There he hoped to find shelter till the vessel which was to convey him across the Channel should arrive.  For, though Hunt’s establishment had been broken up, there were still in that dreary region smugglers who carried on more than one lawless trade.  It chanced that two of these men had just been arrested on a charge of harbouring traitors.  The messenger who had taken them into custody was returning to London with them, when, on the high road, he met Fenwick face to face.  Unfortunately for Fenwick, no face in England was better known than his.  “It is Sir John,” said the officer to the prisoners:  “Stand by me, my good fellows, and, I warrant you, you will have your pardons, and a bag of guineas besides.”  The offer was too tempting to be refused; but Fenwick was better mounted than his assailants; he dashed through them, pistol in hand, and was soon out of sight.  They pursued him; the hue and cry was raised; the bells of all the parish churches of the Marsh rang out the alarm; the whole country was up; every path was guarded; every thicket was beaten; every hut was searched; and at length the fugitive was found in bed.  Just then a bark, of very suspicious appearance, came in sight; she soon approached the shore, and showed English colours; but to the practised eyes of the Kentish fishermen she looked much like a French privateer.  It was not difficult to guess her errand.  After waiting a short time in vain for her passenger, she stood out to sea.728

Fenwick, unluckily for himself, was able so far to elude the vigilance of those who had charge of him as to scrawl with a lead pencil a short letter to his wife.  Every line contained evidence of his guilt.  All, he wrote, was over; he was a dead man, unless, indeed, his friends could, by dint of solicitation, obtain a pardon for him.  Perhaps the united entreaties of all the Howards might succeed.  He would go abroad; he would solemnly promise never again to set foot on English ground, and never to draw sword against the government.  Or would it be possible to bribe a juryman or two to starve out the rest?  “That,” he wrote, “or nothing can save me.”  This billet was intercepted in its way to the post, and sent up to Whitehall.  Fenwick was soon carried to London and brought before the Lords Justices.  At first he held high language and bade defiance to his accusers.  He was told that he had not always been so confident; and his letter to his wife was laid before him.  He had not till then been aware that it had fallen into hands for which it was not intended.  His distress and confusion became great.  He felt that, if he were instantly sent before a jury, a conviction was inevitable.  One chance remained.  If he could delay his trial for a short time, the judges would leave town for their circuits; a few weeks would be gained; and in the course of a few weeks something might be done.