Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

98 But, alas! I thought to myself it indeed mattered little by whose treachery or vigilance, espial and watching, I had been plunged into the present snare: I was in the power of an unscrupulous set of miscreants—my hours seemed numbered—and this awful consideration was sufficient to engross my thoughts. What was to be done with me? Was I to be borne to the banditti’s stronghold, there to perish ignominiously in the presence of the entire gang? or did my captors purpose to wreak their vengeance upon me so soon as the outskirts of the city should be cleared? Deeming this latter eventuality to be as probable as the former, I began to prepare my soul for its flight to another world: I prayed silently but fervidly in the depths of my heart—I thought of Annabel— I prayed for her likewise—and I felt the tears trickling down my cheeks. But I hastily brushed them away: for though it was pitch dark inside the vehicle, I was ashamed to betray even to myself the shghtest symptom of weakness. If I were to die, let me meet my fate with fortitude! That movement however, which I made to dash away the tears from my eyes startled the three banditti who were inside the vehicle with me: in a moment I was seized upon—and Philippo, with a horrible imprecation, vowed that if I moved thus again he would fulfil his threat of braining me. The other two men muttered something in their own native language, and in savage ferocious tones: but IL comprehended not what they said. The outskirts of the city were passed; and now that there was no longer any chance of lights flinging their beams into the vehicle,—a circum- stance which, while we were still im the streets, would have shown me any favourable instant to cry suddenly out for Succour,—the outlaws drew up the blinds and lowered the windows. The equipage went dashing on at a quick rate; and I saw that it was taking the road to Pistoja—for the stars were now shining brightly. Lonely places were passed: still there was no halt—and therefore I concluded that my destination—or in other words, the place of my éxecution—would be the head- quarters of the outlaws. Had I any hope to indulge in? The reader may be well assured that I forgot not Angelo Volterra: but yet dared I fancy ‘that he would find means to sueccour me? Would not the banditti surround me with such precautions that there should be no chance of escapeP—and indeed, would not my execution follow frightfully close upon my arrival in Marco Uberti’s presence? Then how could I venture to hope p The equipage pursued its course: it presently turned out of the main road, and proceeded through bye-ways. Now and then we passed a solitary house: but of what use were it to raife my voice and cry for succour, when the vehicle would be far away ere assistance could possibly be rendered, and when three desperate villains armed to the teeth, were ready to take my life on the instant? No—I was completely in their power: and I felt that Providence alone could save me, whether by Volterra’s means or by any other of those seeming accidents through which its inscrutable purposes are worked out. We had accomplished about a dozen miles, when the chaise halted at a lonely way-side inn; and — ew oe ae ee there the horses were changed. The landlord brought out liquor to the banditti, with whom he exchanged some remarks in a familiar tone; and thus perceiving that he was evidently leagued with them—or at all events entirely in their interest— I still saw the utter inutility of crying out for succour. The journey was resumed; and in another hour we began to enter upon the windings of the Apennine range. Here We stopped at an- other lonely inn ; and Philippo ordered me to alight. It appeared that our previous mode of travelling was to be now abandoned: for saddle- horses were - speedily brought forth, I was directed to mount one; and a cord was fastened to my feet under the animal’s belly, after the same fashion which had been adopted on the very first occasion of my introduction to Marco Uberti’s head-quarters. This time, however, additional precautions were used: for the end of the cord which thus bound my ankles, was held by Philippo as he mounted his own horse. In this manner our journey was continued; and as if the precautions already spe- cified were not sufficient, Philippo savagely gave me to understand that his comrades who rode he- hind, had their pistols in readiness to shoot me down if I madé the slightest attempt at es- cape. All my worst fears were thus confirmed: the banditti were resolved that I should not have another chance of outwitting them. We rode along,—I maintaining a profound silence—Phi- lippo occasionally levelling the bitterest taunts at me—and his three comrades in the rear conversing amongst themselves, or raising their voices in ‘some uncouth attempt at a song. ‘In the despera- tion of my circumstances I gradually began to revolve in my mind a project of escape, but which was quite as desperate as those very circumstances that initiated if. The reader will comprehend that I was riding side by side with Philippo—that he was holding the end of the cord which was fastened to my feet—and that the other three ban- ditti were following behind. It was a moon-lit night—but the defiles and windings of the Apen- nines were often shrouded in deepest gloom. The project I entertained was one which pre- sented little chances of success: but by attempting it I could not possibly aggravate the dangers of my position: for how mattered it to me whether I were to perish by the bullets of the outlaws’ pistols in the defile which we were now entering, or by the strangling noose a little later at the brigands’ stronghold P My resolve, then, was quickly adopted. The eye winks not with greater swiftness—the light- ning flashes not with more suddenness, than was my movement executed. One strong and skilful jerk not merely tore away the cord which Phihppo had retained by winding the end tightly round his wrist—but it likewise dragged him from his horse. He fell heavily, with a bitter imprecation starting from his lips; and away, away I galloped with the speed of the whirlwind. Crack, erack, crack, one after another in rapid succession sounded the report of the pistols which his three companion- outlaws fired: the bullets whistled about my ears —but fortunately none touched me: and through that dark defile L urged the steed onward at its utmost swiftness. It was verltably neck or no- thing—and I knew it—I felt it—L compre - ECONRNIECLOO© eee ss es sss JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT.