Balfour of Burley;Turnbull of Bewlie; with Major Learmont and Captain John Paton ofMeadowhead--two veterans who had led the Westland Covenanters in theirfirst battle at the Pentland Hills--such men were well able to have leda band of even half-disciplined men to victory if united under a capablegeneral. But such was not to be. The laws of God, whether relating tophysics or morals, are inexorable. A divided army cannot conquer. Theyhad assembled to fight; instead of fighting they disputed, and that sofiercely that two opposing parties were formed in the camp, and theircouncils of war became arenas of strife. The drilling of men had beenneglected, officers were not appointed, stores of ammunition and othersupplies were not provided, and no plan of battle was concerted. Allthis, with incapacity at the helm, resulted in overwhelming disaster andthe sacrifice of a body of brave, devoted men. It afterwardsintensified persecution, and postponed constitutional liberty for manyyears.
In this state of disorganisation the Covenanters were found by the royaltroops. The latter were allowed quietly to plant their guns and makearrangements for the attack.
But they were not suffered to cross Bothwell Bridge with impunity. Someof the bolder spirits, leaving the disputants to fight with tongue andeye, drew their swords and advanced to confront the foe.
"It's every man for himsel' here," remarked Andrew Black indignantly,wiping his mouth with his cuff, as he rose from the meal which he waswell aware might be his last. "The Lord hae mercy on the puirCovenanters, for they're in sair straits this day. Come awa', WullWallace--lead us on to battle."
Our hero, who was busily forming up his men, needed no such exhortation.Seeing that there was no one in authority to direct his movements, heresolved to act "for his own hand." He gave the word to march, and setoff at a quick step for the river, where the fight had already begun.Soon he and his small band were among those who held the bridge. Herethey found Hackston, Hall, Turnbull, and the lion-like John Nisbet, eachwith a small band of devoted followers sternly and steadily defendingwhat they knew to be the key to their position. Distributing his men insuch a way among the coppices on the river's bank that they could assailthe foe to the greatest advantage without unnecessarily exposingthemselves, Wallace commenced a steady fusillade on the King'sfoot-guards, who were attempting to storm the bridge. The Covenantershad only one cannon and about 300 men with which to meet the assault;but the gun was effectively handled, and the men were staunch.
On the central arch of the old bridge--which was long and narrow--therestood a gate. This had been closed and barricaded with beams and trees,and the parapets on the farther side had been thrown down to prevent theenemy finding shelter behind them. These arrangements aided thedefenders greatly, so that for three hours the gallant 300 held theposition in spite of all that superior discipline and numerous gunscould do. At last, however, the ammunition of the defenders began tofail.
"Where did ye tether my horse?" asked Will Wallace, addressing Peter,who acted the part of aide-de-camp and servant to his commander.
"Ayont the hoose there," replied Peter, who was crouching behind atree-stump.
"Jump on its back, lad, and ride to the rear at full speed. Tell themwe're running short of powder and ball. We want more men, too, at once.Haste ye!"
"Ay, an' tell them frae me, that if we lose the brig we lose the day,"growled Andrew Black, who, begrimed with powder, was busily loading andfiring his musket from behind a thick bush, which, though an admirablescreen from vision, was a poor protection from bullets, as the passageof several leaden messengers had already proved. But our farmer was toomuch engrossed with present duty to notice trifles!
Without a word, except his usual "Ay," Ramblin' Peter jumped up and ranto where his commander's steed was picketed. In doing so he had to passan open space, and a ball striking his cap sent it spinning into theair; but Peter, like Black, was not easily affected by trifles. Nextmoment he was on the back of Will's horse--a great long-leggedchestnut--and flying towards the main body of Covenanters in rear.
