Jack Sheppard. Vol. 2

CHAPTER IV. JACK SHEPPARD’S ESCAPE FROM THE NEW PRISON

In consequence of Jack Sheppard’s desperate character, it was judged expedient by the keeper of the New Prison to load him with fetters of unusual weight, and to place him in a cell which, from its strength and security, was called the Newgate Ward. The ward in which he was confined, was about six yards in length, and three in width, and in height, might be about twelve feet. The windows which were about nine feet from the floor, had no glass; but were secured by thick iron bars, and an oaken beam. Along the floor ran an iron bar to which Jack’s chain was attached, so that he could move along it from one end of the chamber to the other. No prisoner except Edgeworth Bess was placed in the same cell with him. Jack was in excellent spirits; and by his wit, drollery and agreeable demeanour, speedily became a great favourite with the turnkey, who allowed him every indulgence consistent with his situation. The report of his detention caused an immense sensation. Numberless charges were preferred against him, amongst others, information was lodged of the robbery at Dollis Hill, and murder of Mrs. Wood, and a large reward offered for the apprehension of Blueskin; and as, in addition to this, Jack had threatened to impeach Wild, his next examination was looked forward to with the greatest interest.

The day before this examination was appointed to take place—the third of the prisoner’s detention—an old man, respectably dressed, requested permission to see him. Jack’s friends were allowed to visit him; but as he had openly avowed his intention of attempting an escape, their proceedings were narrowly watched. The old man was conducted to Jack’s cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview. He appeared to be a stranger to the prisoner, and the sole motive of his visit, curiosity. After a brief conversation, which Sheppard sustained with his accustomed liveliness, the old man turned to Bess and addressed a few words of common-place gallantry to her. While this was going on, Jack suddenly made a movement which attracted the turnkey’s attention; and during that interval the old man slipped some articles wrapped in a handkerchief into Bess’s hands, who instantly secreted them in her bosom. The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation. After a little further discourse the old man took his departure.

Left alone with Edgeworth Bess, Jack burst into a loud laugh of exultation.

“Blueskin’s a friend in need,” he said. “His disguise was capital; but I detected it in a moment. Has he given you the tools?”

“He has,” replied Bess, producing the handkerchief.

“Bravo,” cried Sheppard, examining its contents, which proved to be a file, a chisel, two or three gimblets, and a piercer. “Jonathan Wild shall find it’s not easy to detain me. As sure as he is now living, I’ll pay him a visit in the Old Bailey before morning. And then I’ll pay off old scores. It’s almost worth while being sent to prison to have the pleasure of escaping. I shall now be able to test my skill.” And running on in this way, he carefully concealed the tools.

Whether the turnkey entertained any suspicion of the old man, Jack could not tell, but that night he was more than usually rigorous in his search; and having carefully examined the prisoners and finding nothing to excite his suspicions, he departed tolerably satisfied.

As soon as he was certain he should be disturbed no more, Jack set to work, and with the aid of the file in less than an hour had freed himself from his fetters. With Bess’s assistance he then climbed up to the window, which, as has just been stated, was secured by iron bars of great thickness crossed by a stout beam of oak. The very sight of these impediments, would have appalled a less courageous spirit than Sheppard’s—but nothing could daunt him. To work then he went, and with wonderful industry filed off two of the iron bars. Just as he completed this operation, the file broke. The oaken beam, nine inches in thickness, was now the sole but most formidable obstacle to his flight. With his gimblet he contrived to bore a number of holes so close together that at last one end of the bar, being completely pierced through, yielded; and pursuing the same with the other extremity, it fell out altogether.

This last operation was so fatiguing, that for a short time he was obliged to pause to recover the use of his fingers. He then descended; and having induced Bess to take off some part of her clothing, he tore the gown and petticoat into shreds and twisted them into a sort of rope which he fastened to the lower bars of the window. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. He then made a sort of running noose, passed it over her body, and taking firmly hold of the bars, prepared to guide her descent. But Bess could scarcely summon resolution enough to hazard the experiment; and it was only on Jack’s urgent intreaties, and even threats, that she could be prevailed on to trust herself to the frail tenure of the rope he had prepared. At length, however, she threw herself off; and Jack carefully guiding the rope she landed in safety.

