"Shall we go out,
Mr. Cartwright, and see what we can do for the wounded? There are
several of them lying round the door and near the windows. I can
hear them groaning."
"No, Ned," Mr. Cartwright said firmly, "they must wait a little
longer. The others may still be hiding close ready to make a rush
if we come out; besides, it would likely enough be said of us that
we went out and killed the wounded; we must wait awhile."
Presently a voice was heard shouting without: "Are you all right,
Cartwright?"
"Yes," the manufacturer replied. "Who are you?"
The questioner proved to be a friend who lived the other side of
Liversedge, and who had been aroused by the ringing of the alarm
bell. He had not ventured to approach until the firing had ceased,
and had then come on to see the issue.
Hearing that the rioters had all departed, Mr. Cartwright ordered
the door to be opened. The wounded Luddites were lifted and carried
into the mill, and Mr. Cartwright sent at once for the nearest
surgeon, who was speedily upon the spot. Long before he arrived
the hussars had ridden up, and had been dispatched over the country
in search of the rioters, of whom, save the dead and wounded, no
signs were visible.
As day dawned the destruction which had been wrought was clearly
visible. The doors were in splinters, the lower window frames were
all smashed in, scarce a pane of glass remained in its place throughout
the whole building, the stonework was dotted and splashed with
bullet marks, the angles of the windows were chipped and broken,
there were dark patches of blood in many places in the courtyard,
and the yard itself and the roads leading from the mill were strewn
with guns, picks, levers, hammers, and pikes, which had been thrown
away by the discomfited rioters in their retreat.
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