On the following morning, Affidavy presented himself at the prison, and demanded access to his client.
"Client!" said the jailer, with a stare. "Why now, Affidavy, man, (begging your pardon for being familiar,) there's none of your birds roosting in my hen-house."
"A smaller on that, Lingo,—come, what will you lay?" said the man of law, seizing upon the official's hand, and shaking it with great apparent friendship. "Come, stir about, Lingo; clink, clink, stir bolt, clash key, and open. It's long since we've had a crack together; but we'll have a jolly rouse yet. Ah! that knotty old Schlachtenschlager! my head is in a reel yet; must have something to steady my nerves."
"Well, squire," said Lingo, a coarse-featured, shag-headed personage, with a fist like the butt of an oak-tree, and altogether a low and mean look which might have been supposed to sink him below the notice of the attorney, had not Affidavy's habits made him long since a fitting associate for even a meaner man; "Well, squire," he said, with an air as if even he regarded his visiter with some little contempt, "I don't care if I treat you to a drop; though my whiskey's none of the smoothest, neither."
"Curse your whiskey!" said the man of law, pulling a guinea from his pocket. "Do you see this yellow boy, my lad of knuckles? Botheration upon you, I came here to spend the day with you, and I intend to treat you royally. So, call your boy, Hanschen, and let him fetch me a quart of cognac from old Brauntweinpunsch's, for he keeps the best in all Hillborough. And do you take care of the change for me, and help yourself, if you like, while I am holding counsel with the prisoner."
"Icod," said Lingo, balancing the coin in his hand, "I never stick at a good offer; but I should like to know where this little feller came from. Howsomever, 'tis none of my business; and so Hans shall go. But, who's your client, squire? I'm glad you've got a job, for you're a devil of a feller at a speech,—I always said that for you. Which prisoner do you wish to see?"
"Why, the young Hawk of the Hollow, to be sure."
"Odds bobs, squire," said Lingo, scratching his head, "you're too late for that cock-robin, I'm thinking."
"Too late! He ha'n't broke jail already!" tried the alarmed attorney.
"Broke jailalready!" echoed Lingo, with a grin. "I dunna what you mean by that; but if he breaks jail at any time, while I'm king of the ring, you may call me Jack Robinson. No, the matter's not so bad as that: but he sent yesterday for young Pepperel"——
"God bless our two souls!" ejaculated the lawyer.
"And they say," continued Lingo, "he is to have old Timberkin likewise; for, it seems, the younker has money."
"What! old Long-tongue Timberkin? Zounds, we'll have the whole crow's-nest at the picking! Oons, man, let me in to him."
"Well, I dunna," muttered Lingo, leading the way, however, to the prisoner's cell; "I reckon, 'twere as well to save his money for something else; for it's a clear case with him, eh, squire?" And as he spoke, he made a gesture with his finger around his throat, the meaning of which was not to be mistaken. "Howsomever, here you are. When you're done with him, just knock at the door, and I'll let you out."
The next moment, Affidavy found himself alone with the prisoner. He sat, apparently half stupified, on a low bed, beneath a grated window, from which a silvery light fell upon the crown of his head, his shoulders, his knees, and his hands that were clasped upon them, while his visage, and nearly all his person, were lost in dusky shadow. A little table with food and water was at his side, but both were left apparently untouched. His limbs were unfettered; and this circumstance Affidavy might have referred to the humanity of the jailer, had he not perceived at a glance how unnecessary was such a precaution with one whose bodily powers were as much enfeebled as those of his spirit. Indeed, there was a look of such utter wretchedness about the unfortunate youth as might have softened a harder heart than the jailer's; and even Affidavy began to survey him with a touch of pity. He raised his eyes, when the door was opened, but cast them again on the floor; for indeed there was so little in Affidavy's appearance to excite attention, that he supposed him to be some assistant of the jailer, or perhaps a common officer, come on some errand of duty, with which he would be soon made acquainted. This suspicion was dispelled by the attorney; who no sooner heard the bolt shoot back into the stone door-post, than he advanced, declaring his name and character.
"Affidavy?" muttered the youth, with a dejected voice: "I thought it was Mr. Timberkin, that Mr. Pepperel was to bring me."
"Pshaw, botheration," said the lawyer, "you were a goose to send for such ninnies; we can do better without them. And what can these fellows do for you? Where will you find them riding about of a stormy night, picking up evidence, laying plans, and so on? However, we can find them something to do: I'll sort them; I know what they are fitted for. You stare at me—Very well; I understand what you mean. I come from your friends, sir, and"—
"From my friends?" cried Hyland, starting up, wildly: "from whom? I have no friends here—none, at least, butone;and, oh God of heaven! they tell me I have killed her too!"
"Oh, you mean old Elsie," said the attorney: "hang her, (that is, poor old soul!) she's not dead yet."
"But Catherine?—Miss Loring?—Captain Loring's daughter?" cried the youth, with a voice and countenance of despair; "what news of her?"
"Aha! I understand," muttered Affidavy. "But don't be alarmed; there's no death there.—A little fright and grief, sir,—that's all; they never kill one." Hyland clasped his hands, and buried his face between them; and the lawyer continued,—
"Quite a small matter, I assure you, and will blow by, when we get you safely off."
"Get me off!" cried Hyland, again starting to his feet, in the greatest agitation. "Is there any hope of that? No, there is none!" he exclaimed, vehemently: "I am a blood-stained man, I have taken life, I am a murderer"—
"Tush and botheration, hush!" said Affidavy, clapping his hand over the prisoner's mouth; "why need you be blabbing? That was confession enough to end the matter, without plea or witness: 'tis just a charge to the jury, a verdict in the box, and then a long face and the hangman."
"Misery! misery!" cried the unhappy youth: "and to this I have brought myself! the death, the ignominy, of a felon! I know it, I see it very clearly," he added with indescribable emotion, "I see how it must end—good God, upon the gallows! But it shall not be; I will die first—thank heaven, I am dying already! Put but the trial off—they say the court opens this day!—put it off but a week; you shall have an hundred guineas, five hundred, a thousand, all that I have!—only put off the trial a week, that I may die before they drag me into the light again! I deserve to die, I am willing to die, but not, oh heaven! not upon a gibbet!"
