Jack instantly extinguished the light, and called to his comrade to come after him.
But Blueskin found it impossible to make off, — at least with the spoil, — Mrs. Wood having laid hold of the canvass-bag.
“Give back the things!” cried the, lady. “Help! — help, Mr. Wood!”
“Leave go!” thundered Blueskin— “leave go — you’d better!” — and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife.
“No, I won’t leave go!” screamed Mrs. Wood. “Fire! — murder — thieves! — I’ve got one of ‘em!”
“Come along,” cried Jack.
“I can’t,” answered Blueskin. “This she-devil has got hold of the sack. Leave go, I tell you!” and he forced open the knife with his teeth.
“Help! — murder! — thieves!” screamed Mrs. Wood;— “Owen — Owen! — Thames, help!”
“Coming!” cried Mr. Wood, leaping from the bed. “Where are you?”
“Here,” replied Mrs. Wood. “Help — I’ll hold him!”
“Leave her,” cried Jack, darting down stairs, amid a furious ringing of bells,— “the house is alarmed, — follow me!”
“Curses light on you!” cried Blueskin, savagely; “since you won’t be advised, take your fate.”
And seizing her by the hair, he pulled back her head, and drew the knife with all his force across her throat. There was a dreadful stifled groan, and she fell heavily upon the landing.
The screams of the unfortunate woman had aroused Thames from his slumbers. Snatching-up his pistols, he rushed to the door, but to his horror found it fastened. He heard the struggle on the landing, the fall of the heavy body, the groan, — and excited almost to frenzy by his fears, he succeeded in forcing open the door. By this time, several of the terrified domestics appeared with lights. A terrible spectacle was presented to the young man’s gaze: — the floor deluged with blood — the mangled and lifeless body of Mrs. Wood, — Winifred fainted in the arms of a female attendant, — and Wood standing beside them almost in a state of distraction. Thus, in a few minutes, had this happy family been plunged into the depths of misery. At this juncture, a cry was raised by a servant from below, that the robbers were flying through the garden. Darting to a window looking in that direction, Thames threw it up, and discharged both his pistols, but without effect. In another minute, the tramp of horses’ feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape.
* * *
CHAPTER III. JACK SHEPPARD’S QUARREL WITH JONATHAN WILD.
Scarcely an hour after the horrible occurrence just related, as Jonathan Wild was seated in the audience-chamber of his residence at the Old Bailey, occupied, like Peachum, (for whose portrait he sat,) with his account-books and registers, he was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Quilt Arnold, who announced Jack Sheppard and Blueskin.
“Ah!” cried Wild, laying down his pen and looking up with a smile of satisfaction. “I was just thinking of you Jack. What news. Have you done the trick at Dollis Hill? — brought off the swag — eh?”
“No,” answered Jack, flinging himself sullenly into a chair, “I’ve not.”
“Why how’s this?” exclaimed Jonathan. “Jack Sheppard failed! I’d not believe it, if any one but himself told me so.”
“I’ve not failed,” returned Jack, angrily; “but we’ve done too much.”
“I’m no reader of riddles,” said Jonathan. “Speak plainly.”
“Let this speak for me,” said Sheppard, tossing a heavy bag of money towards him. “You can generally understand that language. There’s more than I undertook to bring. It has been purchased by blood!”
“What! have you cut old Wood’s throat?” asked Wild, with great unconcern, as he took up the bag.
“If I had, you’d not have seen me here,” replied Jack, sullenly. “The blood that has been spilt is that of his wife.”
“It was her own fault,” observed Blueskin, moodily. “She wouldn’t let me go. I did it in self-defence.”
“I care not why you did it,” said Jack, sternly. “We work together no more.”
“Come, come, Captain,” remonstrated Blueskin. “I thought you’d have got rid of your ill-humour by this time. You know as well as I do that it was accident.”
“Accident or not,” rejoined Sheppard; “you’re no longer pall of mine.”
“And so this is my reward for having made you the tip-top cracksman you are,” muttered Blueskin;— “to be turned off at a moment’s notice, because I silenced a noisy woman. It’s too hard. Think better of it.”
“My mind’s made up,” rejoined Jack, coldly,— “we part to-night.”
“I’ll not go,” answered the other. “I love you like a son, and will follow you like a dog. You’d not know what to do without me, and shan’t drive me off.”
“Well!” remarked Jonathan, who had paid little attention to the latter part of the conversation: “this is an awkward business certainly: but we must do the best we can in it. You must keep out of the way till it’s blown over. I can accommodate you below.”
“I don’t require it,” returned Sheppard. “I’m tired of the life I’m leading. I shall quit it and go abroad.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Blueskin.
“Before either of you go, you will ask my permission,” said Jonathan, coolly.
“How!” exclaimed Sheppard. “Do you mean to say you will interfere—”
“I mean to say this,” interrupted Wild, with contemptuous calmness, “that I’ll neither allow you to leave England nor the profession you’ve engaged in. I wouldn’t allow you to be honest even if you could be so, — which I doubt. You are my slave — and such you shall continue.’”