The next moment he was by her side.

But the great point was still unaccomplished. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true; but the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell, by which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by formidable and bristling chevaux de frise, remained to be scaled. Jack, however, had an expedient for mastering this difficulty. He ventured to the great gates, and by inserting his gimblets into the wood at intervals, so as to form points upon which he could rest his foot, he contrived, to ascend them; and when at the top, having fastened a portion of his dress to the spikes, he managed, not without considerable risk, to draw up his female companion. Once over the iron spikes, Bess exhibited no reluctance to be let down on the other side of the wall. Having seen his mistress safe down, Jack instantly descended, leaving the best part of his clothes, as a memorial of his flight, to the jailor.

And thus he effected his escape from the New Prison.

CHAPTER V. THE DISGUISE

In a hollow in the meadows behind the prison whence Jack Sheppard had escaped,—for, at this time, the whole of the now thickly-peopled district north of Clerkenwell Bridewell was open country, stretching out in fertile fields in the direction of Islington—and about a quarter of a mile off, stood a solitary hovel, known as Black Mary’s Hole. This spot, which still retains its name, acquired the appellation from an old crone who lived there, and who, in addition to a very equivocal character for honesty, enjoyed the reputation of being a witch. Without inquiring into the correctness of the latter part of the story, it may be sufficient to state, that Black Mary was a person in whom Jack Sheppard thought he could confide, and, as Edgeworth Bess was incapable of much further exertion, he determined to leave her in the old woman’s care till the following night, while he shifted for himself and fulfilled his design—for, however rash or hazardous a project might be, if once conceived, Jack always executed it,—of visiting Jonathan Wild at his house in the Old Bailey.

It was precisely two o’clock on the morning of Whit-monday, the 25th of May 1724, when the remarkable escape before detailed was completed: and, though it wanted full two hours to daybreak, the glimmer of a waning moon prevented it from being totally dark. Casting a hasty glance, as he was about to turn an angle of the wall, at the great gates and upper windows of the prison, and perceiving no symptoms of pursuit, Jack proceeded towards the hovel at a very deliberate pace, carefully assisting his female companion over every obstacle in the road, and bearing her in his arms when, as was more than once the case, she sank from fright and exhaustion. In this way he crossed one or two public gardens and a bowling-green,—the neighbourhood of Clerkenwell then abounded in such places of amusement,—passed the noted Ducking Pond, where Black Mary had been frequently immersed; and, striking off to the left across the fields, arrived in a few minutes at his destination.

Descending the hollow, or rather excavation,—for it was an old disused clay-pit, at the bottom of which the cottage was situated,—he speedily succeeded in arousing the ancient sibyl, and having committed Edgeworth Bess to her care, with a promise of an abundant reward in case she watched diligently over her safety, and attended to her comforts till his return,—to all which Black Mary readily agreed,—he departed with a heart lightened of half its load.

Jack’s first object was to seek out Blueskin, whom he had no doubt he should find at the New Mint, at Wapping, for the Old Mint no longer afforded a secure retreat to the robber; and, with this view, he made the best of his way along a bye-lane leading towards Hockley-in-the-Hole. He had not proceeded far when he was alarmed by the tramp of a horse, which seemed to be rapidly approaching, and he had scarcely time to leap the hedge and conceal himself behind a tree, when a tall man, enveloped in an ample cloak, with his hat pulled over his brows, rode by at full speed. Another horseman followed quickly at the heels of the first; but just as he passed the spot where Jack stood, his steed missed its footing, and fell. Either ignorant of the accident, or heedless of it, the foremost horseman pursued his way without even turning his head.

Conceiving the opportunity too favourable to be lost, Jack sprang suddenly over the hedge, and before the man, who was floundering on the ground with one foot in the stirrup, could extricate himself from his embarrassing position, secured his pistols, which he drew from the holsters, and held them to his head. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword.

“Dog!” thundered Sheppard, putting the muzzle of the pistol so close to the janizary’s ear, that the touch of the cold iron made him start, “don’t you know me?”