"Zounds!" cried Affidavy, who strove in vain to interrupt this burst of frenzied feelings, "you are taking the best way to reach a gibbet, notwithstanding. You are mad, I believe; botheration, sir, if you talk this way, there will be no saving you"—
"Saving me! Can I be saved? that is, not from death, but from ignominious death? Hark you, sir,—they have taken away my money, but I have enough more. Get me a knife, a pistol, a rope, a dose of poison"——
"Tush; if you do not cease this mad raving, and let me speak, I will be gone; you are making the case desperate. Be silent, and listen. Your case is bad, sir, very bad, I must confess, sir. But you have friends, sir; and you may hope; yes, you may hope—if you are wise, sir, you may hope.—You have——Now don't start, or cry out, or I'll leave you—Ehem, sir, I must whisper—you have relations,—a brother, sir"—
"Oran!" cried the prisoner, who would have again started up, had he not been held in his seat by Affidavy: "oh, heaven be thanked! he has not deserted me! Have you seen him? where is he? what can he do for me? will he rescue me?"
"Tush, you must be quiet. If you will speak, let it be in a whisper. As for the trial, why we will stop that if we can. A British officer, with a king's commission in his hand, taken in arms, cannot be shuffled into a cart by a civil tribunal, for following his vocation, and slitting a throat or two. Now, Mr. Lieutenant Gilbert, you understand me? You have a commission."
"No, by heaven! I refused it: I am no officer, and this will not avail me. I am no officer, I was none; nor was I so much even as a volunteer. I refused the commission up to the last moment, and this is the end of it: I would not be the enemy of what was my native country,—of my countrymen; and now they are all enemies of mine! I was not a member of the band; I never acted with it,—never save that fatal once, and then I went not to make war,—no, not even upon the poor wretch I killed—Would to God the pistol had been turned against my own breast!"
"Tush," said Affidavy, interrupting what bade fair to end in another violent paroxysm, "that's wide of the question. The band looked upon you as officer; and unless that fellow, Sterling"—
"The villain! it is he has ruined me!"
"Unless he can swear to the contrary, which he can't, (and, botheration, there's a way of stopping his mouth altogether;) who will be the wiser? Now if we could get Dancy Parkins admitted, along with Sterling, as evidence for the commonwealth—However, we can't; and we'll say no more about it: the prosecuting attorney swears he'll hang him. His mouth is, at all events, sealed. We are safe enough. Here is the commission: Now, sir, you will put a bold face on the matter, insist upon your privilege, and"——
"Perjure myself with a lie? avow myself the enemy of my native land? and so die worse and more degraded than I am? Never! Duplicity has made me what I am; a deception that I thought innocent and harmless, has brought me to this pass. Had I come without concealment, then I had left without disgrace, without crime. Oh fool, fool that I was! Talk of this no more: it was on this ground Mr. Pepperel thought of defending me; but on this ground I will not be defended."
"Oho! and young ninny has been before me there, too?" muttered the lawyer. "Well, botheration," he continued, falling into a deep study, in which he held counsel only with himself,—"there is but the one shift in which the rascals won't join me,—but one path in which I can walk this goose-head off alone. Well now, all depends upon Lingo: the rogue has a head as thick as a mountain, and a considerable deal harder. 'Twere a shame to waste gold upon such a clod-headed pig. Give him fifty guineas! God bless our two souls! it were a mere casting of pearls before swine, and, in some sort, a robbing of my own pockets. A shilling's worth of laudanum were a better fee, besides being cheaper. But we'll see."
Having concluded his meditations, he turned to the prisoner, who sat surveying him with an anxious countenance, as if expecting some better comfort from his thoughts, and then said,—
"Well, botheration, we'll have to think of another thing. It is well you are not fettered."——
The young man writhed as if struck with a lash; but before he could speak, Affidavy continued, though with an emphatic gesture for silence,—"For that saves us all the vexation and danger of sawing. You see this little instrument?" he said, displaying a file. "Now, be quiet on your life, sir. You will understand from this, that there is something in the wind boding you good. You are sick and wasted—you were hurt in the scuffle, too; but put you beyond these stone walls, with a saddled horse under you, could you ride him?—Why, botheration, what makes you tremble so?"
"Oh heaven!" cried Hyland, "do not mock me! Nay, I will whisper. Give me the file: I will cut the grating through."
"It does not need," said Affidavy, "and I have no notion of running any risk by leaving it in your hands. But you must understand, sir, (hold your ear close,) that this is a very ugly piece of business, especially forme:if discovered, sir, I am a ruined man; the penalty, sir, is the very next thing to hanging; ay, sir, and in my estimation, somewhat worse; but that's according as we think of it. Now, sir"——
"I understand you," muttered Hyland. "You shall name your own reward—half of my estate, if you will; nay, all—all, so you get me but to the woods, where I can die in peace, and undishonoured!"
"Tush, we'll not think of death: you'll live and be happy. Then as for reward, why, sir, I would not have you think me extortionate, or capable of taking advantage of your distress. No, sir, by no means; I am a lawyer, sir, but an honest man."
"For God's sake, take what you will. Say nothing more; you shall have your wish."
"Oh, sir," said Affidavy, "there is no hurry. As for taking all your estate, or even half of it, sir,—sir, do not believe I will think of that! No, sir; I am neither a buzzard nor a niggur's dog. But I must be indemnified for losses: I ruin myself, sir,—I must sacrifice an excellent practice, sir,—my reputation, sir, and my prospects. In a word, sir, I must e'en take to my heels along with you; for after such a prank as a jail-breaking, the county will be too hot to hold me. Sir, I remember your father: he was a wronged man, sir; and my feelings will not suffer me to see his youngest son too severely handled. I once knew your brothers, sir, and I always thought they were badly treated. Sir, I feel much grieved to see poor old Mr. Gilbert's son brought to such a pass. Sir, my regard for your deceased parent makes me do what I do; and, (not to whip the devil round the stump any longer, sir,) I must confess, sir, that what I do is a very scoundrelly piece of business, sir; which if any body had proposed to me in behalf of any other person in the world, I should certainly, sir, have knocked the proposer over the mazzard,—I would, sir, botheration."
"What needs more words?" said Hyland, too much agitated to think of weighing the motives of his new ally in the balance of conscience or interest. "Make your demand, and have it."
