantly he turned one,
and as the dislodged stone struck the water of the moat, a sudden
hollow roaring invaded their ears, and while they stood aghast at
the well-remembered sound, and ere yet the marrow had time to freeze
in their stupid bones, the very moat itself into which they had cast
the insulted stone, storming and spouting, seemed to come rushing up
to avenge it upon them were they stood. The moment he turned the
cock, Casper shot half-way down the stair, but as quietly as he
could, and into a little chamber in the wall, where stood two great
vessels through which the pipes of the fire-engine inside had
communicated with the pipes in the wall outside. There he waited
until the steps which, long before he reached his refuge, he heard
come thundering down the stairs after him, had passed in headlong
haste, when he sprang up again to save the water for another end,
and to attach the drawbridge to the sluice, so that it would raise
it to its full height. Then he hurried down to the water trap under
the bridge and set it, after which he could hardly help wasting a
little of his precious time, lurking in a convenient corner to watch
the result.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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