Some years rolled over, and Seth Thompson had become a well-informed,
and deep-thinking man, but one in whom was no longer to be found
that passionate attachment to his native country which he once felt.
The manufacturer under whom he exercised the office of "master," had
borrowed the greater part of Seth's uncle's remittances, as regularly
as they arrived; and as Seth received due interest for these loans, and
confided that the manufacturer's wealth was real, he believed he was
taking a prudent way of laying up enough for the maintenance of his old
age, or for meeting the misfortunes of sickness, should they come. But
the manufacturer broke; and away went all that Seth had placed in his
hands. Every week failures became more frequent,—employ grew scantier,
for trade was said to decrease, though machinery increased,—discontent
lowered on every brow,—and the following sketch of what was said at a
meeting of starving framework-knitters held in Seth Thompson's shop
but a month before he quitted England for ever, may serve to show what
were his own reflections, and those of the suffering beings around him.
About twenty working men had assembled, and stood in three or four
groups,—no "chairman" having been, as yet, chosen, since a greater
number of attendants was expected.
"I wish thou would throw that ugly thing away, Timothy!" said a pale,
intellectual looking workman, to one whose appearance was rendered
filthy, in addition to his ragged destitution, by a dirty pipe stuck
in his teeth, and so short that the head scarcely projected beyond his
nose.
"I know it's ugly, Robert," replied the other, in a tone between
self-accusation and despair,—"but it helps to pass away time. I've
thrown it away twice,—but I couldn't help taking to it again last
week, when I had nought to do. I think I should have hanged myself if I
had not smoked a bit o' 'bacco."
"Well, I'm resolute that I'll neither smoke nor drink any more," said a
third: "the tyrants can do what they like with us, as long as we feed
their vices by paying taxes. If all men would be o' my mind there would
soon be an end of their extravagance,—for they would have nothing to
support it."
"Indeed, James," replied the smoker, "I don't feel so sure about your
plan as you seem to be, yourself: you'll never persuade all working-men
to give up a sup of ale or a pipe, if they can get hold of either;
but, not to talk of that, what's to hinder the great rascals from
inventing other taxes if these fail?"
"They couldn't easily be hindered, unless we had all votes," said the
first speaker, "we're all well aware of that; but it would put 'em
about, and render the party more unpopular that wanted to put on a new
tax."
"I don't think that's so certain, either," replied the smoker; "depend
on't, neither Whigs nor Tories will run back from the support of taxes.
D'ye ever read of either party agreeing to 'stop the supplies,' as they
call it, or join in any measure to prevent taxes from being collected
till grievances are redressed?"
"No, indeed, not we," chimed another, lighting his short pipe by the
help of his neighbour's, and folding his arms, with a look of something
like mock bravery; "and, for my part, I don't think they ever will be
redressed till we redress 'em ourselves!"
"Ah, Joseph!" said the pale-looking man, shaking his head, "depend
upon it that's all a dream! How are poor starvelings like us, who have
neither the means of buying a musket, nor strength to march and use it,
if he had it,—how are we to overthrow thousands of disciplined troops
with all their endless resources of ammunition?—It's all a dream,
Joseph! depend on't."
"Then what are we to do,—lie down and die?" asked the other; but
looked as if he were aware he had spoken foolishly, under the impulse
of despair.
"I'm sure I often wish to die," said another, joining the conversation
in a doleful tone; "I've buried my two youngest, and the oldest lad's
going fast after his poor mother; one can't get bread enough to keep
body and soul together!"
"Well, if it hadn't been for Seth Thompson's kindness," said another,
"I believe I should have been dead by this time. I never felt so near
putting an end to my life as I did last Sunday morning. I've been out
o' work, now, nine weeks; and last Saturday I never put a crumb in my
mouth, for I couldn't get it, and I caught up a raw potatoe in the
street last Sunday morning, and ate it for sheer hunger. Seth Thompson
saw me, and—God bless his heart!—he called me in and gave me a cup of
warm coffee and some toast, and slipped a shilling into my hand." And
the man turned aside to dash away his tears.
"Ay, depend upon it, we shall miss Seth, when he leaves us," said
several voices together.
"It's many a year since there was a master in Hinckley like him," said
the man with the short black pipe, "and, I fear, when he is gone,
the whole grinding crew will be more barefaced than ever with their
extortions and oppressions of poor men. Seth knew what it was to be
nipped himself when he was younger; that's the reason that he can feel
for others that suffer."
"It isn't always the case, though," said another; "look at skin-flint
Jimps, the glove-master; I remember him when he was as ragged as an
ass's colt: and where is there such another grinding villain as Jimps,
now he is so well off?"
