CHAPTER XIV
_A Glimpse of the Crimes and Miseries of a Great City._
After his narrow escape from an ignominious death, Frank Sydney resumedhis nocturnal wanderings thro' the city, in disguise, in order to dodeeds of charity and benevolence to those who needed his aid. One night,dressed in the garb of a sailor, and wearing an immense pair of falsewhiskers, he strolled towards the Five Points, and entered the 'crib' ofBloody Mike. That respectable establishment was filled as usual with amotley collection of gentlemen of undoubted reputation--thieves,vagabonds, homeless wretches, and others of the same stamp, among whomwere some of the most miserable looking objects possible to beconceived.
At the moment of Frank's entrance, Ragged Pete was engaged in relatingthe particulars of a horrible event which had occurred upon thepreceding night on the 'Points.' The incident is a _true_ one, and weintroduce it here to show what awful misery exists in the very midst ofall our boasted civilization and benevolence:--
'You see, fellers,' said Ragged Pete, leisurely sipping a gill of _blueruin_, which he held in his hand--'the victim was a woman of the town,as lived upstairs in Pat Mulligan's crib in this street. She had oncebeen a decent woman, but her husband was a drunken vagabond, as beat andstarved her to such an extent, that she was obliged to go on the town tokeep herself from dying of actual starvation. Well, the husband he wastook up and sent to quod for six months, as a common vagrant; and thewife she lived in Mulligan's crib, in a room as hadn't a single articleof furniture in it, exceptin' a filthy old bed of straw in one corner. Aweek ago, the poor cretur was taken ill, and felt herself likely tobecome a mother, but the brutes in the house wouldn't pay no attentionto her in that situation, but left her all to herself. What she musthave suffered during that night and the next day, you can imagine; andtowards evening Pat Mulligan goes to her room, and finds her almostdead, with her poor child in her arms, wrapped up in an old blanket.Well, what does Pat do but ax her for his rent, which she owed him; andbecause the poor woman had nothing to pay him, the Irish vagabond (axingyour pardon, Bloody Mike,) bundles her neck and crop into the street,weak and sick as she was, with a hinfant scarce a day old, crying in herarms. The weather was precious cold, and it was snowing, and to keepherself and child from freezing to death, as she thought, she crept intoa hog-pen which stands in Pat's yard. And this morning she was found inthe hog-pen, stone dead, and the hogs were devouring the dead body ofthe child, which was already half ate up! I'll tell you what, fellers,'exclaimed Ragged Pete, dashing a tear from his eye, and swallowing theremainder of his gin--'I'm a hard case myself, and have seen some hardthings in my time, but d----n me if the sight of that poor woman'scorpse and the mutilated body of her child, didn't set me to thinkingthat this is a great city, where such a thing takes place in the verymidst of it!'
'Three groans for Pat Mulligan!' roared a drunken fellow from beneaththe table.
The groans were rendered with due emphasis and effect; and then one ofthe drunken crowd proposed that they should visit the 'crib' of Mr.Mulligan, and testify their disapprobation of that gentleman's conductin a more forcible and striking manner.
This proposal was received with a shout of approbation by the drunkencrew, and was warmly seconded by Bloody Mike himself, who regarded Mr.Patrick Mulligan as a formidable rival in his line of business, andtherefore entertained feelings strongly hostile to hisfellow-countryman. Then forth sallied the dingy crowd, headed by RaggedPete, (who found himself suddenly transformed into a hero,) and followedby Frank Sydney, who was desirous of seeing the issue of this strangeaffair.
The house occupied by Mulligan was an old, rotten tenement, which wouldundoubtedly have fallen to the ground, had it not been propped up by theadjoining buildings; and as it was, one end of it had settled down, inconsequence of the giving away of the foundation, so that every room inthe house was like a steep hill. The lower room was occupied as agroggery and dance-hall, and was several feet below the level of thestreet.
Into this precious den did the guests of Bloody Mike march, in singlefile. It had been previously agreed between them, that Ragged Petewould give the signal for battle, by personally attacking no less aperson than Mr. Mulligan himself. Frank also entered, and taking up asecure position in one corner, surveyed the scene with interest.
