Through the Fray: A Tale of the Luddite RiotsHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
General
Through the Fray: A Tale of the Luddite Riots
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Luddites -- Juvenile fiction
Mr. Grant's experience of juries turned out to be well founded. Ned, as
he stood pale, but firm and composed in the dock, felt that his case was
well nigh desperate when he heard the speech for the prosecution: his
long and notorious ill will against the deceased, “one of the most
genial and popular gentlemen in that part of the great county of
Yorkshire,” was dwelt upon. Evidence would be brought to show that even
on the occasion of his mother's marriage the happiness of the
ceremonial was marred by the scowls and menacing appearance of this most
unfortunate and ill conditioned lad; how some time after the marriage
this young fellow had violently assaulted his stepfather, and had used
words in the hearing of the servants which could only be interpreted as
a threat upon his life. This indeed, was not the first time that this
boy had been placed in the dock as a prisoner. Upon a former occasion
he had been charged with assaulting and threatening the life of his
schoolmaster, and although upon that occasion he had escaped the
consequences of his conduct by what must now be considered as the ill
timed leniency of the magistrates, yet the facts were undoubted and
undenied.
Then the counsel proceeded to narrate the circumstances of the evening
up to the point when Mr. Mulready left the house.
“Beyond that point, gentlemen of the jury,” the counsel said, “nothing
certain is known. The rest must be mere conjecture; and yet it is not
hard to imagine the facts. The prisoner was aware that the deceased had
gone to the mill, which is situated a mile and a half from the town. You
will be told the words which the prisoner used: 'It will be my turn next
time, and when it comes I will kill you, you brute.'
“With these words on his lips, with this thought in his heart, he
started for the mill. What plan he intended to adopt, what form of
vengeance he intended to take, it matters not, but assuredly it was with
thoughts of vengeance in his heart that he followed that dark and lonely
road to the mill. Once there he would have hung about waiting for his
victim to issue forth. It may be that he had picked up a heavy stone,
may be that he had an open knife in his hand; but while he was waiting,
probably his foot struck against a coil of rope, which, as you will
hear, had been carelessly thrown out a few minutes before.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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