Saint Giles's Round-house was an old detached fabric, standing in an
angle of Kendrick Yard. Originally built, as its name imports, in
a cylindrical form, like a modern Martello tower, it had undergone,
from time to time, so many alterations, that its symmetry was, in a
great measure, destroyed. Bulging out more in the middle than at the
two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end,--a
sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,--and this resemblance was
increased by the small circular aperture--it hardly deserved to be
called a door--pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through
the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and
approached by a flight of wooden steps. The prison was two stories
high, with a flat roof surmounted by a gilt vane fashioned like a
key; and, possessing considerable internal accommodation, it had, in
its day, lodged some thousands of disorderly personages. The windows
were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard,
and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's
Church. Lights gleamed from the lower rooms, and, on a nearer
approach to the building, the sound of revelry might be heard from
within.
Warned of the approach of the prisoners by the increased clamour,
Sharples, who was busied in distributing the Marquis's donation,
affected to throw the remainder of the money among the crowd, though,
in reality, he kept back a couple of guineas, which he slipped into
his sleeve, and running hastily up the steps, unlocked the door. He
was followed, more leisurely, by the prisoners; and, during their
ascent, Jack Sheppard made a second attempt to escape by ducking
suddenly down, and endeavouring to pass under his conductor's legs.
The dress of the dwarfish Jew was not, however, favourable to this
expedient. Jack was caught, as in a trap, by the pendant tails of
Abraham's long frock; and, instead of obtaining his release by his
ingenuity, he only got a sound thrashing.
Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern
towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded
to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed
to subsist, and then closed and barred the door.
“Vell,” he growled, addressing Quilt, “you know who's here, I
suppose?”
“To be sure I do,” replied Quilt; “my noble friend, the Marquis of
Slaughterford. What of that?”
“Vot 'o that!” echoed Sharples, peevishly: “Everythin'. Vot am I to
do vith these young imps, eh?”
“What you generally do with your prisoners, Mr. Sharples,” replied
Quilt; “lock 'em up.”
“That's easily said. But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in,
how then?”
Quilt looked a little perplexed. He passed his arm under that of the
constable, and drew him aside.
“Vell, vell,” growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's
remonstrances, “it shall be done. But it's confounded inconvenient.
One don't often get sich a vindfal as the Markis----”
“Or such a customer as Mr. Wild,” edged in Quilt.
“Now, then, Saint Giles!” interposed Sheppard, “are we to be kept
here all night?”
“Eh day!” exclaimed Sharples: “wot new-fledged bantam's this?”
“One that wants to go to roost,” replied Sheppard. “So, stir your
stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch.”
“Comin'! comin'!” returned the constable, shuffling towards him.
“Coming!--so is midnight--so is Jonathan Wild,” retorted Jack, with a
significant look at Thames.
“Have you never an out-o-the-vay corner, into vich you could shtow
these troublesome warmint?” observed Abraham. “The guv'ner'll be here
afore midnight.”
Darrell's attention was drawn to the latter part of this speech by a
slight pressure on his foot. And, turning at the touch, he perceived
Sheppard's glance fixed meaningly upon him.
“Stow it, Nab!” exclaimed Quilt, angrily; “the kinchen's awake.”
“Awake!--to be sure I am, my flash cove,” replied Sheppard; “I'm down
as a hammer.”
“I've just bethought me of a crib as'll serve their turn,” interposed
Sharples, “at any rate, they'll be out o' the vay, and as safe as two
chicks in a coop.”
“Lead the way to it then, Saint Giles,” said Jack, in a tone of mock
authority.
The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut
off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which
it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a
stout wooden partition. A door led to the inner room; and it was
evident from the peals of merriment, and other noises, that, ever and
anon, resounded from within, that this chamber was occupied by the
Marquis and his friends. Against the walls hung an assortment of
staves, brown-bills, (weapons then borne by the watch,) muskets,
handcuffs, great-coats, and lanterns. In one angle of the room stood
a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in
the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the
boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. Towards this
box Sharples directed his steps, and, unlocking a hatch in the door,
disclosed a recess scarcely as large, and certainly not as clean, as
a dog-kennel.
“Vill this do?” demanded the constable, taking the candle from the
lantern, the better to display the narrow limits of the hole. “I call
this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells
in Guildhall. I _have_ squeezed three kids into it afore now. To be
sure,” he added, lowering his tone, “they wos little 'uns, and one on
'em was smothered--ough! ough!--how this cough chokes me!”
Sheppard, meanwhile, whose hands were at liberty, managed to possess
himself, unperceived, of the spike of a halbert, which was lying,
apart from the pole, upon a bench near him. Having secured this
implement, he burst from his conductor, and, leaping into the hatch,
as clowns generally spring into the clock-faces, when in pursuit of
harlequin in the pantomime,--that is, back foremost,--broke into a
fit of loud and derisive laughter, kicking his heels merrily all the
time against the boards. His mirth, however, received an unpleasant
check; for Abraham, greatly incensed by his previous conduct, caught
him by the legs, and pushed him with such violence into the hole that
the point of the spike, which he had placed in his pocket, found
its way through his clothes to the flesh, inflicting a slight,
but painful wound. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his
composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried
his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace
in Sharples's face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into
the recess beside him.
