this time Caliban had returned, and Jack appeared at the hatch. He was wrapped in a loose dressing-gown of light material, and stood near the corner where the women’s dresses had just been thrown down, quite out of sight of all the party, except Mrs. Spurling, who sat on the right of the table.
Jack Sheppard escaping from the condemned hold in Newgate
“Have you got Jonathan out of the way?” he asked, in an eager whisper.
“Yes, yes,” replied Edgeworth Bess. “Patience Kite has lured him to Enfield on a false scent after Blueskin. You need fear no interruption from him, or any of his myrmidons.”
“That’s well!” cried Jack. “Now stand before me, Poll. I’ve got the watch-spring saw in my sleeve. Pretend to weep both of you as loudly as you can. This spike is more than half cut through. I was at work at it yesterday and the day before. Keep up the clamour for five minutes, and I’ll finish it.”
Thus urged, the damsels began to raise their voices in loud lamentation.
“What the devil are you howling about?” cried Langley. “Do you think we are to be disturbed in this way? Make less noise, hussies, or I’ll turn you out of the Lodge.”
“For shame, Mr. Langley,” rejoined Mrs. Spurling: “I blush for you, Sir! To call yourself a man, and interfere with the natural course of affection! Have you no feeling for the situation of those poor disconsolate creatures, about to be bereaved of all they hold dear? Is it nothing to part with a husband to the gallows? I’ve lost four in the same way, and know what it is.” Here she began to blubber loudly for sympathy.
“Comfort yourself, my charmer,” said Mr. Marvel, in a tone intended to be consolatory. “I’ll be their substitute.”
“You!” cried the tapstress, with a look of horror: “Never!”
“Confusion!” muttered Jack, suddenly pausing in his task, “the saw has broken just as I am through the spike.”
“Can’t we break it off?” replied Mrs. Maggot.
“I fear not,” replied Jack, despondingly.
“Let’s try, at all events,” returned the Amazon.
And grasping the thick iron rod, she pushed with all her force against it, while Jack seconded her efforts from within. After great exertions on both parts, the spike yielded to their combined strength, and snapped suddenly off.
“Holloa — what’s that?” cried Austin, starting up.
“Only my darbies,” returned Jack, clinking his chains.
“Oh! that was all, was it?” said the turnkey, quietly reseating himself.
“Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters,” whispered Sheppard. “Quick.”
“Here it is,” replied Edgeworth Bess.
“Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through,” cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation. “Keep a sharp look out, Bess.”
“Stop!” interposed Edgeworth Bess; “Mr. Langley is getting up, and coming this way. We’re lost.”
“Help me through at all hazards, Poll,” cried Jack, straining towards the opening.
“The danger’s past,” whispered Bess. “Mrs. Spurling has induced him to sit down again. Ah! she looks this way, and puts her finger to her lips. She comprehends what we’re about. We’re all safe!”
“Don’t lose a moment then,” cried Jack, forcing himself into the aperture, while the Amazon, assisted by Bess, pulled him through it.
“There!” cried Mrs. Maggot, as she placed him without noise upon the ground; “you’re safe so far.”
“Come, my disconsolate darlings,” cried Austin, “it only wants five minutes to six. I expect Mr. Wild here presently. Cut it as short as you can.”
“Only two minutes more, Sir,” intreated Edgeworth Bess, advancing towards him in such a manner as to screen Jack, who crept into the farthest part of the angle — “only two minutes, and we’ve done.”
“Well, well, I’m not within a minute,” rejoined the turnkey.
“We shall never be able to get you out unseen, Jack,” whispered Poll Maggot. “You must make a bold push.”
“Impossible,” replied Sheppard, in the same tone. “That would be certain destruction. I can’t run in these heavy fetters. No: I must face it out. Tell Bess to slip out, and I’ll put on her cloak and hood.”
Meanwhile, the party at the table continued drinking and chatting as merrily as before.
“I can’t help thinking of Jack Sheppard’s speech to Mr. Kneebone,” observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; “I’m sure he’s meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night.”
“Poh! poh!” rejoined Ireton; “it was mere idle boasting. I examined the Condemned Hold myself carefully this morning, and didn’t find a nail out of its place. Recollect, he’s chained to the ground by a great horse-padlock, and is never unloosed except when he comes to that hatch. If he escapes at all, it must be before our faces.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if he did,” remarked Griffin. “He’s audacity enough for anything. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse — stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair.”
“Caught you napping, eh?” rejoined Ireton, with a laugh. “Well, he won’t do that here. I’ll forgive him if he does.”
“And so will I,” said Austin. “We’re too wide awake for that. Ain’t we, partner?” he added, appealing to Langley, whom punch had made rather dozy.
“I should think so,” responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn.
During this colloquy, Jack had contrived unobserved to put on the hood and cloak, and being about the size of the rightful owner, presented a very tolerable resemblance to her. This done, Edgeworth Bess, who watched her opportunity, slipped out of the Lodge.
“Halloa!” exclaimed Austin, who had caught a glimpse of her departing figure, “one of the women is gone!”
“No — no,” hastily interposed Mrs. Spurling; “they’re both here. Don’t you see they’re putting on their cloaks?”
“That’s false!” rejoined Marvel, in a low tone; “I perceive what has taken place.”
“Oh! goodness!” ejaculated the tapstress, in alarm. “You won’t betray him.”
“Say the word, and I’m mum,” returned the executioner.
“Will you be mine!”
“It’s a very unfair advantage to take — very,” replied Mrs. Spurling; “however I consent.”
“Then I’ll lend a helping hand. I shall lose my fees and the laced coat. But it’s better to have the bride without the weddin’ dress, than the weddin’ dress without the bride.”
At this moment, Saint Sepulchre’s clock struck six.
“Close the wicket, Austin,” vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone.
“Good bye!” cried Jack, as if taking leave of his mistresses, “to-morrow, at the same time.”
“We’ll be punctual,” replied Mrs. Maggot. “Good bye, Jack! Keep up your spirits.”
“Now for it! — life or death!” exclaimed Jack, assuming the gait of a female, and stepping towards the door.
As Austin rose to execute his principal’s commands, and usher