“Slave?” echoed Jack.
“Dare to disobey,” continued Jonathan: “neglect my orders, and I will hang you.”
Sheppard started to his feet.
“Hear me,” he cried, restraining himself with difficulty. “It is time you should know whom you have to deal with. Henceforth, I utterly throw off the yoke you have laid upon me. I will neither stir hand nor foot for you more. Attempt to molest me, and I split. You are more in my power than I am in yours. Jack Sheppard is a match for Jonathan Wild, any day.”
“That he is,” added Blueskin, approvingly.
Jonathan smiled contemptuously.
“One motive alone shall induce me to go on with you,” said Jack.
“What’s that?” asked Wild.
“The youth whom you delivered to Van Galgebrok, — Thames Darrell, is returned.”
“Impossible!” cried Jonathan. “He was thrown overboard, and perished at sea.”
“He is alive,” replied Jack, “I have seen him, and might have conversed with him if I had chosen. Now, I know you can restore him to his rights, if you choose. Do so; and I am yours as heretofore.”
“Humph!” exclaimed Jonathan.
“Your answer!” cried Sheppard. “Yes, or no?”
“I will make no terms with you,” rejoined Wild, sternly. “You have defied me, and shall feel my power. You have been useful to me, or I would not have spared you thus long. I swore to hang you two years ago, but I deferred my purpose.”
“Deferred!” echoed Sheppard.
“Hear me out,” said Jonathan. “You came hither under my protection, and you shall depart freely, — nay, more, you shall have an hour’s grace. After that time, I shall place my setters on your heels.”
“You cannot prevent my departure,” replied Jack, dauntlessly, “and therefore your offer is no favour. But I tell you in return, I shall take no pains to hide myself. If you want me, you know where to find me.”
“An hour,” said Jonathan, looking at his watch,— “remember!”
“If you send for me to the Cross Shovels in the Mint, where I’m going with Blueskin, I will surrender myself without resistance,” returned Jack.
“You will spare the officers a labour then,” rejoined Jonathan.
“Can’t I settle this business, Captain,” muttered Blueskin, drawing a pistol.
“Don’t harm him,” said Jack, carelessly: “he dares not do it.”
So saying, he left the room.
“Blueskin,” said Jonathan, as that worthy was about to follow, “I advise you to remain with me.”
“No,” answered the ruffian, moodily. “If you arrest him, you must arrest me also.”
“As you will,” said Jonathan, seating himself.
Jack and his comrade went to the Mint, where he was joined by Edgeworth Bess, with whom he sat down most unconcernedly to supper. His revelry, however, was put an end at the expiration of the time mentioned by Jonathan, by the entrance of a posse of constables with Quilt Arnold and Abraham Mendez at their head. Jack, to the surprise of all his companions, at once surrendered himself: but Blueskin would have made a fierce resistance, and attempted a rescue if he had not been ordered by his leader to desist. He then made off. Edgeworth Bess, who passed for Sheppard’s wife, was secured. They were hurried before a magistrate, and charged by Jonathan Wild with various robberies; but, as Jack Sheppard stated that he had most important disclosures to make, as well as charges to bring forward against his accuser, he was committed with his female companion to the New Prison in Clerkenwell for further examination.
* * *
CHAPTER IV. JACK SHEPPARD’S ESCAPE FROM THE NEW PRISON.
In consequence of Jack Sheppard’s desperate character, it was judged expedient by the keeper of the New Prison to load him with fetters of unusual weight, and to place him in a cell which, from its strength and security, was called the Newgate Ward. The ward in which he was confined, was about six yards in length, and three in width, and in height, might be about twelve feet. The windows which were about nine feet from the floor, had no glass; but were secured by thick iron bars, and an oaken beam. Along the floor ran an iron bar to which Jack’s chain was attached, so that he could move along it from one end of the chamber to the other. No prisoner except Edgeworth Bess was placed in the same cell with him. Jack was in excellent spirits; and by his wit, drollery and agreeable demeanour, speedily became a great favourite with the turnkey, who allowed him every indulgence consistent with his situation. The report of his detention caused an immense sensation. Numberless charges were preferred against him, amongst others, information was lodged of the robbery at Dollis Hill, and murder of Mrs. Wood, and a large reward offered for the apprehension of Blueskin; and as, in addition to this, Jack had threatened to impeach Wild, his next examination was looked forward to with the greatest interest.
The day before this examination was appointed to take place — the third of the prisoner’s detention — an old man, respectably dressed, requested permission to see him. Jack’s friends were allowed to visit him; but as he had openly avowed his intention of attempting an escape, their proceedings were narrowly watched. The old man was conducted to Jack’s cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview. He appeared to be a stranger to the prisoner, and the sole motive of his visit, curiosity. After a brief conversation, which Sheppard sustained with his accustomed liveliness, the old man turned to Bess and addressed a few words of common-place gallantry to her. While this was going on, Jack suddenly made a movement which attracted the turnkey’s attention; and during that interval the old man slipped some articles wrapped in a handkerchief into Bess’s hands, who instantly secreted them in her bosom. The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation. After a little further discourse the old man took his departure.