"Ah! sir," said Affidavy, with a snuffle through the nose, "it is a sorrowful thing to be driven from home and friends, to wander an exile over the earth! There's my poor Mrs. Affidavy,—the thing will break her heart. However," he added, for the prisoner began to wax frantic with impatience, "I don't believe in breaking hearts, after all,—especially Mrs. Affidavy's. Sir, you are a rich man, and a young man, and a man without family or cares. I will not sell my humanity, sir; no, botheration, I'm above that; but I will accept of your superfluity what will indemnify me for the losses I endure in your service. Your case is very bad, sir; and indeed, if you were even a commissioned officer, it could not be much better. The indictment is already framed, and will this day, or at furthest to-morrow, be returned a true bill by the grand jury. You are a rich man, sir—had I pleaded your cause and saved your life, I should have expected a fee of five hundred guineas, (a small sum for a rich man's life;) and there's old Long-tongue and Pepperel would have demanded as much more, each. But, sir, I'll save you five hundred guineas; and leave these fellows to whistle. We'll say a thousand guineas, then, and"——
"All, I tell you, all, all!" cried the unhappy prisoner. "Take any thing, take every thing"——
"God forbid!" cried Affidavy, devoutly; "I will not prey upon you. If you, from your own generosity, should think of adding five hundred more to the fifteen hundred, why sir, I should thankfully receive them. But I leave that to yourself, sir. At present, sir, I shall be content with what I have named; and will take your note of hand for the amount. You see, sir," he added, drawing from a huge and well thumbed pocket-wallet, a slip of paper, which with an ink-horn, he immediately deposited on the table, "I have drawn this entirely in your favour, payment not to be demanded unless upon the successful completion of a certain service not mentioned, and then in such way as will suit your convenience. If I fail, sir, I am ruined, sir, and yet receive nothing. Allow me to fill the blanks, sir, and then, sir, you can sign. I will fill them first, sir, in order that you may see I take no advantage of you, sir. Two thousand guineas, sir, is a small sum, a very small sum, when one thinks of a gallows.—Sir, be not alarmed—your hand trembles, sir; but I trust to your honour to recognise the signature—yes, sir, I prefer your honour to twenty witnesses, sir. You shall escape, sir; or damn it, sir," added the harpy, in the enthusiasm of gratitude, "I will hang along with you!"
It was fortunate the worthy Affidavy had some bowels of compassion; for had he filled up the blanks of his villanous contract with an amount comprehending the whole worldly wealth of the poor prisoner, it would have been subscribed with equal alacrity. What was gold in the balance with life? what price could be held dear that procured a remission from ignominy? Hyland clutched at the pen as at the bolt of his prison-door; and, in the same frenzy, subscribed, in addition, an order committing his good roan horse to the disposition of his counsel, which Affidavy declared to be necessary, Hyland neither asked or sought to know how, to the success of the enterprise. This accomplished, and the papers safely deposited away in the wallet, the attorney wrung his client by the hand, and that somewhat wildly, giving him to understand that he was to hold himself in readiness that very night to escape, and recommending him to sleep a little during the day, the better to support the toil of flight. He charged him, twenty times over, to be silent and wary, to look as wo-begone and despairing as possible, and above all things to hold no conversation that could be avoided, with his other counsel. Then wringing his hand again, with the most convulsive sympathy, he knocked at the cell-door, was let out, and would have run into the open air without uttering a word, so big was his mind with the conception of his vast fee, had he not been arrested by the astonished jailer.
"Ods bobs!" said Lingo, "have you forgot the brandy, squire?"
"Botheration!" cried Affidavy, with a wild stare.
"Ods bobs!" re-echoed Lingo, "is the man mad? Why, Affidavy, what ails you? You look as white and wild as the prisoner!"
"Oh! ah! ay! the prisoner? yes, the prisoner," said the attorney, rubbing his nose and chin with great zeal, and recovering his wits. "Oh, ay, I remember: the prisoner, poor fellow! Ah, Lingo, Lingo! 'tis a hard case, a sorrowful case, a heart-aching case. I declare, Lingo, I could sit down and blubber; I could, botheration, I could!" and here the sympathetic counsel, to Lingo's amazement, burst into a loud uproarious laugh, such as he had never been known to give vent to before.
"The devil's in the man, sure enough," said Lingo. "But I see, I see," he muttered, surveying Affidavy sagaciously, "he has been blowing it a little too hard, and now he's getting a touch of theHorrors. Well, well, brandy's the best cure for that; and he shall have a snap at his own medicine."
So saying, the jailer poured out a glass of cognac, the rich odour of which had no sooner reached Affidavy's nostrils than his spirits became composed, he stretched forth his hand, and the smacking of his lips proclaimed the fervour of his satisfaction.
"Old Brauntweinpunsch for ever!" he cried. "Ah, Lingo, you dog! you know what's what! Ehem, sir, botheration and tush! God bless our two souls, but I'm monstrous sleepy! Out all last night, Lingo, in the rain; was upset in the brook up at old Schlachtenschlager's, and half drowned, and hadn't a wink of sleep. I believe, I was dreaming all the time the poor fellow up there was telling his story. Must go home and nap a little—But no, I can't! Will finish the jug there, Lingo, before the day's out, ehem. Can give us a bed, here, Lingo, man, in case of necessity? What d'ye say? Rather full at Mrs. Affidavy's, and a wash-day, too. Oh, you dog, botheration, we'll have a rouse under lock and key to-night, won't we? Have something to tell you, and must be near the prisoner. But mum, boy, mum's the word! We'll have a rouse to the health of my client."
With that, the attorney made another long face, fell into a second roar of merriment, and went flying from the prison.