Seated in the corner, upon an inverted wash-tub, was an old negro, whosewool was white as snow, who was arrayed in a dirty, ragged, militarycoat which had once been red. This sable genius rejoiced in the loftytitle of 'the General;' he was playing with frantic violence on an old,cracked violin, during which performance he threw his whole body intothe strangest contortions, working his head, jaws, legs and arms in themost ludicrous manner. The 'music' thus produced was responded to, 'onthe floor,' by about twenty persons, who were indulging in the 'mazydance.' The company included old prostitutes, young thieves, negrochimney-sweeps, and many others whom it would be difficult to classify.
The room being small and very close, and heated by an immense stove, thestench was intolerable.--Behind the bar was a villainous lookingIrishman, whose countenance expressed as much intellect or humanity asthat of a hog. This was Pat Mulligan, and he was busily engaged indealing out the delectable nectar called 'blue ruin' at the verymoderate rate of one penny per gill.
A _very_ important man, forsooth, was that Irish 'landlord,' in theestimation of himself and customers.--None dare address him withoutprefixing a deferential '_Mr._' to his name; and Frank Sydney was bothamused and irritated as he observed the brutal insolence with which thelow, ignorant ruffian treated the poor miserable wretches, from whosescanty pence he derived his disgraceful livelihood.
'Mr. Mulligan,' said a pale, emaciated woman, whose hollow cheek andsunken eye eloquently proclaimed her starving condition--'won't youtrust me for a sixpenny loaf of bread until to-morrow? My little girl,poor thing, is dying, and I have eaten nothing this day.' And the poorcreature wept.
'Trust ye!' roared the Irishman, glaring ferociously upon her--'faith,it's not exactly _trust_ I'll give ye; but I'll give ye a beatingthat'll not leave a whole bone in your skin, if ye are not out of thisplace in less time than it takes a pig to grunt.'
The poor woman turned and left the place, with a heavy heart, and RaggedPete, deeming this a good opportunity to begin hostilities, advanced tothe bar with a swagger, and said to the Irishman,--
'You're too hard upon that woman, Pat.'
'What's that to you, ye dirty spalpeen?' growled Mulligan, savagely.
'This much,' responded Pete, seizing an immense earthen pitcher whichstood on the counter, and hurling it with unerring aim at the head ofthe Irishman. The vessel broke into a hundred pieces, and though itwounded Mulligan dreadfully, he was not disabled; for, grasping an axewhich stood within his reach, he rushed from behind the bar, andswinging the formidable weapon aloft, he would have cloven in twain theskull of Ragged Pete, had not that gentleman evaded him with muchagility, and closing with him, bore him to the floor, and began topummel him vigorously.
No sooner did the customers of Pat Mulligan see their dreaded landlordreceiving a sound thrashing, then all fear of him vanished; and, as theyall hated the Irish bully, and smarted under the remembrance ofnumerous insults and wrongs sustained at his hands, they with one accordfell upon him, and beat him within an inch of his life. Not content withthis mode of retaliation, they tore down the bar, demolished the glassesand decanters, spilled all the liquor, and in short caused theflourishing establishment of Mr. Pat Mulligan to assume a very forlornappearance.
While this work of destruction was going on, the alarm was given that abody of watchmen had assembled outside the door, and was about to makean advance upon the 'crib.' To exit the house now became the generalintent; and several had already beaten a retreat through the rear of thepremises, when the watchman burst into the front door, and made captivesof all who were present. Frank Sydney was collared by one of theofficials, and although our hero protested that he had not mingled inthe row, but was merely a spectator, he was ca
rried to the watch-housealong with the others.
When the party arrived at the watch-house, (which is situated in a wingof the 'Tombs,') the prisoners were all arrayed in a straight linebefore the desk of the Captain of the Watch, for that officer'sexamination. To give the reader an idea of the way in which justice issometimes administered in New York, we shall detail several of theindividual examinations, and their results:--
'What's your name?' cried the Captain, addressing the first of theprisoners. 'Barney McQuig, an' plaze yer honor,' was the reply, in astrong Hibernian accent.
