*CHAPTER VIII*
*Flotsam*
Under the Leads--A Thames-side Attic--A Man of Law--A Matter of Form--AQuestion of Identity--A Fine Mesh--A Dash for Freedom--Help in Need--Forthe Plantations--Visitors on Board--Ned Bates--In the Foc'sle--Sailor'sKnots--An Old Coat--Odds and Ends--A Soft Answer--Overboard--A DeadHeat--A Sea Lawyer--Grootz Protests--A Stern Chase--Sherry's Story--Tothe Low Countries
When Harry recovered his senses he found himself tied hand and foot, andwith a cloth gag between his teeth. It was pitch dark; he could hearnothing save a faint scratching near at hand; mice were evidently attheir nocturnal work. He lay still perforce; he found it impossibleeven to wriggle over on to his side. Here was indeed a culmination ofhis misfortunes.
He tried to think, but the sudden attack and his subsequentunconsciousness had left his brain in a whirl. Gradually the sequence ofevents came back to him: his walk through the streets towardsBlackfriars, the beggar woman, the three sailors, the pretended fit.What was the meaning of it? Had he been marked by the press-gang, andtrepanned to serve Her Majesty on the high seas? Had he been kidnapped,to be robbed or held to ransom? Hardly the former, for a knock on thehead would have served the kidnappers' ends. Hardly the latter, for noone could have taken the pains to waylay for such a purpose a pennilessyouth with no friends.
Suddenly he remembered the vague uneasiness shown at times by Sherebiah;his earnest warnings; the cudgel which after all had proved useless.Sherebiah, it seemed, had had more definite reasons for alarm than hehad avowed; why then had the silly fellow not spoken his mind freely?Who was the enemy? What motive could any person in the wide world havefor kidnapping one who was even yet a boy and had, so far as he knew,done no harm to a living soul? The more he thought, the more he waspuzzled.
He was in pain. The cords cut into his flesh; his throat was parched;he could not swallow. How long was this torture to continue? Where washe? Where were his capturers? He longed for a light, so that he mightat least see the prison in which he was confined, and so diminish evenby one his terrible uncertainties. But no light came, no voice orfootfall sounded gratefully upon his ear; and presently a lethargy stoleupon his mind and all things were again in oblivion.
He was roused by a light flashed in his eyes. Dazed and still only halfconscious, he saw an unknown face bending towards him, and a handholding a candle. The man grunted as though with relief to find thecaptive still alive; then, setting the candle upon the floor, he removedthe gag. Harry tried to speak, but no word issued from his lips. Theman went from the room, leaving the candle still burning. By its lightHarry saw that he was in a narrow attic, with rough beams supporting aslanting roof, and whitewashed walls. There was a sky-light above him;he could hear the first patters of a shower of hail.
Presently the man returned bearing a can and a hunk of bread. LiftingHarry, he held the can to his lips. The prisoner drank the beergreedily.
"Where am I?" he asked, recovering his voice.
"Hold your jaw!" was the surly answer. "You are where you are."
"Why am I brought here? What is to be done with me?"
"Hold your jaw, I say! Ye'll get nothing out of me. Keep a stilltongue; for if ye raise your voice someone I know will find means toquiet ye."
"But I insist on knowing," cried Harry in indignation. "Why was I doggedand attacked in the streets, and brought captive to----"
"Stow it! Least said soonest mended. Behave wi' sense and ye'll betreated according; otherways--well, I won't answer for't."
"Loose my arms then."
"Well, I'll do that for 'ee, and legs too; don't think ye can run away,'cos ye can't. Here's your supper; dry, but 'tis drier where there'snone. I'll leave ye to't."
Untying the cords, the man gave the bread into Harry's hand, took up thecandle, and went out, locking the door behind him. Harry could not eat;his limbs were cramped with his long immobility; when he stood his kneeshardly supported him. But it was pleasant to be able to use arms andlegs once more, and after a time his aching pains abated. He gropedround the room, shook the door, and found it fast. He could just touchthe sky-light with his outstretched hand, and he felt that the glass wasloose; but he could not remove it unless he stood higher, and gropingfailed to find any chair or stool. Escape was impossible; he could butwait for the morning.
He lay awake the greater part of the night, but was sound asleep whenthe same man re-entered with his meagre breakfast. The morning broughtno comfort. A gray dawn struggled through the grimy sky-light,revealing the nakedness of the room. Cobwebs festooned the beams; theboards of the floor were dirty and mouldered; the walls in places weregreen with damp. Harry took silently the food offered him; he was notencouraged by the previous night's experience to question his taciturnjailer. The morning passed slowly, irksomely; when the man returnedwith another meal at noon, Harry ventured to address him.
"How long am I to remain caged here?"
"I can't tell 'ee, 'cos I don't know."
"You're not one of the sailors who trapped me?"
"Lord, no. I wouldn't be a dirty swab for nothing 'cept to 'scape thegallows."
"Who employs you in this turnkey business?"
"That's my business."
"Don't be surly. I've done nothing to you."
"Well, that's true. You ha'n't done nothing to me. That's true enough."
