CHAPTER XIV. THE JAIL.
From the moment the carriage-door closed upon us, Barton never addressedone word to me, but leaning back, seemed only anxious to escape beingrecognized by the people, whose attention was drawn to the vehicle byseeing two mounted policemen ride at either side of it. We drove alongthe quays, and crossing an old, dilapidated bridge, traversed severalobscure and mean-looking streets, through which numbers of persons werehurrying in the same direction we were going. At length we arrived ata large open space, thronged with people whose dress and appearancebespoke them from the country. They were all conversing in a low,murmuring tone, and looking up from time to time towards a massivebuilding of dark granite, which I had only to glance at to guess wasNewgate. Our pace slackened to a walk as we entered the crowd; and whilewe moved slowly along, I was struck by the eager and excited faces I sawon every side. It could be no common occasion which impressed that vastmultitude with the one character of painful anxiety I beheld.
As they stood gazing with upturned faces at the frowning portals of thejail, the deep, solemn tolling of a bell rung out at the moment, andas its sad notes vibrated through the air, it seemed to strike witha mournful power on every heart in the crowd. In an instant, too, thewindows of all the houses were thronged with eager faces,--even theparapets were crowded; and while every sound was hushed, each eye wasturned in one direction. I followed with my own whither the others werebent, and beheld above my head the dark framework of the "drop," coveredwith black cloth, above which a piece of rope swung back-. wards andforwards with the wind. The narrow door behind was closed; but it wasclear that each second that stole by was bringing some wretched criminalcloser to his awful doom.
As we neared the entrance, the massive doors were opened on a signalfrom a policeman on the box of the carriage, and we drove inside thegloomy vestibule. It was only then, as the heavy door banged behind me,that my heart sank. Up to that moment a mingled sense of wrong, and afeeling of desperate courage, had nerved me; but suddenly a cold chillran through my veins, my knees smote each other, and fear such as tillthen I never knew crept over me. The carriage-door was now opened, thesteps lowered, and Barton descending first, addressed a few words to aperson near him, whom he called Mr. Gregg.
It was one of those moments in life in which every passing look, everychance word, every stir, every gesture, are measured up, and rememberedever after. And I recollect now how, as I stepped from the carriage, afeeling of shame passed across me lest the bystanders should mark myfear, and what a relief I experienced on finding that my presence wasunnoticed; and then the instant after, that very same neglect--thatcold, cold indifference to me--smote as heavily on my spirits, and Ilooked on myself as one whose fate had no interest for any, in whosefortune none sympathized.
"Drive on!" cried a rough voice to the coachman; and the carriage movedthrough the narrow passage, in which some dozen of persons were nowstanding. The next moment, a murmur of "They are coming!" was heard;and the solemn tones of a man's voice chanting the last offices of theRomish Church reached us, with the measured footfall of persons crossingthe flagged courtyard. In the backward movement now made by those aroundme, I was brought close to a small arched doorway, within which a flightof stone steps ascended in a spiral direction; and towards this point Iremarked that the persons who approached were tending. My eyes scarcelyglanced on those who came first; but they rested with a fearful intereston the bareheaded priest, who, in all the trappings of his office,walked, book in hand, repeating with mournful impressiveness the litanyfor the dead. As he came nearer, I could see that his eyes were dimmedwith tears, and his pale lips quivered with emotion, while his verycheek trembled with a convulsive agony. Not so he who followed. He wasa young man, scarce four and twenty; dressed in loose white trousers andshirt, but without coat, vest, or cravat; his head bare, and displayinga broad forehead, across which some straggling hairs of light brown wereblown by the wind. His eye was bright and flashing, and in the centre ofhis pale cheek a small crimson spot glowed with a hectic coloring. Hisstep was firm, and as he planted it upon the ground a kind of elasticityseemed to mark his footfall. He endeavored to repeat after the priestthe words as they fell from him; but as he looked wildly around, it wasclear his mind was straying from the subject which his lips expressed,and that thoughts far different were passing within him. Suddenlyhis eyes fell upon the major, who stood close to where I was. The manstarted back, and for a second even that small spot of crimson left hischeek, which became nearly livid in its pallor. A ghastly smile, thatshowed his white teeth from side to side, crossed his features, and witha voice of terrible earnestness, he said,--
"'T is easy for you to look calm, sir, at your morning's work, and Ihope you 're plazed at it." Then frowning fearfully, as his face grewpurple, he added, "But, by the Eternal I you 'd not look that way av wetwo stood by ourselves on the side of Sliebmish, and nothing but our ownfour arms between us."
The horrible expression of vengeance that lit up his savage face atthese words seemed to awe even the callous and stern nature of Bartonhimself. All his efforts to seem calm and at ease were for the momentunavailing, and he shrank from the proud and flashing eye of the felon,as though he were the guilty one in the presence of his accuser.
