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قراءة كتاب The Young Cavalier: A Story of the Civil Wars
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The Young Cavalier: A Story of the Civil Wars
THE YOUNG CAVALIER
THE
YOUNG CAVALIER
A STORY OF THE CIVIL WARS
BY
PERCY F. WESTERMAN
Author of "'Midst Arctic Perils," "Clinton's Quest"
"The Nameless Island," "The Young Cavalier"
"The Treasure of the Sacred Lake," etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY GORDON BROWNE, R.I.
London
C. Arthur Pearson Ltd.
Henrietta Street
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY
MORRISON AND GIBB LTD., LONDON AND EDINBURGH
CONTENTS
| CHAPTER | |
| I. | THE OUTBREAK OF CIVIL WAR |
| II. | COLONEL NICHOLAS FIRESTONE |
| III. | FRIEND OR FOE? |
| IV. | THROUGH THE REBEL LINES |
| V. | CONVOYING THE TREASURE |
| VI. | EDGEHILL |
| VII. | FACE TO FACE WITH DEATH |
| VIII. | OUR ADVENTURE IN LOSTWITHIEL CHURCH |
| IX. | MY MEETING WITH AN OLD FOE |
| X. | ON BOARD THE "EMMA FARLEIGH" |
| XI. | THE "HAPPY ADVENTURE" |
| XII. | THE POWDER MINE |
| XIII. | THE SIEGE OF ASHLEY CASTLE |
| XIV. | SPIKING THE GUNS |
| XV. | THE SECRET PASSAGE |
| XVI. | WITHOUT THE WALLS OF CARISBROOKE |
| XVII. | EXILED |
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS |
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| The next instant a pair of hands grasped the gunwale, and the dripping head of a man appeared over the side (Frontispiece) |
| "I sprang into the sea" |
| Colonel Firestone flung his arms about the man's waist, and dragged him out of his saddle |
| There was a yell of terror, and the robbers made a frantic effort to rein in their steeds |
| Seized by the arms and legs, the terrified rogue was hurled into the river |
| With undiminished speed the horse shot into space |
| The darting rays fell on my face, and with a stifled cry of terror the soldier turned to flee |
| Ralph Granville and the pikeman were locked in an unyielding embrace, and, before I could prevent the catastrophe, Ralph was dragged through the embrasure and disappeared |
THE YOUNG CAVALIER
CHAPTER I
THE OUTBREAK OF CIVIL WAR
WELL shall I ever remember the last day of August in the year of grace 1642. The shadow of war, and civil war to boot, lay heavily over the length and breadth of the kingdom, and the usually peaceful Isle of Wight was no exception to the rule.
It was owing to this fact that I, Humphrey Markham, was compelled to remain at school during the holidays instead of spending them, as was my wont, at my father's castle of Ashley, which lies betwixt the borders of Hamptonshire and Sussex, hard by the town of Petersfield.
The call of duty had obliged my father to travel northward to attend on the King's person, so that, much to my disappointment, I was compelled to forego one of my twice-yearly visits to my home.
Yet, fortunately for me, I was not alone in my "exile," as I was tempted to call it.