"The more's the shame for a man that preaches and professes to be
religious," said the smoker.
"It was but last Saturday forenoon," resumed the man who had mentioned
Jimps, the glove-master, "that he docked us two-pence a dozen, again:
and when I asked him if his conscience wouldn't reproach him when he
went to chapel, he looked like a fiend, and said, 'Bob! I knew what it
was to be ground once; but it's my turn to grind now!'"
"And they call that religion, do they?" said the smoker, with an
imprecation.
"It won't mend it to swear, my lad," said the intellectual-looking man;
"we know one thing,—that whatever such a fellow as this may do that
professes religion, he doesn't imitate the conduct of his Master."
"I believe religion's all a bag of moonshine," said the smoker, "or
else they that profess it would not act as they do."
"Don't talk so rashly, Tim," rejoined the other; "we always repent when
we speak in ill-temper. Religion can't cure hypocrites, man, though it
can turn drunkards and thieves into sober and honest men: it does not
prove that religion is all a bag of moonshine, because some scoundrels
make a handle of it. Truth's truth, in spite of all the scandal that
falsehood and deceit brings upon it."
"Isn't it time we got to business?" said one of the group.
"I don't think it will be of any use to wait longer," said another;
"there will not be more with us, if we wait another hour; the truth is,
that men dare not attend a meeting like this, for fear of being turned
off, and so being starved outright;—there's scarcely any spirit left
in Hinckley."
"I propose that Seth Thompson takes the chair," said another, taking
off his ragged hat, and speaking aloud.
A faint clapping of hands followed, and Seth took a seat upon
a raised part of one of the frames at the end of the shop, and
opened the meeting according to the simple but business-like form,
which working-men are wont to observe in similar meetings, in the
manufacturing districts.
"I feel it would scarcely become me to say much, my friends," he said,
"since I am about to leave you. I thought, at one time, that nothing
could have ever inclined me to leave old England; but it seems like
folly to me, now, to harbour an attachment to a country where one sees
nothing but misery, nor any chance of improvement. I would not wish to
damp your spirits; but if I were to tell you how much uneasiness I have
endured for some years past, even while you have seen me apparently
well off and comfortable, you would not wonder that I am resolved to
quit this country, since I have the offer of ease and plenty, though
in a foreign clime. I tell you, working men, that I had power over
Mr.——, by the moneys I had lent him, or I should have been turned
out of this shop years ago. Week by week have we quarrelled, because
I would not practise the tyrannies and extortions upon working men
that he recommended and urged. It is but a hateful employ to a man of
any feeling,—is that of a master-stockinger under an avaricious and
inhuman hosier. But, if the master's situation be so far from being a
happy one, I need not tell you that I know well, by experience, how
much more miserable is that of the starved and degraded working-man.
Indeed, indeed,—I see no hope for you, my friends,—yet, I repeat, I
would not wish to damp your spirits. Perhaps things may mend yet; but
I confess I see no likelihood of it, till the poor are represented as
well as the rich."
It might produce weariness to go through all the topics that were
touched upon by Seth and others. They were such as are familiarly
handled, daily, in the manufacturing districts; ay, and with a
degree of mental force and sound reasoning,—if not with polish of
words,—that would make some gentlefolk stare, if they were to hear
the sounds proceeding from the haggard figures in rags who often utter
them. The "deceit" of the Reform Bill, as it is usually termed by
manufacturing "operatives;" the trickery of the Whigs; the corruption
and tyranny of the Tories; the heartlessness of the manufacturers
and "the League;" and the right of every sane Englishman of one and
twenty years of age to a vote in the election of those who have to
govern him, were each and all broadly, and unshrinkingly, and yet not
intemperately, asserted.
One or two, in an under-tone, ventured to suggest that it might be
advantageous to try, once more, to act with the Anti-Corn Law men,
since many of the members of the League professed democracy; and,
if that were done, working men would not fear to attend a meeting
such as that they were then holding. But this was scouted by the
majority; and a proposal was, at length, made, in a written form, and
seconded,—"That a branch of an association of working men, similar
to one that was stated to have been just established at Leicester,
should be formed." The motion was put and carried,—a committee, and
secretary, and treasurer, were chosen,—and the men seemed to put off
their dejection, and grow energetic in their resolution to attempt
their own deliverance from misery, in the only way that they conceived
it could ever be substantially effected: but their purpose came to the
ears of the manufacturers on the following day, threats of loss of
work were issued, and no association was established!
Seth Thompson took his family to the West Indies, pursuant to the many
and urgent requests contained in his uncle's letters, and soon entered
upon the enjoyment of the plenty in store for him. Hinckley stockingers
remain in their misery still; and, perhaps, there is scarcely a place
in England where starving working men have so little hope,—although
"things," they say, "have come to the worst,"—that "they" will ever
"begin to mend."
