The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 184: what you’re looking at

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

such a fierce discharge of musketry and large guns, that they would certainly have given way had it not been for the example of Lord Fair- fax, their leader, “Come on, my brave friends,” he exclaimed ; ‘these traitors fight well at a distance, let us try their metal nearer.” Rallied by this cry of their brave leader, the cavalry dashed forward once more, while the advancing lines of infantry opened to allow the play of the heavy guna. In the hand-to-hand contest which soon en- sued Frank Leslie was ever in the thickest of the fight, and whenever he passed Harold, he observed his quick eye singling out the boldest combatants, and eager in the pursuit of glory. In the heat of the fight he encountered Cap- tain Hamilton, the younger son of the Duke, a brave young leader, who was the idol of his soldiers. and who had been entrusted this day with the chief command, Wedged in by the reepective parties, neither gave way. “Give place, boy!” cried Captain Hamilton, ‘‘ and cross not the path of men,” The armourer saw the meeting, and obeying a natural impulse, spurred his horse forward, so as to be near his favourite apprentice, But there was no way of approach through the dense masses of struggling men. The contest between the young herees was a deaperate one—every blow appeared to be the _ final one. ‘Yield! brave boy,” cried Captain Hamilton, at last. ‘“ You shall obtain honourable terms.” “ No, no,” cried Harold, “I will never yield, Hither the man shall conquer the boy or the boy shall conquer the man! ” As if incited to greater efforts by his own words, he attacked his foe still more fiercely, and by a sudden and desperate lunge disarmed and wounded fatally his brave adversary. “Hamilton has fallen!’ was the cry among the Royalist troops. In an instant all was disorder, and the Puritan cavalry had it all their own way. Almost without a blow now they cleared their way through the scattered masses of the enemy and gradually increased their little force as they bore down upon the point where Lord Montague had seen the king’s standard sorely beset. The Royal guards stood bravely to their post. But the Roundhead artillery had just begun to play upon them, and a strong body of Crom- well's horse was hovering near to dash in upon the gaps the iron shot should make. ‘‘Now, sons of England,” cried Montague, ‘‘charge home with me this once, and dash like Satan upon these treacherous knaves,” He stooped to his charger’s mane, bounded across the artillery’s line of fire, and plunged into the opposite mass of Royalist horse. As he did,so did all his men, and found them- selves at once hand to hand with Hamilton’s own troopers in as fierce a mélée as ever hand and heart gave strength to. Though taken by surprise they resisted furiously. Gradually the dense formations struggled into wider space and separated into a hundred different and personal encounters, THE WATCHWORDS OF OLD LONDON. Just then Harold's horse fell, and at the same moment a cry from his side made him turn to see one of his brave companions shot from the saddle. In war there is no time for sympathy. Springing up he at once appropriated the steed of his failen friend just in time to see an incident which was far too often the case in the battles of those days, A cry of agony arose from the lips of one of the wounded men, His right hand had just been severed from his wrist, and he held up his maimed arm to a gigantic trooper with a shrill prayer for quarter. Bat that trooper was the stern Harrison. ‘“‘Carsed be he that doeth the work of the Lord negligently,” he exclaimed, as he clove the poor fellow's skull in two. Many such scenes were enacting around. Through individual feats of valour, terror, and despair, the spirit of conquest raled for the side of Freedom. The Royalista gave way on all sides and fled before the desperate charges led by Harold and his friends, who leaped over the pikes of the foe and dashed upon their compact lines like the storm wind. The Roundhead leader did not give time to observe the fearfal loss that had been sustained. With one word of commendation he led on his men again, horse and foot, round the hill, and so charged the artillery, The Cromwellites were too few to capture it ; but at length they had the joy of seeing the enemy retreating, and to Harold Fordycuw and his friends the field of battle was left to con- template, | ‘ ' CHAPTER XXVIII. THE YOUNG OAPTAIN—=THE APPROACH OF DEATH—THE LAST SIGH—THE LOVE TOKEN —THE RETURN TO LONDON—THE BEAUTI- FUL AVENGER—THE TRAP |! EVERYWHERE he beheld groups of dying men who had been withdrawn or withdrew them- selves out of the strife with which they were done for ever. Surgeons with their men with bared arms and bloody shirts were attending upon some—minis- ters of religion were bending over others, exercising their healing office upon the souls of the departing. Harold drew near to one of the latter groups. A noble form, all sheathed in black velvet and steel, lay resting upon a pile of heather, The face alone was bare and upturned to the sky. All seemed still with him except gushes of blood that bubbled up from the cuirass at every pulse beat. So laid the brave Captain Hamilton, his life ebbing fast, his face calm, his eyes already dim- ming with the approach of death. Harold knelt down by his side. ‘The battle is over,” he said, “we are no longer enemies. Can you forgive me the blow which has brought you to this pass?” The young captain smiled. ‘It is hard to die so young,” he said; “hard to leave home and friends and all that is most dear to you, and to breathe your last breath on such a blood-stained fleld as this, But a soldier accepts these terms when he enters upon the GOVE OO © ~~ (>. 1, 4 ay) | ie eS 1S CO