It was night before Affidavy returned again to the prison; a circumstance that might be supposed to puzzle the brain of the jailer not a little, whenever he happened to cast his eyes upon the bottle provided at the lawyer's own expense, and considered the notorious degree of attraction existing between the material spirits of the one, and the immaterial spirit of the other. Before he had yet determined whether the phenomenon should be attributed to the disorder of mind he was first disposed to suspect on the part of Affidavy, or to some uncommon display of his zeal on the prisoner's behalf, Affidavy made his appearance, and notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, was immediately admitted,—not so much, however, as a man of law visiting his client, as an old friend and crony, whom Lingo introduced for his own private satisfaction. The attorney, nevertheless, after squeezing the jailer's hand, and giving way to a grin of extraordinary friendship, averred he must see his client, before indulging a moment in pleasure; and assuring Lingo, with uncommon spirit and generosity, that he designed treating him like a prince, bade him, out of the funds he had placed in his hands, lay in a store of all drinkables he could devise, with pipes and tobacco, and so forth, so that they might have a jolly time of it together. Then, after remaining half an hour with the prisoner, he returned to the jailer's private quarters, snapped his fingers, as if exulting at being delivered from toil and restraint, swore he was the busiest dog that ever slaved at a case, but would take his comfort and his ease, without troubling himself farther for the night, were all the gallows-dogs in the world calling on him for assistance. "Drink, Lingo, you rogue," said he; "give me a pipe, and snuff the candle; for I abhor taking the first whiff out of a greasy old cotton-wick. Drink, you big-fisted, honest old sly-boots; and I'll tell you all about the case."
"Well, squire, I'm for you," said Lingo, swallowing a draught that showed him to be serious; "but I reckon I know all about the case; and it's a clear hanging matter, as you must own."
"If I do, botheration on me!" said the lawyer. "There's two sides to every case; and all killing a'n't murder, nor manslaughter neither, for the matter of that."
"Well, it's well to keep a good heart—I always said you had good pluck, Affidavy, especially in desperate cases: but there was old Timberkin here this afternoon, who went off with a long face; and there was Pepperel, who as much as confessed there was no hope for the young one. And why should there be? For my part, I don't reckon it any great matter to have plumped a bullet into one of the Falconer kidney; but when it comes to a bloody refugee playing such outdacious tricks, why there, Affidavy, I stick; it's clear ag'in all principle; and there's ne'er a man of any jury you can pack in the county, but will say—Hang!"
"Tush, drink—here's to you. You've been gabbling with Pepperel and Timberkin—numskulls, Lingo—between you and me, numskulls. What do they know about the case? what have they been doing to study it? Here have they been all day laying their fool's pates together over it, like two owls at mid-day over a dead bull-frog, not knowing what to make of it. Drink, you rascal. Now had you but been at old Schlachtenschlager's last night! Ah!—However, that's neither here nor there. Now, I, my boy, botheration, I study my cases in another manner, and I have been studying this hard all day. But how? Ay, there's the question, tush. Riding about, hunting witnesses from post to pillar, servingsubpoenas, and all that, and smelling out the intents of the prosecution."
"What witnesses do you want?" said Lingo: "it's a clear case, and the younker owns to it. I'm to swear myself, that he admitted the murder: he made no denial"——
"He's an ass," said Affidavy; "a fool and a madman, who would knock his head against a post, sooner than go round it, were his skull no thicker even than a pumpkin-shell."
"Oh, ay!" said Lingo, nodding over his glass, "I see what you're at: you'll make it out anon cumpusscase? But that won't do, squire; I swear ag'in' you there: there's no mad in him; there's more in some of the witnesses. But I suppose you have been raking up for witnesses about old Elsie Bell's? The lad begged I would send for her; but, they say, she is in a dying way?"
"Bad enough, bad enough," said the lawyer: "and a good witness, too; but we can do without her."
"Well, I reckon you'll want all you have," said the jailer; "for they're strong for the commonwealth. There's Dancy Parkins, they've taken him for state's evidence, along with this here gallivanting fellow, Sterling, that came in for quarter, and a power of others beside. I dunna why they're so easy on Dancy; but they say, he's not deep in for't; and the prosecution's ag'in' hanging him. They say, Colonel Falconer has sworn he will have the youngster's blood, if it costs him the price of Hawk-Hollow twice over."
"Tush, what care we? The devil take Falconer, and the witnesses too,—as undoubtedly the devil will. As for your Sterling, I can smash his testimony as I would a rotten apple. Botheration, the man has a neck of his own."
"Oh, ay, in the matter of the spying?" said Lingo: "but they say, they will wink and let him off, if Colonel Falconer be so minded; and they say, too, he was promised protection by the soldiers, and a clear pardon, on condition he fetched 'em into all Oran Gilbert's hiding-places. I don't see, for my part, how a soldier can promise any such thing, seeing that a soldier is neither a judge nor a governor. And moresomover, there's the matter of the attempt to do murder on Colonel Falconer; for, I reckon, that can be proved on him; and how he is to get clear of that, if the Colonel pushes him, I don't know. Howsomever, his case is bad—the man has a bad conscience; though, perhaps, 'tis only a small touch of the horrors,—for he has been drinking hard ever since he has been in prison."
"Oh, the devil take him, base turncoat and betrayer," said Affidavy: "I hold honour among thieves to be as good a rule as honesty between friends. And between you and me, Lingo, he has served the Hawks a turn they will not forget. You know how they hanged that soldier, Parker? Well now, two pigs to a pound of butter, as the saying is, you'll hear of this fellow swinging in a swamp, some time before doomsday."
"Ay; when they get him," said Lingo, "and with all my heart. But, you see, there's no talk of proceeding against him; and when the trial's over, I reckon he'll show the county a clean pair of heels—that is, if he ever gets over his hurts; for, you must know, there's something of the staggers about him,—a sort of horrors, as I said,—but I don't know; and if you stay here long enough, you'll hear him squeal out in his sleep, like a choking dog. Ods bobs! he made a squeak last night, and I thought the devil had him: so I runs into his room, and there I sees him sitting on his bed-side, all of a shiver, and as white as a sheet, singing out, as if he was talking to old Nicodemus,
'Shake not your jolly locks at me,'
'Shake not your jolly locks at me,'
or something of that natur', I dunna what, but it was about locks and bolts, and the lord knows what; but I fetched him a box on the ear; and that brought him to, and he fell to groaning. And now, Affidavy, here's to you; and I don't care if I do you a bit of a service, though I don't see what good can come of it. If it will do your cause any service, to knock this here testimony on the head, why a hint's as good as a long sermon, as the saying is. Just 'validate him on the p'int of his upper story, and call me and Hanschen to swear to his doings and sayings; for I reckon, he's a clearernon cumpusscase than the prisoner. Howsomever, that can't do no good; for I'm clear in for swearing to the youngster's admitting he killed the deceased, which is quite a settler of the whole hash."
"Tush," said Affidavy, "let him swear, and swear his best. There is testimony enough to do the business, if we trust to that. The devil take the case; I won't bother my brains with it any further. However, Lingo, my boy, it was a queer thing of yours, that letting the prisoner go clear of gloves and garters. He might break jail,—eh, my boy!"
