_Showing the Desperate and Bloody Combat which took place in the Dark
Vaults._
'You will pray for death in vain; death shall not come to your relief
for years,' were the words of the miscreant who had shut up poor Frank
in that loathsome dungeon;--and like a weight of lead, that awful doom
oppressed and crushed the heart of our hero, as he lay stretched upon
the stone floor of the cell, with the maniac Dwarf gibbering beside him,
and staring at him with its serpent-like and malignant eyes.
While lying there, weak with hunger, and his soul filled with despair, a
wild delirium took possession of his senses, and in his diseased mind
horror succeeded horror. First, the misshaped Dwarf seemed transformed
into a huge vulture, about to tear him to pieces with its strong talons;
then it became a gigantic reptile, about to discharge upon him a deluge
of poisonous slime; then it changed to the Evil One, come to bear him to
perdition. Finally, as the wildest paroxysms of his delirium subsided,
the creature stood before him as the Image and spirit of the Dead Man,
appointed to torture and to drive him mad.
'Die, thou fiend incarnate!' he exclaimed, in a phrenzy of rage and
despair; and starting from the ground, he rushed upon the creature and
attempted to strangle it. But with an appalling yell, it struggled from
his grasp, and leaping upon his shoulders bore him to the earth with a
force that stunned him; and then it fastened its teeth in his flesh and
began to drink his blood.
But the fates willed that Sydney was not thus to die; for at that moment
the iron door was suddenly thrown open, and the glare of a lantern shone
into the dungeon; then there entered a person whose features were
concealed by a hideous mask, and the dwarf quitted its hold of the
victim, and flew screaming into a corner.
'He must be revived ere he is brought to judgement,' said the Mask; and
he raised Sydney in his arms, carried him out of the dungeon, and
fastened the door.
Then the Mask stepped upon the platform with his burden, and descended
into the dark abyss. When Frank recovered his senses, he found himself
in a sort of cavern which was lighted by a lamp suspended from the
ceiling. He was lying upon a rude bed; and near him, silent and
motionless, sat a masked figure.
'Where am I--and who art thou?' demanded our hero, in a feeble tone, as
a vague terror stole over him.
The Mask replied not, but rising, brought him a cup of wine and some
food, of which he partook with eagerness. Much refreshed, he sank back
upon his pillow, and fell into a long, deep slumber. When he awoke, he
found himself in the same cavern, on the same bed, and guarded as before
by the mysterious Mask, who now spoke for the first time.
'Arise and follow me,' said he.--Sydney obeyed, and followed the Unknown
through a long passage, and into a vast hall or cavern, brilliantly
lighted. Glancing around him, he saw at once that he was in the Dark
Vaults, in that part called the 'Infernal Regions,' the rendezvous of
the band of miscreants known as the 'Jolly Knights of the Round Table.'
Seated around that table was a company of men, to the number of about
fifty, all so hideously masked, that they seemed like a band of demons
just released from the bottomless pit. They sat in profound silence, and
were all so perfectly motionless that they might have been taken for
statues rudely chiseled from the solid rock.
In the centre of the table, upon a coffin, sat the Judge of that awful
tribunal, arrayed from head to foot in a blood-red robe: he wore no
mask--why need he? What mask could exceed in hideousness the countenance
of the Dead Man?
Sydney was compelled to mount the table, and seat himself before his
Judge, who thus addressed him:--
'Prisoner, you are now in the presence of our august and powerful
band,--the Knights of the Round Table, of which I have honor to be the
Captain. I am also Judge and Executioner.--The charges I have against
you are already known to every Knight present. It but remains for them
to pronounce you guilty, and for me to pass and execute sentence upon
you. Attention, Knights! those of you who believe the prisoner to be
guilty, and worthy of such punishment as I shall choose to inflict upon
him, will _stand up_!'
Every masked figure arose, excepting _one_! and that one remained silent
and motionless. To him the judge turned with a savage scowl.
'How now, Doctor!' he cried in a voice of thunder--'do you dare dissent
from the decision of your comrades? Stand upon your feet, or by G----
I'll spring upon you and tear you limb from limb!'
But the Doctor stirred not.
'By hell!' roared the Dead Man, foaming with rage--'dare you disobey the
orders of your Captain? Villain, do you seek your own death?'