"Will you do something for me, then? You're a good fellow, I'm sure."
"Nay, nay, you don't come over me, young master. Soft speeches ain't nogood for a tough un like me. When I goes out I locks ye in, and if yeholler till ye bust, 'tis no good, not at all."
"I didn't mean that. 'Tis dull as death lying on these rotten boardswith nothing to do; bring me the morning's paper and I'll thank you."
"Well, that's harmless enough, to be sure. Gi' me twopence and I'll buyye a _Courant_."
"'Tis only a penny."
"True; t'other penny's for me."
Harry smiled and felt for his purse. It was gone.
"Plucked clean, eh?" chuckled the man. "Trust your Wapping swab forthat. All the same you shall have the paper."
He returned with the morning's _Courant_, already well thumbed. Harryran his eye over the meagre half-sheet; there was nothing thatinterested him except the announcement of Lord Blandford's death atCambridge.
"The duke has lost his heir," he thought. "He was a little older thanmyself. Perhaps it is my turn next."
The day wore on. In the afternoon the door opened and a strangerentered along with the custodian. By his cut Harry guessed him to be alawyer's clerk. His movements were soft and insinuating; his face waswreathed into an artificial smile.
"Good-morning, sir!" he said softly, bowing. "I have waited upon you tocomplete a little matter of business; a mere formality. The document isquite ready; I have here inkhorn and quill; I have only to ask you towrite your name at the foot."
He unrolled the paper he carried, and signed to his companion to bringthe writing materials.
"Ah! there is no table, I see. You can hardly write on the floor, sir;James, fetch a table from below.--Your furniture is scanty, sir," hecontinued as the man went out; "in truth, there is nothing to recommendyour situation but its loftiness. You are near the sky, sir, and veryfortunately so, for 'tis murky and damp in the street.--Thank you,James! Now, sir, everything is in order; you will, if you please, signyour name where I place my finger, there."
Harry took the pen offered him, and dipped it in the inkhorn. He gaveno sign of his amazement.
"Yes," he said, "with pleasure--when I have read the paper."
"Surely, sir, at this stage it is unnecessary. Why delay? I assure youthat the document is perfectly in order, and the phraseology of us menof law is--well, sir, you understand that a scrivener is paid so much afolio, and he has no temptation to be unduly brief: he! he!"
"Still, if you do not object I will read the paper. It is m
erely aform, as you say."
"Very well, sir," said the man with a patient shrug.
He lifted his hand from the paper, and Harry bent over the table to readit. The writing was clerkly and precise; the sentences were long andinvolved, with no support from punctuation; but, unfamiliar as he waswith legal diction, Harry had no difficulty in making out the gist ofthe document so obligingly placed before him. His heart was thumpinguncomfortably, for all his cool exterior; and he deliberately read downthe close lines slowly in order to gain time to collect his thoughts.The request to sign the paper had been surprising enough, but hisbewilderment was increased tenfold when he found what it was that he wasasked to sign.
Stripped of its verbiage, the document stated that whereas ChristopherButler, gentleman, lately residing in Jermyn Street over against theGarter Coffee-house, had been acquitted of all his debts by the goodoffices of John Feggans, merchant of the City of London, the saidChristopher Butler hereby entered into an indenture to serve the saidJohn Feggans in his Plantations in the island of Barbados for a periodof five years. There were qualifications and provisos and penaltieswhich Harry passed over; then, having read the principal articles again,he looked up and said:
"Why should I sign this?"
"Sir!" said the attorney in surprise.
"Why should I sign this? What have I to do with Christopher Butler orJohn Feggans?"
The lawyer looked round at the other man as though asking whether he hadheard aright.
"I am at a loss to give you better reasons than you know already. Whoshould sign it if not you?"
"I am afraid I must trouble you to explain. See, I find thatChristopher Butler, having incurred debts to a large amount, hasassigned these debts to John Feggans, who has paid them, and thatChristopher Butler indentures himself a slave to John Feggans, to winhis release by working in the Plantations. I ask you, what have I to dowith all this?"
"Christopher Butler asks that?"
"Who? What did you say?"
"Christopher Butler--yourself."
Harry laughed, so great was his sense of relief. It was all a mistake,then; he had been seized by mistake for some poor wretched fellow whohad lost all his money and been forced to adopt this, the last resourceof impecunious spendthrifts.
"Pardon me," he said. "There has been a mistake. My name is notChristopher Butler."
He smiled in the attorney's face. The little man looked staggered.
"Not Christopher Butler?"
"Certainly not. My name is----"
Harry stopped. Some instinct of caution warned him not to disclose hisreal name at present.
"My name is neither Butler nor Christopher," he added. "Now, pray let mego."
"Sir, I have my instructions. I must make enquiries. This is unlookedfor, most perplexing. Pray excuse me for one moment."
He hurried from the room, leaving the door open. The surly custodian,who had followed the colloquy with evident interest, showed that he wasnot a bad fellow at bottom.
"I'm right glad, that I am," he said. "'Twas my own thought you was tooyoung to be such a wild dog, or else you was a most desperate wild one."
