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 5.
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