SAM SIMKINS, THE RUN-AWAY;
OR,
VILLAINY AS A REFUGE FROM THE TORTURES OF
SOUR-GODLINESS.
Sam Simkins was a wild lad,—but whose fault was it that he became
so? That was the significant question which uniformly followed the
commemoration of his history among the old women of the village where
he was born, and where, after the early death of his father and mother,
he was apprenticed, by the parish, to Mr. Jonas Straitlace, the saddler
and collar-maker. The village was not more than half-a-dozen miles
from Birmingham; and to that town Sam usually trudged once or twice in
the working part of the week on his master's business errands, and,
invariably, accompanied his master thither twice on the Sunday, to
attend the ministry of a Calvinistic teacher.
With the exception of a very restricted number of hours for sleep,
these were the only portions of Sam's existence that could come within
the name of relaxation. Some people gave Sam's master the title of
a "money-grub;" but Mr. Jonas Straitlace himself modestly laid claim
to the character of one who was "diligent in business, fervent in
spirit, and——" the reader knows the rest. In brief, he was one of
the too numerous description of folk who cast their sour into the
sweets of innocent enjoyment on every occasion within their compass,
and strive to throw a universal pall over the world by keeping their
fellow-creatures in mind that the next life alone is worth a moment's
thought,—and yet, daily and hourly illustrate their own gloomy lesson
by grasping at the dirt called money as eagerly as if they believed
they could carry it with them over the ford of the grave, and that it
would be still more current coin in the next life than in this. Strict
rates of charge to his customers in an age of competition prevented
Straitlace from extending his business; but the consequence was, that
he grew more pinching towards himself, and still more towards his
apprentice, in allowing the body its proper amount of sustenance, or
the general constitution its necessary share of healthful unbending.
Sam was pinched in his measure of food, and watched while he ate it,
lest the spoon should travel so slowly to his mouth as to prevent his
return to labour after the lapse of an appointed number of minutes;
he was "alarumed" up at five in winter, and at four in summer, and
kept at the bench till eight; and what went down more hardly with Sam
than either scant food and sleep, or unceasingly painful toil, was the
fact, that his master's vinegared piety overflowed with such zeal for
Sam's spiritual welfare as to compel him to spend the remaining time
till ten, every working-day evening, in reading one book. Nay, the
lad, in spite of the remembrance that every other apprentice in the
village was allowed, at least, an hour's holyday-time, each day, would
have felt it to be some amelioration of his captive lot, had he been
allowed to derive such amusement from the book as it might afford; but
Straitlace's zeal for Sam's happiness in the next life, taught him that
he must use even this extreme resort to mortify the lad in the present
state of existence, and, therefore, Sam must read nothing but the
Prophets, in one division of the book, and the Epistles, in the other!
Such was the discipline to which Mr. Jonas Straitlace subjected Sam
Simkins from the age of nine, when the parish placed the lad under
his care, to fifteen. Straitlace had one invariable answer to all
who remonstrated with him on the undue severity, the imprisoning
strictness, he exercised towards his apprentice:—"Train up a child in
the way he should go," he would say, quoting the whole text, "that's a
Bible reason for what I do: it doesn't allow me to parley with flesh
and blood: I must obey it."
Mr. Jonas Straitlace had found that fine moral pearl in the great
Oriental treasure-house of the wisdom-jewels of ages, and he was too
sordidly ignorant to know that the originator of the maxim never
intended the "should go" to be left to the judicature either of
brain-sick zealots and morbid pietists, or of rash experimenters and
fanciful speculatists. But what cared Straitlace about the legitimate
and fair interpretation of the text? His ready quotation of it served
his purpose: it kept "meddlers," as he called them, at arm's length,
and secured the links of that grinding slavery which held Sam to his
task, and brought money into the till.
It would be a heart-sickening detail, that of the incidental miseries
Sam experienced in these six years: suffice it to say, his chain was
tightened till it snapped. He contrived to form an acquaintance in
Birmingham who advised him to "cut" his tyrant-master, and "cut" him
he did. Yet, Mr. Jonas Straitlace knew the value of Sam's earnings too
well to be inclined to give up his bird without trying to catch it
again. He set out for Birmingham, made inquiry, and learned that Sam,
in spite of being minuted by his master's watch, had contrived, almost
uniformly, on his errands, to spend a quarter of an hour in a certain
low public-house, and that he had done this, habitually, for more than
a twelvemonth past. Straitlace bent his steps to this resort, and, by
his crafty mode of questioning, ascertained from the landlord that Sam
had that very morning been in his house with one "Jinks,"—yet that
was not the man's right name, the landlord added, but only a name he
went by.