"As how?" said Lingo. "No, squire, you don't come over me there. I clapped the irons on him at first; but, you see, poor fellow, I saw he was sick, and just as weak and heavy-hearted as a pipped poult, and no more fear of dodging in him than an old horse: so I knocked the clinkers off, and let him have the swing of the room, poor fellow; and there he's safe enough. Moresomover, I never heard tell of his being much of a Hawk, only in blood and name; and I have a sort of pity on him."
"Ah, yes," said Affidavy, with a melancholy stare; "if you were to hear his story, Lingo, it would melt your heart; for you have a soft heart, Lingo, a merciful heart, Lingo; and it will go well with you, Lingo; for there's something said in the Bible about the merciful."
"Well," said Lingo, "I don't set up for much of that, nor for much religion neither; but I never beats a prisoner, except when he's contrary; and this here youngster seems much of a gentleman; and I have a notion, if he's well treated, he may leave me something; for he has a gold watch, (howsomever, the Sheriff's got it;) and, they say, he's well-to-do in the world.—But, squire, drink on; it's getting late."
"Let it," said Affidavy; "here am I fixed for the night; for how do I know but that you may be in trouble before morning, and may want a friend to help you?"
"Trouble! and help!" said Lingo, looking up with surprise. "If you mean that Sterling and his squeaking, why, ods bobs, it only needs a cuff or two to bring him about. Ods bobs, Affidavy," he added, with a grin, "if you stay, I reckon, it'syoumay want a friend to help you. I don't say nothing; but he that's got a speech to make before court and jury to-morrow, should not be too free of the creatur' to-night."
Affidavy, who had not yet betrayed any strong symptoms of being affected by his good cheer, shook his head mysteriously, and then replied,
"There's no telling what might happen, Lingo. These refugees are devils incarnate, as far as daring goes. The whole regiment here is out in chase of them, and all the able-bodied men of the village in company; so that there's nothing left to keep guard over us but old women and young ones. Now, Lingo, we'll suppose a case—how many men, armed with muskets and axes, would it take to sack your stone jug here, smash open a door, and let out the prisoners?"
"Ods bobs!" said Lingo, "I don't know: but I reckon I could hold out, me and Hanschen, until we had assistance. But, howsomever, that's supposing a case that can't happen."
"Don't be too secure," said the attorney, with a solemn voice; "for there's no saying what may happen, when there's such a man as Oran Gilbert in the case. I reckon, an axe and a few crowbars, with an auger or two, might soon make way through the yard-gate; and then, the back-door would be but a mere joke; and then, Lingo, why surrender, or hard axe and soft head would be the end of it."
"Ods bobs!" said Lingo, "what puts such a notion as that into your head? There's ne'er a tory, now, within forty miles of us!"
"Ah, Lingo! This is a wicked world, with a good many crooked ways in it; and there's a deal of 'em lead to the jail-door. My own notion is, that Oran Gilbert is lying where no one would think of disturbing him. Now, Lingo, you and I are friends. You're an honest fellow, Lingo, but, botheration, you're mortal. And so, Lingo, I shouldn't trust you too far, if Oran Gilbert came to the wall-gate, about the time of cricket-cry, chucked you over a purse with a matter of ten guineas or so in it, while you stood peeping at the key-hole."
"Oho!" said Lingo, staring at the attorney with that sort of perplexity which a stupid man betrays when endeavouring to fathom the point of a jest, which he is sensible ought to be laughed at; "Oho, squire, I see what you are after,—he, he, he!" he said, beginning to giggle, and lifting a glass as he laughed. "I'm a mortal man, sure enough, and might take a fee, as well as e'er a lawyer in the land. But ten guineas is a small sum, Affidavy; and as for opening a jail-door for such a small matter, why, Affidavy, that's only—he, he, he! And so you've been retained by the tories? he, he, he! Well, I was wondering where the yallow boy came from,—he, he, he!"
"Tush! retained by the tories?I!" said the man of law, somewhat disconcerted.
"Oh, squire, a joke for a joke's all fair; tit for tat, you know,—
as the saying is;" and the worthy Lingo again burst into a peal of mirth, which allayed the sudden alarm of his companion. Affidavy looked him in the face, and became satisfied from the air of stupid glee which invested the jailer's features, that the liquor was suddenly beginning to fill his noddle; and in this conceit he was confirmed by Lingo adding, after another preliminary giggle,
"Well now, Affidavy, I'm an honest feller,—as you say, but I scorn being a fool. I know what's what; and I wish somebody would chuck me ten guineas over the wall-gate; I wouldn't ask him whether he was a tory or true American; for, you see, a guinea's a guinea, and clean stuff, no matter what pocket it comes from. But then, squire, as to opening the gate for such a small matter, he, he, he! why, I'm too honest for that. I'm a poor man, but, as I said, he, he, he! I scorn being a fool; and so, he, he, he! as you and me is friends, Affidavy, why, if the man was to chuck about fifty more to the back of 'em, why, he, he, he! I don't know what might become of my prisoners."
"Fifty guineas!" cried Affidavy, grinning in return, but with a sort of scorn; "that's putting your honesty at a higher price than your soul, for which, botheration, I would not give half the money."
"He, he!" said Lingo, slapping his boon companion on the knee, and nodding and winking in a manner meant to be exceedingly significant; "but come now, what'll they give? for I'll stand to reason."
"Give!whogive?" said Affidavy, affecting surprise. "Oh! the tories, you mean. Tush, how do I know? Perhaps you might get twelve or thirteen guineas out of them; and that's a good round sum."
"He, he, he!" said Lingo; "but what do you get yourself?"
"I!" said Affidavy, again alarmed. His trepidation was however driven to flight by another fit of laughter, in which Lingo's honest countenance indicated the most expressive innocence of all suspicion.
"Ods bobs!" said he, "I wouldn't sell a prisoner under fifty pounds; and if they'd talk to me about that, he, he, he!"—and here he could scarce proceed for laughing: "No, no; if you'll strike a bargain for me for fifty pounds, in hard money, why then, he, he! they may take my prisoners, and hang them, if they will. But it's all one; there's no such luck for poor Bob Lingo: honesty won't fetch any thing worth having now-a-days. Fifty guineas! a small sum: why one could get more for letting a toryinjail. But, he, he, he! it's all one to Bob Lingo. I'm 'mazing sleepy, squire! But I know what'll keep me awake, he, he! I've got a barrel of wonderful fine cherry bounce; and, he, he! I'll go fetch a pitcher of it, and we'll make a night of it, I warrant me."