“How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?” asked Sharples, in a
jeering tone.
“Better than your company, Saint Giles,” replied Sheppard; “so, shut
the door, and make yourself scarce.”
“That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell,” observed
Sharples.
“Or the street,” returned Jack: “mind my words, the prison's not
built that can keep me.”
“We'll see that, young hempseed,” replied Sharples, shutting the
hatch furiously in his face, and locking it. “If you get out o' that
cage, I'll forgive you. Now, come along, gem'men, and I'll show you
some precious sport.”
The two janizaries followed him as far as the entrance to the inner
room, when Abraham, raising his finger to his lips, and glancing
significantly in the direction of the boys, to explain his intention
to his companions, closed the door after them, and stole softly back
again, planting himself near the recess.
For a few minutes all was silent. At length Jack Sheppard
observed:--“The coast's clear. They're gone into the next room.”
Darrell returned no answer.
“Don't be angry with me, Thames,” continued Sheppard, in a tone
calculated, as he thought, to appease his companion's indignation. “I
did all for the best, as I'll explain.”
“I won't reproach you, Jack,” said the other, sternly. “I've done
with you.”
“Not quite, I hope,” rejoined Sheppard. “At all events, I've not
done with you. If you owe your confinement to me, you shall owe your
liberation to me, also.”
“I'd rather lie here for ever, than be indebted to _you_ for my
freedom,” returned Thames.
“I've done nothing to offend you,” persisted Jack. “Nothing!” echoed
the other, scornfully. “You've perjured yourself.”
“That's my own concern,” rejoined Sheppard. “An oath weighs little
with me, compared with your safety.”
“No more of this,” interrupted Thames, “you make the matter worse by
these excuses.”
“Quarrel with me as much as you please, Thames, but hear me,”
returned Sheppard. “I took the course I pursued to serve you.”
“Tush!” cried Thames; “you accused me to skreen yourself.”
“On my soul, Thames, you wrong me!” replied Jack, passionately. “I'd
lay down my life for yours.”
“And you expect me to believe you after what has passed?”
“I do; and, more than that, I expect you to thank me.”
“For procuring my imprisonment?”
“For saving your life.”
“How?”
“Listen to me, Thames. You're in a more serious scrape than you
imagine. I overheard Jonathan Wild's instructions to Quilt Arnold,
and though he spoke in slang, and in an under tone, my quick ears,
and acquaintance with the thieves' lingo, enabled me to make out
every word he uttered. Jonathan is in league with Sir Rowland to make
away with you. You are brought here that their designs may be carried
into effect with greater security. Before morning, unless, we
can effect an escape, you'll be kidnapped, or murdered, and your
disappearance attributed to the negligence of the constable.”
“Are you sure of this?” asked Thames, who, though as brave a lad as
need be, could not repress a shudder at the intelligence.
“Certain. The moment I entered the room, and found you a prisoner in
the hands of Jonathan Wild, I guessed how matters stood, and acted
accordingly. Things haven't gone quite as smoothly as I anticipated;
but they might have been worse. I _can_ save you, and _will_. But,
say we're friends.”
“You're not deceiving me!” said Thames, doubtfully.
“I am not, by Heaven!” replied Sheppard, firmly.
“Don't swear, Jack, or I shall distrust you. I can't give you my
hand; but you may take it.”
“Thank you! thank you!” faltered Jack, in a voice full of emotion.
“I'll soon free you from these bracelets.”
“You needn't trouble yourself,” replied Thames. “Mr. Wood will be
here presently.”
“Mr. Wood!” exclaimed Jack, in surprise. “How have you managed to
communicate with him?”
Abraham, who had listened attentively to the foregoing
conversation,--not a word of which escaped him,--now drew in his
breath, and brought his ear closer to the boards.
“By means of the watchman who had the charge of me,” replied Thames.
“Curse him!” muttered Abraham.
“Hist!” exclaimed Jack. “I thought I heard a noise. Speak lower.
Somebody may be on the watch--perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew.”
“I don't care if he is,” rejoined Thames, boldly. “He'll learn that
his plans will be defeated.”
“He may learn how to defeat yours,” replied Jack.
“So he may,” rejoined Abraham, aloud, “so he may.”
“Death and fiends!” exclaimed Jack; “the old thief _is_ there. I knew
it. You've betrayed yourself, Thames.”
“Vot o' that?” chuckled Abraham. “_You_ can shave him, you know.”
“I _can_,” rejoined Jack; “and you, too, old Aaron, if I'd a razor.”
“How soon do you expect Mishter Vudd?” inquired the janizary,
tauntingly.
“What's that to you?” retorted Jack, surlily.
“Because I shouldn't like to be out o' the vay ven he arrives,”
returned Abraham, in a jeering tone; “it vouldn't be vell bred.”
“Vouldn't it!” replied Jack, mimicking his snuffling voice; “then
shtay vere you are, and be cursed to you.”
“It's all up,” muttered Thames. “Mr. Wood will be intercepted. I've
destroyed my only chance.”