The bullets were whistling thickly past him. One of these, grazing sometender part of his steed's body, acted as a powerful spur, so that thealarmed creature flew over the ground at racing speed, much to itsrider's satisfaction. When they reached the lines, however, and heattempted to pull up, Peter found that the great tough-mouthed animalhad taken the bit in its teeth and bolted. No effort that his puny armcould make availed to check it. Through the ranks of the Covenanters hesped wildly, and in a short time was many miles from the battlefield.How long he might have continued his involuntary retreat is uncertain,but the branch of a tree brought it to a close by sweeping him off thesaddle. A quarter of an hour later an old woman found him lying on theground insensible, and with much difficulty succeeded in dragging him toher cottage.
Meanwhile the tide of war had gone against the Covenanters. Whatevermay be said of Hamilton, unquestionably he did not manage the fightwell. No ammunition or reinforcements were sent to the front. Thestout defenders of the bridge were forced to give way in such an unequalconflict. Yet they retired fighting for every inch of the ground.Indeed, instead of being reinforced they were ordered to retire; and atlast, when all hope was gone, they reluctantly obeyed.
"Noo this bates a'!" exclaimed Black in a tone of ineffable disgust, ashe ran to the end of the bridge, clubbed his musket, and laid about himwith the energy of despair. Will Wallace was at his side in a moment;so was Quentin Dick. They found Balfour and Hackston already there; andfor a few moments these men even turned the tide of battle, for theymade an irresistible dash across the bridge, and absolutely drove theassailants from their guns, but, being unsupported, were compelled toretire. If each had been a Hercules, the gallant five would have had tosuccumb before such overwhelming odds. A few minutes more and theCovenanters were driven back. The King's troops poured over the bridgeand began to form on the other side.
Then it was that Graham of Claverhouse, seeing his opportunity, led hisdragoons across the bridge and charged the main body of the Covenanters.Undisciplined troops could not withstand the shock of such a charge.They quickly broke and fled; and now the battle was changed to a regularrout.
"Kill! kill!" cried Claverhouse; "no quarter!"
His men needed no such encouragement. From that time forward theygalloped about the moor, slaying remorselessly all whom they cameacross.
The gentle-spirited Monmouth, seeing that the victory was gained, gaveorders to cease the carnage; but Claverhouse paid no attention to this.He was like the man-eating tigers,--having once tasted blood he couldnot be controlled, though Monmouth galloped about the field doing hisbest to check the savage soldiery.
It is said that afterwards his royal father--for he was an illegitimateson of the King--found fault with him for his leniency after Bothwell.We can well believe it; for in a letter which he had previously sent tothe council Charles wrote that it was "his royal will and pleasure thatthey should prosecute the rebels with fire and sword, and all otherextremities of war." Speaking at another time to Monmouth about hisconduct, Charles said, "If I had been present there should have been notrouble about prisoners." To which Monmouth replied, "If that was yourwish, you should not have sent me but a _butcher_!"
In the general flight Black, owing to his lame leg, stumbled over abank, pitched on his head, and lay stunned. Quentin Dick, stooping tosuccour him, was knocked down from behind, and both were captured.Fortunately Monmouth chanced to be near them at the time and preventedtheir being slaughtered on the spot, like so many of their countrymen,of whom it is estimated that upwards of four hundred were slain in thepursuit that succeeded the fight--many of them being men of theneighbourhood, who had not been present on the actual field of battle atall. Among others Wallace's uncle, David Spence, was killed. Twelvehundred, it is said, laid down their arms and surrendered at discretion.
Wallace himself, seeing that the day was lost and further resistanceuseless, and having been separated from his friends in the general_melee_, sought refuge in a clump of alders
on the banks of the river.Another fugitive made for the same spot about the same time. He was anold man, yet vigorous, and ran well; but the soldiers who pursued sooncame up and knocked him down. Having already received several dangerouswounds in the head, the old man seemed to feel that he had reached theend of his career on earth, and calmly prepared for death. But the endhad not yet come. Even among the blood-stained troops of the King therewere men whose hearts were not made of flint, and who, doubtless,disapproved of the cruel work in which it was their duty to take part.Instead of giving the old man the _coup de grace_, one of the soldiersasked his name.
"Donald Cargill," answered the wounded man.
"That name sounds familiar," said the soldier. "Are not you aminister?"
"Yea, I have the honour to be one of