“Blood and thunder!” exclaimed Quilt, opening his eyes with astonishment. “It can’t be Captain Sheppard!”

“It is,” replied Jack; “and you had better have met the devil on your road than me. Do you remember what I said when you took me at the Mint four days ago? I told you my turn would come. It has come,—and sooner than you expected.”

“So I find, Captain,” rejoined Quilt, submissively; “but you’re too noble-hearted to take advantage of my situation. Besides, I acted for others, and not for myself.”

“I know it,” replied Sheppard, “and therefore I spare your life.”

“I was sure you wouldn’t injure me, Captain,” remarked Quilt, in a wheedling tone, while he felt about for his sword; “you’re far too brave to strike a fallen man.”

“Ah! traitor!” cried Jack, who had noticed the movement; “make such another attempt, and it shall cost you your life.” So saying, he unbuckled the belt to which the janizary’s hanger was attached, and fastened it to his own girdle.

“And now,” he continued, sternly, “was it your master who has just ridden by?”

“No,” answered Quilt, sullenly.

“Who, then?” demanded Jack. “Speak, or I fire!”

“Well, if you will have it, it’s Sir Rowland Trenchard.”

“Sir Rowland Trenchard!” echoed Jack, in amazement. “What are you doing with him?”

“It’s a long story, Captain, and I’ve no breath to tell it,—unless you choose to release me,” rejoined Quilt.

“Get up, then,” said Jack, freeing his foot from the stirrup. “Now—begin.”

Quilt, however, seemed unwilling to speak.

“I should be sorry to proceed to extremities,” continued Sheppard, again raising the pistol.

“Well, since you force me to betray my master’s secrets,” replied Quilt, sullenly, “I’ve ridden express to Manchester to deliver a message to Sir Rowland.”

“Respecting Thames Darrell?” observed Jack.

“Why, how the devil did you happen to guess that?” cried the janizary.

“No matter,” replied Sheppard. “I’m glad to find I’m right. You informed Sir Rowland that Thames Darrell was returned?”

“Exactly so,” replied Quilt, “and he instantly decided upon returning to London with me. We’ve ridden post all the way, and I’m horribly tired, or you wouldn’t have mastered me so easily.”

“Perhaps not,” replied Jack, to whom an idea had suddenly occurred. “Now, Sir, I’ll trouble you for your coat. I’ve left mine on the spikes of the New Prison, and must borrow yours.”

“Why, surely you can’t be in earnest, Captain. You wouldn’t rob Mr. Wild’s chief janizary?”

“I’d rob Mr. Wild himself if I met him,” retorted Jack. “Come, off with it, sirrah, or I’ll blow out your brains, in the first place, and strip you afterwards.”

“Well, rather than you should commit so great a crime, Captain, here it is,” replied Quilt, handing him the garment in question. “Anything else?”

“Your waistcoat.”

“‘Zounds! Captain, I shall get my death of cold. I was in hopes you’d be content with my hat and wig.”

“I shall require them as well,” rejoined Sheppard; “and your boots.”

“My boots! Fire and fury! They won’t fit you; they are too large. Besides, how am I to ride home without them?”

“Don’t distress yourself,” returned Jack, “you shall walk. Now,” he added, as his commands were reluctantly obeyed, “help me on with them.”

Quilt knelt down, as if he meant to comply; but, watching his opportunity, he made a sudden grasp at Sheppard’s leg, with the intention of overthrowing him.

But Jack was too nimble for him. Striking out his foot, he knocked half a dozen teeth down the janizary’s throat; and, seconding the kick with a blow on the head from the butt-end of the pistol, stretched him, senseless and bleeding on the ground.

“Like master like man,” observed Jack as he rolled the inanimate body to the side of the road. “From Jonathan Wild’s confidential servant what could be expected but treachery?”

