THE EXECUTION.
The fatal Monday morning broke, yellow—heavily—and gloomily; and the
light stole—or rather struggled by degrees into the convict's cell.
Shortly before seven o'clock Tom Rain awoke; and casting his eyes
rapidly around, they successively fell upon the turnkey who had sate up
with him—the still flickering lamp upon the common deal table—the damp
stone walls—and the massive bars at the windows.
For an instant a cold shudder convulsed his frame, as the conviction—the
appalling truth burst upon him, that the horrors of his dreams were not
to cease with the slumber that had given them birth.
But, with knitting brow and compressed lip—like a strong-minded man who
endeavours to conceal the pain inflicted on him by a surgical operation
of a dreadful nature—he struggled with his emotions; and, when the
governor and clergyman entered the dungeon, they found him firm and
resolute, though not insolent nor reckless.
The chaplain offered to pray with him; and he consented to join in
devotion.
There was profound sincerity—but no affectation, no hypocrisy, no
passionate exclamation—in the prayer which Tom Rain uttered
extemporaneously.
As the clock chimed half-past seven, he arose from his knees, saying, "I
am now prepared to die."
But there was yet another half hour before him.
Scarcely had the clock finished chiming, when the door was opened, and
the Earl of Ellingham entered the cell.
Heedless of the impression which his conduct might produce upon the
prison authorities present, Arthur rushed forward and threw himself into
Rainford's arms, exclaiming, "No—I had not willfully abandoned you,
Thomas!"
"Just now I said that I was prepared to die," answered the convict,
returning the embrace with congenial warmth; "and now I may even add
that I shall die contented!"
"The time is too precious to waste in mere details," returned Arthur;
"or I would tell you how I have been kept away from you by force—by a
vile outrage. But you do not now believe that I was willingly
absent—that I wantonly neglected you?"
"No—no," exclaimed Rainford. "I seek not an explanation—I require none.
It is enough that you are here now—at the last hour!"
The Earl then related, in a few hurried words, the vain exertions he had
made on the preceding evening on behalf of Rainford, who expressed his
lively gratitude.
Arthur next requested the governor to permit him to have a few minutes'
private conversation with the prisoner: but this favour could not be
granted—and the Earl dared not persist in his demand, as the chaplain
hinted that the convict had bidden adieu to the affairs of this life,
and had but little time left for devotion.
Thus was it that Arthur and Rainford had no opportunity of speaking
together in private,—although the former had something important to
communicate, and the latter perceived that such was the fact.
"Arthur," said Tom, approaching close to his half-brother, and speaking
in a low solemn tone, "is there any hope?"
"None—_on this side of the scaffold_," returned the Earl, with a
significant glance as he dwelt on his words: and, as he spoke, he took
the prisoner's hand as if to wring it fervently.
But Rainford felt something in the Earl's palm, and instantly
comprehended that it was an object which he was to take unnoticed by the
gaol authorities. Then, rapid as the lightning flash, he perceived a
double meaning in the words—"_on this side of the scaffold_;" because he
knew that Arthur would not use those awful words, "_the scaffold_"—but
would have said "_the tomb_," had he not had some special, profound
motive.
And Rainford _did_ comprehend the hint—the hope conveyed; and though he
thanked his half-brother with a rapid, expressive glance, yet a sickly
smile played upon his lip—indicative of the faintness of that hope so
created.
At the same instant heavy footsteps were heard approaching the cell; and
the chaplain said in a solemn tone, "The hour is almost come!"
Then Arthur once more threw himself into the prisoner's arms, and
whispered rapidly in his ear, "Keep the tube in your throat—and you will
be saved!"
Rainford murmured an assent; and the brothers embraced with a fervour
which astonished those present, to whom their relationship was totally
unknown.
Arthur then tore himself from the cell:—not for worlds could he behold
that horrible process termed _the toilette_.
He had also another motive for quitting the dungeon before the last
moment:—this was to meet the Sheriff of the County in the passage.
And, behold! in the corridor, he encountered that functionary, the
javelin-men, and the under-sheriff, behind whom came the executioner and
his assistant.
The Earl accosted the Sheriff, with whom he was acquainted, and who was
naturally surprised to meet the nobleman there.
Drawing him aside, Arthur said in a hasty tone, "I have a favour—a great
favour to ask of you. The convict is well connected, and his friends
demand the body to bury it decently. The earnest prayer that I have to
offer you on their behalf, is that you will not prolong the feelings of
shame and ignominy which they will experience during the time the corpse
remains suspended."
"My lord," replied the Sheriff, "the body shall be cut down at twenty
minutes past eight, and delivered over to the unhappy man's friends."
"A thousand thanks!" said the Earl, pressing the Sheriff's hand.
He then hurried away; and the procession moved on to the cell.
* * * * *
Immense was the crowd gathered around the gaol to witness the execution
of the celebrated highwayman who had been proved on his trial to be none
other than the notorious Black Mask who some years previously had
performed the most extraordinary deeds of daring and audacity in the
county of Hants.
Yes: immense was the crowd;—and not only did the living ocean inundate
all the open spaces about the gaol and all the thoroughfares leading
thither,—but it seemed to force its off-shooting streams and channels
_up_ the very walls of the surrounding dwellings, so densely filled with
faces were the open windows—even to the house-tops.
