RESCUED BY THIEVES.
And these are men,--these creatures bold,
Who live to plunder and to kill;
Formed in the Great Creator's mold
But subject to the Devil's will.
If all committers of this deed of questionable cowardice would choose so
opportune a moment for their rashness as did Elizabeth, they would
probably live to see the error of their ways and to realize that the
things we know are better than the things we know not of, but it is
rarely that one so determined as she to terminate a wretched existence
is thwarted in that desire by the presence of rescuers, but such was the
case in this instance.
Two men of the type commonly known in London as wharf "rats" or dock and
river thieves, were slowly sculling along under cover of the intense fog
on the lookout for plunder of any and every sort.
Naturally, when Elizabeth's body struck the water not ten feet from
their craft, they stopped sculling and quickly investigated the nature
of the prey that had so literally fallen into their hands.
Elizabeth was pulled into the boat apparently lifeless, and in less time
than it takes to chronicle the event, was shorn of her pretty rings,
purse and outer garments.
A folded paper pinned securely to the lining of her waist was also
promptly removed by the thief and thrust carelessly into the outer
pocket of his coat as he doubtless thought it of little consequence, and
only confiscated it through a natural impulse of greed and robbery.
Then the younger of the two proceeded to fasten a heavy lead around her
waist, and lifting her carefully in his arms was about to lower the body
once more into the silent river whose waters had already swallowed up
and forever concealed innumerable secrets of like nature, when a flash
from his partner's lantern falling upon Elizabeth's upturned face
revealed to him her exceeding loveliness and awoke within him an
instinct, whether brutal or humane, we shall shortly determine.
"Oh, Oiy soiy, Bill, this 'ere lass is too bloomin' 'ansome tew feed de
fishes wid," he said, "and she ben't derd, nurther," he added, as he
noticed Elizabeth's breath returning in short, faint gasps. "Ben't
hoften we picks hup such fine goods as dese," he continued, while a
fiendish expression passed over his swarthy face. "Blowed if Oiy doesn't
think Oiy'll confiscate dis fer m' hown use," and he drew Elizabeth's
still senseless form across his knee.
"Put'er down, Jemmy! Cawn't you wait till you gets to de dock or does
yer want ter stay hout 'n dis 'ere fog hall night?" said the older man
gruffly, adding authoritatively: "Cover de gal hup in de bottom, she'll
keep! Oiy'm wet tew de' ide. Come, scull along hor we wont get 'ome till
midnight."
Whether it was the fragments of original humanity that made him refuse
to witness the desecration of helplessness, or whether he possessed
sufficient of the brute instinct to enjoy with keener relish the
struggles of a frenzied woman in the hands of an unprincipled and
determined villain, we can not tell;--
At any rate Elizabeth was allowed to lie quietly under an old sail in
the bottom of the boat, returning slowly, but with such perfect control
to acute consciousness that she allowed no sound of either fear or
suffering to escape her lips.
She overheard enough of their conversation, during the row down the
river to show her who her rescuers were and what her ultimate fate would
be unless she could escape from their clutches. She realized that even
her unfortunate condition would give her no mercy in their hands and
might rather be a source of more intense gratification to their fiendish
and inhuman desires. Reason told her to remain perfectly passive, as it
was evident they only awaited her return to consciousness for the
furtherance of their diabolical plans.
Even when the boat bumped heavily against the wharf, turned back and
veered about in a most extraordinary manner and the damp fog of the
river was exchanged for the foul stench of sewer gas and garbage floats,
and she realized, with a feeling of horror, that they were gliding, not
by, but under the dock, still she made no sound.
At last they stopped by a rotten ladder; the boat was tied and the
younger man sprang hastily up the slippery steps and thrust open, with
his shoulder, a heavy trap door.
Then the older of the two raised Elizabeth from the boat and passed her
up through the narrow opening to the man above. He then followed and
after a hasty consultation between the two she was left, as the young
"rat" expressed it, "soif fer de present," on a pile of rags in the
corner of the cellar.
Then, apparently regardless whether she lived or died, they ascended
another rickety ladder and the sullen gleam of their lantern was soon
lost to sight in the darkness above.
Elizabeth waited until the sound of their footsteps had passed away,
then rising hastily, she began groping about in the darkness for the
ladder which she had so dimly discerned by the light of the smoking
lantern.
Now every thing was dark, and the knowledge of that yawning trap-door
and perhaps more just like it under her very feet, made her almost
insane with fear. All desire for a watery death had vanished from her
mind. Her lungs were so filled with nauseous gases that it was with a
feeling of almost frantic joy she touched the rungs of the worm-eaten
ladder and prepared to climb to the landing above.
The upper Hall was narrow, dirty and perfectly dark. Elizabeth groped
her way carefully along, holding firmly to the wall, but could see no
outlet or glimmer of light either before her or above, but knowing that
to turn back would be but rushing to a fate far worse than death, she
pressed eagerly forward, peering into the impenetrable darkness, while
occasionally a great, slimy rat scampered across her foot, or a
loathsome bat, with a sudden rush, passed so near her face that she
turned sick with horror and held to the heavy walls with all her
strength.