"And pray who is this Jinks?" asked Straitlace.
"He was once a man in great trust, sir," answered the landlord, with
some solemnity: "he was head clerk in a first-rate lawyers's office in
this town. But it was found out at last, that Jinks had 'bezzled a good
deal o' money belonging to the firm; and so he was sent to gaol for a
couple o' year; nay, he was very near being hanged. And so when he came
out o' limbo, you understand, why nobody would trust, or hardly look on
him; and he's now got from bad to worse."
"What mean you by that?" asked Jonas.
"The least said is the soonest mended," replied the landlord.
"I wish you could tell me where I could see this man," said Straitlace:
"the lad is my apprentice, and this man will do him no good: besides, I
am losing money by his absence."
The landlord stared, bit his lip, with a look that told he wished he
had not talked so fast, and then made answer that he was busy that
morning, and, besides, it was ten thousand to one whether Jinks could
be found in his hiding-hole, if they were to go to it:—"and, more than
all," he added, "there is no believing him, he is such a fellow to
thump: he tells so many lies, poking his eyes into every corner, and
never looking in your face all the while, that I often think Jinks must
find it hard to invent new ones."
Straitlace was versed sufficiently in human character to discern that
the prattling landlord was made of squeezable materials, and so he
urged his questions and entreaties until he had won his point, and the
landlord undertook to conduct him to "Jinks's hiding hole."
Threading an alley in one of the dingiest streets in the town, they
wound through several crooked passages, and arrived at a paltry-looking
small square. From a corner of this dirty and half-ruined quadrangle,
the landlord advanced along a path that could scarcely be supposed to
lead to a human dwelling. It was what is designated a "twitchel" in
the midland counties, being barely wide enough to admit one person at
a time,—and was the boundary line of two rows of buildings, the eaves
of which overhung it, and rendered the passage as gloomy as if it were
scarcely yet twilight. Straitlace scrambled with difficulty after his
conductor, and over the heaps of cinders, broken pots, and oyster and
muscle shells which lay along this dark tract; and when they came to
the end of it, and had descended half-a-dozen stone steps, they arrived
at what looked like the door of a cellar. Here the landlord shook his
fist at Straitlace, and compressed his features, as a signal for his
companion to keep strict silence. He then tapped, very gently, at the
door; but, though he repeated his timid knock, no one answered.
"Jinks! Jinks! I say," he whispered through the key-hole, after he had
knocked the third time.
"Who's there?" said a sharp, angry voice.
"It's only me, Jinks:—I want to speak t' ye," answered the landlord.
"You lie, Jemmy Jolter:—there's more than you only," retorted Jinks,
with a snarl so sudden and crabbed that it flung the other entirely off
his guard.
"Well—but—but," Jemmy stammered; "this person wants to see you about
that youth that was with you this morning, Jinks, and——"
"Whew! Jemmy Jolter, you've let it out again," replied the strange
voice within: "get home, ye long-tongued fool, get home! what fool is
that beside ye to employ such a sieve to carry water?"
"Oh, very well, Jinks," said the weak landlord, turning round in
dudgeon: "a time may come when you may want a good turn doing, you
know."
"I'll let you in, by yourself, Jemmy, if you like," said the keeper of
this questionable garrison, fearful of losing the good offices of the
landlord; "or I'll admit that verjuice-faced fellow who stands beside
you, with the white apron round him."
The outer party here looked at each other with some alarm, on finding
they were each seen so plainly by one who was to them invisible.
"You don't think I shall advise a respectable man and a stranger to
come into such a den as yours, alone,—do ye, Jinks?" said the other,
in a voice of displeasure.
"Then you may both keep out," retorted the concealed speaker; "at any
rate, you'll both be safe there. Twist my withers, if ever I admit two
clients into chambers at once! No, no! it wouldn't do, Jemmy! What I
say here goes into only one pair of ears besides my own."
"I'll venture alone, if he'll only admit me," said Straitlace, his
eagerness to learn something of Sam, and, if possible, to recover the
possession of him, subduing the repugnance he felt against trusting
himself alone in such suspicious company.
The door was slightly opened in a moment; and before the landlord could
remonstrate, Straitlace was admitted, and the bolts were again closed
within. Jinks seized his visitor by the hand, and rapidly pulled him
up a dark stair. Straitlace's mind misgave him, as he reached the top
of the ascent: it conducted to a narrow apartment in which there was
no furniture but a broken chair, and a strong wooden bench; while a
bottle, and an earthen pot, with some discoloured papers, covered
the end of a barrel which appeared to serve the wretched habitant
of the room for a table. There was no fire in the dirty grate, and
viewed through the murky light admitted by the small window which was
half-obscured with papers, patching the broken panes, the appearance
of the squalid chamber sent a shuddering feeling over Straitlace's skin.