With these words, he left the apartment.
"Bravissimo!" said the attorney, as soon as he had departed; "I'll cheat the unconscionable rascal out of every penny. He's as drunk as a pig already."
He stole to the door, peeped out, and then, satisfied that Lingo was beyond observation, proceeded to pour into a glass, from a little vial he drew from his pocket, a goodly dose of laudanum, to which he forthwith added sugar and brandy, muttering to himself all the while, "Here's a dose for the dog will make him sleep like a wood-chuck at Christmas; but 'twont hurt him. Botheration, I'm sleepy myself, the lord knows: but two thousand guineas! Two thousand devils! I'm a made man, even if the young ass repents his bargain and makes me 'bate one half!—Givehimfifty guineas! pearls before swine! He'll sleep like a top; and as for Hanschen, why he's fast already——Devils! what's that?—Oh, the drunken fool has tumbled over a chair, and smashed the pitcher!—Could hear the clink and clatter together. Am somewhat drunk myself; but a little does me good."
Having completed the soporific potion so kindly designed for Lingo, and not without producing some clattering of glasses, for he was far from being sober, he sat down and prepared a second glass as much like the first as possible, except that he took good care not to qualify it from the vial, which he restored to his pocket. He then began to hum, and kick his heels together, wondering what kept the jailer away so long. "The town is already fast asleep," he grumbled, "and my three jolly tories will be whistling at the gate like seven thousand katydids. Poor Mrs. Affidavy! how she will stare and scold in the morning! Odd rabbit her, she has a tongue might suit a judge on the bench; and, botheration, it will be a lucky day for me, when I'm well quit of her."
While he rejoiced over his prospect of deliverance, Lingo re-entered the apartment, bearing a huge pitcher, from which he contrived, at every step, to discharge, so wide and uncertain was his gait, no mean quantity of its purple contents. Indeed, if appearances were to be trusted, he was already so far gone in intoxication, that it needed but one glass more to stretch him on the floor; and Affidavy hailed his infirmity as the herald of success.
"Ods bobs!" said the jailer, staggering up to the table, and depositing his burthen with so little dexterity that half its contents went splashing over his friend, "here's stuff for you! But a jail's a bad place to keep liquor. Ods bobs, I broke my shin over a fetter-bolt, and, ods bobs, I broke my new blue pitcher; but, ods bobs, who cares for expense?"
"Botheration," said Affidavy, "here I've mixed you a brandy cock-tail, and you've spilled the bounce into it. However, I warrant, it's all the better."
"Ay, I warrant me, old Teff," said Lingo, giving him an affectionate hug round the neck, "and we'll drink it, my boy, like a lord and a true-hearted American. But, ods bobs, my boy, gi' me a chair; for, d'ye see, I sprained my leg, and it's weak under me."
"Oh, ay," said Affidavy, dragging the jailer's chair round to his own end of the table.—"But stop there, you fool, you've gotmyglass!"
"Hic—cup—where's the difference? he, he!" said Lingo, yielding, however, the glass he had taken, and receiving that which Affidavy had so craftily prepared. "Here's to you, old Teff Affidavy!"
"Here's to you!" said the lawyer; and both raised the glasses to their lips. The attorney watched his victim with the eyes of a mouser intent upon her prey. He saw him swallow one mouthful, and then a second, and then—the jailer withdrew the vessel from his lips.
"Botheration!" murmured Affidavy to himself, "does the villain taste it?"
He was soon relieved from his fear. Lingo laid the glass on the table, and turning to Affidavy, burst into a fit of maudlin weeping, betraying, at the same time, a strong disposition to repeat the fraternal embrace. As Affidavy felt no inclination to balk this friendly intention, he laid down his own glass, and was instantly taken round the neck by the jailer, who exclaimed, in the most pathetic manner in the world,
"Ods bobs, old Teff, I don't know what will become of me!"
"Why, what's the matter?" said Affidavy.
"Why, ods bobs," blubbered the other, "one day, when I was a little boy, I licked my father; and there's no good can come of it."
"Tush, you ass," said the attorney, "you might have trounced your mother too, if you had been so minded. But, botheration on you, let me go, and drink your cock-tail."
"Well, I will," said Lingo; "but it's a murdering piece of business to whip one's father; and I've a notion to give myself up, and let 'em hang me. But I can't hang without counsel, and I can't spare money to pay a fee. Now, old Teff, my boy, you're my friend, and if you'll make a speech for me for nothing——I always stuck up for your being the cutest lawyer in the county, and I'll lick any body that says No to it——now if you'll make me a speech, I reckon I may get off for nothing, with a clear 'quittal."
"Drink, you fool," said Affidavy; "I'll take the case, and charge you nothing."
"He, he!" said Lingo, snatching up his glass, "we'll go 'em, then, slick as a snake in a new skin. Here's to you, Teff, my old boy! and the devil eat his liver that don't drink smash down to the bottom! Hic—cup,—here's to you."
He swallowed his potation, and the attorney, without a moment's hesitation, drained his own at a single draught. But scarce had he withdrawn the glass from his lips, before he started up, exclaiming,
"God bless our two souls! what was in the glass? Ah, Lingo, you fool, 'twas that cursed bounce you spilled in it! Vile trash, you dog, vile trash!"
"What! my bounce?" cried Lingo, indignantly; "as good bounce as was ever brewed, and, ods bobs, a good deal better. But now, you jolly old Teff, let's sing a song. Don't sit there staring at me, like a starved cat; but sing, you old rascal; let's sing 'Vain Britons.'"