'_Dare?_' exclaimed the Doctor, tearing off his mask, and confronting
his ruffian leader with an unquailing eye--'_dare!_ Why, thou
white-livered hound, I dare spit upon and spurn ye! And forsooth, ye
call me a villain--you coward cut-throat, traitor, monster, murderer of
weak women and helpless babes! I tell you, Dead Man, your Power is at an
end in these Vaults. There are robbers, there may be murderers
here--although thank God, _I_ never shed human blood--but bad as we are,
your damnable villainy, your cruelty and your tyranny have disgusted us.
I for one submit to your yoke no longer; so may the devil take you, and
welcome!'
Sydney now for the first time recognized in the speaker, the same
individual who sought to rob him one night in the Park, and whose
gratitude he had won by presenting him with a fifty dollar bill.
The Dead Man glared from some moments in silence upon the bold fellow
who thus defied him. At length he spoke--
'Fool! you have presumed to dispute my authority as Captain of this
band, and your life is forfeit to our laws. But, by Satan! I admire your
courage, and you shall not die without having a chance for your life.
You shall fight me, hand to hand--here to-night, at once; the Knights
shall form a ring, and we will arm ourselves with Bowie knives; _cut
and slash_ shall be the order of the combat; no quarters shall be shown;
and he who cuts out his adversary's heart, and presents it to the band
on the point of his knife, shall be Captain of the Round Table. Say do
you agree to this?'
'Yes!' replied the Doctor, much to the disappointment of his challenger,
who would have been glad had the offer been rejected. However, there was
no retracting, and instant preparations were made for the combat. Sydney
was placed in charge of two men, in order to prevent his escape; and the
Knights formed themselves into a large ring, while the combatants
prepared for the encounter. Both men stripped to the skin; around their
left arms they wrapped blankets to serve as shields; and in their right
hands, they grasped long, sharp Bowie knives, whose blades glittered in
the brilliant light of the many candles. All was soon ready, and the
adversaries entered the ring, amid profound silence.--Poor Sydney
contemplated the scene with painful interest; how sincerely he prayed
that the Doctor might prove victorious in the combat!
Gaunt and bony, the Dead Man looked like a skeleton; yet the immense
muscles upon his fleshless arms, indicated prodigious strength. He
looked terribly formidable, with his livid face, deadly eye and jaws
firmly set--his long fingers clutching his knife with an iron grasp, and
his left arm raised to protect himself.--The Doctor was a large,
dark-complexioned, handsome man--an Apollo in beauty and a Hercules in
strength, presenting a singular contrast to the hideous, misshapen being
with whom he was about to engage in deadly conflict.
Cautiously they advanced towards each other, with knives upraised.
Standing scarce five feet apart, they eyed each other for two minutes;
not a muscle moved; with a howl like that of a hyena, the Dead Man
sprang upon his enemy, and gave him a severe gash upon his shoulder; but
the Doctor, who was an accomplished pugilist, knocked his assailant
down, and favored him with a kick in the jaw that left its mark for many
a day, and did not enhance his beauty.
The Dead Man arose, grinding his teeth with passion, but advancing with
extreme caution. By a rapid and dexterous movement of his foot, he
tripped the Doctor down, and having him at that disadvantage, was about
to bury his knife in his heart, when several of the band rushed forward
and prevented him, exclaiming--
'When you were down, the Doctor suffered you to regain your feet, and
you shall allow him the same privilege. Begin again on equal terms, and
he who gets the first advantage, shall improve it.'
'Curses on you for this interference,' growled the ruffian, as he
reluctantly suffered the Doctor to arise. The combat was then renewed
with increased vigor on both sides. Severe cuts were given and received;
two of the Doctor's fingers were cut off, and Sydney began to fear that
he would be vanquished, when, rallying desperately, he closed with the
Dead Man, and with one tremendous stroke, severed the miscreant's right
hand from his wrist! Thus disabled, he fell to the ground, bathed in
blood.
'I'll not take your life, miserable dog,' cried the Doctor, as he
surveyed his fallen adversary with a look of contempt--'as I have
deprived you of that murderous hand, you shall live. You are now
comparatively harmless--an object of pity rather than of fear. I am a
surgeon, and will exert my skill to stop the effusion of blood.'