Left alone with Edgeworth Bess, Jack burst into a loud laugh of exultation.
“Blueskin’s a friend in need,” he said. “His disguise was capital; but I detected it in a moment. Has he given you the tools?”
“He has,” replied Bess, producing the handkerchief.
“Bravo,” cried Sheppard, examining its contents, which proved to be a file, a chisel, two or three gimblets, and a piercer. “Jonathan Wild shall find it’s not easy to detain me. As sure as he is now living, I’ll pay him a visit in the Old Bailey before morning. And then I’ll pay off old scores. It’s almost worth while being sent to prison to have the pleasure of escaping. I shall now be able to test my skill.” And running on in this way, he carefully concealed the tools.
Whether the turnkey entertained any suspicion of the old man, Jack could not tell, but that night he was more than usually rigorous in his search; and having carefully examined the prisoners and finding nothing to excite his suspicions, he departed tolerably satisfied.
As soon as he was certain he should be disturbed no more, Jack set to work, and with the aid of the file in less than an hour had freed himself from his fetters. With Bess’s assistance he then climbed up to the window, which, as has just been stated, was secured by iron bars of great thickness crossed by a stout beam of oak. The very sight of these impediments, would have appalled a less courageous spirit than Sheppard’s — but nothing could daunt him. To work then he went, and with wonderful industry filed off two of the iron bars. Just as he completed this operation, the file broke. The oaken beam, nine inches in thickness, was now the sole but most formidable obstacle to his flight. With his gimblet he contrived to bore a number of holes so close together that at last one end of the bar, being completely pierced through, yielded; and pursuing the same with the other extremity, it fell out altogether.
This last operation was so fatiguing, that for a short time he was obliged to pause to recover the use of his fingers. He then descended; and having induced Bess to take off some part of her clothing, he tore the gown and petticoat into shreds and twisted them into a sort of rope which he fastened to the lower bars of the window. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it — her bulk being much greater than his own. He then made a sort of running noose, passed it over her body, and taking firmly hold of the bars, prepared to guide her descent. But Bess could scarcely summon resolution enough to hazard the experiment; and it was only on Jack’s urgent intreaties, and even threats, that she could be prevailed on to trust herself to the frail tenure of the rope he had prepared. At length, however, she threw herself off; and Jack carefully guiding the rope she landed in safety.
* * *
The next moment he was by her side.
But the great point was still unaccomplished. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true; but the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell, by which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by formidable and bristling chevaux de frise, remained to be scaled. Jack, however, had an expedient for mastering this difficulty. He ventured to the great gates, and by inserting his gimblets into the wood at intervals, so as to form points upon which he could rest his foot, he contrived, to ascend them; and when at the top, having fastened a portion of his dress to the spikes, he managed, not without considerable risk, to draw up his female companion. Once over the iron spikes, Bess exhibited no reluctance to be let down on the other side of the wall. Having seen his mistress safe down, Jack instantly descended, leaving the best part of his clothes, as a memorial of his flight, to the jailor.
And thus he effected his escape from the New Prison.
* * *
CHAPTER V. THE DISGUISE.
In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped, — for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington — and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary’s Hole. This spot, which still retains its name, acquired the appellation from an old crone who lived there, and who, in addition to a very equivocal character for honesty, enjoyed the reputation of being a witch. Without inquiring into the correctness of the latter part of the story, it may be sufficient to state, that Black Mary was a person in whom Jack Sheppard thought
he could confide, and, as Edgeworth Bess was incapable of much further exertion, he determined to leave her in the old woman’s care till the following night, while he shifted for himself and fulfilled his design — for, however rash or hazardous a project might be, if once conceived, Jack always executed it, — of visiting Jonathan Wild at his house in the Old Bailey.
It was precisely two o’clock on the morning of Whit-monday, the 25th of May 1724, when the remarkable escape before detailed was completed: and, though it wanted full two hours to daybreak, the glimmer of a waning moon prevented it from being totally dark. Casting a hasty glance, as he was about to turn an angle of the wall, at the great gates and upper windows of the prison, and perceiving no symptoms of pursuit, Jack proceeded towards the hovel at a very deliberate pace, carefully assisting his female companion over every obstacle in the road, and bearing her in his arms when, as was more than once the case, she sank from fright and exhaustion. In this way he crossed one or two public gardens and a bowling-green, — the neighbourhood of Clerkenwell then abounded in such places of amusement, — passed the noted Ducking Pond, where Black Mary had been frequently immersed; and, striking off to the left across the fields, arrived in a few minutes at his destination.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 92