After running to some distance down Seacoal Lane, Jack stopped to
give a last look at the vehicle which was bearing away the remains of
his beloved and ill-fated mother. It was scarcely out of sight, when
two persons, whom, he instantly recognised as Jonathan and Abraham
Mendez, turned the corner of the street, and made it evident from
their shouts, that they likewise perceived him.
Starting off at a rapid pace, Jack dashed down Turnagain-lane,
skirted the eastern bank of Fleet-ditch, crossed Holborn Bridge, and
began to ascend the neighbouring hill. By the time he had reached
St. Andrew's Church, his pursuers had gained the bridge, and the
attention of such passengers as crowded the streets was attracted
towards him by their vociferations. Amongst others, the watchman
whose box was placed against the churchyard wall, near the entrance
to Shoe-lane, rushed out and sprung his rattle, which was immediately
answered by another rattle from Holborn-bars.
Darting down Field-lane, Jack struck into a labyrinth of streets
on the left; but though he ran as swiftly as he could, he was not
unperceived. His course had been observed by the watchman, who
directed Wild which way to take.
“It is Jack Sheppard, the noted housebreaker,” cried Jonathan, at the
top of his sonorous voice. “He has just broken out of Newgate. After
him! A hundred pounds to the man who takes him.”
Sheppard's name operated like magic on the crowd. The cry was echoed
by twenty different voices. People ran out of their shops to join
the pursuit; and, by the time Wild had got into Field-lane, he had
a troop of fifty persons at his heels--all eager to assist in the
capture.
“Stop thief!” roared Jonathan, who perceived the fugitive hurrying
along a street towards Hatton Garden. “It is Sheppard--Jack
Sheppard--stop him!” And his shouts were reiterated by the pack of
bloodhounds at his heels.
Jack, meanwhile, heard, the shouts, and, though alarmed by them, held
on a steady course. By various twistings and turnings, during all
which time his pursuers, who were greatly increased in numbers, kept
him in view, he reached Gray's-Inn-lane. Here he was hotly pursued.
Fatigued by his previous exertions, and incumbered by his fetters, he
was by no means--though ordinarily remarkably swift of foot--a match
for his foes, who were fast gaining upon him.
At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead
coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers,
waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard.
Hearing the distant shouts, these fellows rushed down to the entrance
of the court, and arrived there just as Jack passed it. “Stop thief!”
roared Jonathan. “Stop thief!” clamoured the rabble behind.
At no loss to comprehend that Jack was the individual pointed out by
these outcries, two of the nearest of the group made a dash at him.
But Jack eluded their grasp. A large dog was then set at him by a
stable-boy; but, striking the animal with his faithful iron-bar, he
speedily sent him yelping back. The two hostlers, however, kept close
at his heels; and Jack, whose strength began to flag, feared he could
not hold much longer. Determined, however, not be taken with life, he
held on.
Still keeping ahead of his pursuers, he ran along the direct road,
till the houses disappeared and he got into the open country. Here
he was preparing to leap over the hedge into the fields on the left,
when he was intercepted by two horsemen, who, hearing the shouts,
rode up and struck at him with the butt-ends of their heavy
riding-whips. Warding off the blows as well as he could with the bar,
Jack struck both the horses on the head, and the animals plunged so
violently, that they not only prevented their riders from assailing
him, but also kept off the hostlers; and, in the confusion that
ensued, Jack managed to spring over the fence, and shaped his course
across the field in the direction of Sir John Oldcastle's.
The stoppage had materially lessened the distance between him and his
pursuers, who now amounted to more than a hundred persons, many of
whom carried lanterns and links. Ascertaining that it was Sheppard of
whom this concourse was in pursuit, the two horsemen leapt the hedge,
and were presently close upon him. Like a hare closely pressed, Jack
attempted to double, but the device only brought him nearer his foes,
who were crossing the field in every direction, and rending the
air with their shouts. The uproar was tremendous--men yelling--dogs
barking,--but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan,
urging them on. Jack was so harrassed that he felt half inclined to
stand at bay.
While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell,
head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the
dark. This fall saved him, for the horsemen passed over him. Creeping
along quickly on his hands and knees, he found the entrance to a
covered drain, into which he crept. He was scarcely concealed when he
heard the horsemen, who perceived they had overshot their mark, ride
back.
By this time, Jonathan and the vast mob attending him, had come up,
and the place was rendered almost as light as day by the links.
“He must be somewhere hereabouts,” cried one of the horsemen,
dismounting. “We were close upon him when he suddenly disappeared.”
Jonathan made no answer, but snatching a torch from a bystander,
jumped into the trench and commenced a diligent search. Just as he
had arrived at the mouth of the drain, and Jack felt certain he must
be discovered, a loud shout was raised from the further end of the
field that the fugitive was caught. All the assemblage, accompanied
by Jonathan, set off in this direction, when it turned out that
the supposed housebreaker was a harmless beggar, who had been found
asleep under a hedge.
Jonathan's vexation at the disappointment was expressed in the
bitterest imprecations, and he returned as speedily as he could to
the trench. But he had now lost the precise spot; and thinking he had
examined the drain, turned his attention to another quarter.
Meanwhile, the excitement of the chase had in some degree subsided.
The crowd dispersed in different directions, and most fortunately
a heavy shower coming on, put them altogether to flight. Jonathan,
however, still lingered. He seemed wholly insensible to the rain,
though it presently descended in torrents, and continued his search
as ardently as before.
After occupying himself thus for the best part of an hour, he thought
Jack must have given him the slip. Still, his suspicions were so
strong, that he ordered Mendez to remain on guard near the spot all
night, and, by the promise of a large reward induced two other men to
keep him company.
As he took his departure, he whispered to the Jew: “Take him dead or
alive; but if we fail now, and you heard him aright in Seacoal Lane,
we are sure of him at his mother's funeral on Sunday.”