Mr William Jarker had had a long holiday from the public school where
her Majesty's officers try to instil lessons of good, while their
refractory pupils resent them to the best of their ability. So long had
been Mr Jarker's holiday, that the police had grown uncomfortable at
their inability to bring something home to him, but he was wanted, at
last, on account of a collection of plate and valuables that had
suddenly disappeared after a few linnets and finches had been netted
some thirty miles down in Hertfordshire, though even here the burglary
would not have drawn Mr Jarker into trouble had it not been for a
confederate who had "peached" in consequence of what he called an unfair
division of the spoil.
So Mr Jarker was wanted just at a time when he felt very comfortable
and secure. He had certainly felt rather uneasy for a few days past,
and read, or rather stumbled through, the various newspapers, taking
particular interest in passages relating to discoveries of bodies, and
inquests, but now this uneasiness had worn off, and no further notice
having been taken of his behaviour by the Hardon family, he felt in very
good spirits; though for all that, he had kept away from
Bennett's-rents, so that he might not encounter the Reverend Arthur
Sterne, who had been assaulted, he heard; and on the principle of giving
a dog a bad name and then hanging him, Bill thought he might be accused
of the assault. As to the child, he learned that the curate had taken
it to his own home.
Mr Jarker's notice was drawn to the fact of his being wanted, one day
when making his way from the Dials into Holborn. Naturally given to
casting his eyes about him, he became aware of a quiet-looking man
following him at a distance; and no sooner did Mr Jarker catch sight of
that face, than horrors of the past untold danced before his eyes for an
instant; but the next moment he thrust his hands into his pockets, drew
a long breath, and began to whistle, all the while looking out ahead for
what he next expected to see--a policeman in uniform.
It might be supposed that the whistler intended to give the person who
followed him so closely into custody, but this was not the case, for Mr
Jarker imagined that no sooner was there a policeman in sight, than the
quiet-looking man would begin to close up.
But it might be somebody else who was wanted, so Mr Jarker crossed the
road--so did the quiet man; Bill crossed again--so did the quiet man;
and, though the weather was cold, the bird-catcher perspired, as he
muttered--
"I wonder what it's for?"
However, he appeared to take matters very coolly, and peeped here and
there into the bird-fanciers' shops, and so made his way into Holborn,
now and then directing a peep at his quiet friend, who was apparently
not taking the slightest heed of his proceedings, but all the same
thoroughly realising the difficulty of finding one of his brotherhood
when wanted.
Passengers were plentiful here, and the crowd thickened as Jarker went
on, till a good opportunity seemed to present itself.
"Now for it!" thought Bill, and after a glance over his shoulder, he
dodged in and out and about for five minutes, making more than one feint
of having turned out of the main street; then, being apparently very
much taken with the contents of a draper's window, he stopped short, and
glanced to the right to find the quiet-looking man in precisely the same
place, and worse still, probably in obedience to a sign from the said
quiet man, to the left there was a policeman closing up quickly.
"Meant for me!" muttered Bill; and again, as he turned hotter, "I wonder
what it's for?" while once more glancing to the right, there was the
quiet man also closing in quickly.
But not so quickly as Jarker made a leap backwards into the road, dodged
right under a horse's legs, round an omnibus, past cabs, carts, and
wagons, and in and out and about like an eel, invulnerable to the tread
of horses' feet or the passage of wheels. Ordinary people would have
been run over half-a-dozen times, but Bill Jarker was not, and on he
tore, with the two constables in full chase.
Jarker had not much start, but he made the most of it, with the full
determination of making his escape if possible; perhaps even for a small
robbery he might have run hard, and fought hard, to avoid capture; but
at the present time there was a look of desperation in his face that
prevented more than one willing hand from attempting his seizure; and
away he sped, in and out of the vehicles coming and going upon the
slippery road. All at once he caught sight of a new peril; right in
front there was another policeman, and if, to avoid him, he took to the
pavement, so great was the crowd of passengers, that he must have been
hemmed-in and captured directly. So on dashed Jarker, right at the
constable in front, coming down upon him with the impetus of a
battering-ram. Over he went, and on dashed Bill with the other
constables in close pursuit, and shouts and cries rising on all sides.
"Stop thief! stop thief!" with the tail of followers increasing each
moment.
Jarker's breath came hot and thick, and he felt that a few more minutes
past, and he would be marching through the street handcuffed and with
his liberty stopped; he thought no more of that, but shuddered, while,
at the same moment, hope animated his breast, for he could see, far in
front, a haven of safety: right before him the street was up, and the
boards and bricks told of repairs to the sewers, while the large heap of
earth pointed out the depth down at which they lay.