“Not your _only_ chance, Thames,” returned Jack, in the same
undertone; “but your best. Never mind. We'll turn the tables upon 'em
yet. Do you think we could manage that old clothesman between us, if
we got out of this box?”
“I'd manage him myself, if my arms were free,” replied Thames,
boldly.
“Shpeak up, vill you?” cried Abraham, rapping his knuckles against
the hatch. “I likes to hear vot you says. You _can_ have no shecrets
from me.”
“Vy don't you talk to your partner, or Saint Giles, if you vant
conversation, Aaron?” asked Jack, slyly.
“Because they're in the next room, and the door's shut; that's vy, my
jack-a-dandy!” replied Abraham, unsuspiciously.
“Oh! they are--are they?” muttered Jack, triumphantly; “that'll do.
Now for it, Thames! Make as great a row as you can to divert his
attention.”
With this, he drew the spike from his pocket; and, drowning the sound
of the operation by whistling, singing, shuffling, and other noises,
contrived, in a few minutes, to liberate his companion from the
handcuffs.
“Now, Jack,” cried Thames, warmly grasping Sheppard's hand, “you are
my friend again. I freely forgive you.”
Sheppard cordially returned the pressure; and, cautioning Thames,
“not to let the ruffles drop, or they might tell a tale,” began to
warble the following fragment of a robber melody:--
“Oh! give me a chisel, a knife, or a file,
And the dubsmen shall find that I'll do it in style!
_Tol-de-rol!_”
“Vot the devil are you about, noisy?” inquired Abraham.
“Practising singing, Aaron,” replied Jack. “Vot are you?”
“Practising patience,” growled Abraham.
“Not before it's needed,” returned Jack, aloud; adding in a whisper,
“get upon my shoulders, Thames. Now you're up, take this spike. Feel
for the lock, and prize it open,--you don't need to be told
_how_. When it's done, I'll push you through. Take care of the old
clothesman, and leave the rest to me.
When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room,
The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb;
The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground,
But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found.
_Tol-de-rol!_”
As Jack concluded his ditty, the door flew open with a crash, and
Thames sprang through the aperture.
This manoeuvre was so suddenly executed that it took Abraham
completely by surprise. He was standing at the moment close to the
hatch, with his ear at the keyhole, and received a severe blow in
the face. He staggered back a few paces; and, before he could recover
himself, Thames tripped up his heels, and, placing the point of the
spike at his throat, threatened to stab him if he attempted to stir,
or cry out. Nor had Jack been idle all this time. Clearing the recess
the instant after his companion, he flew to the door of the inner
room, and, locking it, took out the key. The policy of this step was
immediately apparent. Alarmed by the noise of the scuffle, Quilt and
Sharples rushed to the assistance of their comrade. But they were
too late. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the
additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their
discomfiture.
“I told you the prison wasn't built that could hold me,” cried Jack.
“You're not out yet, you young hound,” rejoined Quilt, striving
ineffectually to burst open the door.
“But I soon shall be,” returned Jack; “take these,” he added,
flinging the handcuffs against the wooden partition, “and wear 'em
yourself.”
“Halloo, Nab!” vociferated Quilt. “What the devil are you about! Will
you allow yourself to be beaten by a couple of kids?”
“Not if I can help it,” returned Abraham, making a desperate effort
to regain his feet. “By my shalvation, boy,” he added, fiercely, “if
you don't take your hande off my peard, I'll sthrangle you.”
“Help me, Jack!” shouted Thames, “or I shan't be able to keep the
villain down.”
“Stick the spike into him, then,” returned Sheppard, coolly, “while I
unbar the outlet.”
But Thames had no intention of following his friend's advice.
Contenting himself with brandishing the weapon in the Jew's eyes, he
exerted all his force to prevent him from rising.
While this took place, while Quilt thundered at the inner door, and
Jack drew back the bolts of the outer, a deep, manly voice was heard
chanting--as if in contempt of the general uproar--the following
strain:--
With pipe and punch upon the board,
And smiling nymphs around us;
No tavern could more mirth afford
Than old Saint Giles's round-house!
_The round-house! the round-house!
The jolly--jolly round-house!_
“The jolly, jolly round-house!” chorussed Sheppard, as the last bar
yielded to his efforts. “Hurrah! come along, Thames; we're free.”
“Not sho fasht--not sho fasht!” cried Abraham, struggling with
Thames, and detaining him; “if you go, you musht take me along vid
you.”
“Save yourself, Jack!” shouted Thames, sinking beneath the superior
weight and strength of his opponent; “leave me to my fate!”
“Never,” replied Jack, hurrying towards him. And, snatching the spike
from Thames, he struck the janizary a severe blow on the head. “I'll
make sure work this time,” he added, about to repeat the blow.
“Hold!” interposed Thames, “he can do no more mischief. Let us be
gone.”
“As you please,” returned Jack, leaping up; “but I feel devilishly
inclined to finish him. However, it would only be robbing the hangman
of his dues.”
With this, he was preparing to follow his friend, when their egress
was prevented by the sudden appearance of Jonathan Wild and Blueskin.
END VOLUME I.