THE ATTACK ON CARTWRIGHT'S MILL.

"And such a yell was there,

Of sudden and portentious birth,
As if men fought upon the earth
And fiends in upper air."

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

We left the rioters about sixty paces from the mill, resolved to make the attack at once and not wait the arrival of the Leeds detachment. Mr. Cartwright had, on this eventful evening, stationed his two watchmen at the mill gates, as usual, and retired to rest in the countinghouse about twenty minutes past midnight, four of his workpeople and five soldiers, which completed his little garrison, taking possession at the same time of the beds ranged down the side of the mill, behind the huge flags which were raised by means of pulleys, as described in the last chapter. All the defences of the mill having been, as usual, carefully inspected, the men had piled their arms and placed their ammunition in readiness and were soon fast asleep. Mr. Cartwright himself was just about to drop off into unconsciousness when he was aroused by the low growling of the dog in the room beneath. His first thought as he raised himself on his elbow to listen was that the alarm was a false one, as he naturally expected that his watch outside would have been the first to apprise him of approaching danger. The low growling of the dog speedily however changed to furious barking, and, listening still more intently, he thought he could hear above the monotonous booming of the neighbouring waterfall a confused murmur. Springing hastily from his bed, he found his suspicions confirmed and immediately rousing his companions, they at once prepared for the defence.

The Luddites were well aware that two sentries were posted outside the gates, and had sent forward some of the most resolute of their band to seize them. The men executed their mission with great skill and dexterity. Stealing very carefully forward, they pounced suddenly upon the careless watchers and silenced them before they had the opportunity of giving any alarm whatver, and then sent one of their number back to announce

their success to their comrades, who at once marched up to the ponderous mill gates. After examining them for an instant, Mellor gave the order,

Hatchetmen, advance!"

The ranks opened and the stalwart band bearing huge hatchets and great hammers on their shoulders advanced to the front.

Soon the

'Now, men," cried Mellor, clear the road!" Instantly at the word of command the weapons, wielded as they are by powerful arms, come down upon the gates with terrific force. heavy woodwork flies in splinters, and anon, with a fearful crash, like the felling of great trees, the first barricade drops prostrate and the rioters pour rapidly and steadily over it into the mill yard. A few paces and they look up at the great mill. Its long rows of windows glitter in the starlight, but all is dark inside, and there are no signs of its defenders. It stands all black and still, and nothing is heard but the furious barking of the dog which has now changed to a frantic howl. But though there are no signs of the existence of the little garrison, they are on the alert. They have not had much time to put on their clothing, but they are ready behind their stout barricade of stone flags. Their muskets, which command the whole front of the mill, are ready pointed through They can the loop holes and they are waiting for the order to fire. hear the trampling of many feet, a confused hum of voices, and then with a sudden and tremendous crash hundreds of great stones come bounding through the long lines of windows and it seems as Then if every atom of glass and wood work were swept away. follows a terrific yell from the desperate multitude-a yell loud enough and wild enough to strike terror into the boldest heart. The echoes of that savage cry have not died away before the rioters fire a volley through the empty windows. The signal is now given to the defenders of the mill; the hitherto silent building wakes up, and a steady peal of musketry echoes sharply through the valley. The rioters are half mad with rage; they have never been so set at defiance before.

Hatchetmen to the front!" shouts Mellor, hoarsely.

They march in steady phalanx to the mill door. It is studded with great nails set so closely that it seems as if the hatchetmen were hewing at solid iron. The edges of their weapons are turned, they can make no impression on the solid mass, and they fall back to allow the hammer-men to take their places. Down come the great hammers once more with thundering noise, and the heavy boom almost drowns the sound of the alarm bell on the top of the mill which one of Cartwright's men is now ringing loudly. In their wild fury the hammer-men strike not only the door but the stone door posts. The sparks fly at every blow, but there are no signs as yet of the staunch door yielding to their frantic efforts. Mellor and the other leaders are rushing about like wild men, encouraging the rioters who fire volley after volley through the yawning windows. Sheets of flame light up the interior of the mill at regular intervals, and the frequent groans and cries which

from the seething mass surrounding the walls testify to the accuracy of the aim. Mellor notes that the volleys come obliquely through the floor above, and that his enemies are safe behind their covers. They must try to take them in the rear.

"To the back, lads," he cries.

The defiant voice of Cartwright is heard in reply: we'll meet you."

Some went round to the back, but the proximity of the mill dam deterred them from proceeding far, as they were afraid of falling in in the darkness; one of them indeed, named Thomas Brook, who ran on in advance, did slip into the mill goyt, and was rescued with some difficulty, loosing his hat in the water. Baffled here,

the crowd came surging once more to the front.

Again Mellor cries, To the counting house."