The Dead Man had fainted. He was laid upon the Round Table, and the
Doctor dressed the wound. Then he turned to his comrades, and said,
'Gentlemen of the Round Table, you will admit that I have fairly
conquered our leader; I have spared his life not in the hope that he
will ever become a better man, for that is impossible--but that he may
be reserved for a worse fate than death by my knife. He shall live to
die a death of horror.'
The band crowded around the Doctor, clapping their hands, and
exclaiming--'Hail to our new Captain!'
'Not so,' cried the Doctor--'to-night I leave this band forever. Nay,
hear me, comrades--you know that I am not a bad man by nature--you are
aware that I have been driven to this life by circumstances which I
could not control. You are satisfied that I never will betray you; let
that suffice. Should any of you meet me hereafter, you will find in me a
friend, provided you are inclined to be honest.--I have a word to say in
regard to this prisoner; he is my benefactor, having once supplied my
wants when I was in a condition of deep distress. I am grateful to him,
and wish to do him a service. He has been brought before you by the
Captain, for some private wrongs, which have not affected you as a band.
Say, comrades, will you set him free?'
Many of the band seemed inclined to grant this favor; but one, who
possessed much influence, turned the current of feeling against Sydney,
by saying--
'Comrades, listen to me. Though our Captain is conquered, we will not do
him injustice. This man is his prisoner, captured by his hand, and _he_
alone can justly release him. Let the Doctor depart, since he wishes it;
but let the prisoner be kept in custody; to be disposed of as our
Captain may see proper.'
This speech was received with applause by the others. The Doctor knew it
would be useless to remonstrate; approaching Sydney, he whispered--
'Have courage, sir--in me you have a friend who will never desert you. I
shall be constantly near you to aid you at the first opportunity.
Farewell.'
He pressed Sydney's hand, bade adieu to his comrades, and left the
Vaults.
The Dead Man slowly revived; on opening his eyes, his first glance
rested upon his prisoner, and a gleam of satisfaction passed over his
ghastly visage. At his request, two of the band raised him from the
table, and placed him in a chair; then, in a feeble voice, he said--
'Eternal curses on you all, why have you suffered the Doctor to escape?
Hell and fury--my right hand cut off!--But no matter; I shall learn to
murder with the other. Ha, Sydney! you are there, I see; the Doctor may
go, in welcome, since _you_ are left to feel my vengeance. I am too weak
at present to enjoy the sight of your torture, and the music of your
groans. Back to your dungeon, dog; yet stay--the dwarf may kill you, and
thus cheat me of my revenge; it is not safe to confine you with him any
longer. Maggot and Bloodhound, take Sydney and shut him up in the
_Chamber of Death_.'
Two of the worst villains of the gang, who answered to the singular
names of Maggot and Bloodhound, seized Sydney by his arms, and dragged
him along one of the dark passages which branched off from the Vault.
The Dead Man himself followed, bearing a lantern in his only remaining
hand.
They arrived at a low iron door, in which was a grating formed of thick
bars of the same metal. This door being opened, the party descended a
flight of stone steps, and entered an apartment of great extent where
the damp, chill air was so charged with noxious vapours, that the light
of the lantern was almost extinguished. The stone walls and floor of
this dungeon were covered with green damp; and from the ceiling in many
places dripped a foul moisture. The further extremity of the place was
involved in a profound darkness which could not be dissipated by feeble
rays of the lamp.
'Here,' said the Dead Man, addressing his prisoner--'you will be kept in
confinement for the rest of your life--a confinement varied only by
different modes of torture which I shall apply to you, from time to
time. This dungeon is called the Chamber of Death--for what reason you
will ere long find out. It is built directly under the sewers of the
city, which accounts for the liquid filth that oozes through the
ceiling. Many persons have been shut up in this place, for offences
against our band and against me; and not one of them has ever got out,
either alive or dead! To-morrow I shall visit you, and bring you
food--for I do not wish you to die of hunger; I will endeavor to
protract, not shorten your life, so that I may longer enjoy the pleasure
of torturing you. To-morrow, perhaps, you shall receive your first
lesson in my methods of torture. Adieu--come, comrades, let's leave him
the lamp, that he may contemplate the horrors of the place--for darkness
here is bliss.'
The three villains ascended the steps and left the dungeon, having first
carefully locked the door.
