Roving Jack, The Pirate Hunter — page 212: what you’re looking at

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

——_——— 232 The Whip-Jack addressed Simon Smut in Romany, pedlar’s French, or idiomatic slang. It was all one to the chummy, who knew not what to make of the singular reception, so imitated the gesture of the worthy accosting him for an answer to his question. The second of the two now wriggled, himself up to the stranger. He was the Palliard of the vicinity. Like his companion, the Whip-Jack, he was a cripple, but one of another species. He appeared to have no legs at all, and was hopping about ‘upon both hands, while he was seated in something resembling a bowl. This deformed being gave vent to a greeting in some foreign lingo. “And he must be a clever fellow,’ thought Simon, “if he understands it himself.” So, as no good came of this interview, he made up his mind to quicken his pace, and was about to decamp when the third party obstructed his path. He was the Dummerar, A board on his breast signified that his tongue had been cut out (while in imprisonment) by the Algerines. Chummy, supposing correctly that the dumb can- not spead, and that his last saluter was less likely to express his intentions than the former two, bestowed a benevolent smile on his companions, and trudged off. In a trice the Drummerar ‘followed in his foot- steps, accompanied by the clatter of the bowl of the Palliard, and the thump, thump of timber-toes of the Whip- Jack on the pavement. All these in pursuit, and treading upon the heels of Simon Smut, opened a volley upon him at once. He stopped his ears and made a run for it; but of no avail, for also ran _ the Whip- J ack, the Palliard, and the Dummerar, The latter finding miraculously use of the tongue that had been cut out by the Algerines, and making the welkin ring with his shouts, In a minute the denizens of the Mint were attracted to the running contest, Their name was legion, which, as'a ball ‘of snow, gathered as it rolled. The three pursuing fiends stuck to the fugitive as bird-lime to a twig. No respite—no cessation—each pursues his way. The Whip-Jack unbuckled his strap, shouldered his wooden legs, and leaped like the bounding roe from the hunter. While the Palliard, standing bolt upright upon his feet, clapped his heavy bowl of wood upon poor Simon’s head, and led him in darkness to a favourite rendezvous, “Where am I?” cried the affrighted man. “In the Thieves’ Cave in the Mint,” replied the Dummerar, with a fluency of speech very different from his previous muteness. Simon Smut, relieved of his bandage, cast his eyes around him, He was in the nefarious den above alluded to, Here no honest man had ever penetrated; here unblushingly crime uncovered its guilt. stained visage, Here no delegate of justice dare show his face, or, doing so, would pay a fearful penalty for his rashness, It was the haunt of the highway robber and petty pilferer ; the abode of vice, mendicity, and vaga- bondiam, Within its limits now appeared assembled gipsies, burglars, roadsters, and blackguards of every de- scription, foreign as well as native, [2 nnn NLS ROVING JACK, THE PIRATE HUNTER. The ranks of this body were further increased by the presence of ‘ morts,” “‘antem morts,’”* ‘ dells,” “‘ doxies,”’ and their “ coes,” Fires, around which stood motley groups, were blazing far and near. All was bustle, uproar, and confusion, mingled with the coarse laughter of men, the shrill voices of women, and the smothered cry of neglected children. Simon Smut, by the faint and flickering light of the fires, was enabled to notice the peculiarities of the place into which he had been ushered, It appeared an immense apartment, worm-eaten, ruinous, and falling into decay. The walls were perforated by sundry small win- dows ; at least, they might have been windows had such recesses contained glass. Above were sculptured several faces of odd loooking hags, who might be fancied as witches watching g some nocturnal orgies, In fact, the whole region appeared to the eyes of the spectator as some unknown world inhabited by creatures as fantastic and extraordinary as that world itself. Simon Smut was still held by his three perse- cutors, and deafened by tlie bleating voices of the throng around, who, with one accord, shouted, “Lead the intruder to our monarch !” From every quarter burst forth derisive cheers as he was conducted to the august presence of the ‘‘ Master of the Mint,” Near the largest fire, upon a hogshead of no matter what, this potentate, Baptist Kettleby, was seated, arrayed i in the mock insignia of royality, He presented a mirthful countenance, heightened by that artistic touch, “love of liquor, ny His eye wa3 sparkling, his cheek red, which, by the bye, as_ ina spirit of generosity, had imparted a similar hue to his nasal prominency, for the ‘Master of the Mint” had, in its true sense, a “very jolly nose,” His lips were also rubicund, moist by frequent potations, mellow as an autumn plum, and endued with a peculiar curl ; this gave him the character of good humour, while it imparted also a sort of dignity in his official capacity. He was reposing on his rude throne, smoking the calumet of peace, and quaffing his favourite tipple, dog-nose, when the offending Simon Smut was brought before him, “What dirty varlet have we here?” asked Baptist Kettleby, assuming at once all the grandeur of mien of the “ Great Mogul ” or the Emperor of the Indies. ‘Your highness, Simon, “Call me master or comrade, only make haste about it, in your defence ?” “T don’t half like them words ; it puts me in mind of the big wigs. I went once among ’em,”’ ** By the devil's hoof this is trifling,” interrupted the now testy Baptist Kettleby ; “your name ?” “Simon Smut,” “Then, Simon Smut, mark me,” continued the Master of the Mint, “since thou art in my august presence I tell thee, as thy judge, thou hast entered our territories without being one of its subjects. Thou hast violated the privileges of our notable sanctuary, and unless thou art a prig, a cadger, or & vagrant, thou wilt—” “T’ve the honour to be all them three indivi- duals,” replied Simon, hastily, my lord,” stammered forth which you please, What have you to say * Antem morts, or unmairied women. a QI OKOKS)