With this, he proceeded to dress himself in Quilt Arnold’s clothes, pulled the wig over his face and eyes so as completely to conceal his features, slouched the hat over his brows, drew the huge boots above his knees, and muffled himself up in the best way he could. On searching the coat, he found, amongst other matters, a mask, a key, and a pocket-book. The latter appeared to contain several papers, which Jack carefully put by, in the hope that they might turn out of importance in a scheme of vengeance which he meditated against the thief-taker. He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off. He had not proceeded far when he encountered Sir Rowland, who, having missed his attendant, had returned to look after him.

“What has delayed you?” demanded the knight impatiently.

“My horse has had a fall,” replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. “It was some time before I could get him to move.”

“I fancied I heard voices,” rejoined Sir Rowland.

“So did I,” answered Jack; “we had better move on. This is a noted place for highwaymen.”

“I thought you told me that the rascal who has so long been the terror of the town—Jack Sheppard—was in custody.”

“So he is,” returned Jack; “but there’s no saying how long he may remain so. Besides, there are greater rascals than Jack Sheppard at liberty, Sir Rowland.”

Sir Rowland made no reply, but angrily quickened his pace. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild’s door. Aware of Quilt Arnold’s mode of proceeding, Jack instantly dismounted, and, instead of knocking, opened the door with the pass-key. The porter instantly made his appearance, and Sheppard ordered him to take care of the horses.

“Well, what sort of journey have you had, Quilt?” asked the man as he hastened to assist Sir Rowland to dismount.

“Oh! we’ve lost no time, as you perceive,” replied Jack. “Is the governor within?”

“Yes; you’ll find him in the audience-chamber. He has got Blueskin with him.”

“Ah! indeed! what’s he doing here?” inquired Jack.

“Come to buy off Jack Sheppard, I suppose,” replied the fellow. “But it won’t do. Mr. Wild has made up his mind, and, when that’s the case, all the persuasion on earth won’t turn him. Jack will be tried to-morrow; and, as sure as my name’s Obadiah Lemon he’ll take up his quarters at the King’s-Head,” pointing to Newgate, “over the way.”

“Well, we shall see,” replied Jack. “Look to the horses, Obadiah. This way, Sir Rowland.”

As familiar as Quilt Arnold himself with every part of Wild’s mysterious abode, as well as with the ways of its inmates, Jack, without a moment’s hesitation, took up a lamp which was burning in the hall, and led his companion up the great stone stairs. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—“Sir Rowland Trenchard.”

Jonathan, who was engaged in conversation with Blueskin, instantly arose, and bowed with cringing ceremoniousness to the knight. The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair.

“You’ve arrived sooner than I expected, Sir Rowland,” observed the thief-taker. “Lost no time on the road—eh!—I didn’t expect you till to-morrow at the earliest. Excuse me an instant while I dismiss this person.—You’ve your answer, Blueskin,” he added, pushing that individual, who seemed unwilling to depart, towards the door; “it’s useless to urge the matter further. Jack is registered in the Black Book.”

“One word before I go,” urged Blueskin.

“Not a syllable,” replied Wild. “If you talk as long as an Old Bailey counsel, you’ll not alter my determination.”

“Won’t my life do as well as his?” supplicated the other.

“Humph!” exclaimed Jonathan, doubtfully. “And you would surrender yourself—eh?”

“I’ll surrender myself at once, if you’ll engage to bring him off; and you’ll get the reward from old Wood. It’s two hundred pounds. Recollect that.”

“Faithful fellow!” murmured Jack. “I forgive him his disobedience.”

“Will you do it?” persisted Blueskin.

“No,” replied Wild; “and I’ve only listened to your absurd proposal to see how far your insane attachment to this lad would carry you.”

“I do love him,” cried Blueskin, “and that’s the long and short of it. I’ve taught him all he can do; and there isn’t his fellow, and never will be again. I’ve seen many a clever cracksman, but never one like him. If you hang Jack Sheppard, you’ll cut off the flower o’ the purfession. But I’ll not believe it of you. It’s all very well to read him a lesson, and teach him obedience; but you’ve gone far enough for that.”

“Not quite,” rejoined the thief-taker, significantly.

“Well,” growled Blueskin, “you’ve had my offer.”

“And you my warning,” retorted Wild. “Good night!”

“Blueskin,” whispered Jack, in his natural tones, as the other passed him, “wait without.”