"Well, and so now you are admitted to my _sanctum sanctorum_,—what's
your will?" asked Jinks, with a grin of derision, and seating himself
on the broken chair.
Straitlace was not a timid man; but the dark skin, projecting teeth,
and overhanging brows of the figure before him, and, more than all, the
diabolical fire of his eyes, really affrighted him, and he remained
speechless.
"Don't stare at me in that way, you fool," said the grim figure,
savagely; "I'm not a wizard, though I do deal with the devil sometimes.
What d'ye want to know about Sam Simkins?"
Straitlace was amazed at the effrontery of the fellow, in turn: "I
insist upon it, that you tell me where he is, since you seem to know,"
he said, his displeasure giving him a little spirit.
"Whew!" was the only answer made by the grim figure, who turned the
empty pot towards the light, and then looked into it, and then looked
at Straitlace, who was 'born sooner than yesterday,' as they say in
the midlands; but who was not disposed to show that he penetrated the
meaning of the spunger's masonic sort of hint.
"I insist upon knowing where you have concealed my apprentice," said
Straitlace, trying to put on a bold look.
"I've neither concealed him, nor shall I snitch, and tell you where he
is, if you ape the bully," replied Jinks, with cold mockery.
"Then, as sure as you sit there, you villain," answered Straitlace,
thinking he should lose the end of his errand entirely, if he did
not keep up the appearance of determination, "I'll have you before a
magistrate, and imprison you till the boy is produced."
"I advise you to be cool," answered Jinks, with a look of such peculiar
devilry that it made Straitlace feel chill with fear: "you wouldn't get
me before a magistrate if you were to try. And, besides, there's more
than one can light a match; and your cottage will burn, you know,—ay,
and your collars and old saddle traps too."
Straitlace dared not threaten now; he found that the fellow knew him;
and he felt the peril of the ground he stood on. He sank on the bench,
and gazed timidly and silently at the broken-down lawyer's clerk, who
evidently enjoyed his triumph.
"You're cooler, I see," resumed Jinks, and then looked into the earthen
pot again.
"I don't mind a trifle, by way of recompense," said Straitlace,
torturing his tongue to frame the words, "if you'll only assist me in
recovering my apprentice."
"Rayther sensible that," answered Jinks tauntingly; but still looked
into the empty pot.
Straitlace overcame his own master-passion for the instant, and placed
a half-crown beside the empty drinking cup; but Jinks instantly pushed
it off the barrel, into the floor, in contempt. Straitlace felt the
blood rush to his neck and face, but once more struggled with his own
reluctance, took up the half-crown, and laid down a half-sovereign in
its stead.
"Sensible,—very!" observed Jinks, slowly; and then suddenly starting
up, said, "Now, _Mister_ Jonas Straitlace, what will you give to have
this stray dog of yours put quietly into your hands, muzzled and
collared, so that you may take him home safely?"
"Isn't that enough?" said the other leeringly.
"Two whole sovereigns into my hands to-morrow morning at
seven,—here,—at the bottom of the steps,—and you have him.
Otherwise, there's your road, Mister Jonas Straitlace," returned Jinks,
and pointed to the stairs.
The saddler saw he was in a most disadvantageous position for making a
choice, and hesitated.
"I've other clients, and have no time to fool away upon you," rejoined
Jinks: "speak the word! yes or no," and moved towards the steps.
"Then I'll be here at that time," answered Straitlace, with a mental
reservation; and he had scarcely uttered the words when three knocks
were distinctly given under his feet; but Jinks seized his hand,
hurried him down the steps, and thrust him out, and bolted the door
behind him, with a strength and speed that caused him to turn round and
stare at the closed door with wonder, when he stood once more in the
twitchel.
The landlord seized his arm, and recalled him to the remembrance of
where he was. Straitlace evaded the landlord's inquiries as to the
result of his errand, persuaded that he could best carry into effect
the scheme which had suggested itself to him, with other aid than that
of a person who appeared to have some connection with Jinks. He marked
the way to the door, and paid particular observance to the passages,
and to the exact locality of the street, and thanking the landlord
for his trouble, took his way home, somewhat to the surprise of the
landlord himself, who had expected he would return to the public-house.