On tore Jarker, racing over the ground with a long, loping run, and on
came the police, with the tag of idlers; but the goal was reached. With
one bound Jarker cleared the barrier, ran and stumbled over the loose
earth for some distance, and then dropped to the first platform, slid
down ladder after ladder, passed man after man, too astonished and
startled to attempt to seize him, sometimes falling, sometimes climbing,
with the deal planks springing, and brickbats and clods of earth falling
after him. One man made a blow at him with his spade, but it came too
late, for Jarker reached the bottom, leaped into the black stream, here
but little over his knees, went splashing away under the echoing dark
arch of the sewer, into the dense black passages that run for so many
miles under London, and was out of sight long before the first policeman
was half-way down the great opening.
The main sewers were not made in those days, and the quiet man stopped
for an instant to give some instructions to one of his constables, the
result being that he leaped into a hansom cab, and very soon after, as
the tide was up, a Thames-police row-galley was being pulled slowly
backwards and forwards in front of the mouths of two large openings
which lent their black, affluent streams to the great river.
On through the darkness went Jarker, always with the stream, his hands
outstretched in front, and his head turned from time to time to catch a
glimpse of the flash of some bull's-eye lantern. On he pressed, but not
unpursued; since for some distance a couple of policemen, the one in
plain clothes and he who had been knocked down and made vicious by the
blow, came plashing along.
Once the ruffian stopped, drew out a heavy life-preserver, and with an
oath turned back, but directly after he was pressing on again, carefully
feeling his way by the slimy wall, for the water grew deeper and deeper,
and more than once his quick ear detected the light scuffling noise as
of some little animal running, and a plash as of something leaping into
the murky stream.
At last Jarker stopped, for the long-continued silence and the thick
darkness taught him that he was unpursued; but he knew well enough that
though the pursuit had perhaps ceased, the entrances to the sewers would
be carefully watched; and he felt too now that there would be no home
for him again in Bennett's-rents.
"They're gallus clever!" growled the ruffian when, after pressing on a
little further, he once more stopped short--"they're gallus clever, them
p'lice, but they don't know everythink."
And now, after listening long and carefully, he turned off short round
to the right, and waded onward for a few minutes, when he stopped again
to draw forth a box and light a match; but he found that they were
wetted, and nothing followed but faint streaks of phosphorescent light;
when with a curse he threw the useless splints away and pressed on.
Dark, plashing, echoing paths, with noisome mephitic smells and the
sound of hurrying waters--paths that might in ignorance be traversed for
days and days, until the weary wanderer sank down for the black stream
to bear him out to the great river. Here there would be a smaller sewer
off to the right, here one to the left; while drain-pipe and culvert
emptied their filthy streams, augmenting always the larger sewer where
the ruffian waded; as the current swelled and rose and rolled swiftly
on, at times with almost sufficient force to render his footing
insecure.
At one time the water was up to his breast, but it soon shallowed when
he entered a branch and faced the stream, guiding himself ever with his
hand upon the slimy wall, as if thoroughly acquainted with his road, and
proceeding the while at no mean rate along the gloomy way; for Jarker
had been here before, and he pressed on fearless of darkness or rats,
thinking that the only danger that could assail him would be a rush of
water after a heavy rain. At times, though, he stopped splashing and
beating the stream, and imitating the snapping, snarling bark of a dog,
for something would run scratching over him--then another, and another--
keen, hunger-bitten little animals; then there followed splash after
splash, as they leaped into the water. Now he was clear of them again,
and stopped puzzled, feeling along the wall on both sides for something
he could not find--some guide-mark or open sewer-mouth; but now again
came the little eager animals, hunger-driven and fierce, crowding and
swimming round him, swarming up his back and breast, and biting sharply
with their little keen teeth as the wretch leaped and bounded about,
tearing half-a-dozen off to make room for a score.
"If I only had one of their gallus lights!" shrieked the ruffian,
forgetful of the risk of being heard, and of the _ruse_ he had before
successfully practised, and in the horror of his position ready even to
have given himself up as he cursed and yelled in a frightful manner--the
hideous noises echoing along the vaulted sewer, and sounding doubly
frightful.
"Curse 'em! I shall be gnawed to death!" shrieked Jarker, as he could
not help recalling the times when he had gloated with delight over the
performances of some steel-teethed terrier in a pit amidst a dozen rats;
and now, as he fought there, splashing about in the water, and tearing
off rat after rat to crush them in his powerful hands, he could not but
feel how the tables were turned, and groaned piteously as a great dread
came upon him--a horror blacker than the black darkness around. But
Jarker fought on savagely for his life, while the diminutive size of his
adversaries formed their protection again and again. He had his
life-preserver out now, and struck with it at random, fierce and heavy
blows, each of which would have beaten the life out of a dozen rats, but
only once or twice had they any effect, and then he struck the brick
side of the sewer, when the lead knob was loosened and fell from the
whalebone handle into the rushing water, and with a curse Jarker dashed
the useless fragment away.