Near the front gate of the gaol stood a black coach and a hearse;—and
concealed between the vehicles and the prison wall, were the Earl of
Ellingham, Dr. Lascelles, and three of the nobleman's own men-servants,
all muffled in black mourning cloaks, and holding white handkerchiefs to
their faces so as to hide their features as much as possible.
Lord Ellingham was convulsed with grief. Far—far more than the convict
himself did the generous-hearted nobleman suffer on this terrible
morning. He was benumbed with cold—his body felt like a dead weight
which his legs could scarcely sustain—his tongue clave to the roof of
his mouth—a suffocating sensation oppressed him—and he felt as if all
the most frightful misfortunes had suddenly combined to fall with
crushing burden on his own head!
The clock of St. George's in the Borough began to strike eight—the clock
of the prison echoed those iron notes, which sent upon the wing of the
air the signal for death.
Suddenly the hum of the multitudes ceased; and an awful silence
prevailed.
The Earl and the physician knew by those signs that the convict had just
appeared on the roof of the gaol.
But from where they were stationed they could not command a view of the
dreadful scene above: and even if they had been differently placed, Lord
Ellingham at least would not have raised his eyes towards the fatal
tree!
And now, amidst that solemn silence, a voice was heard,—the solemn,
deep-toned, monotonous voice of the chaplain, saying, "_I am the
resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me,
though he were dead, yet shall he live. And though after my skin worms
destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God._"
The voice ceased: a sudden sensation ran through the crowd like an
electric shock;—and the Earl of Ellingham groaned deeply—groaned in the
bitterness of his spirit,—_for he knew that the drop had just fallen_!
"Compose yourself, my dear friend," whispered the physician: "for now is
the time to arm yourself with all your energies!"
"Thanks, doctor—a thousand thanks for reminding me of my duty," said the
Earl. "But this is most trying—most horribly trying! I have lived a
hundred years of agony in the last few minutes!"
"Hope for the best, my dear Earl," rejoined the physician. "Do you think
that he fully understood you——"
"He did—I am convinced of it!" replied Arthur, anxious to argue himself
out of all doubts as well as to convince his companion. "He received the
silver tube, and I saw him conceal it in his sleeve. But, alas! we had
no opportunity to speak alone—though I had so much to say to him—so many
explanations to give—such numerous questions to ask——My God! if after
all, _this_ plan should fail!"
"If that boy Jacob will only follow my instructions to the very letter,"
answered Lascelles, "I do not despair of success!"
"Oh! he will—he will!" returned the young nobleman, as he glanced
towards the hearse. "He is as intelligent as he is attached to my dear
brother!"
The railings in front of the gaol kept the crowd at a considerable
distance from the mourning vehicles; and thus the observations which
passed between the Earl and the physician were not heard by any save
themselves.
And now how languidly—how slowly passed the interval of twenty minutes
during which the Sheriff had stated that the body must remain suspended.
To the Earl it seemed as if each minute were a year—as if he were living
twenty years in those twenty minutes!
And the crowds had broken the silence which had fallen upon them like a
spell;—and ribald jests—obscene remarks—terrible execrations—and vile
practical jokes now proclaimed how efficacious is the example of public
strangulation!
At last the prison-clock chimed the quarter past eight; and more
acute—more agonising grew the suspense of the Earl of Ellingham.
A thousand fears assailed him.
Rainford might not have been able to use the silver tube,—or its
imagined effect might have failed,—or the knot of the rope might have
broken his neck? Again—the Sheriff might forget his promise, and allow
the convict to hang an hour according to the usual custom? And even if
all these fears were without foundation, the physician might not be able
to fulfil his expectations?
Cruel—cruel was the suspense,—appalling were the apprehensions endured
by the young nobleman.
He looked at his watch: it was seventeen minutes and a half past eight.
Two minutes and a half more—if the Sheriff had not forgotten his
promise!
But, no: he was even better than his word;—for scarcely had Arthur
returned the watch to his pocket, when a sudden sensation again pervaded
the multitude—and several voices cried, "_They are going to cut him
down!_"
Then came a dead silence.
An intense heat ran, like molten lead, through the Earl's veins; and, at
the next moment, he turned death-like cold, as if plunged into an
ice-bath.
If he had hitherto lived years in minutes—he now seemed to exist whole
centuries in moments!
All the fears which had previously struck him one by one, now rushed in
an aggregate crowd to his soul.
The next two minutes were all of fury and horror—fury in his brain,
horror in his heart!
But at last the gate of the gaol opened; and a gruff voice exclaimed,
"Now then!"
The Earl's three men-servants hastened to range themselves near the door
of the hearse, which one of them opened: and when the gaol-officials
appeared, bearing the coffin, these servants advanced a few paces to
relieve them of their burthen, and thrust it into the hearse, while Dr.
Lascelles diverted the attention of the officials by distributing money
amongst them.
This proceeding, which had been pre-arranged by the Earl and the
physician with the three servants, was absolutely necessary: _because
Jacob Smith was concealed within the hearse_!
The affair having proceeded successfully thus far, the hearse moved
away; and the five persons who acted as mourners entered the black
coach, which also drove off.
For the sake of appearances it was necessary that the vehicles should
move slowly along, until the outskirts of the multitude were entirely
passed: and then—when Blackman Street was reached—the hearse and the
black coach were driven along at a rate which is adopted by funeral
processions only when the obsequies are over.