On the night succeeding the morning in which Straitlace had been
admitted to that squalid chamber, the narrow space itself was changed
into a hold of guilty riot and thievish conspiracy. The fumes of
tobacco which filled the room would have rendered respiration
impossible to any but the actual participators in that scene of infamy;
the fog of smoke being so dense that the human beings there assembled
seemed to be kneaded into the thick vapour rather than surrounded by
it. The struggling flames of a fire which had just been kindled,
and was covered by a huge iron vessel, nearly choked up the draught
of the narrow chimney, and threw an uncertain light upon the figures
which nearly filled the narrow room. The singular being who was the
habitual tenant of the chamber sat in his broken chair close by the
fire, augmenting the gross sociality of his associates by the vehemence
with which he consumed tobacco in a wooden pipe; but adding not a word
to their busy conversation. A strong coarse-looking woman, crouched
immediately before the fire, was alternately attempting to clear a
passage for its progress, and slicing onions from her apron to put into
the caldron. Her short clay pipe, with the filthy black cup scarcely
protruding beyond her nose, showed her attachment to the favourite
excitement of her depraved companions. Behind her stood the barrel,
before described as the only substitute for a table in Jinks's room,
and upon the end of it was placed a large metal jug of spirits, which
the various members of the group lifted to their lips, by turns, as
inclination moved them.
The confused conversation was suspended in a moment by three distinct
and measured raps being given at the door below; and Jinks jumped up,
exclaiming, "That's the young'un I told you of: I'll let him in." And
he darted down the steps, unbolted the door, pulled in Sam Simkins,
and, in the lapse of scarcely three minutes, introduced him to the
villainous company. The fellows gazed at Sam, and one swore that he
only looked like a starved rat, and another said he was more like a
stunted badger; but all agreed that he looked likely to be useful,
for he had a hawk's eye in his head. Sam felt somewhat loutish at
the unrestrained gaze of the thieves; but Jinks placed him upon the
bench next his own chair, chucked him under the chin, and holding the
metal jug to his mouth, told him to drink. Sam did drink a little, and
thought the draught scorched his throat; yet in a few minutes he felt a
flow of spirits that completely banished his bashfulness.
"And so you've cut the starve-gut rascal, eh, young'un?" said an
impudent-looking fellow who sat on the farther end of the bench, and
who was, at once, the most frequent visitor to the jug, and the most
eager talker in the villainous conclave.
"What the devil was he to do else?" said Jinks, seeming to wish to keep
off from the lad the assailment of questions by the gang: "was he to
stay and be pined outright?—Bess," he continued, addressing the woman,
"isn't the stuff ready?"
"The can's empty," said the fellow who had just spoken, interrupting
Jinks: "we'll have it filled again."
"Not to-night," said Jinks, with an oath.
"Not to-night!—why not, old hang-dog, and be d—d to ye?" asked the
other, dropping his pipe, and looking as if he would fell his opposer.
"Because there's a job on hand that requires cool brains, ye guzzling
ape!" answered Jinks, in a tone which showed he was not to be
frightened by the bully, his brother in roguery. "Wide-mouthed Bob will
be here directly, and we must then prepare for business."
"What the devil can he be about to be so late?" cried the woman, who
was still squatted before the fire: "the broth's ready, and I shall
pour it out if he doesn't come in a crack. Hark!" she said,—and the
quarrelsome crew were silent:—"there he is!"
Jinks started from his broken chair at the sound of a whistle,
hurried down the steps, and was speedily in his old position again,
while the new comer was welcomed with shouts of "Give us your hand,
captain!—success to ye!"
"Silence, you fools!" said he who was thus saluted: "d'ye mean to bring
the bull-dogs upon us?" And he took up the jug, but finding it empty,
he looked discontented. Jinks, however, seized the jug, removed the
barrel from the spot on which it stood, pulled up a trap-door, and
descended, and then returned with the jug refilled, with the usual
rapidity that characterised his movements.
"Ay, ay, you know who's come now, old juggler," said the bully,
tauntingly, to Jinks as he again appeared from the subterraneous room,
with the vessel full of brandy.
"Yes, and I know that they have a right to the sugar-candy that are
the first to put their fingers into the fire to get it," said Jinks,
showing his ugly teeth very forbiddingly; "and not every skinking
coward that ties his neck to his heels to save it when there's work to
be done."
The bully returned no answer, seeming conscious that his cowardice
deserved the rebuke.
"Get the supper-tools out, Jinks," said the woman, and took the boiling
caldron from the fire.
Jinks climbed upon his chair, and reaching down a large wooden bowl,
from its concealment in the ceiling of the room, placed it upon the end
of the barrel, and sat down again.
"Why, you old brute, do ye think we are going to pig it all out of one
trough, on a night like this?" exclaimed the woman, pouring out the
stew into the bowl:—"reach every man his pap-spoon and dish, or I'll
spoil your grinding before you begin!" and she aimed a blow, with a
brazen ladle, at Jinks's scalp, which he evaded, and reached forth a
set of basins and spoons from the same strange repository.