Harry did not reply. Through the open door he heard loud voicesproceeding from a room below. He could not catch the words, but therewas something in the tone of the loudest voice that sounded familiar.He had no opportunity of forming a conclusion on the matter, for thespeaker's tone was instantly moderated, as though in response to awarning. Immediately afterwards the attorney returned, accompanied by alow-browed fellow in a lackey's livery. The lawyer's smile was as blandas ever as he came into the room.
"'Tis not unusual for a man to change his mind, Mr. Butler, but in thiscase I fear 't will be a little awkward. I am instructed that you arethe Christopher Butler named in this indenture, and have to insist onyour affixing your signature to it."
"Nonsense!" said Harry impatiently. "I tell you my name is not Butler,and I refuse to sign the paper. 'Tis a preposterous error. I never wasin debt in my life; I know nothing of Feggans; indeed, know hardly asoul in London; why, I never was in London till a month or two ago."
"My dear sir, my dear sir," said the lawyer, as though expostulatingwith a hardened liar. Turning to the lackey, he asked: "You see thisyoung gentleman?"
"Ay, ay, I do so."
Harry started. The accent was pure Wiltshire, and fell on his ears likea message from home. He scanned the man's features, but did notrecognize him.
"What is his name?" went on the lawyer.
"Butler; ay, 'tis Butler, sure enough."
"Where did you see him last?"
"In the Fleet prison, to be sure, ay, and on the common side, too."
"You are sure of this?"
"Ay, faith, sure enough. I seed the gentleman often at maister's;many's the time I called a hackney for'n in the darkest hour o' night,thinken as them as goo fast won't goo long."
"And you were present with your master when this little matter ofbusiness was arranged?"
"I was so, ay."
The lawyer looked with his eternal smile at Harry.
"Now, sir," he said, "you will no longer delay to put your hand to thisdocument."
Harry had been thinking rapidly. He gave up the hypothesis of error;the lawyer's visit was clearly part of a deliberate plot; it matteredlittle whether he was privy to it, or was innocently carrying out hisinstructions. No doubt there was a _Christopher Butler_ who had thussold himself to pay his debts, but somebody had determined to substituteHarry for the real man. He had noticed that the name Christopher Butlerwas written in pencil every time it occurred in the document, all elsebeing in ink; and it suddenly flashed upon him that the object had beento entrap him into signing his real name, which would then besubstituted for the name pencilled in. He gave the lawyer a long look,put his hands behind his back, and said:
"It is waste of time. I refuse."
Again the lawyer smiled and shrugged.
"'Tis immaterial, sir. This is but a duplicate; the original was signedthree days ago in the Fleet. I have now to----"
"Liar!" shouted Harry, springing forward, his face aflame. The doorstood open; only the lackey was in a direct line between the prisonerand freedom. Before the man's slow rustic mind had accommodated itselfto the situation, he was sent reeling against the wall by a straightblow between the eyes. Harry was already out of the room, at the top ofthe staircase, when the little attorney seized him from behind andshouted for help. The taciturn jailer stood looking on. There werecries from below and a stampede of feet, and before Harry, with thelawyer clinging to him, had descended more than four steps he was met bythe three sailors. Swearing hearty oaths they threw themselves uponhim, and in five minutes he was back in the attic securely trussed up.
Even his surly jailer, bringing him food, looked at him with a touch ofsympathy. Harry's haggard eyes met his with a mute appeal for help.
"Odsbud!" exclaimed the man, "'tis hard on a mere stripling. If yourname bean't Christopher Butler, what be it?"
"My name is Harry Rochester. 'Tis a vile plot. You believe me?"
"Ay, I believe ye. Tain't in reason that a boy should ha' got oceandeep in debt."
"Will you help me? You see what a snare is about me. Will you go tothe Star and Garter in Leicester fields and ask for Sherebiah Minshull?Tell him where I am, and what they are going to do with me."
"But what'd be the good, mister?"
"He would find a way to help me. You would know that if you knew him."
"And how much might ye be willing to pay, now?"
"I haven't a penny, as you know, but he had some money. Lose no time;pray go now, at once."
"Well, the truth on't is I'm paid by t'other party."
"Who is it? What is the name of the man who has hired you?"
"Faith, I don't know, but he have a fine long purse, and 'tis a fineswashing gentleman. Howsomever, I'll go to the Star and Garter as yousay, and see your man--what be his name? Minshull; good;
I'll go soon,and--Coming, sir, coming," he added in answer to a hail from below."I'll go afore 'tis dark, 'struth, I will."
He left the room, and Harry felt a momentary glow of hope. It wasdulled immediately. The three sailors re-entered. Without ado theyagain bound his arms, which had been loosed to allow of his lifting hisfood, and carried him downstairs. Daylight was fading. At the doorHarry looked eagerly around for some person whom a cry might bring tohis rescue. Alas! the house was in a blind alley, and no one but hiscaptors was in sight. He did raise his voice and give one resoundingcall. A gag was instantly slipped into his mouth, and he was hurried tothe open end of the alley, where a hackney coach stood waiting. Intothis he was thrown; two of the sailors got in with him, the thirdmounted to a place beside the driver, and the vehicle rumbled and joltedover the rough cobbles.
