Roving Jack, The Pirate Hunter — page 192: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

212 him dat no von might not see de kinchen with one little eye.” “Yau took him down the Thames,” interrupted Wild. “Yah!” replied Wirth, “You are better nor a witch. When we came to the haunted hulk——” “‘ Lying off the marshes near Erith ?” “Very goot! some of -my prave poys were on board her,” E ** Stowing away contraband merchandise, and waiting for the tide?” ‘““We soon get yong Teufleskin on board, and confined him in de hold.” ‘“With rats and total darkness for his com- panions,” ‘And he von’t got rid of them,” said the Dutch- man smiling maliciously, ‘‘onless de varmint take it into their head to gnaw through the iron band that binds him to the rotting vessel.” “‘Mynheer Wolfgang,” replied Jonathan Wild, delighted, ‘‘this capture to me is worth a king’s ransom. Roving Jack, I have ascertained, carried about his person papers that——”’ “Yah ! and those paper I mean to keep as mien guarantee.” “ What! would you mistrust your old friend ?” “I trust nobody, Don’t you, Mynheer Vild, or you may chance to die of that unpleashant com- plaint de hempen fever.” “You have known me so long——” “So long,” replied the Dutchman, drily, ‘‘ that I mean to keep you where I’ve got you—under mein thumb.” ‘Name your price.” “T will name mein price when the vork is done.” ‘“‘T may expect to see you then——” “ Three days hence,” “Where ?” ‘‘ At your own house in de Old Bailey.” Jonathan Wild and Wolfgang then each took their separate roads, the latter chuckling at the power he maintained over his late companion, and forming a resolution to use it to his advantage. The yy plotters had scarcely quitted the spot upon which they had held their conference when the figure of a man was seen to rise like a phantom from behind one of the tombstones in its imme- diate vicinity. It was Paul Peveril. He had heard all that had passed, and had deter- mined on means to defeat the black design. * * * ¥ We must now revert to Jack Sheppard. The reader will bear in mind that we left him a captive in the stronghold, attended by the myrmi- dons of his implacable enemy, Jonathan Wild. Jack Sheppard disposed of his gaolers, who pro- ceeded to betake themselves to certain creature comforts in the shape of various strong waters, sent them in a well-filled hamper. The heavy door of the temporary dungeon was at once locked on the inside. Firstly, with a view to prevent a possibility of escape on the part of the prisoner, Secondly, that all chance of sudden intrusion might be prevented, Benches were then drawn together round the fire, and the contents of the basket displayed and called into requisition. Whether the savoury dishes that the farmer had supplied them with at his dwelling were provocative of thirst or not is immaterial, suffice that the liqours were considerably diminished in quantity ina very short period, Bottle after bottle was emptied almost as soon as the cork was drawn, As amatter of course, the proceeding unloosed the tongues of the drinkers. They began to laugh, talk, and lastly shout. “This will never suit, Mr. Wild,” said Quilt Arnold, who appeared the soberest of the number ; ‘‘we must comport ourselves less boisterously, and, if you have no objection, I will volunteer an old song.” Uproarious applause followed this suggestion. Oider was restored, pipes re-lighted, and Quilt Arnold commenced— ** Did you ever hear the like, Or ever hear the same, Of the five women barbers That lived in Drury Lane? The first a bold virago, Her name was Cut-purse Moll, As Joan of France or English Nell, Was fair and stout withal. The next Nan Hide, who won the hearts Of gentles great and small, With syren smiles entrapped false Monk The Duke of Albemarle. Of Mulsack’s wife, of Edgeworth Bess, Poll Maggot, too, I ween, You would not find the like of such To hoax or shave you clean.” Before the song was finished, the whole of the party, with the exception of the singer, had dropped asleep in an inebriated and helpless condition. It was now long past midnight. The torches which illumined the vast apartment were nearly exhausted. And the vapour which arose from their flickering flame obscured, in a great measure, the moving of a large wooden panel at the further end of the chamber. Quilt Arnold started, as he perceived an aperture in the wall. He tried to rouse his companions, but failed. All being, as already stated, stupefied with drink. The light, struggling through the mist, now re- vealed a figure advancing from the recess to the only one capable of noticing it, Quilt Arnold for a few moments steadily regarded the object before him, It was motionless, spectre-like and silent. “Tis the foul fiend.”’ These words were uttered by the terrified man as though he was overtaken by superstitious appre- hensions, With this again he was about to endeavour to seek assistance from the drowsy band when he dis- covered in the supposed phantom the person of Ellen Peveril. Jack Sheppard, who had burst from his bonds, now sprang forward, leaped through the opened panel, and was out of sight in a moment, while the liberator held her pistol, loaded to the muzzle, at the head of the astounded gaoler, ‘‘One word, one gesture, and your life is for- feited. Attempt to give an alarm, and I can only die ; but, at the same time, remember, you will die with me,” Quilt Arnold, overcome, moved not a limb, save in terror, Kllen poised her weapon with a firm hand and unerring aim, “I carry arms,” she continued, “ for protection and not to shed blood but in my own defence, Choose, then, shall I kill you as a dog, or will you allow me to defend the passage till your prisoner is beyond reach of danger ?”” | ‘I promise not to give alarm till an hour has passed over our heads,” Goran <sreom BDA ROVING JACK, THE PIRATE HUNTER.