THE RESURRECTION MAN AGAIN.
Anthony Tidkins was dressed in a most miserable manner; and his whole
appearance denoted poverty and privation. He was thin and emaciated; his
eyes were sunken; his cheeks hollow; and his entire countenance more
cadaverous and ghastly than ever.
"My dear fellow," cried the Buffer, springing forward to meet him; "how
glad I am to see you again. I really thought as how you was completely
done for."
"And no thanks to you that I wasn't," returned the Resurrection Man
gruffly. "Didn't you leave me to die like a dog in the plague-ship?"
"I've been as sorry about that there business, Tony, ever since it
happened, as one can well be," said the Buffer: "but if you remember the
hurry and bustle of the sudden panic that came over us, I'm sure you
won't harbour no ill-feeling."
"Well, well—the least said, the soonest's mended," growled the
Resurrection Man, taking his friend's hand. "Holloa, Lafleur! What are
you doing here?"
"Business—business, Mr. Tidkins," answered the valet; "and you're the
very man we are in want of."
"The very man," echoed the Buffer. "I give up the command of the
expedition to him: he's my old captain."
"In the first place, order me up some grub and a pint of brandy," said
the Resurrection Man; "for I've been precious short of every thing at
all decent in the eating or drinking way of late;—and while I refresh
myself with some supper, you can tell me what new scheme there is in the
wind. Of course I'm your man, if there's any good to be done."
The waiter was summoned: Lafleur ordered him to bring up the entire
contents of the larder, together with a bottle of brandy; and when these
commands were obeyed, the Resurrection Man fell to work with
extraordinary voracity, while the French valet briefly explained to him
the nature of the business already propounded to the Buffer.
The hopes of obtaining a considerable sum of money animated the eyes of
Tidkins with fire and his cadaverous countenance with a glow of fiendish
satisfaction. He highly approved of the idea of engaging the Lully Prig
and Long Bob in the enterprise; for he entertained a good opinion of
their courage, in spite of the affair of the plague-ship. Indeed, he
could well understand the invincible nature of the panic-terror which
had seized upon them on that occasion; and, as he foresaw that their
co-operation would be valuable in other matters, he was disposed to
forget the past.
In fine, all the preliminary arrangements were made with Lafleur, who
presented the two villains each with a ten pound-note as an earnest of
his sincerity, and then took his departure.
When the Resurrection Man and the Buffer were alone together, they
brewed themselves strong glasses of brandy and water, lighted their
pipes, and naturally began to discourse on what had passed since they
last saw each other.
The Buffer related all that had occurred to him after his return to
Mossop's wharf,—how he had been pursued by the three men belonging to
the _Blossom_,—how one turned out to be Richard Markham, another a
policeman in disguise, and the third Morcar,—how they had vainly
searched the _Fairy_ to discover Anthony Tidkins,—and how he himself
eventually sold the lighter.
"Since then," added the Buffer, "I have not been doing much, and was
deuced glad when Greenwood's valet came to me last evening and made an
appointment with me for to-night to talk upon some business of
importance. You know what that business is; and I hope it will turn up a
trump—that's all."
"Then the whole affair of the _Blossom_ was a damnation plant?" cried
the Resurrection Man, gnashing his teeth with rage. "And that hated
Markham was at the bottom of it all? By the thunders of heaven, I'll
have the most deadly vengeance! But how came you to learn that Morcar
was one of the three?"
"Because I heard Markham call him by that name when they all boarded the
_Fairy_; and I instantly remembered the gipsy that you had often spoken
about. But what do you think? He was the Black—the counterfeit Brummagem
scoundrel that could neither speak nor hear. The captain was the
blue-bottle; and Markham, I s'pose, had kept down below during the time
the _Blossom_ was at Mossop's. It was a deuced good scheme of theirs;
and if you hadn't been left in the plague-ship, it might have gone
precious hard with you."
"Well said, Jack," observed the Resurrection Man. "Out of evil sometimes
comes good, as the parsons say. But that shan't prevent me from doing
Master Richard Markham a turn yet."
"You must go to Italy, then," said the Buffer laconically.
"What gammon's that?" demanded Tidkins.
"Why, I happened yesterday morning to look at a newspaper in the parlour
down stairs, and there I read of a battle which took place in some
country with a cursed hard name in Italy, about three weeks ago; and
what should I see but a long rigmarole about the bravery of '_our
gallant fellow-countryman, Mr. Richard Markham_,' and '_the great
delight it would be to all the true friends of freedom to learn that he
was not retained amongst the prisoners'_."
"But perhaps he was killed in the battle, the scoundrel?" said the
Resurrection Man.
"No, he wasn't," answered the Buffer; "for the moment I saw that all
this nonsense was about him, I read the whole article through; and I
found that he _had_ been taken prisoner, but had either been let go or
had made his escape. No one, however, seems to know what's become of
him;—so p'r'aps he's on his way back to this country."
"I'd much sooner he'd get hanged or shot in Italy," said the
Resurrection Man. "But if he ever does come home again, I'll be square
with him—and no mistake."