Some twenty minutes later it pulled up at the Tower Wharf, where Harryhad vainly sought for Jan Grootz a few days before. It was now night,and as he was lifted out and borne towards the wharf side, Harry saw bythe light of naphtha torches a busy scene. Sailors, lightermen,stevedores were moving hither and thither; the ground was strewn withbales and packages; the last portions of a cargo were being transferredto the hold of a barque that lay alongside. No one paid attention tothe not unusual spectacle of a young fellow going unwillingly to avessel bound for the Plantations. Harry's captors, joking, chewing,spitting, shoved him with no tender hands on to the gangway. At theother end of it stood a dark-featured, beetle-browed old seaman, thecaptain of the vessel, bawling orders to this and that member of hiscrew.
"Ha!" he cried, as he saw the new-comer hauled along in the sailors'arms; "this be the springald? Zooks! ye are none too soon: tide turnsin half an hour."
"Here we be, sir, true; and this be Christopher Butler, mark you, forthe Plantations."
"Papers?" roared the captain, spitting into the river.
"All taut, sir," replied the man, producing the document that Harry hadrefused to sign; it bore a signature now.
"Obstropolous, eh?"
"Changed his mind, sir, it seems, since signing on; ha' give us sometrouble."
"Oons! We'll cure that. All aboard! Stow the cockerel in the foc'sle;strap un to a plank; we'll have no 'tarnal tricks."
As Harry was lugged forward he noticed two figures standing beneath alamp swinging to one of the yards. He started, and involuntarilyincreased his weight upon his bearers. One of the two came forward astep towards the captain and, tapping a snuff-box, said:
"Whom have we here, captain?"
"A young puppy as ha' run through a duke's fortune and goes asredemptioner where I've carried many a man before him."
"Indeed! So young! 'Tis sad, the wastefulness of young men in thisage."
He took a pinch of snuff and stepped back again. Harry had scanned hisfeatures and heard what he said. His heart almost stopped beating withsurprise, for the speaker was Mr. Berkeley, the squire, and hiscompanion was Captain Aglionby. "Did they not recognize me?" hethought. Surely if he could appeal to the squire he might even yet, atthe last moment, be saved. He struggled with his captors, but theytightened their hold upon him and wrenched his limbs with brutalcallousness. He was carried to the sailors' quarters in the foc'sle.His bonds were loosed for a moment; then he was laid on a plank andlashed to it. There was a sudden commotion. The captain roared an orderto his men, then went to the side to meet a custom-house officer who hadjust come aboard with two men. An observer would have noticed that Mr.Berkeley hastily turned his back and retreated into the shadow.
"Thought you'd forgot us, sir," said the captain.
"No, no. But we won't keep you long; you want to catch the tide."
The rummaging crew began a perfunctory inspection of the vessel. Whenthey were out of sight Mr. Berkeley came forward and spoke in a low toneto the captain.
"Right, sir," he replied, and sent a man forward with orders to placeHarry in a bunk in the darkest part of the foc'sle and cover him up.Consequently, when the custom-house officer reached the sailors'quarters, where several of the crew were lolling about, Harry layhidden, half-stifled beneath a tarpaulin.
"What's this?" asked the officer.
"That!" cried the ship's mate with an oath. "That's Ned Bates, comeaboard mad drunk after a spree. 'Tis the same every voyage, and themedicine's a dose of rope's end to-morrow."
The officer laughed and passed on. The inspection was soon completed;the officer accepted a pinch of the captain's snuff and left the vesselwith his crew, watched by Mr. Berkeley and Captain Aglionby from thecorner of a shed on the wharf. In a few minutes the ropes were castoff, and with creakings and heavings the ship moved into the current andbegan to float down on the ebb-tide towards the sea.
The tarpaulin was pulled off Harry by a man who took the opportunity tocurse him. The gag was removed from his mouth; then he was left tohimself. He thought he had reached the lowest depths of misery.Something he had learnt of the awful fate in store for him in thePlantations. Many such poor wretches as himself had sailed across theseas in the hope of redeeming themselves from debt by years ofunremitting toil. On their arrival they had become, body and soul, theproperty of their masters. Treated as no better than convicts, they wereput to the most degrading labour, and their employers contrived to keepthem, even as labourers, so deeply in debt for clothes and the commonnecessaries of life that the day of redemption never dawned for them,and they lived and died in abject slavery. This was to be his fate!What a declension from the bright destiny that seemed to be before himbut a few months ago!