A sort of under-official, who was seated at the desk, whispered in theear of the Captain of the Watch--
'I know him, he's an infernal scoundrel, but he _votes our ticket_, andyou let him slide, by all means.'
'McQuig, you are discharged,' said the Captain to the prisoner.
'Why, sir, that man was one of the worst of the rioters, and he is,besides, one of the greatest villains on the Points,' remarked awatchman, who, having only been recently appointed, was comparatively_green_, and by no means _au fait_ in the method of doing business inthat 'shop.'
'Silence, sir!' thundered the Captain--'how dare you dispute myauthority? I shall discharge whom I please, damn you; and you will dowell if you are not discharged from your post for your interference.'
The indignant Captain demanded the name of the next prisoner, whoconfessed to the eccentric Scriptural cognomen of 'Numbers Clapp.'
'I know _him_, too,' again whispered the under-official--'he is a commonand notorious thief, but he is useful to us as a _stool pigeon_,[3] andyou must let him go.'
'Clapp, you can go,' said the Captain; and Mr. Numbers Clapp lost notime in conveying himself from the dangerous vicinity of justice; thoughsuch _justice_ as we here record, was not very dangerous to _him_.
'Now, fellow, what's _your_ name?' asked the Captain of a shabbilydressed man, whose appearance strongly indicated both abject poverty andextreme ill health.
'Dionysus Wheezlecroft,' answered the man, with a consumptive cough.
'Do you know him?' inquired the Captain, addressing the under-official,in a whisper.
'Perfectly well,' replied the other--'he is a poor devil, utterlyharmless and inoffensive, and is both sick and friendless. He wasformerly a political stump orator of some celebrity; he worked hard forhis party, and when that party got into power, it kicked him to thedevil, and he has been flat on his back ever since.'
'What party did he belong to?--_ours?_' asked the Captain.
'No,' was the reply; and that brief monosyllable of two letters, sealedthe doom of Dionysus Wheezlecroft.
'Lock him up,' cried the Captain--'he will be _sent over_ for six monthsin the morning.' And so he was--not for any crime, but because he didnot belong to _our party_.
Several negroes, male and female, who could not possibly belong to anyparty, were then summarily disposed of; and at last it came to Frank'sturn to be examined.
'Say, you sailor fellow,' quoth the Captain, 'what's your name?'
Frank quietly stepped forward, and in as few words as possible madehimself known; he explained the motives of his disguise, and thecircumstances under which he had been induced to enter the house of PatMulligan.--The Captain, though savage and tyrannical to his inferiors,was all smiles and affability to the rich Mr. Sydney.
'Really, my dear sir,' said he, rubbing his hands, and accompanyingalmost every word with a corresponding bow, 'you have disguised yourselfso admirably, that it would puzzle the wits of a lawyer to make out whoyou are, until you should _speak_, and then your gentlemanly accentwould betray you. Allow me to offer you ten thousand apologies, onbehalf of my men, for having dared to subject you to the inconvenienceof an arrest; and permit me also to assure you that if they had knownwho you were, they would not have molested you had they found youdemolishing all the houses on the Points.'
'I presume I am at liberty to depart?' said Frank; and the Captainreturned a polite affirmative. Our hero left the hall of judgment,thoroughly disgusted with the injustice and partiality of this pettyminion of the law; for he well knew that had he himself been in realitynothing more than a poor sailor, as his garb indicated, the three words,'lock him up,' would have decided his fate for that night; and that uponthe following morning the three words, 'send him over,' would havedecided his fate for the ensuing six months.
When Frank was gone, the Captain said to the under official:
'That is Mr. Sydney, the young gentleman who was convicted of murder ashort time ago, and whose innocence of the crime was made manifest insuch an extraordinary manner, just in time to save his neck. He is veryrich, and of course I could not think of locking _him_ up.'
The Captain proceeded to examine other prisoners, and Frank went inquest of other adventures, in which pursuit we shall follow him.
As he turned into Broadway, he encountered a showily dressed courtezan,who, addressing him with that absence of ceremony for which such ladiesare remarkable, requested him to accompany her home.