"Now you know all that has happened to me Tony," exclaimed the Buffer,
"have the kindness to tell us how you got out of that cursed scrape in
the _Lady Anne_."
"I will," said the Resurrection Man, refilling his glass. "After you all
ran away in that cowardly fashion, I tried to climb after you; but I
fell back insensible. When I awoke, the broad day-light was shining
overhead; and a boy was looking down at me from the deck. He asked me
what I was doing there. I rose with great difficulty; but I was much
refreshed with the long sleep I had enjoyed. The boy disappeared; and in
a few minutes the surgeon came and hailed me down the hatchway. I begged
him to help me up out of the hold, and I would tell him every thing. He
ordered me to throw aside my pistols and cutlass, and he would assist me
to gain the deck. I did as he commanded me. He and the boy then lowered
a rope, with a noose; I put my foot in the noose, grasped the rope
tight, and was hauled up. The surgeon instantly presented a pistol, and
said, '_If you attempt any violence, I'll shoot you through the head_.'
I declared that nothing was farther from my intention, and begged him to
give me some refreshment. This request was complied with; and I then
felt so much better, that I was able to walk with comparative ease. It,
however, seemed as if I had just recovered from a long illness: for I
was weak, and my head was giddy. I told the surgeon that I was an honest
hard-working man; that I had come down to Gravesend the day before to
see a friend; and had fallen in with some persons who offered me a job
for which I should be well paid; that I assented, and accompanied them
to their boat; that when I understood the nature of their business, I
declared I would have nothing more to do with it; that they swore they
would blow my brains out if I made any noise; that I was compelled to
board the ship with them; that when some sudden sound alarmed them as
they were examining the goods in the hold, they knocked me down with the
butt-end of a pistol; and that I remembered nothing more until the boy
awoke me by calling out to me from the deck. The surgeon believed my
story, and said, '_A serious offence has been perpetrated, and you must
declare all you know of the matter before a magistrate_.' I of course
signified my willingness to do so, because I saw that the only chance of
obtaining my liberty was by gaining the good opinion of the surgeon; for
he had a loaded pistol in his hand—I was unarmed—and the police-boat was
within hail. '_But, according to the quarantine laws_,' continued the
surgeon, '_you cannot be permitted to leave the vessel for the present;
and what guarantee have I for your good behaviour while you are on
board_?'"
"That was a poser," observed the Buffer.
"No such thing," said the Resurrection Man. "I spoke with so much
apparent sincerity, and with such humility, that I quite gained the
surgeon's good opinion. I said, '_You can lock me in your cabin during
the day, sir; or you can bind my hands with cords; and, at night, I can
sleep in the hold from which you released me, with the hatches battened
down_.'—'_I really do believe you to be an honest man_,' exclaimed the
surgeon; '_but I must adopt some precaution. You shall be at large
during the day; and I think it right to give you due notice that I carry
loaded pistols constantly with me. At night you shall sleep in the hold,
with the hatches battened down, as you say._' I affected to thank him
very sincerely for his kindness in leaving me at liberty during the day;
and he then repaired to the fore-cabin to attend to his patients."
"Hadn't he got the plague himself?" inquired the Buffer.
"No: but the fœtid atmosphere of the fore-cabin, to which he was
compelled so frequently to expose himself, had made him as emaciated and
as pale as if he had only just recovered from the malady. I got into
conversation with the boy, and found that he had contrived, shortly
after you and the others decamped, to free his arms from the cords with
which we had bound him; and that his first care was to release the
surgeon. They neither of them entertained the remotest suspicion that
any of the pirates were left in the ship, until the boy discovered me in
the hold shortly after day-break."
"Well—and how did you escape after all?"
"I remained three or four days on board, before I put any scheme into
force, although I planned a great many. At night I could do nothing,
because I was a prisoner in the hold; and during the day the police-boat
was constantly about, besides the sentinels on land. The surgeon always
made me go down into the hold while it was still day-light; and never
let me out again until after sunrise; so that I was always in
confinement during the very time that I might contrive something to
effect my escape from that infernal pest-ship. But the surgeon seemed
afraid to trust me when it was dark. I never passed such a miserable
time in my life. The slight touch that I had experienced of the
plague—for it could have been nothing else—kept me in a constant fear
lest it should return with increased force. How often did I mutter the
most bitter curses against you and the other pals for abandoning me;—but
now, in consequence of what you told me of the plant that Markham had
set a-going against me, I am not sorry to think that I was left behind
in the plague-ship. One evening—I think it was the fifth after my first
entrance into the vessel—I observed that it was growing darker and
darker; and yet the surgeon did not appear on deck with his loaded
pistol to send me below. The boy was walking about eyeing me
suspiciously; and at length he went down into the after-cabin. It struck
me that the surgeon was probably indulging in a nap, and that the lad
would awake him. It was not quite dark; but still I fancied that it was
dusk enough to leap from the bow of the ship, which part of the vessel
was high and dry, without alarming the sentinels on shore. At all events
the chance was worth the trial. Seizing a handspike, I hurried forward,
and sprang from the ship. Then, without losing a moment, I ran along the
bank towards Gravesend, as rapidly as I could. In a short time I knew
that I was safe. I hurled the handspike into the Thames, and walked on
to the _Lobster Tavern_. There I obtained a bed—for I had plenty of
ready money in my pocket. My only regret was that I had not been able to
bring away any of the gold-dust with me."