The foc'sle was dark and noisome. The smell of bilge water and the reekof the lamp affixed to the side nauseated Harry. Physically andmentally, he was desperately wretched. And through all his misery hewas overcome by sheer puzzlement. Hitherto he had surmised that, beingyoung and strong, he had been marked as an easy prey by the professionalkidnappers who prowled the streets of London, trepanning unfortunateyoung men likely to fetch a good price with shipmasters or unscrupulouscolonial merchants. But the unexpected sight of Mr. Berkeley in CaptainAglionby's company on deck had startled him into a new theory. Manythings recurred to his mind. He remembered the bitter feud that hadsubsisted between his father and the squire; the disappearance ofCaptain Aglionby after a quarrel, as village gossip said, with Mr.Berkeley; the horseman riding after the coach; the strange warnings hehad received from Sherebiah. He could not but feel that these incidentswere in some way connected; he began to be convinced that his presentsituation was due ultimately to the enmity of the squire--the gaunt,sinister old man who was indirectly responsible for his father's death.But though this was his conclusion, he was none the less puzzled. Whyshould the malignity of the squire pursue the son, now that the fatherwas removed? What harm had _he_ ever done, or could he ever do, to thelord of the manor? Was the squire so unrelenting, was his malice soremorseless, that he must bring black ruin upon a boy in vengeance forhis baulked will? It seemed inconceivable. Yet what other motive couldhe have? The more he thought of it, the more puzzled Harry became.
The vessel was slowly threading its way down the river among the manyvessels, large and small, that lay at their moorings. At times itstopped altogether, and from the deck resounded shouts and oaths at theobstacles that checked its course. By and by some of the sailors cameforward for a spell of sleep, and Harry, kept wide awake by his hungerand discomfort, saw them tumble into their bunks and soon heard theirsnores.
It would take several hours to reach the open sea. Was there a chancethat, before the vessel left the Thames, he might even yet escape? Tomake the attempt was mere instinct with a high-spirited boy. The oddsseemed all against him. To begin with, he was bound hand and foot to aplank, so that it was impossible even to bend his body. Suppose he ridhimself of his bonds, there would be many of the crew on deck while thevessel threaded the crowded water-way, and he would be seen if he sprangoverboard; and how could he free himself from the ropes? The idea hadnot come to him for the first t
ime. When he was being trussed up he hadremembered an old trick taught him by Sherebiah, acquired during hismountebank days, when he had mystified rustic spectators by escapingfrom ropes tied by the most expert hands in the village. He had sostiffened his muscles that he could wriggle out of any ordinary knot.But the situation was rendered more difficult by the plank. He couldnot lift himself, nor turn on his side. Lying on his back, he tried toease the pressure of the ropes by the muscular movements he hadpractised with Sherebiah in sport. But he found, not to his surprise,that sailors were more skilful than anyone who had previouslyexperimented with him. The tension was so great that he had the barestmargin to work upon. Force was useless; it would only have the effect ofcutting into his flesh and causing his hands and wrists to swell. Buthis whole mind was now bent upon one desperate venture, and, while themen snored around him, he began to strain on the ropes.
For some time all his straining was of no avail. At last he felt therope about his wrists give a little. Taking advantage of the slackenedtension, he contrived, after what seemed an hour to him, to turn hisjoined wrists outwards, and in a few more minutes they were free. Theyached intolerably; he felt as if all power was gone from them,--as if hecould never grip anything firmly again. He waited until the numbing painwas abated, then set to work to free his elbows. These had beenseparately tied, and after many unsuccessful efforts he almostdespaired. At length, however, he managed to shift his elbows down overthe edges of the plank, which he was then able to use as fulcrums.Pressing as hard as possible, he forced the ropes slightly slack, thenjerked himself sideways and almost on to his face. In doing so he morethan once interrupted the snores of the man beneath him, and oncedesisted in alarm as the fellow growled out an oath. At last his elbowswere free, and he lay panting with exertion and hope.
But now that the upper part of his body was unbound, he found himselfconfronted by an unexpected difficulty. The board to which he wasstrapped extended down to his heels, and the knot being tied at the farend, he was unable to reach it. A man is never so agile with his anklesas with his wrists, and the plank had effectually prevented Harry frommaking use of Sherebiah's trick in regard to his feet. It wasimpossible to reach the knots with his hands, for the roof of thefoc'sle was so low that he could not rise to an upright posture in thebunk. He worked away at the upper part of the rope, but it was so tautthat he could not ease it appreciably. He found himself making evenmore noise than before, and dreaded lest one of the crew should awakentoo soon. Breathless with his exertions, he lay still to think. Was heto be baffled after all? Some hours must have passed since the vesselleft her moorings, and though her progress had been interrupted and wasalways slow, yet she was drawing nearer and nearer to the mouth of theriver, bringing him nearer and nearer to his doom.
A dull dazed hopelessness was gaining possession of him. He lay withwide-open eyes, staring at nothing; then caught himself following theslight pendulous motion of a seaman's coat that hung from a nail in oneof the beams. To and fro it swung, with a regularity that became atlast desperately annoying. But all at once that rough stained garmentbecame to him the most interesting and important thing in the world. Itseemed to shed a bright ray of hope. Never a seaman but had a knife;fervently did Harry pray that the owner of this coat had not emptied itspockets. Stealthily he bent over. The right-hand pocket was easilywithin reach. He put his hand in, and drew out one after another apipe, a pouch, a flint, a steel, a tinder-box, a string of beads, acorner of mouldy biscuit, a horn snuff-box, a tattered letter, a plug ofblack tobacco, a broken comb, a red handkerchief, and a nutmeg; but noknife. He could only just touch the left-hand pocket; he could not puthis hand in. He pulled at the coat, and held it with one hand, bringingthe pocket within reach; then he plunged the other hand into its depths.He touched a metal case; it clicked against something, and he held hisbreath, hoping the sound had not been heard. No one spoke or moved. Hefelt further; his heart gave a great leap for joy, for he could notmistake the touch of the rugged handle of a clasp-knife. Eagerly hedrew it out; to cut the rope was the work of an instant; he was free.