"The oddest taste in the world," said Affidavy, in obvious bewilderment: "sure there must have been some mistake!"—And, in effect, there was; for at the very moment when the jailer was embracing his friend, and beseeching the favour of his counsel, he slid one hand behind him to the table, and there kept it until he had effected a mutual interchange of places between the two glasses; the consequence of which was, that when the fondling fit was over, and the vessels resumed, he himself got possession of the innocent draught, while Affidavy caught up and swallowed that designed for his companion. Had Lingo been in any condition but that in which he appeared, the attorney would have conceived the trick in a moment; but a look at the jailer's innocent visage was sufficient to banish all suspicion of foul play; and in consequence, he could only stare about him in wonder and perplexity, nodding his head up and down in a manner the most ludicrous in the world, while Lingo testified his indifference and patriotism together, by lanching out, in a quavering, drunken voice, upon a camp-song, said to be then highly popular among the continental soldiers.
The third stanza of this patriotic roundelay (there are a dozen stanzas altogether,) was sung by Lingo with especial emphasis, particularly the second and third line, and might have conveyed to the attorney some inkling of the true state of the question between them, had not his senses been already overpowered. The strength of the draught, aided not a little by the vigilance of the succeeding night, was too much for Affidavy's brain; and before the stanza was concluded, he slipped from his chair to the floor, and there lay like a log.
The jailer concluded the song; then springing up, he burst into a hearty laugh, exclaiming, "Ods bobs, I've outlawyered the lawyer! and there he is, as fast as a poker. Now, you old fool," he added, without a vestige of intoxication remaining, (and indeed his drunkenness had been all assumed) "if there was too much stuff in the mixing, why e'en take the consequence, for it was all of your own brewing."
Then stooping down, he examined Affidavy's pockets. The first thing he laid hands on, was the vial of laudanum, which he smelt at with great glee; he then filched out a leathern purse, containing, according to his own verbal inventory, "sixteen guineas in gold, two Spanish dollars, a French crown-piece, and an English shilling—Oho old Teff!" The next thing discovered was the pocket-wallet, from which he drew to light the note of hand which the cormorant had caused the prisoner to sign in the morning. All these different items he deposited under lock and key, in a closet, from which he also drew a pair of horse-pistols, and an old horseman's sword, all of which he proceeded to buckle round his body.
While thus engaged, some one softly approached, tapped at the door, and being bidden to enter, disclosed the features of his assistant Hanschen.
"Done him up!" said Lingo, pointing to the prostrate figure; and then demanded, "All ready?"
"Yaw."
"How many?"
"Fy, dtare's Sturmhausen, Schnapps, and tree oders, mit guns and pistols."
"Ods bobs, then, we'll nab 'em; for they can't muster half so many. Have you chained the prisoner?"
"Yaw; and he turned pale, and fainted afay. Then I put polts on Tancy Parkins; and now I fill go fix the t'oder, Shterling."
"Never mind him; he's safe. Now, Hans, you must fight like a bull-dog, if there's any fighting at all. But not a word about the lawyer here. Here's a pistol: take a swig at the bounce, and we'll carry it down to the boys, to warm their hearts a little. If we catch that Oran, ods bobs, I don't know what the reward is, but it will be the making of us."
"Yaw," said Hans; and picking up the pitcher, he followed the jailer into the yard. Here they found five stout men, with whom the jailer conversed in whispers, and then, after all had drunk of the pitcher, he led them towards the gate, saying, as he bade them lie down on either side of it,—"Now mind ye, men; I hold to the lock, and here's my cue: If any enters, why I claps the gate to behind them, and then outs with the key; and then you're to jump up and on 'em, taking 'em alive, if you can. But mind ye, you're not to stir, till you hear me give the signal to fall on; and the signal is,You're welcome, gentlemen. Don't forget it. Now, 'taint sure they'll come; but if they do, ods bobs, we've got 'em!"
Having thus received their instructions, the whole party squatted down on the ground, and awaited the issue of their adventure in silence. The village jail was a small, though strong, building of stone, and the yard, therefore, on the rear, in which the prisoners were sometimes allowed to air themselves, was of no great extent. It was surrounded, however, by a high and strong wall, the gate to which was of heavy double planking, strengthened with bars of iron; and the lock was of weight sufficient to make any prisoner despair of forcing it.
It was perhaps midnight, when these silent guards,—seven in number, including the jailer and his assistant,—took their places. The night was perfectly clear, and so far unfavourable to the assailants, if assailants they really were; of which, it must be confessed, honest Lingo could not affect to be certain, his whole information amounting to no more than the few ambiguous phrases he had caught from Affidavy. But then this fellow, under a stupid countenance, concealed an astonishing fund of quickness and cunning, of which the attorney little dreamed; and long before Affidavy had opened his lips on the subject, Lingo had seen and noted enough to give edge to the native suspiciousness of his character. The appearance of Affidavy himself, claiming to be one of the prisoner's counsel, instantly set his wits to work; he marvelled who had retained him, since he knew he had not yet seen the prisoner. Then the appearance of the guinea, a rare coin in such hands, and devoted with such magnificent nonchalance to the purpose of doing honour tohim, was not without its virtue in stirring his conjectures, especially when it came to be added to the invitation Affidavy so coolly gave himself to repeat his visit, and spend the night in the jail. He ascertained without trouble, that the attorney soon after leaving the prisoner, had ridden into the country, where he remained all day, without once seeking a conference with either of the prisoner's original counsellors; and one or two other little circumstances he discovered, which prepared him to understand, and make the most of what Affidavy afterwards divulged in the form of supposition.
All his discoveries, however, went no further than to induce a belief that some design for rescuing the young Gilbert was on foot; but where, and in what manner, the enterprise was to be attempted, he was left to infer as he could. He did not doubt, indeed, that the attempt was expected to be made with his connivance, and that Affidavy had been bought to bribe him into compliance; though the covetousness of this unworthy and degraded limb of the law had led him upon a device for dispensing with the jailer's services, and so clapping the additional reward into his own pocket. This circumstance convinced him the force of the conspirators could not be very great; and besides, he had good reason to suppose that not more than two or three could succeed, whatever might be their boldness, in making their way to the village, while the band was so closely beset at a distance. "At all events," he muttered to himself, as he sat by the gate, listening for the sound of footsteps, "if there should come even a dozen of them, and there's not so many left in the gang, I can let in just as many as will serve my turn, and then slap the door to on the rest.—Hist! It sounded like the tramp of a horse; yet 'twas only the splash of the river over the stones. Well now, if they shouldn't come, here's so much trouble for nothing, and the lord knows how much cherry-bounce. Silence there, you Hanschen! you're asleep. Ods bobs, men, don't scratch your heads so hard!"