Poor Sydney fell upon his knees on the cold, damp floor, and prayed
earnestly for either a safe deliverance from that awful place, or a
speedy death. Somewhat comforted by the appeal to a Supreme Being, whose
existence all men acknowledge in times of peril, he arose, and taking
the lamp resolved to explore the dungeon. He had not proceeded far
before a spectacle met his gaze which caused him to pause in horror and
affright.
Seated around a vast table, was a row of figures fantastically dressed
and in every extravagant attitude. At first, Frank thought that they
were living creatures; but observing that they did not move, he
approached nearer, and discovered that they were skeletons. Some were
dressed as males, others as females; and many of them, in fearful
mockery of death, had been placed in attitudes the most obscene and
indecent. Presiding over this ghastly revel, was a gigantic skeleton,
arrayed in what had once been a splendid theatrical dress, and grasping
in its fleshless hand a large gilt goblet; this figure was seated on a
sort of throne, made of rough boards.
These were the skeletons of those who had died in the Vaults, as well as
of those persons who, having fallen into the power of the band of
villains, had been murdered in that dungeon, by starvation or torture.
With infernal ingenuity, the Dead Man had arrayed the skeletons in
fanciful costumes, which had been plundered from the wardrobe of a
theatre; and placed them in the most absurd and indecent positions his
hellish fancy could devise. The large skeleton, which seemed to preside
over the others, was the remains of a former Captain of the band,
celebrated for his many villainies and gigantic stature.
While gazing upon this figure, Sydney distinctly saw the head, or skull,
nod at him. Astonished at this, yet doubting the evidence of his own
eyesight, he approached nearer, and held the lamp close up to it; again
it moved, so plainly as to admit of no further doubt. Our hero was not
superstitious, but the strangeness of this incident almost terrified
him, and he was about to make a rapid retreat to the other side of the
dungeon, when the mystery was explained in a manner that would have been
ludicrous under any other circumstances: a large cat leaped from the
skull, where it had taken up an abode, and scampered off, to the great
relief of Sydney, who was glad to find that the nod of the skeleton
proceeded from such a trifling cause.
On the back of each chair whereon was seated a member of the ghostly
company was written the name which he or she had borne during life.
Judges, magistrates and police officers were there, who had rendered
themselves obnoxious to the gang, in years past, by vigilance in
detecting, or severity in passing sentences upon many of its members.
These individuals had been waylaid by their ruffian enemies, and made to
die a lingering death in that dungeon; their fate was never known to
their friends, and their sudden and unaccountable removal from the
world, was chronicled in the newspapers, at the time, under the head of
_mysterious disappearance_. Ladies, whose testimony had tended to the
conviction of the band, were there; but their fate had been doubly
horrible, for previous to their imprisonment in the dungeon, they had
been dishonored by the vile embraces of almost every ruffian in the
Vaults; and even after death, they had been placed in attitudes unseemly
and shameful. But the horror of Sydney, while beholding these things,
was soon absorbed in a discovery which to him was ten times more
horrible than all the rest; for written on the chair of a female figure,
was the name of his aunt Mrs. Stevens!
It will be remembered that this lady was murdered by the Dead Man, at
her residence in Grand Street; on the night of the masquerade ball, in
order to prevent her giving favorable testimony at the trial of Sydney.
Having been found, suspended by the neck, it was at first supposed that
she committed suicide; but that belief was removed from the public mind,
when it was found that a robbery had been committed in the house. It was
then apparent that she had been inhumanely murdered. Her servant
testified that a strange man had called on her mistress that evening
whom she would not be able to recognize, his face having been concealed
in the folds of his cloak. After admitting him into the house, and
calling Mrs. Stevens, the girl had gone out on a short errand, and on
her return, found her mistress in the situation described, and quite
dead. The old lady was buried; but her murderer broke open the tomb, and
carried the corpse to the dungeon of the Vaults, where he had placed her
with the other victims, in the position in which Sydney, her nephew, now
found her.
'It is as I suspected,' thought our hero, as he sadly viewed the remains
of his poor aunt--'that villain murdered her, and now it is forever out
of my power to avenge her blood. Ha! what's this?--_my name_, upon an
empty chair.'
And so it was; the name, Francis Sydney, was written out on the back of
an unoccupied chair; he comprehended that this was designated to be
_his_ seat when he should form one of that awful crew, in the chamber of
Death.
Suddenly, the damp, foul air of the place extinguished the light of his
lamp, and he found himself in total darkness.