But he was not yet out of danger. His limbs were loosed, but he wasstill imprisoned in an outward-bound ship. There was only one way ofreaching safety: to gain the deck, spring overboard, and swim to land.He knew nothing about ships; he could row and swim, but till he came toLondon he had seen no vessel larger than a rowing boat. He guessed thatwhile the barque was still in the Thames only a small portion of thecrew would be on duty; but he did not know at what part of the ship theywould be, nor where he would run least danger of detection. It wasstill dark; he might easily stumble as he moved about amid unfamiliarsurroundings, and there was the risk that, even if he reached thebulwarks safely and sprang over, he might never succeed in reaching landalive. He did not know the width of the stream; he had been so longwithout food and had expended so much energy during the last few hoursthat he was in no condition to endure long fatigue. It would perhaps bebetter to rest for a little, and seize a moment as day was breaking,when there would be light enough to guide his steps.
His body was still tingling from the strain of the ropes, but with thepassing minutes his physical ease increased, and he was able to thinkmore and more calmly. He heard the clang of a bell. Immediatelyafterwards a sailor came into the foc'sle, woke the man below Harry,and, when he had tumbled grumbling out of his berth, lay down in hisplace. It was a change of watch.
"Where are we, Bill?" asked the man who had been roused.
"Opening up Gravesend," was the reply; "and a dirty night. Raininghard, a following wind; we'll make a good run out."
The man was asleep as soon as he had finished the sentence, and Harrywas reassured by his snores. Gravesend, he supposed, was a river-sidevillage; if he could make his dive there he might find helping hands onshore. He wondered what the time was; the bells that he heard atintervals conveyed no information to him. He raised himself on hiselbow and glanced round. It seemed to him that, in the opening to hisleft, the darkness was thinning; and the vessel was heaving to. Thetime had come for his venture.
He sat up as high as his confined quarters allowed and surveyed hisposition. There were five men within the narrow space, all asleep,snoring in various keys. From above came now and then the sound of avoice and the tramp of feet; nothing else was to be heard. Slipping hisleg over the side of the bunk, Harry paused for a moment, then slid tothe floor. His knee knocked the edge of the bunk below; the seamanturned over with a grunt and asked sleepily, "Be it time already?" Itwas better to answer than to remain silent, thought Harry. Making hisvoice as gruff as possible, he said quickly:
"No; keep still, you lubber."
"Lubber yourself; I'll split your----"
His threat ended with a snore. Harry waited a moment to assure himselfthat all was quiet again; then, divesting himself of his long coat,which he knew would be a serious encumbrance in the water, he gropedcautiously towards the opening, now showing as a gray patch in thegloom. Rain and sleet beat in upon him as he halted for a moment andthrew a quick glance around before emerging on to the deck. In thewaist of the vessel on the port side two men were hauling up casks,probably belated provisions, from a river craft lashed alongside; threeor four seamen were high up in the rigging, and the mate was bellowingto them hoarse commands in what to Harry's landsman's ears was a foreigntongue. Harry felt that it was now or never; but, even as he preparedto spring, there was a heavy footfall above, and a man dropped from thefoc'sle deck and alighted a couple of yards away. He swung on his heelto enter the foc'sle, and the two stood face to face.
Harry recognized the broad coarse features of the sailor to whosefeigned fit his easy capture was due. The man's first impression wasevidently that Harry was one of the crew; he quickly saw his mistake,but before his thought could translate itself into action Harry, who hadthe advantage of being strung up for just such a meeting, sprang uponhim as a bolt from a bow. Reeling under a deftly planted blow the manslipped and
fell heavily to the deck. Harry was past him in an instant,gained the side of the vessel, and, vaulting lightly on to the bulwark,had dived into the river before the astonished seaman could recover hisbreath to shout an alarm. In a few seconds Harry rose to the surface,shook the water from his face, and struck out for the shore.
Behind him he heard the angry shouts of the sailors, and afterwards theclick of oars working in the row-locks. A boat was evidently inpursuit. No doubt the craft alongside had been cast loose, for therecould not have been time to lower a boat. Could he reach land in time?His dive had been so hasty that he had not had time to look around andselect his course. But now, through the pelting rain, he gazed ahead tofind the nearest way to safety. Judging by the noise of the oars, theboat was rapidly overhauling him, for although he had left his coatbehind, he made but slow progress in his water-logged clothes. His viewof the shore was intercepted by a few small one-masted vessels lying atanchor, and by a large brig moored about a hundred yards off the clumpof trees that formed the western boundary of Gravesend. If he couldgain the other side of the brig he thought he might dodge his pursuers.But he doubted whether his strength and speed could be sustained solong. The seamen were pulling with a will; the master himself was inthe boat urging them on with oaths and execrations.