Welcome! We shall have you there," rings out the defiant voice once more, and the pealing musketry flashed fiercely from the counting house front as soon as the rioters made their assault there. Mellor, now half wild with rage, again rushes to the mill door. He sees clearly he can never reach his enemies by firing from without, and he is therefore frantic to get into the building before the cavalry come to the rescue. The door has suffered from the tremendous pounding, and Mellor encourages the desperate giant who is now striking at it so wildly to redouble his efforts.

Bang up, my lads," he cries.

of them!"

In with you! Kill every one

The clanging alarm bell on the roof of the mill excites him to madness.

"Fire at the bell!" he shouts, and a dozen voices echo the order, 'Shoot away the bell!" D -n that bell! Get it lads!"

Suddenly the bell ceases, and the rioters again send up a triumphant yell. But it is only the rope that is broken. The defenders of the mill must continue the ringing or the troops will not be aware of their danger, two of the little garrison are therefore sent on,to the roof to ring and fire alternately. Cartwright has his attention called to one of the soldiers under his command and immediately changes his own position. All the rest seem to be steadily loading and firing with the regularity of clockwork, but this man is idly playing with his weapon. Cartwright, who is now next to him, asks if his gun is out of order.

No!" sullenly responds the man, without altering his position. 'Then why don't you fire?" asked Cartwright.

Because I might hit some of my brothers," replied the miserable traitor, still idly handling his gun.

The intrepid Cartwright gazed silently at the man for an instant, his proud lip curling with contempt. He made no reply, but the traitor was conscious that that fiery eye took in his slightest movement, and he knew well that if he ventured to attempt to betray the garrison his life would be forfeited. The man had been tampered with by the Luddites, but he found himself utterly unable to afford them any active assistance whatever.

The baffled rioters show signs of discouragement at the stout resistance offered and they fire with less regularity. The garrison however show no likelihood of yielding, their fire is as steady as ever, and the alarm bell still keeps up its deafening note. Mellor rushes about as if he were stark mad. Standing besides the hammer-men, he sees that a panel is broken at last, and a hole made in the door about the size of a man's head. "The door is open!" he yells. The men crowd around it but they soon discover that the locks and bars still hold as fast as ever. One of the garrison in the mill, a soldier it is said, sees the hole in the door opposite, and taking steady aim, fires through it. A sharp cry follows, and poor Booth, the foolish young man who had so lately joined the Luddites, falls helplessly on his face. Again there is a flash and a report, and Jonathan Dean who is plying the hammer is struck, and the implement falls from his wounded hand. Affairs are getting critical, the rioters seem to be baffled at every turn. Enoch" has done wonders; it has cleared away many obstacles, but fails this time, and the strong men who have wielded it until they can hardly raise it from the ground from sheer exhaustion lean against the mill-side in despair. The firing has now gone on for nearly thirty minutes, the bell has been heard for miles around, and the flashes of musketry have been seen from Heckmondwike-top, and yet, strange to say the military have not yet arrived to assist the little garrison. John Walker, one of the most desperate of the Luddites, has managed to hang by one of the dismantled windows while he takes aim. He is seen from the interior and a ball is sent whistling through his hat. Once more he catches hold of the stone, and thrusting his pistol through the window, fires at where the flash came from.

"I was determined to do it," he said afterwards, though my hand was shot off, and hand and pistol had gone into the mill." The Luddite leaders are now despairing. The steady fire from the mill still continues at regular intervals, the door still resists the ponderous hammers, and the bell still keeps up its clang. The soldiers must surely be on their way by this time, and the rioters begin to realize the bitter truth that their attack has failed and failed utterly. Their stock of ammunition too is nearly exhausted, and the firing from their side had consequently nearly ceased Mellor saw that all was lost, and counselled the men to cease firing. Most of the rioters finding that all was over, sullenly withdrew. Proceeding to the spot where the wounded men lay in the bloody dust writhing in agony, Mellor discussed briefly with the few around the feasibility of taking them away with them. They would gladly do it, but it is plainly impossible. They come to the decision to leave their disabled comrades behind very reluctantly, but they can do no other. The military must be on their way by this time, and even if they were disposed to try the issue with them, as Mellor boasted at the outset, it was not possible now, as they had used up all their ammunition and were practically an unarmed mob. Stooping down to the poor fellows, Mellor briefly explains the

dilemma, and exhorting them to remember their oath, he turns away with tears of rage and pity in his eyes. Mellor was the last to leave the spot. He had come to wreak his vengeance on the man who had defied the dreaded fraternity to which he belonged, and he had been defeated utterly. With his black heart full of impotent rage and fury, he stood alone in front of the mill, and with an oath, fired the last shot into the building, and then rapidly retreated from the spot. He found the rest of the rioters at a short distance awaiting him; the roll was hastily called over, and the party then divided, the greatest number retreating in the direction of Huddersfield.