The steamy flavour of Bess's cookery speedily attracted the appetites
of her companions. Limbs of fowls and game, mingled with the soup,
showed the illicit source from which such a company had obtained the
raw provisions for the meal. Bess poured out half a basin of the stew
first, for the individual who was called "captain," and filling up
the vessel with brandy from the jug, handed it to the leader, with
a coarse coaxing smile. She then served the rest, in the order they
sat, beginning with Jinks, and not forgetting the lad. Sam smacked his
lips at such a treat, and congratulated himself on having taken the
advice of Jinks, and run away from his master. He soon disposed of the
contents of his basin; and then felt strongly attracted to notice the
appearance and behaviour of him whom the thieves acknowledged as their
principal.
The personal appearance of Wide-mouthed Bob rendered the dependence
of the crew upon his presence and enterprise, Sam thought, a matter
of no wonder. His stature was full six feet, and the great breadth of
his chest and shoulders, and extreme length of his arms, terminated
by hands of monstrous size, gave demonstrations of unusual physical
power. The width of his mouth was the most striking feature in his
face, and had procured for him the common nickname by which Jinks had
first mentioned him during the evening. The forbidding glance of his
large eyes, from under a low forehead, and brows as shaggy as if they
pertained to an ass's colt, with the bull-dog shape of his head, at the
sides, causing his ears to stand forward after a form scarcely human,
were also peculiarities in the features of the captain-burglar.
His third basin being despatched by this powerful animal, for
such his peculiarity of frame seemed to warrant his being termed,
the conversation took a turn for business. Robberies of a cheese
warehouse, a flour shop, a liquor vault, and even of the subterranean
workshop of a "smasher," or maker and vender of false coin, were
planned. The only debate was, which was to be undertaken first; and as
there was some difficulty in settling this point, the captain called
for the jug to be replenished. Jinks descended once more, but returned
with only half the vessel full, and, setting it down, declared the
barrel below was empty.
"Then that determines the point," observed Wide-mouthed Bob: "we must
make our way direct to the brandy cellar."
The gang immediately assented,—the liquor was shared; and in a few
minutes, all, save Jinks, and the woman, and the lad, descended by the
stairs, and departed on their lawless enterprise.
Sam Simkins had fallen asleep some time before the departure of the
gang, but was awaked by Jinks, as soon as he had bolted the door
and re-ascended the steps, to receive his first wholesale lesson
in villainy. The lad felt the lesson very unwelcome to his nature,
at the beginning; but the remembrance of the horrors from which he
had escaped, and the promise and prospect of a wild freedom, and a
continuance of the good fare he had met among the thieves, soon subdued
the inward whisper that he was going wrong. Jinks and the woman were
most successful in their schooling of Sam, while they dwelt upon his
master's conduct towards him:—
"But did the nigger-driver never let you play a bit, Sam?" asked the
woman: "you say you always dropped work at eight, and went to bed at
ten:—what did ye in the two hours, my lad?"
"I used to read Jeremiah, and the rest of the prophet-books in
the Bible, and Romans, and Corinthians, and them ere parts of the
Testament," answered Sam: "mester would na let me read owt else, unless
I managed to do it slily."
"And what did ye think to what you read, Sam?" asked Jinks, suddenly
dropping his pipe, and looking at the lad with an air of new interest.
"He, he!" snivelled the lad, and twisted his thumbs with a loutish
look,—"I could na make owt on 'em!"
"How the devil were ye likely?" said Jinks: "that Paul would puzzle a
Philadelphia lawyer, for he was a devilish long-headed fellow, and no
mistake; as for Jeremiah, and the rest of 'em, I know little about 'em;
but it was an ugly slavish way of using you, my lad,—you'll find the
difference now. All that you have to do is to mind your P's and Q's,
and I'll warrant ye, it'll be a merry life for ye."
The lad snivelled again, and felt wonderfully pleased.
"Now hark ye, Sam," continued Jinks, "who had your master in the
house, besides himself and you?"
"The missus," answered Sam; "but hur never taks no notice o' nowt,
hur's ower deeaf."
"Capital!" exclaimed Jinks, cracking his thumb and finger; and then the
lad received instruction as to his first grand act of villainy, and
while he was receiving it, Bess prepared the caldron, once more.
Three hours elapsed, and the whistle of Wide-mouthed Bob was heard
again. Jinks performed his porter's office as before, and the captain
and three others of the gang speedily tugged up the stairs a couple of
kegs of liquor, which were as speedily concealed in the subterranean
room.
"Where's the rest o' the birds?" asked the woman.