"Why didn't you knock the surgeon and the boy on the head, and help
yourself?" demanded the Buffer.
"So I should if I had seen a chance," replied the Resurrection Man; "but
I was so weak and feeble all the time I was on board, that I was no
match even for the young lad; and the surgeon always kept at such a
distance, with a loaded pistol ready cocked in his hand, when I was
ordered into the hold of an evening, or called up of a morning, that
there wasn't a shadow of a chance. Well, I slept at the _Lobster
Tavern_, and departed very early in the morning—long before it was
day-light. I thought that London would be too hot for me, after every
thing that had lately occurred; and I resolved to pay a visit to
Walmer—my own native place. I was still too weak to walk many miles
without resting; and so I took nearly four days to reach Walmer.
Besides, I kept to the fields, and avoided the high road as much as
possible. I took up my quarters at a small inn on the top of Walmer
hill, and then made inquiries concerning all the people I had once known
in or about the village. I have often related the former incidents of my
life to you; and you will therefore recollect the baronet who was
exchequered for smuggling, and was welcomed with open arms by his
friends, when he paid the fine. You also remember all that occurred
between him and me. I found that he had married his cook-maid, who ruled
him with a rod of iron; and that the '_very select society_' of Walmer
and Deal had all cut him on account of that connexion, which was much
worse in their eyes than all the smuggling in which he had been engaged.
In fact, he was a hero when prosecuted for smuggling; but now _no decent
persons could associate with him_, since he had married his scullion. In
a word, I learnt that he was as miserable as I could have wished him to
be."
"And didn't you inquire after your friend the parson?" demanded the
Buffer.
"You may be sure I did," returned the Resurrection Man. "He had made
himself very conspicuous for refusing the sacrament to a young woman who
was seduced by her lover, and had an illegitimate child; and the
'_select society_' of Walmer greatly applauded him for his conduct. At
length, about a year ago, it appears, this most particular of all
clergymen was discovered by a neighbouring farmer in too close a
conversation with the said farmer's wife; and his reverence was
compelled to decamp, no one knows where. He, however, left his wife and
children to the public charity. That charity was so great, that the poor
woman and family are now inmates of the very workhouse where his
reverence's slightest wish was once a law. I stayed at Walmer for nearly
a week; and then departed suddenly for Ramsgate, with the contents of
the landlord's till in my pocket. At Ramsgate I put up at a small
public-house where I was taken dreadfully ill. For four months I was
confined to my bed; and both landlord and landlady were very kind to me.
At length I slowly began to recover; and, when I was well enough to walk
abroad, I used to go upon the beach to inhale the sea-air. It was then
summertime; and bathing was all the rage. I never was more amused in my
life than to see the ladies, old as well as young, sitting on the beach,
to all appearance deeply buried in the novels which they held in their
hands, but in reality watching, with greedy eyes, the men bathing
scarcely fifty yards off."
"You don't mean to say that?" cried the Buffer.
"I do indeed, though," returned Tidkins. "It was the commonest thing in
the world for elderly dames and young misses to go out walking along the
beach, or to sit down on it, close by the very spot where the men
bathed, although there were plenty of other places to choose either for
rambling or reading. Well, I stayed two more months at Ramsgate; and as
the landlord and landlady of the public-house had behaved so kind to me,
I took nothing from them when I went away. I merely left my little
account unsettled. I walked over to Margate, with the intention of
taking the steamer to London Bridge; but just as I was stepping on the
jetty, some one tapped me on the shoulder, and, turning round, I beheld
my landlord of the little inn on the top of Walmer hill. All my excuses,
promises, and entreaties were of no avail: the man collared me—a crowd
collected—a constable was sent for, and I was taken before a magistrate.
Of course I was committed for trial, and sent across in a cart to
Canterbury gaol. There I lay till the day before yesterday, when the
sessions came on. By some extraordinary circumstance or another, no
prosecutor appeared before the Grand Jury; and I was discharged. I
resolved to come back to London;—for, after all, London is the place for
business in our way. With all its police, it's the best scene for our
labours. So here I am; and the moment I set foot in this ken, I find
employment waiting for me."
"Well, I'm sorry to hear you've been lumbered, old feller," cried the
respectable Mr. John Wicks; "but it's a blessin' the prosecutor never
come for'ard. Let's, however, think of the present; and botheration to
the past. I'm heartily glad you've turned up again. I was precious nigh
going into mourning for you, Tony. Joking apart, though—this business of
the Frenchman's looks well; and we must be about early to look after the
Lully Prig and Long Bob. I know their haunts down by Execution Dock,
just opposite to Mossop's."
"Where are you hanging out now, Jack?" inquired the Resurrection Man.
"Me and Moll has got a room in Greenhill's Rents—at the bottom of Saint
John's Street, you know," was the answer.
"Well, I shall sleep here to-night," said the Resurrection Man; "and by
six o'clock to-morrow morning I shall expect you."