Harry swam on gamely, changing his stroke in the effort to husband hisstrength. But he had only had a couple of minutes' start, and lookingover his shoulder he saw that with the best will in the world he mustsoon be overtaken. Only twenty yards separated him from the boat; hehad just come opposite the poop of the stationary brig; he wonderedwhether a shout would bring anyone to his assistance, when a small skiffappeared from round the stern of the vessel, only a few feet distantfrom him. It had just put off from the brig and was swinging roundtowards the shore. Harry gave a hail; the men in the boat rested ontheir oars; collecting his remaining strength in a few desperate strokeshe got alongside, and clutched the gunwale just as he felt himself athis last gasp. At the same moment the pursuing boat came up, and theman at the tiller had some ado to avoid a collision.
At the Last Gasp]
"Back water!" roared the master.
The way on the boat was checked; it came to a stop a few yards beyondthe skiff and nearer the shore. Meanwhile Harry had been dragged onboard the skiff, and lay drenched, shivering, gasping across thethwarts.
"Cotched, the villain!" cried the ship's master exultantly. "Pullalongside, men."
A few strokes brought the two boats together.
"I'll thank ye to hand un over," said the master. "Zooks! he shall payfor this."
He received no reply, but instead a voice which Harry, half dead as hewas from cold and fatigue, recognized with a leaping heart, ordered thecrew of the skiff to pull back to the brig.
"Hi!" roared the master, as the boats parted, "are ye deaf or what?Hand over that there runaway; 'tis a deserter. Pull after 'em, men."
The boat started in pursuit, the master shouting with increasing anger.The skiff came below the brig's stern, where a rope ladder was hangingover the side.
"Gi' un up, d'ye hear? Gi' un up, or 'twill be the worse for ye."
"Gif him up! Ja, ja; certainly, but not now, mine vrient; not now, andnot to you. Dat is not my way. We do not dings zo in Holland."
"What in thunder are ye gibbering about?" roared the master--"you dirtyswab of a Dutchman, you! I tell you he is a deserter. Hand un over, orI'll have the law of ye."
"De law! Zo, mine vrient. We will talk over dis matter as goodvrients."
Grootz sat down, while the men on the brig prepared to haul Harry, nowlimp with utter exhaustion, on deck.
"I, Jan Grootz, find dis young man in de river; ver well. He float inde river; well again; he is what de law call flotsam--dat is zo. Now,mine vrient,"--here Grootz's fat forefinger began to waggle--"flotsam,say de law, belong to de sovereign, dat is, to de lady Queen Anne. Whatis for me to do in such a case--for me, Jan Grootz? I render toCaesar--who is de Queen--dat which is Caesar's--dat which belong to degracious majesty Queen Anne. Derefore I gif up dis young man to deQueen's officer at Gravesend--perhaps, when he is dry. Zo!"
While this speech was being delivered in the Dutchman's slow drawl, witha placid persuasiveness suited to a discussion between friends who didnot see quite eye to eye, the master had been growing purple with rage.He was about to explode into invective when he saw that Harry was beingswung up.
"Give way, men!" he shouted. "Run her alongside."
He held himself in readiness to board the skiff as soon as he camewithin leaping distance. But Grootz, with an activity little to beexpected in so burly a frame, seized an oar that had been shipped by oneof his men now lending a hand in hoisting Harry on board, and, springingto his feet, with a shrewd thrust sent the master spinning over the sideof his boat into the river. He came up nearly a dozen yards away; hiscrew pulled towards him, and when he was at last hauled into the boat hewas fifty yards down the river. He had evidently shipped a good deal ofwater, for Grootz's blow must have knocked the breath out of his body;the purple hue of his cheeks had given place to a mottled sickliness.He gasped and puffed and swore; but Harry was by this time safe on boardthe brig; to take him by main force was clearly impossible; and thediscomfited master had no alternative but to regain his own vessel.
Harry was carried to the cabin, his wet clothes were taken off, he waswrapped in blankets and forced to swallow a good bumper of cordialbefore the Dutchman would allow him to speak.
"Zo!" exclaimed Grootz when he was comfortable.
"You saved my life, sir," said Harry warmly. "I was nearly done."
"Zo!"
"They were taking me to the Plantations. I never heard from LordMarlborough. They trapped me. All my money was gone. I went to theAngel and Crown to find you, to ask you to give me work; you hadsailed."
"Zo! talk no more. Flotsam! Gunst! I tell you dis, my vrient; put notyour drust in princes: every man learn dis zoon or late: better zoon.Zo!"
The honest Dutchman left Harry to sleep while he resumed his interruptedjourney to the shore. But he had barely reached the deck when he heardhimself hailed by a stentorian voice from a wherry sweeping by underfull sail and the rapid ply of oars.
"Ahoy there! Ha' ye seed a ship named the _Merry Maid_ a-sailendown-along this way?"