"Sent 'em home to roost," replied the captain; "and now you and all of
us must cut, old girl, and leave Jinks to his cage."
"But not before we've tasted the new broach," said the woman.
"No more tasting of it, this morning," answered Bob; "we shall soon be
blown, if we carry on that game: we'll have breakfast and go."
The word of the leader was law. The stew was again poured up; and when
it was devoured, Sam having his share as before, the chief burglar, and
the other three thieves, with the woman, departed; and Sam Simkins also
set out on the errand for which Jinks had lately bestowed instruction
upon him.
At eight the following morning, Mr. Jonas Straitlace appeared in the
twitchel, as before, and summoned the attention of Jinks by a bold rap.
Jinks was speedily at the door, and Straitlace was again admitted into
the thievish head-quarters.
"Now for the chink!" said the broken-down lawyer.
"But where's the lad?" asked Straitlace.
"The moment you down with the dust, that moment I tell you where he is,
safe and sound, and nearer home than you think of; so that you'll have
very little trouble to seek him," answered Jinks.
"When I find the lad I'll pay you," said the saddler; "you may be
deceiving me."
"Why, d—n it!" said Jinks, "what d'ye take me for?—let that sneaking
fellow, who stands squeezed up in the corner there below, be witness
between us."
Straitlace turned pale; but Jinks was at the bottom of the stair in a
moment, and again ascended, bringing up a man dressed in a thick top
coat that covered his under dress.
"Now, let this constable be witness between us," said Jinks: "he's a
respectable man, and you could not have brought a better man with you."
Straitlace was amazed;—but he summoned resolution, and said,
"Constable, I insist upon your taking this man into custody, for having
either decoyed away from me, or concealed, or harboured, my runaway
'prentice."
The constable put on a very stupid look, and answered,—"Why, as to
that, I've no proof of any part of it, you know, and I decline to
interfere."
Straitlace felt confounded at the fact of his own man, as he had deemed
the constable, deserting him, and stood staring in amazement.
"Now, Mister Jonas Straitlace," said Jinks, "I'd have you to remember
that I don't give professional advice for nought, any more than other
lawyers. You came here to ask my help and instruction, and I engaged to
give it you for two sovereigns: pay me that down, and I undertake that
you shall find your apprentice at home when you return."
The saddler felt enraged at the villain's impudence, but the constable
was against him:—"If you made that bargain you had better keep it,"
said the functionary, "and if this man breaks it, then I shall be
witness to it." And Straitlace felt he was so awkwardly fixed in
that suspicious place, and between the two, that he gave Jinks the
two sovereigns. Had he kept a strict watch upon the motions of the
constable and Jinks he would have seen them share the booty, ere they
hurried down the stair.
Straitlace reached home, and found that Sam had returned, but was again
departed. His deaf wife could only tell that she had scolded him, and
made him get to work in the shop without his breakfast; but she did
not know when he went off again. The condition of the "till," in the
shop, fully proclaimed the way in which Sam had employed himself
during his brief stay. It had been forcibly wrested from its place,
though strongly fixed, and robbed of its contents, which were not
great, but were sufficient to destroy, by their loss, the peace of Mr.
Straitlace's spiritual mind for many a day after.
Straitlace sat down to his work instead of going again in search of
Sam Simkins. Of what value would a thief be to me? was one question he
asked himself; and—shall I spend in law, to prosecute him, more money
than I have thrown away already? was another. A few days after, he met
the constable in Birmingham, and related his disaster. "You act wisest
to keep quiet," said the constable: "it seems the man kept his word
in sending the lad home,—so that I don't see how you could have the
law of him, there; and as for the young scoundrel, he would do you no
good:—good-day, sir."
Straitlace did not know whether there was any soundness in the man's
observation about law; but he was loath to spend more money or lose his
time,—so he gave Sam up.
The lad returned to Jinks's "hiding-hole," and received great
commendations for the clever way in which he had used the "jemmy," or
small steel crowbar, which Jinks had entrusted to him. The robbery of
his master's till was his first performance with this crack tool that
old gaol-birds chirp so much of; but it was not his last, by many a
score. He progressed in skill till he became the favourite comrade of
Wide-mouthed Bob, and the two were the terror of the neighbourhood for
years.
It could serve no virtuous purpose to detail his thieveries; and as for
the character of the company he kept, the sketch foregoing may suffice
to show what it was. He was, at length, sent over-sea for life, in
company with the leader and two others of the gang; while Jinks escaped,
only to decoy more lads into vice, and train them for the hulks or the
gallows; but Mr. Jonas Straitlace, through the grinding of his customers,
lost them,—so that he took no more apprentices to train up, in his own
peculiar way, for Jinks's second training and perfecting process.