'This may lead to something,' thought Frank; and pretending to besomewhat intoxicated, he proffered her his arm, which she took, at thesame time informing him that her residence was in Anthony street. Thisstreet was but a short distance from where they had met; a walk of fiveminutes brought them to it, and the woman conducted Frank back into adark narrow court, and into an old wooden building which stood at itsfurther extremity.
'Wait here a few moments, until I get a light,' said the woman; andentering a room which opened from the entry, she left our hero standingin the midst of profound darkness.--Hearing a low conversation going onin the room, he applied his ear to the key-hole, and listened, havinggood reason to suppose that he himself was the object of the discourse.
'What sort of a man does he appear to be?' was asked, in a voice whichsent a thrill through every nerve in Frank's body--for it struck himthat he had heard it before. It was the voice of a man, and its toneswere peculiar.
'He is a sailor,' replied the woman--'and as he is somewhat drunk now,the powder will soon put him to sleep, and then--'
The remainder of the sentence was inaudible to Frank; he had heardenough, however, to put him on his guard; for he felt convinced that hewas in one of those murderous dens of prostitution and crime, whererobbery and assassination are perpetrated upon many an unsuspectingvictim.
In a few minutes the woman issued from the room, bearing a lightedcandle; and requesting Frank to follow, she led the way up a crooked andbroken stair-case, and into a small chamber, scantily furnished,containing only a bed, a table, a few chairs, and other articles offurniture, of the commonest kind.
Our hero had now an opportunity to examine the woman narrowly.--Thoughher eyes were sunken with dissipation, and her cheeks laden with paint,the remains of great beauty were still discernible in her features, anda vague idea obtruded itself, like a dim shadow, upon Frank's mind, thatthis was not the _first_ time he had seen her.
'Why do you watch me so closely?' demanded the woman, fixing herpiercing eyes upon his countenance.
'Ax yer pardon, old gal, but aren't you going to fetch on some grog?'said our hero, assuming a thick, drunken tone, and drawing from hispocket a handful of gold and silver coin.
'Give me some money, and I will get you some liquor,' rejoined thewoman, her eyes sparkling with delight, as she saw that her intendedvictim was well supplied with funds. Frank gave her a half dollar, andshe went down stairs, promising to be back in less than ten minutes.
During her absence, and while our hero was debating whether to make ahasty retreat from the house, or remain and see what discoveries hecould make tending to throw light on the character and practices of theinmates, the chamber door opened, and to his surprise a small boy ofabout five years of age entered, and gazed at him with childishcuriosity.
'Surely I have seen that little lad before,' thought Frank; and then hesaid, aloud--
'What is your name, my boy?'
'_Jack the Prig_,' replied the little fellow.<
br />
Frank started; memory carried him back to the Dark Vaults, where he hadheard the Dead Man _catechise_ his little son, and he recollected thatthe urchin had, on that occasion, made the same reply to a similarquestion. By referring to the sixth chapter of this work, the readerwill find the questions and answers of that singular catechism.
Resolving to test the matter further, our hero asked the boy the nextquestion which he remembered the Dead Man had addressed to his son, onthat eventful night:--
'Who gave you that name?'
'_The Jolly Knights of the Round Table_,' replied the boy, mechanically.
'By heavens, 'tis as I suspected!' thought Frank--'the child's answersto my questions prove him to be the son of the Dead Man; the voice whichI heard while listening in the passage, and which seemed familiar to me,was the voice of that infernal miscreant himself: and the woman whom Iaccompanied hither, and whom I half fancied I had seen before--thatwoman is his wife.'