"Ja, ja!" cried Grootz, chuckling; "what for you ask?"
But the man gave him no answer; only called to the two men rowing thewherry to pull more lustily.
"Hi!" shouted the Dutchman in his turn; and though his voice was usuallylow he could roar at need. "Hi! you be too late!"
The man did not turn his head.
"Hi! she is two mile ahead!"
Sherebiah gave no sign. He was rapidly passing out of earshot.
"Hi!" shouted Grootz still more loudly. "Sherebiah, stop! MynheerHarry is here!"
Sherebiah jumped up so violently that, heavy as the wherry was, healmost upset it.
"Master Harry?" he roared.
"Ja! I tell you."
The wherry slewed round and headed toward the brig. Grootz lit his pipeand watched, his little eyes twinkling with amusement. Sherebiah lookedpositively aggrieved when he came aboard.
"Oons! 'tis sinful to tear a poor mortal man's heart out, 'tis so. Herebe I, a-chasen a villanous creature, the _Merry Maid_ by name, thinkenas Master Harry were a forsaken prisoner aboard on her, and 'tis allmuch ado about nothen, and he a-laughen in his sleeve along o' yourcargo! I wouldn' ha' thowt it, not I. Where be the deceiventrickster?"
"Asleep," said Grootz, with a puff of smoke. "Flotsam!" He chuckledand guffawed; it was a joke that would last his lifetime.
"What your meanen may be I don't know, Mynheer; but 'tis me as ought tobe sleepen. No sleep ha' I had, not a wink, since Master Harry playedthis trick on me; ay, 'twas sinful. And I'll punch Ralph Aglionby'scostard, I will so, first chance I gets."
"Tell me about it," said Grootz.
Sherebiah
related how, on returning to his inn with the money for whichhe had pledged Harry's trinkets, he was surprised to find his youngmaster absent. As time passed on, and he did not make his appearance,Sherebiah became thoroughly alarmed. About seven o'clock in the eveninghe hurried off to Southwark, and enquired of the porter at the WhiteHart whether Captain Aglionby was within. The captain had left a weekbefore, said the porter, in company with a tall, bent, shabby oldgentleman. Sherebiah's worst fears were realized. For weeks he hadexpected the stroke, and now it had fallen suddenly, and at a time whenhe was not at hand to parry it. He hastened at once to the house inwhich, as he had made it his business to know, Mr. Berkeley was staying.Neither the squire nor Captain Aglionby was at home. Sherebiahthereupon took his station at a convenient spot near the house whence hecould see without being seen, and some time after midnight was rewarded.The two men he sought returned together. Allowing a little time toelapse, he went to the house and asked to see Captain Aglionby, givingthe servant a vague message which he believed would bring the captain tothe door. Instead of him, however, Mr. Berkeley himself appeared. ToSherebiah's question as to what had become of Harry, the squire repliedcoldly that he knew nothing about him, and shut the door in hisquestioner's face.
"Ay, I were a fool to ask un," admitted Sherebiah ruefully. "I hadought to ha' thowt o' poor old feyther o' mine."
Sherebiah was determined to have his question answered somehow. He wasearly at his post next morning, keeping a careful eye upon the door ofthe house. He saw the squire and Captain Aglionby issue forth togetherand visit a lawyer up four flights of stairs in a house near HolbornBars. He followed all three to a house in a blind alley farther east,never suspecting that Harry was there confined. He shadowed them whenthey left, saw them enter a coffee-house, followed them when they cameout, and then lost sight of them. Returning to his own inn to enquirewhether anything had been heard of Harry, he found that a man had calledan hour before and left a message for him, asking him to call withoutdelay at an address in Smithfield. Hastening there at once, he learntfrom Harry's late jailer how he had been kidnapped and shipped off tothe Plantations. At full speed he rushed to the wharf, only to learnthat the _Merry Maid_, William Shovel master, had just taken the tideand was now on her way to the sea.
"You med ha' knocked me down wi' a feather. I sat me down on a boxunder a gashly torch, and thinks I, 'Rafe Aglionby be too much for 'eethis time, Sherebiah Stand-up-and-bless.' I stood up, I did; time an'tide waits for no man; 'twas a sudden thought; I seed a sailen wherryalongside wharf, and two big swabs hangen round. I showed 'em a crowna-piece, and said there's more to foller, and mebbe summat out o' theQueen's purse too; and here I be, all my poor mortal flesh a-wamblenlike a aspen. 'Tis tooken a year off my life, ay, 'tis so."
Jan Grootz smiled.
"Mine good vrient," he said, "I tell you dis. You will come ashore withme; we will go to your inn and fetch your goods. It will delay us, butonly one day. Den my ship sails; Amsterdam; you will come?"
"Sakes! What about Master Harry, then?"
"He alzo."
"Oons! Be that th' order o' the day? Well, 'tis a long lane has noturnen. Will there be time for me to go and ha' a few words wi' RafeAglionby?"
"No."
"Well, I'll save 'em up. A rod bean't none the wuss for bein' salted.Ay, and I were not always a man o' peace!"