Another stroke of the heavy bell rang out. The prisoner started, andturning round his head, seemed to peer anxiously through the crowdbehind him, when his eyes fell upon the figure of a man apparently ayear or two younger than himself, and whose features, even in theirlivid coloring, bore a striking resemblance to his own.
"Come, Patsey," cried he, "come along with us." Then turning to thejailer, while his face assumed a smile, and his voice a tone of winningsoftness, he asked, "It is my brother, sir; he is come up nigh eightymiles to see me, and I hope you 'll let him come upon the drop."
There was something in the quiet earnestness of his manner in such amoment that thrilled upon the heart more painfully than even the violentoutbreak of his passion; and when I saw the two brothers hand in hand,march step by step along, and then disappear in the winding of the darkstair, a sick, cold feeling came over me, and even the loud shout thatrent the air from the assembled thousands without scarce roused mefrom my stupor.
"Come, sir," cried a man, who in the dress of an official had been forsome minutes carefully reading over the document of my committal, "afterme, if you please."
I followed him across the courtyard in the direction of a small buildingwhich stood isolated and apart from the rest, when suddenly he stopped,and carefully examining the paper in his hand, he said,--
"Wait a moment; I 'll join you presently."
With these words, he hurried back towards the gate, where Barton still'stood with two or three others. What passed between them I could nothear; but I could distinctly mark that Barton's manner was moreabrupt and imperious than ever, and that while the jailer--for such hewas--expressed his scruples of one kind or another, the major would nothear him with patience, but turning his back upon him, called out loudenough to be heard even where I stood,--
"I tell you I don't care, regular or irregular; if you refuse to takehim in charge, on your head be it. We have come to a pretty pass.Pollock," said he, turning to a person beside him, "when there ismore sympathy for a rebel in his Majesty's jail, than respect for aGovernment officer."
"I'll do it, sir,--I'll do it," cried the jailer; saying which hemotioned me to follow, while he muttered between his teeth, "there mustcome an end to this, one day or other."
With that he unlocked a strongly barred gate, and led me along a narrowpassage; at the extremity of which he opened a door into a small andrather comfortably furnished room.
"Here, sir," said he, "you 'll be better than where I have my orders toput you; and in any case, I trust that our acquaintance will be but ashort one."
These were the first words of kindness I had heard for some time past. Iturned to thank the speaker; but already the door had closed, and he wasgone.
The quickly succeeding incid
ents of my life, the dark destiny thatseemed to track me, had given a reflective character to my mind whileI was yet a boy. The troubles and cares of life, that in manhoodserve only to mould and fashion character,--to call forth efforts ofendurance, of courage, or ability,--come upon us in early years with fardifferent effect and far different teaching. Every lesson tit deceitand duplicity is a direct shock to some preconceived notion of faith andhonor; every punishment, whose severity in after years we had forgottenin its justice, has to the eyes of youth a character of vindictivecruelty. Looking only to effects, and never to causes, our views oflife are one-sided and imperfect; the better parts of our nature willas often mislead us by false sympathy, as will the worst ones by theirpernicious tendency.
From the hour I quitted my father's house to the present, I had seennothing but what to me appeared the sufferings of a poor, defencelesspeople at the hands of wanton tyranny and outrage. I had seen thepeasant's cabin burned because it had been a shelter to an outcast; Ihad heard the loud and drunken denunciations of a ruffianly soldieryagainst those who professed no other object, who acknowledged no otherwish, than liberty and equality; and in my heart I vowed a rooted hateto the enemies of my country,--a vow that lost nothing of its bitternessbecause it was made within the walls of a prison.
In reflections like these my evening passed on, and with it the greaterpart of the night also. My mind was too much excited to permit me tosleep, and I longed for daybreak with that craving impatience which sickmen feel who count the long hours of darkness, and think the morningmust bring relief. It came at last; and the heavy, clanking sounds ofmassive doors opening and shutting--the mournful echoes that told ofcaptivity and durance--sighed along the corridors, and then all wasstill.
There is a time in reverie when silence seems not to encourage thought,but rather, like some lowering cloud, to hang over and spread a gloomyinsensibility around us. Long watching and much thinking had brought menow to this; and I sat looking upon the faint streak of sunlight thatstreamed through the barred window, and speculating within myself whenit would fall upon the hearth. Suddenly I heard the sound of footstepsin the corridor; my door was opened, and the jailer entered, followed bya man carrying my breakfast.
"Come, sir," said the former, "I hope you have got an appetite for ourprison fare. Lose no time; for there is a carriage in waiting to bringyou to the Castle, and the major himself is without."
"I am ready this moment," said I, starting up, and taking my hat;and notwithstanding every entreaty to eat, made with kindness andgood-nature, I refused everything, and followed him out into thecourtyard, where Barton was pacing up and down, impatiently awaiting ourcoming.