He kept watch for perhaps the space of an hour, without hearing the stir of man or beast, or indeed any other sound besides the rush of the river, which rolls down a pebbly declivity hard by, and the chirping of numerous field-crickets on the trees of neighbouring gardens; when suddenly one of these insects, tired, as it seemed, of its dewy perch, which it had exchanged for the dry planks of the gate, or perhaps just waked up in the key-hole, began its nocturnal cry with a zeal and energy that instantly captivated the jailer's attention. It now struck his recollection that the attorney had, in some way or other, drawn these minstrels of the night into his suppositions; and he began to fancy the sound might be a signal made by the tories, though he could not imagine how the organs of a human being could be ever taught to imitate a cry so peculiar. He felt his own inability to answer it in the same tone; and not knowing how otherwise to bring the affair to a point, he replied by a goodly whistle, which his companions supposed to be the signal of the enemy, and therefore prepared to start up at a moment's warning. The whistle was instantly followed by a slight tap on the gate, and Lingo, waving his hand to his backers to be silent, boldly turned the key. Then slipping the bolt aside, he saw three human figures on the outside, ready to enter. "Two to one," he muttered to himself, opening the gate wide enough to admit one to pass at a time. One actually entered, and was moving aside, without speaking, to make way for the others, when Lingo's scheme was defeated by a sudden rattling of chains at the window of Hyland's cell, and by a voice crying out, "Beware! beware! you are betrayed!"—"Up and on 'em!" cried Lingo—"Gentlemen, you are welcome!" and as he spoke, he made a grasp at the first comer, which was answered so effectually, that he instantly found himself sprawling on his back, with such a blaze of lights dancing in his eyes, that he thought his whole brain had been converted into a ball of fire. The next instant, there was a loud cry of voices, and a roar of pistols, which, reverberating from wall to wall, filled the narrow yard with the most dreadful din; and Lingo started up just in time to behold a tall figure darting through the gate into the open air.
"Fire and furies!" he cried, rushing after the fugitive; "I'll pay you for that touch of the tomahawk, you bloody tory!" and the next moment coming up with his chase, he struck him a blow with his heavy sword, that brought him to the ground. Then pouncing upon him, and assisted by another who ran to his assistance, crying that 'all were taken,' he dragged the prisoner into the yard and secured the gate. "Lights, Hanschen!" he cried, "Yaw," said Hanschen; "but fat's the use? Here's one teadt, and anoder tying. And here's Sturmhausen has his headt proke; and here's me mit my finkers chopped off by the tamtschelmrogues. But I have kilt vone, mine Gott be thank'd! and I fill hang the t'oders!"
Before Hanschen had wholly delivered himself of his private ills and triumphs, a loud huzza was set up by the others, upon hearing that all the three assailants were secured. Lights were instantly brought into the yard, and, sure enough, there lay three men on the ground, one of whom was stone dead, his head blown to atoms by Hanschen's pistol, a second writhing to all appearance in the agonies of death, and a third—but what were the surprise and mortification of the jailer, when in this third, the man he had cut down with his own hands, he beheld the visage of his prisoner, Sterling.
Upon this discovery being made, all was again confusion; the gate was a second time thrown open, but only that they might behold the whole village in commotion, the alarm having been given by the previous tumult. It was plain that the third individual, and he perhaps the most important of all, had made his escape. To add to the confusion of the scene, the wounded tory, upon hearing some of those who raised him pronounce the name of Sterling, suddenly snatched a pistol from one, and discharged it at this unlucky personage, with a bitter oath. It was struck from his hands, however, so that it did no hurt to any one.
The jailer, now in fear lest the other prisoners might have broken from their cells, ran to those occupied respectively by Hyland Gilbert and Dancy Parkins, both of whom he found in fetters, the former, in truth, secured by a bolt to the floor, so that, although he had some freedom of motion, he could not approach the window near enough to look out, and must therefore have been led to give the alarm to the rescuers by hearing the crash of the bolt in the gate. This was additional evidence of the guilt of Affidavy; but at that moment, the jailer did not trouble himself to think of that discomfited personage. He stared at the prisoner, heard his beseeching demand, 'Who had been taken? who had been hurt?' answered it by a profane oath, and then ran to Parkins's cell. He then stepped to that occupied by Sterling, and found that this individual, seduced perhaps by the sounds of wassailing below, had employed his time in removing with a knife a hinge from his door, by which means he had made his way into the yard, where he took advantage of the commotion so unexpectedly displayed, to make a bold dash for freedom. What had seduced this wretch, who was in no immediate peril of death, or even trial, and who had freely rendered himself into the hands of justice, to attempt his escape, Lingo could not imagine; and in truth he did not attempt to solve the mystery. He satisfied himself that he had given him a severe, perhaps a serious cut, betwixt the neck and shoulder, and then had him carried into his cell, not without some very hearty curses upon his enterprise, and its effects in robbing him of a more valuable prize. These were borne by the adventurer without any reply save ghastly looks; and indeed Mr. Sterling was a greatly altered man, presenting an appearance even more wo-begone and wretched than that of Hyland, the victim of his anger. As if to mark the jailer's indignation in the strongest way, the wounded refugee was deposited in the same chamber, as well as the body of his comrade.
Upon examining into the condition of the defenders, it was found that Hanschen had received a cut over the hand, which, as was discovered afterwards, had been inflicted not by a foe, but by one of his fellow-defenders; and this had deprived him of a finger, and perhaps of the service of two others. Another man had been hurt by a bullet in the leg, and a third had been stunned, like Lingo, by a stroke on the head. As for Lingo himself, he discovered, with some surprise, that the blow which prostrated him had left a wide and ugly gash on his crown, though not one from which he had cause to apprehend serious consequences. The only ill effect it produced was, to sour his temper to an uncommon degree; so that after peace was restored in his dominions, and his aiders and abettors all discharged for the night, he betook himself to the sleeping Affidavy, and bestowed some three or four such kicks upon his ribs, that it was a wonder he left a sound one in his body. But even these failed to rouse the stupified attorney; and at last, calling to Hanschen for assistance, he dragged him up into Sterling's cell, where he deposited him on the floor, betwixt the dead man and the dying.
"Now here are four bites for the devil together," he said; "and if they all die before morning, it's all one to Bob Lingo."
With these words, he descended to look after his wound, which was bleeding freely.