The boy, probably fearing a return of his mother, left the room; andFrank continued his meditations in the following strain:--
'The mystery begins to clear up. This house is probably the one thatcommunicates with the _secret outlet_ of the Dark Vaults, through whichI passed, blindfolded, accompanied by those two villains, Fred Archer,and the Dead Man. The woman, no doubt, entices unsuspecting men intothis devil's trap, and after _drugging_ them into a state ofinsensibility, hands them over to the tender mercies of her hideoushusband, who, after robbing them, casts them, perhaps, into someinfernal pit beneath this house, there to die and rot!--Good God, whatterrible iniquities are perpetrated in the very heart of this greatcity--iniquities which are unsuspected and unknown! And yet theperpetrators of them often escape their merited punishment, while I, aninnocent man, came within a hair's breadth of perishing upon thescaffold for another's crime! But I will not question the divine justiceof the Almighty; the guilty may elude the punishment due their crimes,in this world, but vengeance will overtake them in the next. It shall,however, henceforth be the great object of my life, to bring onestupendous miscreant to the bar of human justice--the Dead Man whoseescape from the State Prison was followed by his outrage upon ClintonRomaine, by which the poor boy was forever deprived of the faculty ofspeech; and 'tis my firm belief that 'twas by his accursed hand my auntwas murdered; she was too elevated in character, and too good aChristian, to commit suicide, and _he_ is the only man in existence whocould slay such an excellent and honorable woman! Yes--something tellsme that the Dead Man is the murderer of my beloved relative, and neverwill I rest till he is in my power, that I may wreak upon him my deadlyvengeance!'
Hearing a footstep on the stairs, he assumed an attitude and expressionof countenance indicative of drowsiness and stupidity. A momentafterwards, the woman entered, and placed upon the table a small pitchercontaining liquor. Taking from a shelf two tumblers, she turned her backtowards Frank, and drew from her bosom a small box, from which sherapidly transferred a few grains of fine white powder into one of thetumblers; then going to a cupboard in one corner, she put a teaspoonfulof loaf sugar into each of the tumblers, and placing them upon thetable, requested our hero to 'help himself.'
Frank poured some liquor into the tumbler nearest him, and lookingaskance at the woman as he did so, he saw that her features wore a smileof satisfaction; she then supplied her own glass, and was about to raiseit to her lips, when our hero said, in a gruff, sleepy tone--
'I say, old woman, you haven't half sweetened this grog of mine. Don'tbe so d--d stingy of your sugar, for I've money enough to pay for it.'
The woman turned and went to the closet to get another spoonful of thearticle in question; when Frank, with the rapidity of lightning,_changed the tumblers_, placing the deadly dose designed for him, in thesame spot where the woman's tumbler had stood. This movement wasaccomplished with so much dexterity, that when she advanced to the tablewith the sugar, she failed to notice the alteration.
'Well, old gal--here's to the wind that blows, the ship that goes, andthe lass that loves a sailor!' And delivering himself of this hackneyednautical toast, the pretended seaman drank off the contents of hisglass, an example which was followed by the female miscreant, whoresponded to Frank's toast by uttering aloud the significant wish--
'May your sleep to-night be sound!'
'Ay, ay, I hope so, and yours, too,' grumbled our hero, placing anenormous quid of tobacco in his cheek, in order to remove the unpleasanttaste of the vile liquor which he had just drank.
There was a pause of a few minutes; when suddenly the woman graspedFrank convulsively by the arm, and gazed into his countenance withwildly gleaming eyes.
'Tell me,' she gasped, like one in the agonies of strangulation--'tellme the truth, for God's sake--_did you change those tumblers_?'
'I did,' was the answer.
'Then I am lost!' she almost shrieked--'lost, lost! The liquor which Idrank contained a powder which will within half an hour sink me into acondition of insensibility, from which I shall only awake a ragingmaniac! I am rightly served--for I designed that to be _your_ fate!'
'Wretched woman, I pity you,' said Frank, in a tone of commiseration.
'I deserve not your pity,' she cried, writhing as if in great bodilytorment--'my soul is stained with the guilt of a thousand crimes--andthe only reparation I can make you, to atone for the wrong I intended,is to warn you to fly from this house as from a pestilence! This is theabode of murder--it is a charnel-house of iniquity; fly from hence, asyou value your life--for an hour after midnight my husband, the terribleDead Man, will return, and although you frustrated me, you cannot escapehis vengeance, should he find you here. Ah, my God! my brain burns--thedeadly potion is at work!'
And thus the miserable woman continued to rave, until the powerful drugwhich she had taken fully accomplished its work, and she sank upon thefloor in a state of death-like insensibility.
