Black Bess; or, The Knight of the Road — A Tale of the Good Old Times — page 178: what you’re looking at

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

oe <a. 176 Dy which he was known to the stern beings he had »der his command. ** Hold!” he cried, in a lond and imperative voicsa,. The band was still in a moment. let the sound die away upon his lips in a whisper. The man who was ready to obey the signal slackened the rope slightly. . “Oh! Mr. Morgan! Mr. Morgan!” cried the one who, rightfully or wrongfully, had been accused of being a spy, and who gathered some hope from the appearance of the lieutenant. ‘ You know me, Mr. Morgan. Will Ogden! To be sure you know Will Ogden. Spare me !—save me! They call me a traitor and spy, and wish my death. But I am innocent—innocent! Merey—merey!” *Peace!—peace! Not another word. What is the meaning of all this? Come forward, some of you, and speak. Not all of you at once.” J will tell you, Mr. Morgan. I will tell you. Indecd, I will tell you all,” cried the man with the rope around his neck. Lieutenant Morgan looked at him angrily. ** Silence, I say! Let me not hear your voice again. It seems to me that they have discovered you to be a spy. I am not surprised, and am inclined to believe it, for I have long had my suspicions of you. So I warn you, for your own sake, to be silent.” After these words, the poor wretch seemed to collapse, and he sank down on the head of the cask as low as the rope would allow lnm. “Will you let me speak, sir,’ said a man, coming forward from the rest of the throng, and saluting the heutenant. ** Certainly, Batson, certainly.” ‘Well, then, it fell out this ways. As Tom Drotchel, yonder, was walling across the cave, we noticed a paper fall from his pocket, or somewhere else about him. Think- ing it might be from some lass, or to one, for that matter, we thought to have a bit of fun with him, knowing what a surly chap he in general is, so, without saying a word, J got up and walked to where the letter was lying on tip- toe, and picked it up unperceived. I went to look at it, but I couldn’t make out the lingo, so I gave it to Joe Dudley, and asked him to spell it out to the company.” “Well, what then P” **'That’s all, sir; and, with your leave, my mate, Joe Dudley, will tell you the rest.” “Good! Stand aside, Dudley.” **'Yes, your honour.” **Go on with the story.” “Yes, your honour. Well, as Patson said, I thought to have some fun, so I began to vead the letter; but, my stars! what do you think it were? Shall I read it to you, your honour?” ‘* Yes, and then all may hear.” ** Ay—ay, your honour.” The heutenant gave this permission because he could not read himself; indeed, the man Dudley was the only one possessed of that accomplishment. * It’s a first-rate hand, sir. That was the first thing I looked at; and not such as we should turn out, howover.” ** RESPECTED SIR,— ‘The suspicions which J had the honour of communi- eating to you have turned out to be no more than fact. At great trouble and risk I have succeeded in joining the pirate-band, and write this in their secret haunt, of the existence of which they do not dream any one but themselves has the least idea. However, it is beyond all doubt that the much-dreaded and myste- rious pirate, known as Captain Howlet, is no other than Colonel Thorne, the owner and ocenpier of the man- sion called ** The Larches.” Of this I have abundant proof, having scen him frequently in both characters. The cavern in which the pirates conceal themselves is hollowed out of the cliff npon which the house stands, and there 1s a secret means of communication between the two, known only to the captain himself. The means by which you . will find it best to make an attack, I have yet to learn ; but as soon as I possess the knowledge, I will take care that no time is lost in making you aware of all particulars. 1 should not have written now, only I thought yeu would feel anxious to hear something respecting me. So no / more at present from GEORGE HAWKINS.” 4 There was perfect silence while Joe Dudley read this Ee a a te ell Se Pe om a, a oe BLUESKIN: The one who was about to pronounce the word three, | ete A KOMANCE. Cua “precious epistle, which seemed to place the guilt of the | ptisoner beyond all doubt. Lieutenant Morgan looked sternly at him during the whole of the time occupied by the perusal. For the life of him the poor abject wretch could not bear his gaza, He turned his eyes away. “A traitor—a traitor,’ cried the pirates; “hang Lim up—hang him up! Quick! Let not the villain live!” Lieutenant Morgan held up his hand. “Hold,” he said. ‘Silence, all. This is very serious business, and there is one above us all who ought not to one in ignorance of it any longer. Let him decide his ate. ‘The Howlet—the Howlet! ” cried the pirates, ag with one voice. ‘* The IIowlet!”’ “Yes,” continued Morgan. ‘I will summon our brave captain, who will best know how to deal with such as he is. Silence, all, and wait his coming.”’ As he spoke, the Licutenant went to a small recess in the cavern side, and put some machinery or other in motion. Then he advanced to the centre and waited. T'here would have been a breathless silence nad it not been for the convicted spy. A few minutes elapsed, and then, from tne darkest portion of the cavern, came a tall and commanding figure. When it reached the hght it presented an appearance awful in the extreme. it was aman of gigantic stature, with the head of ahuge owl. CHAPTER CXXII. BLUESKIN IS FIRED AT BY JONATHAN WILD, AND HAS TO SWIM DOWN THE THAMES FOR HIS LIFE. Farr or sterner reader of this record of love, of trial, of temptation, of crime, of sin, of violence, of suffering, of treachery, of courage, and all the attributes which dis- figure human nature, turn back with us for a little while, during which we will occupy ourselves with the fortunes of three of our chef characters. Leaving the mysterious-looking pirate chief to mete out such justice to the traitor in his band as he may think proper, and leaving the poor wretch to make abject sup- plications for his life. Jueaving, too, Edgworth Bess in her dangerous cap- tivity, let us take up the thread of our narrative at that point when Jack Sheppard was made a prisoner upon Blackfriars-bridge, and where Blueskin only escaped a similar fate by the desperate feat of leapmg from the parapet of the bridge into the river. It will no doubt be well remembered by the reader that Jonathan Wild, the moment he saw this daring act per- formed, shouted to his men to keep strict guard over their prisoner, while the remainder followed him. Then, with the recklessness of insanity, he dashed down the broad flight of slippery stone steps leading from the bridge to the water, those steps which are even now about to be swept away. The receding tide had left the stones wet, and it is a thousand wonders that in his headlong descent Wild did not lose his footing. But he did not. He reached the bottom step in safety. Then he strove to pierce with straining eyes the dense mist which hung upon the surface of the water. A boatman, too, who had been for hours in expectation of a fare, roused up from the sleep into which he had fallen, and just guiding his little wherry to the foot of the steps in front of where Wild stood, be cried out, in sleepy tones— ** Boat, your honour, boat. honour ?” But Wild was too much occupied just at that moment either to hear or heed his words. As the man asked the question, one of those natural phenomena occurred, which, though common enough, are rarely seen by human eyes. As if by the magic influence of an enchanter’s wand, the dense mist suddenly dissolved—disappeared. Nor did it leave the least trace to show that it had been, except in the far distance, where it could be seen curliirg up and vanishing with great rapidity. And then the rising sun cast his benms upon the watcre. Do you want a boat, your =e Sati (SO) GOnnlGoaoo m C SS