With Marlborough to Malplaquet

With Marlborough to Malplaquet

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Title: With Marlborough to Malplaquet
Author: Herbert Strang and Richard Stead
Release Date: October 20, 2004 [eBook #13817]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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Herbert Strang's Historical Series
WITH MARLBOROUGH TO MALPLAQUET
A Story of the Reign of Queen Anne
by
HERBERT STRANG
and
RICHARD STEAD Fellow of the Royal Historical Society
With Four Illustrations in Colour and a Map
LONDON
1908

NOW READY IN THIS SERIES.
WITH THE BLACK PRINCE: a Story of the Reign of Edward III. By HERBERT STRANG and RICHARD STEAD.
A MARINER OF ENGLAND: a Story of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth. By the same authors.
WITH MARLBOROUGH TO MALPLAQUET: a Story of the Reign of Queen Anne. By the same authors.
Other volumes to follow.

[Illustration: A mounted officer came galloping up. See
Chapter X
.]

With Marlborough to Malplaquet

NOTE
The object of this series is to encourage a taste for history among boys and girls up to thirteen or fourteen years of age. An attempt has been made to bring home to the young reader the principal events and movements of the periods covered by the several volumes.
If in these little stories historical fact treads somewhat closely upon the heels of fiction, the authors would plead the excellence of their intentions and the limitations of their space.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I
A BOUT AT SINGLESTICK

CHAPTER II
THE ATTACK ON THE COLLIERY

CHAPTER III
THE FIRE AT BINFIELD TOWERS

CHAPTER IV
THE RESCUE

CHAPTER V
GEORGE RECONNOITRES

CHAPTER VI
THE ROCK OF GIBRALTAR

CHAPTER VII
BLENHEIM

CHAPTER VIII
COMRADES IN ARMS

CHAPTER IX
ANNUS MIRABILIS

CHAPTER X
"OUR OWN MEN, SIR!"

CHAPTER XI
THE HARDEST FIGHT OF THEM ALL

CHAPTER XII
CONCLUSION
HISTORICAL SUMMARY

ILLUSTRATIONS
A MOUNTED OFFICER CAME GALLOPING UP
"NOW!" CAME THE ORDER
GEORGE FOUND HIMSELF ENGAGED IN A HAND TO HAND ENCOUNTER
THE RESCUE OF MARLBOROUGH
MAP OF WESTERN EUROPE IN THE TIME OF QUEEN ANNE

CHAPTER I
A BOUT AT SINGLESTICK
"Get thee down, laddie, I tell thee."
This injunction, given for the third time, and in a broad north-country dialect, came from the guard of the York and Newcastle coach, a strange new thing in England. A wonderful vehicle the York and Newcastle coach, covering the eighty-six long miles between the two towns in the space of two-and-thirty hours, and as yet an object of delight, and almost of awe, to the rustics of the villages and small towns on that portion of the Great North Road.
It was the darkening of a stinging day in the latter part of December, in the year 1701--it wanted but forty-eight hours to Christmas Eve--when the coach pulled up at the principal inn of the then quiet little country town of Darlington, a place which roused itself from its general sleepiness only on market and fair days, or now, since the mail-coach had begun to run, on the arrival or departure of the marvellous conveyance, whose rattle over the cobble-stones drew every inhabitant of the main street to the door.
No reply coming from the boy on the roof, the guard went on, "Eh, but the lad must be frozen stark," and swinging himself up to the top of the coach, he seized the dilatory passenger by the arm, saying, "Now, my hearty, come your ways down; we gang na further to-day. Ye are as stiff as a frozen poker."
"And no wonder," came a voice from below; "'tis not a day fit for man or dog to be out a minute longer than necessary. Bring the bairn in, Charley." The invitation came from a kindly and portly dame, the hostess, who had come to the door to welcome such passengers as might be disposed to put up for the night at the inn.
"I don't think I can stir," the boy replied; "I'm about frozen."
He spoke in low tones and as if but half awake. He was, in fact, just dropping into a doze.
"Here, mates, catch hold," the guard cried, and without more ado the lad was lowered down to the little group of loafers who had come to see the sight and to pick up any stray penny that might be available. A minute later George Fairburn was rapidly thawing before the rousing fire in the inn's best parlour, and was gulping down the cup of hot mulled ale the good-natured landlady had put into his trembling hands.
"I'm all right, ma'am, now, and I'll go. Thank you and good night, ma'am."
"Go, Fairburn?" cried another boy of about his own age, who sat comfortably in the arm-chair by the cosy chimney