'Thou art rightly served,' thought Frank, as he contemplated herprostrate form--'now to penetrate into some of the mysteries of thisinfernal den!' Taking the candle from the table, he began hisexploration in that fearful house.
In the apartment which adjoined the chamber he discovered little 'Jackthe Prig,' fast asleep in bed. In the restlessness of slumber, the boyhad partially thrown off the bed-clothes, and he exhibited upon hisnaked breast the picture of a gallows, and a man hanging! This appallingscene had been drawn with India ink, and pricked into the flesh withneedles, so that it never could be effaced. It was the work of the boy'shideous father, who, not contented with training up his son to a life ofcrime, was anxious that he should also carry upon his person, throughlife, that fearful representation of a criminal's doom.
'Would it not be a deed of mercy,' thought our hero--'to take the poorboy from his unnatural parents, and train him up to a life of honestyand virtue? If I ever get the father in my power, I will look after thewelfare of this unfortunate lad.'
Frank left the room, and descending the stairs, began to explore thelower apartments of the house. In one, he found a large collection oftools, comprising every implement used by the villains in theirdepredations. There were dark lanterns, crowbars, augers, London_jimmies_, and skeleton keys, for burglary; also, spades, pickaxes, andshovels, which were probably used in robbing graves, a crime which atthat period was very common in New York. A large quantity of clothing ofall kinds hung upon the walls, from the broadcloth suit of the gentlemandown to the squalid rags of the beggar; these garments Frank conjecturedto be _disguises_, a supposition which was confirmed by the masks, falsewhiskers, wigs and other articles for altering the person, which werescattered about.
In a small closet which communicated with this room, our hero found diesfor coining, and a press for printing counterfeit bank-notes; and atable drawer, which he opened containing a quantity of false coin,several bank-note plates, and a package of counterfeit bills, which hadnot yet been signed.
Having sufficiently examined these interesting objects, Frank passedinto the next room, which was of considera
ble extent. It was almostcompletely filled with goods of various kinds, evidently the proceeds ofrobberies. There were overcoats, buffalo robes, ladies' cloaks and furs,silk dresses, shawls, boxes of boots and shoes, cases of dry goods, anda miscellaneous assortment of articles sufficient to furnish out a largestore. The goods in that room were worth several thousands of dollars.
'I shall now seek to discover the _secret outlet_ of the Dark Vaults,'thought Frank, as he descended into the cellar of the house. Here hegazed about him with much interest; the cellar was damp and gloomy andhis entrance with the light disturbed a legion of rats, which wentscampering off in every direction, from a corner in which they hadcollected together; as the young man approached that corner, a fetid,sickening odor saluted his nostrils and a fearful thought flashed acrosshis mind; a moment afterwards, his blood curdled with horror, for beforehim lay the dead body of a man, entirely naked, and far advanced instate of decomposition; and upon that putrefying corpse had the swarm ofrats been making their terrible banquet!
Sick with horror and disgust, Frank precipitately retreated from theloathsome and appalling spectacle, satisfied that he had beheld one ofthe Dead Man's murdered victims; and he shuddered as he thought thatsuch might have been _his_ fate!
In the centre of the cellar an apparatus of singular appearanceattracted his notice; and approaching it he instantly became convincedthat this was the _secret outlet_ for which he sought. Four strong,upright posts supported two ponderous iron crossbars, to which wereattached four ropes of great thickness and strength, these ropes wereconnected with a wooden platform, about six feet square; and beneath theplatform was a dark and yawning chasm.
Closely examining this apparatus, our hero saw that by an ingeniouscontrivance, a person standing on the platform could, by turning acrank, raise or lower himself at will. He cautiously approached the edgeof the chasm, and holding down the light, endeavored to penetratethrough the darkness; but in vain--he could see nothing, though he couldfaintly hear a dull, sluggish sound like that produced by the flowing ofa vast body of muddy water, and at the same time an awful stench whicharose from the black gulf, compelled him to return a short distance.
'The mystery is solved,' he thought--'that fearful hole leads to thesubterranean sewers of the city, and also to the Dark Vaults beyondthem. By means of that platform, the villains of the _Infernal Regions_below, can pass to and from their den with facility and safety.'
