But our object in depicting this locality is to show how wonderfully it is changed. The meadows just alluded to, intersected by hedgerows, and with only two or three farm-houses to be seen amidst them, are now covered with buildings of all kinds – warehouses, mills, and other vast structures. Bridges now span the river; innumerable houses are reared upon its banks; and scarce a foot of ground remains unoccupied.
In a word, an immense and populous town has sprung up, covering the whole area encircled by the Irwell, and the pleasing country scene we have endeavoured to describe has for ever vanished. Few persons would imagine that the polluted river was once bright and clear, and its banks picturesque, and fringed with trees. Yet such was the case little more than a century ago.
Salford at that time was comprised within very narrow limits, and only possessed a single street, which communicated with the old bridge. In Manchester, between the upper part of Deansgate and the river, there were fields entirely unbuilt upon, and a lane bordered by hedges ran down through these fields to the quay.
The quay itself was very small, and consisted of a wharf with a house and warehouse attached to it.
It seems astonishing that a town so important as was Manchester in 1745, should not have had a larger storehouse for goods, but apparently the merchants were content with it. Barges were then towed up the river as far as the quay, but not beyond.
As Atherton and his companion rowed slowly down the river, they did not encounter a single boat till they came in sight of the wharf, where a barge and a few small craft were moored. They now debated with themselves whether to land here or go lower down: and at length decided upon halting, thinking there could be no danger. But they were mistaken. As they drew near the wharf, three men armed with muskets suddenly appeared on the deck of the barge, and commanded them to stop.
"You are prisoners," cried one of these persons. "We have just received information by a mounted messenger of the occurrence at Salford Bridge, and we know you to be the men who ran down the engineers. You are prisoners, I repeat. Attempt to move off and we will fire upon you."
As the muskets were levelled at their heads from so short a distance, Atherton and his companion felt that resistance would be useless, so they surrendered at discretion, and prepared to disembark. Some other men, who were standing by, took charge of them as they stepped ashore.
CHAPTER XVII.
HOW TOM SYDDALL WAS CARRIED HOME IN TRIUMPH
In another minute the person who had addressed them from the barge came up, and Tom Syddall, who now recognised him as Matthew Sharrocks, the wharf-master, inquired what he meant to do with them.
"Detain you till I learn the magistrates' intentions respecting you," replied Sharrocks. "The boroughreeve will be forthwith acquainted with the capture. The messenger is waiting. Do you deny the offence?"
"No, I glory in the deed," rejoined Syddall."'Tis an action of which we may be justly proud. We have saved the bridge from destruction at the risk of our own lives."
"You will be clapped into prison and punished for what you have done," said Sharrocks.
"If we should be imprisoned, Sharrocks, which I doubt," rejoined Syddall, confidently, "the people will deliver us. Know you who I am?"
"Well enough; you are Tom Syddall, the barber," said the other.
"I am the son of that Tom Syddall who approved his devotion to the royal House of Stuart with his blood."
"Ay, I recollect seeing your father's head stuck up in the market-place," said Sharrocks. "Take care your own is not set up in the same spot."
He then marched off to despatch the messenger to the boroughreeve, and on his return caused the prisoners to be taken to the great storehouse, from an upper window of which was suspended a flag, emblazoned with the royal arms.
"I tell you what, Sharrocks," said Syddall, "before two days that flag will be hauled down."
"I rather think not," rejoined the wharf-master dryly.
Atherton Legh took no part in this discourse, but maintained a dignified silence.
The prisoners were then shut up in a small room near the entrance of the storehouse, and a porter armed with a loaded musket was placed as a sentinel at the door.
However, except for the restraint, they had no reason to complain of their treatment. A pint of wine was brought them, with which they regaled themselves, and after drinking a couple of glasses, Tom, who had become rather downcast, felt his spirits considerably revive.
Knocking at the door, he called out to the porter, "I say, friend, if not against rules, I should very much like a pipe."
The porter being a good-natured fellow said he would see about it, and presently returned with a pipe and a paper of tobacco. His wants being thus supplied, Tom sat down and smoked away very comfortably.
Atherton paid very little attention to him. Truth to say, he was thinking of Constance Rawcliffe.
Rather more than an hour had elapsed, and Mr. Sharrocks was expecting an answer from the boroughreeve, when he heard a tumultuous sound in the lane, already described as leading from the top of Deansgate to the quay.
Alarmed by this noise, he hurried to the great gate, which he had previously ordered to be closed, and looking out, perceived a mob, consisting of some three or four hundred persons, hurrying towards the spot.
If he had any doubt as to their intentions it would have been dispelled by hearing that their cry was "Tom Syddall!" Evidently they were coming to liberate the brave barber.
Hastily shutting and barring the gate, and ordering the porters to guard it, he flew to the room in which Tom and his companion were confined, and found the one tranquilly smoking his pipe, as we have related, and the other seated in a chair opposite him, and plunged in a reverie.
"Well, Sharrocks," said Tom, blowing a whiff from his mouth, and looking up quietly at him, "have you come to say that the boroughreeve has ordered us to be clapped in prison? ha!"
"I have come to set you free, gentlemen," said the wharf-master, blandly. "You are quite at liberty to depart."
"Ho! ho!" cried Tom. "You have altered your tone, methinks, Sharrocks."
"I am in no hurry," said Atherton. "I am quite comfortable here."
"But you must, and shall go," cried Sharrocks.
"Must! and shall!" echoed Atherton. "Suppose we refuse to stir! – what then?"
"Yes, what then, Sharrocks?" said Tom, replacing the pipe in his mouth.
The wharf-master was about to make an angry rejoinder, when a loud noise outside convinced him that the porters had yielded to the mob, and thrown open the gates.
"Zounds! they have got into the yard!" he exclaimed.
"Who have got in?" cried Atherton, springing to his feet.
"Your friends, the mob," replied Sharrocks.
"Hurrah!" exclaimed Syddall, jumping up likewise, and waving his pipe over his head. "I knew the people would come to release us. Hurrah! hurrah!"
Almost frantic with delight, he ran out into the yard, followed by Atherton – Sharrocks bringing up the rear.
Already the yard was half-full of people, most of whom were gathered thickly in front of the storehouse, and the moment they perceived Tom Syddall and Atherton, they set up a tremendous shout.
But Tom was their especial favourite. Those nearest placed him on the top of an empty cask, so that he could be seen by the whole assemblage, and in reply to their prolonged cheers, he thanked them heartily for coming to deliver him and his companion, telling them they would soon see the prince in Manchester, and bidding them, in conclusion, shout for King James the Third and Charles, Prince Regent – setting them the example himself.
While the yard was ringing with treasonable shouts and outcries, Tom quitted