The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 138: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

London was at length reached. Along the streets he clattered, and as the clock pointed ten minutes to nine he neared Tower Hill. ‘Stop, stop |!” cried two soldiers, rushing for- ward to stop him. “ You cannot pass here,” ‘‘ Back |!” shouted the Young Apprentice. “I bring a pardon for the prisoner.” ‘That is an old story,” cried the men. “ It is too late, See, he is now ascending the acaf- fold.” “Stand away!” exclaimed Harold, fiercely. ‘‘ Stend away, or I fire |” At the same moment he drew a pistol from | os belt, and as the man still stood firm, he Then over the prostrate body he leaped his horse. Only an instant was the road clear, for in a moment a crowd of savage troopers surrounded im. Meanwhile, leaving Harold thus in the hands of the fierce Puritans, and Frank Leslie already ascending the stone steps of the Tower, I must take my readers to the * Golden Fleece,” an old dilapidated inn near the Tower, at which the Man without a Name and the other conspirators were assembled, eagerly waiting for the arrival of Harold, and fearing naturally that he would be too late to save the innocent armourer from his hideous fate. The “Golden Fleece” was an inn, which; from the style of its architecture, was evidently of great age. It had peaked caves and a huge swinging sign-board, and walls crusted with the dirt of years. On one side, it faced a narrow street leading to the Tower; on the other, it overhung the ver, It was to this place that the Man without a Name, and his friends, made their way on the evening before the day fixed for the execution of Frank Leslie. The troopers themselves being in such large numbers, and likely to attract considerable notice and suspicion, were distributed as well as possible throughout the neighbouring streete, while their leader and his companions prepared their plan of action. The time passed rapidly. Half-past eight airived. The Man withont a Name passed to and fro in fierce excitement, “Can it be,” he said; “can it be that all my endeavours are to prove vain? Are my blood- thirsty and infamous foes to be victorious over me in this extreme hour ?”’ “Fear not,” cried Allen Thaler, one of the fierce-looking officers with him, “fear not, Frank Leslie will not dic—shall not die, while we are alive to save him |” “ Bravely said—bravely said,” cried the On- own. He walked to the window of the inn and looked ont, as if he were combatting some feeling in his mind. Then he exclaimed suddenly— “T hear the solemn beating of the drams; it it now a quarter to nine. We must toonur posts, THE WATCHWORDS OF OLD LONDON. 123 Captains, we have a solemn and great duty to perform ; let us perform it bravely. You know your instructions. Follow them to the letter.” In another moment they had distributed themselves in various directions, and in less than five :ninutes eight bodies of men were advancing towards the direction of the huge scaffold on Tower Hill. The hideous instrument of death was soon in Bight, looking terrible enough, with its black coverings, to cast a thrill of horfor and dismay into the hearts of those who regarded it. Grim lines of mounted soldiers surrounded it, with swords drawn; while in front of them was a double line of pikemen. It was at the moment, when the officer com- manding the troops beheld the advancing bodies of enemies, and when the tolling of a solemn bell proclaimed the approach of the prisoner, that the cry of “ A pardon ! a pardon |" struck the eager ears of the Man without a Name, He saw at the next moment the rush of troops in the direction of the narrow street, along which Harold was striving to force his way, and beheld tke figure of the Young Apprentice on horseback towering above the througing ranks of the infantry. Calling on his men to follow him, he ordered one*detachment of them to stand still with their muskets pointed at the scaffold. “If the executioner tries to take the life of our friend,” he cried, “ fire !”’ Then he advanced towards the officer, who somewhat dismayed by the unexpected acene, was just recovering himeelf sufficiently to give orders to his men to charge. ‘‘ Halt!" cried the Unknown. in a stentorian voice. “Halt! Let no needless blood be shed. Yonder is one who brings a pardon from Crom- we 99 “T have not seen it. Itis too late. See, here is the prisoner!” replied the commander of the forces. At this instant, Harold, wounded, but still wielding his blood-red sword, came dashing up on his reeking steed. “T brought a pardon from Cromwell!” he cried. ‘‘ Before just Heaven I swear it! They have torn it from me and destroyed it.” The officer smiled sneeringly. ‘‘We can have no such tricks as this here,” he said, ‘I have seen no pardon. I must act on my orders,” “JT swear it, sir! I swear it! I saw with these eyes the paper signed and written by Cromwell. Do not this crime, I entreat you?’ ‘¢ Stand back !"’ cried the officer, sternly, “TI know my duty, See, the prisoner approaches. He must die,” ‘And J," erled the Man without a Name, “J say that if ke dies this place shall swim in blood | See, each avenue is stopped by my men Escape is not possible. This young man I can vouch for; J, the friend of Cromwell. You may, at least, delay the execution awhile.” “T will not,” returned the officer. “I will listen no farther. Stand back, or we fire !” ‘You are resolved P" ‘Tam, My men, if the executioner cannot EDOOo