At this moment he heard the vast bell of the City Hall proclaiming thehour of midnight; and he remembered that the woman had told him that herhusband, the Dead Man, would return in an hour from that time. At firstit occurred to him to await the miscreant's coming, and endeavor tocapture him--but then he reflected that the Dead Man might returnaccompanied by other villains, in which case the plan would not only beimpracticable, but his own life would be endangered.
'And even were the villain to come back alone,' thought Frank, 'were Ito spring upon him, he might give some signal which would bring to hisaid his band of desperadoes from the Vaults below. No--I must notneedlessly peril my own life; I will depart from the house now,satisfied for the present with the discoveries I have made, and trustingto be enabled at no distant time to come here with a force sufficient toovercome the hideous ruffian and all his band.'
Leaving the cellar, he traversed the entry and attempted to open thefront door; but to his surprise it was securely locked, nor could allhis efforts push back the massive bolts which held it fast. Here-entered the room, and examining the windows, found them furnishedwith thick iron bars like the windows of a prison, so that to passthrough them was impossible; and further investigation resulted in theunpleasant conviction that he was a prisoner in that dreadful house,with no immediate means of escape.
He again descended into the cellar, and began seriously to reflect uponthe realities of his situation. He was a young man of determination andcourage: yet he could not entirely subdue those feelings of uneasinessand alarm which were natural under the circumstances. He was alone, atmidnight, in that abode of crime and murder; near him lay the corpse ofan unfortunate fellow creature, who had without a doubt fallen by thehand of an assassin; he was momentarily expecting the return of thatarch-miscreant, who would show him no mercy; a deep, unbroken silence,and an air of fearful mystery, reigned in that gloomy cellar andthroughout that awful house--and before him, dark and yawning as thegate of hell, was that black and infernal pit which led to thesubterranean caverns of the Dark Vaults, far below.
'I will sell my life dearly, at all events,' thought our hero, as hedrew a bowie knife from his breast, and felt its keen, glittering edge;then impelled by a sudden thought, he advanced to the mouth of the pit,and cut the four ropes, which sustained the wooden platform, so nearlyasunder, that they would be almost sure to break with a slightadditional weight.
He had scarcely accomplished this task, when a strange, unnatural cryresounded throughout the cellar--a cry so indescribably fearful that itchilled his blood with horror. It was almost instantly followed by a lowand melancholy wail, so intense, so solemn, so profoundly expressive ofhuman misery, that Frank was convinced that some unfortunate being wasnear him, plunged in deepest anguish and distress.
In a few moments the sound entirely ceased, and silence resumed itsreign; then Frank, actuated by the noble feelings of his generousnature, said, in a loud voice--
'If there is any unhappy creature who now hears me, and who needs mycharitable aid, let him or her speak, that I may know where to direct mysearch.'
No answer was returned to this request; all was profoundly silent.Frank, however, was determined to fathom the mystery; accordingly, hebegan a careful search throughout the cellar, and finally discovered inan obscure corner an iron door, which was secured on the outside by abolt--to draw back this bolt and throw open this door, was but the workof a moment; and our hero was about to enter the cell thus revealed,when a hideous being started from the further end of the dungeon, andwith an awful yell rushed out into the cellar, and hid itself in a deepembrasure of the wall.
Whether this creature were human or not, the rapidity of its flightprevented Frank from ascertaining, he cautiously advanced to the placewhere it had concealed itself, and by the dim light of the lamp which hecarried, he saw, crouching down upon the cold, damp earth, a _livingobject_ which appalled him; it was a human creature, but so horribly andunnaturally deformed, that it was a far more dreadful object to beholdthan the most loathsome of the brute creation.
It was of pygmy size, its shrunk limbs distorted and fleshless, and itslank body covered with filthy rags; its head, of enormous size, wasentirely devoid of hair; and the unnatural shape as well as theprodigious dimensions of that bald cranium, betokened beastly idiocy.Its features, ghastly and terrible to look upon, bore a strangeresemblance to those of the _Dead Man_! and its snake-like eyes werefixed upon Frank with the ferocity of a poisonous reptile about tospring upon its prey.
