of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear.
Both these ladies possessed considerable personal attractions. The younger of the two, who was seated next to Jack, and seemed to monopolize his attention, could not be more than seventeen, though her person had all the maturity of twenty. She had delicate oval features, light, laughing blue eyes, a pretty nez retroussé, (why have we not the term, since we have the best specimens of the feature?) teeth of pearly whiteness, and a brilliant complexion, set off by rich auburn hair, a very white neck and shoulders,—the latter, perhaps, a trifle too much exposed. The name of this damsel was Edgeworth Bess; and, as her fascinations will not, perhaps, be found to be without some influence upon the future fortunes of her boyish admirer, we have thought it worth while to be thus particular in describing them. The other bona roba, known amongst her companions as Mistress Poll Maggot, was a beauty on a much larger scale,—in fact, a perfect Amazon. Nevertheless though nearly six feet high, and correspondingly proportioned, she was a model of symmetry, and boasted, with the frame of a Thalestris or a Trulla, the regular lineaments of the Medicean Venus. A man’s laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. Mrs. Maggot, as well as her companion Edgeworth Bess, was showily dressed; nor did either of them disdain the aid supposed to be lent to a fair skin by the contents of the patchbox. On an empty cask, which served him for a chair, and opposite Jack Sheppard, whose rapid progress in depravity afforded him the highest satisfaction, sat Blueskin, encouraging the two women in their odious task, and plying his victim with the glass as often as he deemed it expedient to do so. By this time, he had apparently accomplished all he desired; for moving the bottle out of Jack’s reach, he appropriated it entirely to his own use, leaving the devoted lad to the care of the females. Some few of the individuals seated at the other tables seemed to take an interest in the proceedings of Blueskin and his party, just as a bystander watches any other game; but, generally speaking, the company were too much occupied with their own concerns to pay attention to anything else. The assemblage was for the most part, if not altogether, composed of persons to whom vice in all its aspects was too familiar to present much of novelty, in whatever form it was exhibited. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. Near to these hopeful youths sat a fence, or receiver, bargaining with a clouter, or pickpocket, for a suit,—or, to speak in more intelligible language, a watch and seals, two cloaks, commonly called watch-cases, and a wedge-lobb, otherwise known as a silver snuff-box. Next to the receiver was a gang of housebreakers, laughing over their exploits, and planning fresh depredations; and next to the housebreakers came two gallant-looking gentlemen in long periwigs and riding-dresses, and equipped in all other respects for the road, with a roast fowl and a bottle of wine before them. Amid this varied throng,—varied in appearance, but alike in character,—one object alone, we have said, rivetted Mrs. Sheppard’s attention; and no sooner did she in some degree recover from the shock occasioned by the sight of her son’s debased condition, than, regardless of any other consideration except his instant removal from the contaminating society by which he was surrounded, and utterly forgetting the more cautious plan she meant to have adopted, she rushed into the room, and summoned him to follow her.
“Halloa!” cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker,—“who’s that?”
“Your mother,” replied Mrs. Sheppard. “Come home directly, Sir.”
“Mother be–!” returned Jack. “Who is it, Bess?”
“How should I know?” replied Edgeworth Bess. “But if it is your mother, send her about her business.”
“That I will,” replied Jack, “in the twinkling of a bedpost.”
“Glad to see you once more in the Mint, Mrs. Sheppard,” roared Blueskin, who anticipated some fun. “Come and sit down by me.”
“Take a glass of gin, Ma’am,” cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; “it used to be your favourite liquor, I’ve heard.”
“Jack, my love,” cried Mrs. Sheppard, disregarding the taunt, “come away.”
“Not I,” replied Jack; “I’m too comfortable where I am. Be off!”
“Jack!” exclaimed his unhappy parent.
“Mr. Sheppard, if you please, Ma’am,” interrupted the lad; “I allow nobody to call me Jack. Do I, Bess, eh?”
“Nobody whatever, love,” replied Edgeworth Bess; “nobody but me, dear.”
“And me,” insinuated Mrs. Maggot. “My little fancy man’s quite as fond of me as of you, Bess. Ain’t you, Jacky darling?”
“Not quite, Poll,” returned Mr. Sheppard; “but I love you next to her, and both of you better than Her,” pointing with the pipe to his mother.
“Oh, Heavens!” cried Mrs. Sheppard.
“Bravo!” shouted Blueskin. “Tom Sheppard never said a better thing than that—ho! ho!”
“Jack,” cried his mother, wringing her hands in distraction, “you’ll break my heart!”
“Poh! poh!” returned her son; “women don’t so easily break their hearts. Do they, Bess?”
“Certainly not,” replied the young lady appealed to, “especially about their sons.”
“Wretch!” cried Mrs. Sheppard, bitterly.
“I say,” retorted Edgeworth Bess, with a very unfeminine imprecation, “I shan’t stand any more of that nonsense. What do you mean by calling me wretch, Madam!” she added marching up to Mrs. Sheppard, and regarding her with an insolent and threatening glance.
“Yes—what do you mean, Ma’am?” added Jack, staggering after her.
“Come with me, my love, come—come,” cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away.
“He shan’t go,” cried Edgeworth Bess, holding him by the other hand. “Here, Poll, help me!”
Thus exhorted, Mrs. Maggot lent her powerful aid, and, between the two, Jack was speedily relieved from all fears of being carried off against his will. Not content with this exhibition of her prowess, the Amazon lifted him up as easily as if he had been an infant, and placed him upon her shoulders, to the infinite delight of the company, and the increased distress of his mother.
“Now, let’s see who’ll dare to take him down,” she cried.
“Nobody shall,” cried Mr. Sheppard from his elevated position. “I’m my own master now, and I’ll do as I please. I’ll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they’re kept—I’ll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I’ll—”
Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. In this state, he was laid upon a bench, to sleep off his drunken fit, while his wretched mother, in spite of her passionate supplications and resistance, was, by Blueskin’s command, forcibly ejected from the house, and driven out of the Mint.
CHAPTER XV. THE ROBBERY IN WILLESDEN CHURCH
During the whole of the next day and night, the poor widow hovered like a ghost about the precincts of the debtors’ garrison,—for admission (by the Master’s express orders,) was denied her. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels. At one time, she determined to go to Wych Street, and ask Mr. Wood’s advice and assistance, but the thought of the reception she was likely to meet with from his wife deterred her from executing this resolution. Many other expedients occurred to her; but after making several ineffectual attempts