Faint and harassed, his great brute strength of no avail, his hands and
face streaming with blood, Jarker now made a fierce rush up stream; but
his progress was slow with the water so deep; when, as if fearing to
lose their prey, the rats redoubled their efforts and leaped upon him
furiously, till, half-mad with the horror of their fearful assault, one
he had never known before in his many sewer wanderings through having
been provided with a light, Jarker drew in a long breath, exhaled it
again, thoroughly inflated his lungs as he beat off his assailants, and
then plunged beneath the water, groping his way slowly up stream, and
keeping under the foul water for nearly a minute, when he raised his
head for breath, and plunged under again and again.
His plan succeeded; for, evidently at a loss, the tribe of rats had gone
down with the stream; and then he was alone and afraid to stir, lest he
should bring them back, as he stood panting and dripping with the
noisome water, and leaned against the slippery wall.
"I did say as I'd keep a dawg," growled Jarker at last; "and if I'd ha'
had one--" And then he burst out into a hideous string of oaths and
curses at what he called his ill luck, as, after listening for some
time, he resumed his way in the echoing subterranean labyrinth,
trembling lest the rats should have heard his voice.
But he did not go far before he stopped as if puzzled, and stood
thinking, and listening to the rush of the stream and the trickling of
drain after drain as it emptied itself into the main current, itself but
a tributary of a greater. He dared not retrace his steps on account of
the rats, but went slowly on; stopped, went on again; stopped once more
to scratch his dripping head; and then he gave a leap and a cry of
terror as he felt an enemy swim up once more and try to effect a
lodgment. Then he hurried forward through the dense black darkness,
then back a little way in a strange, excited way, tearing and splashing
about furiously as a new horror assailed him; and at last muttering low
blasphemies, muttering them in a low whisper lest they should be heard
by the rats, he made another push on for many yards, cursing the police,
the rats, and his ill luck. Once he stumbled and fell with a heavy
splash, to be swept along over and over by the stream before he
recovered his footing to stand half-drowned and clinging to the bricks,
giving vent now to a whimpering, sobbing howl, that seemed as if it had
come from a dog; for, with his courage gone and his head in a whirl, he
stood now in the intense darkness afraid to move, as his imagination
peopled the sewers around him with horrors at the very thought of which
he shuddered; for in spite of scores of rambles in these subterranean
channels, with whose many turns he had considered himself perfectly
familiar, Bill Jarker had lost his way.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The police turned back after pursuing Jarker for a short distance along
the sewer; but though not disposed to follow him along the dark subway,
they had not given him up, for the outlets were carefully watched both
by the places where repairs were going on and also at the mouths in the
Thames' bank; while, after proper arrangements had been made, the sewers
were searched that night with lanterns; the principal man engaged more
than once announcing in a very loud voice, which went echoing along the
arched ways, that he (Jarker) might just as well give up as be starved
out; but for all that, Mr Jarker was not found.
"Not much use hunting along here," muttered one man to another; "here's
a hundred places where he could hide till we got by."
"Remember that poor chap we found just here, Joe?" said one man,
evidently quite at home in the place--a rough fellow in a Guernsey shirt
and high boots, and wearing a hair-mask.
"Ah," said another, "well."
"What was that?" said the quiet man, who was also here.
"Chap we found all along here," said the other, "and brought him out in
a basket."
"Basket?" said the quiet man.
"Ah!" said the other; "bones lying all along here; trod on 'em as you
went--picked clean."
"Pooh, nonsense!" said the quiet man, who had not shuddered before for
at least ten years.
"Right enough," said the other sulkily; "rats!"
"Here, let's get out," said the quiet man, "we are doing no good;" and
he made the light of his bull's-eye lantern play along the surface of
the water to where he could just see a little head above the stream as
its owner swam rapidly away, leaving an ever-widening track behind.
"Let's get out; it's no use to go splashing along here; if he isn't
drowned, all we can do is to wait for him."
"He ain't drowned," said a policeman, thrusting his lantern up a drain
and peering in; "he's too much of a rat hisself, and I wouldn't mind
laying that he's worked his way up to light before now." And the man
stopped, gazing up the black noisome channel before him as if it
possessed some attraction.
"Gone up there, safe," said the quiet man, laughing. "Go up, Tom, and
see; I'll wait for you."
"Officers allus goes fust to lead the way, and privates follers," said
the policeman. "Nice place, though, ain't it?"
"Whereabouts are we now?" said the quiet man.
"Don't zackly know," said the man in the hair-mask. "Not far from
Holborn, I should say."
"Going up there, Tom?" said the quiet man, unscrewing the top of a small
dram-flask.
"Arter you, sir," said the policeman.
The quiet man took the "arter you" to apply to the dram-flask, which he
passed to his follower; and as no one seemed disposed to crawl on hands
and knees along the narrow place, the party slowly retraced their steps
to where they had descended, and it was with a feeling of relief that
they found themselves once more in the clear night air.
Volume Three, Chapter XII.