'Who art thou?' demanded our hero, as he surveyed the hideous objectwith horror and disgust.
It answered not, but again set up its low and melancholy wail. Then withextraordinary agility, it sprang from its retreat, and bounding towardsthe dungeon, entered, and crouched down in one corner, making the cellarresound with its awful shrieks.
''Tis more beast than human,' thought Frank--'I will fasten it in itsden, or it may attack me;' and closing the door, he secured it with thebolt. As he did so, he heard the deep-toned bell peal forth the hourof--_one_!
'It is the hour appointed for the return of the Dead Man!' said our heroto himself, with a shudder; and instantly it occurred to him that hemight have descended to the Dark Vaults and escaped that way, had he notcut the ropes which supported the platform. But then he reflected thaton reaching the Vaults he would be almost certain to fall into the powerof the villains assembled there; and he ceased to regret having cut theropes.
His attention was suddenly arrested by observing the platform descendinto the abyss, moved by an unseen agency; for the apparatus was
socontrived, that a person in the Vaults below could lower or raise theplatform at will, by means of a rope connected with it.
Frank had anticipated that the Dead Man would enter the house throughthe front door; but he now felt convinced that the miscreant was aboutto ascend on the platform from the Vaults; and he said to himself--
''Tis well--these almost severed ropes will not sustain the villain'sweight, and if he attains to any considerable height, and then falls,his instant death is certain.'
The platform reached the bottom of the abyss--a short pause ensued, andthen it began slowly to ascend; higher, higher it mounted, until ourhero, fearing that the rope might not break, was about to cut it again,when a yell of agony reached his ear from the depths of the pit, and atthe same moment the slackened condition of the rope convinced him thatthe platform had fallen. He listened, and heard a sound like theplunging of a body into water; then all was silent as the grave.
'The villain has met with a just doom,' thought Frank; and no longerapprehensive of the return of his mortal enemy, he left the cellar, andentering the room above, in which the stolen goods were deposited, threwhimself upon a heap of clothes and garments, and fell into a deepslumber.
It was broad daylight when he awoke; and starting up, his eyes restedupon an object which caused him to recoil with horror. The woman whom hehad left insensible from the effects of the powerful drug which she hadtaken, was standing near him, her eyes rolling with insanity, her hairdishevelled, her clothes torn to rags and her face scratched andbleeding, she having in her own madness inflicted the wounds with herown nails.
'Ha!' she exclaimed--'had'st thou not awakened, I would have killedthee! Thy heart would have made me a brave breakfast, and I would havebanqueted on thy life-blood! Go hence--go hence! thou shalt not unfoldthe awful mysteries of this charnel-house!--Ye must not behold themurdered man who lies rotting in the cellar, nor open the dark dungeonof the deformed child of crime!--'tis the hideous offspring of hideousparents--my child and the Dead Man's! 'Twas a judgement from Heaven,that monstrous being; we dare not kill it, so we shut it up from thelight of day. Go hence--go hence, or I will fly at thee and tear thineeyes out!'
Frank left the room, and ascended to the chamber, hoping to find a keywhich would enable him to unlock the front door; and in a table drawerhe discovered one, which he doubted not would release him from hisimprisonment. Before departing, he wrote the following words on a scrapof paper:--
'If the villain known as the _Dead Man_ still lives, he is informed that he is indebted to _me_ for his unexpected fall last night. Let the miscreant tremble--for I have penetrated the mysteries of this infernal den, and my vengeance, if not ordinary justice, will speedily overtake him!
SYDNEY.'
Leaving the note upon the table, Frank descended the stairs, unlockedthe door, and departed from that abode of crime and horror.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 3: A _stool pigeon_ is a person who associates with thieves,in order to betray their secrets to the police officers, in reference toany robbery which has been committed, or which may be in contemplation.As a reward for furnishing such information, the _stool pigeon_ isallowed to steal and rob, _on his own account_, with almost perfectimpunity.]
City Crimes; Or, Life in New York and Boston Page 14