CHAPTER V
KIDNAPPED
That afternoon Captain Dave went down to the Bridewell, and had aninterview with Tom Frost, in the presence of the Master of theprison.
"Well, Tom, I never expected to have to come to see you in a placelike this."
"I am glad I am here, master," the boy said earnestly, with tears inhis eyes. "I don't mind if they hang me; I would rather anything thango on as I have been doing. I knew it must come, and whenever I heardanyone walk into the shop I made sure it was a constable. I am readyto tell everything, master; I know I deserve whatever I shall get,but that won't hurt me half as much as it has done, having to go onliving in the house with you, and knowing I was helping to rob youall along."
"Anything that you say must be taken down," the officer said; "and Ican't promise that it will make any difference in your sentence."
"I do not care anything about that; I am going to tell the truth."
"Very well, then, I will take down anything you say. But wait aminute."
He went to the door of the room and called.
"Is the Chief Constable in?" he asked a man who came up. "If he is,ask him to step here."
A minute later the Chief Constable came in.
"This prisoner wishes to make a confession, Master Holmes. I thoughtit best that you should be here. You can hear what he says then, andit may help you in your inquiry. Besides, you may think of questionson points he may not mention; he understands that he is speakingentirely of his own free will, and that I have given him no promisewhatever that his so doing will alter his sentence, although no doubtit will be taken into consideration."
"Quite so," the constable said. "This is not a case where oneprisoner would be ordinarily permitted to turn King's evidenceagainst the others, because, as they were caught in the act, no suchevidence is necessary. We know all about how the thing was done, andwho did it."
"I want to tell how I first came to rob my master," the boy said. "Inever thought of robbing him. When I came up to London, my fathersaid to me, 'Whatever you do, Tom, be honest. They say there arerogues up in London; don't you have anything to do with them.' Oneevening, about a year ago I went out with Robert, and we went to ashop near the wall at Aldgate. I had never been there before, butRobert knew the master, who was the old man that was taken in thelane. Robert said the man was a relation of his father's, and hadbeen kind to him. We sat down and talked for a time, and then Robert,who was sitting close to me, moved for something, and put his handagainst my pocket.
"'Hullo!' he said; 'what have you got there?'
"'Nothing,' I said.
"'Oh, haven't you?' and he put his hand in my pocket, and brought outten guineas. 'Hullo!' he said; 'where did you get these? You told meyesterday you had not got a groat. Why, you young villain, you musthave been robbing the till!'
"I was so frightened that I could not say anything, except that I didnot know how they came there and I could swear that I had not touchedthe till. I was too frightened to think then, but I have sincethought that the guineas were never in my pocket at all, but were inRobert's hand.
"'That won't do, boy,' the man said. 'It is clear that you are athief. I saw Robert take them from your pocket, and, as an honestman, it is my duty to take you to your master and tell him what sortof an apprentice he has. You are young, and you will get off with awhipping at the pillory, and that will teach you that honesty is thebest policy.'
"So he got his hat and put it on, and took me by the collar as if tohaul me out into the street. I went down on my knees to beg formercy, and at last he said that he would keep the matter quiet if Iwould swear to do everything that Robert told me; and I was sofrightened that I swore to do so.
"For a bit there wasn't any stealing, but Robert used to take me outover the roof, and we used to go out together and go to places wherethere were two or three men, and they gave us wine. Then Robertproposed that we should have a look through the warehouse. I did notknow what he meant, but as we went through he filled his pockets withthings and told me to take some too. I said I would not. Then hethreatened to raise the alarm, and said that when Captain Dave camedown he should say he heard me get up to come down by the rope on tothe warehouse, and that he had followed me to see what I was doing,and had found me in the act of taking goods, and that, as he hadbefore caught me with money stolen from the till, as a friend of hiscould testify, he felt that it was his duty to summon you at once. Iknow I ought to have refused, and to have let him call you down, butI was too frightened. At last I agreed to do what he told me, andever since then we have been robbing you."
"What have you done with the money you got for the things?" theconstable asked.
"I had a groat sometimes," the boy said, "but that is all. Robertsaid first that I should have a share, but I said I would havenothing to do with it. I did as he ordered me because I could nothelp it. Though I have taken a groat or two sometimes, that is all Ihave had."
"Do you know anything about how much Robert had?"
"No, sir; I never saw him paid any money. I supposed that he had somebecause he has said sometimes he should set up a shop for himself,down at some seaport town, when he was out of his apprenticeship; butI have never seen him with any money beyond a little silver. I don'tknow what he used to do when we had given the things to the men thatmet us in the lane. I used always to come straight back to bed, butgenerally he went out with them. I used to fasten the gate after him,and he got back over the wall by a rope. Most times he didn't come intill a little before daybreak."
"Were they always the same men that met you in the lane?"
"No, sir. The master of the shop was very seldom there. The big manhas come for the last three or four months, and there were two othermen. They used to be waiting for us together until the big man came,but since then one or other of them came with him, except when themaster of the shop was there himself."
"Describe them to me."
The boy described them as well as he could.
"Could you swear to them if you saw them?"
"I think so. Of course, sometimes it was moonlight, and I could seetheir faces well; and besides, the light of the lantern often fellupon their faces."
The constable nodded.
"The descriptions answer exactly," he said to Captain Dave, "to thetwo men we found in the shop. The place was evidently theheadquarters of a gang of thieves."
"Please, sir," the boy said, "would you have me shut up in anotherplace? I am afraid of being with the others. They have sworn theywill kill me if I say a word, and when I get back they will ask mewho I have seen and what I have said."
Captain Dave took the other two men aside.
"Could you not let the boy come home with me?" he said. "I believehis story is a true one. He has been terrified into helping thatrascal, Robert Ashford. Of course he himself was of no good to them,but they were obliged to force him into it, as otherwise he wouldhave found out Robert's absences and might have reported them to me.I will give what bail you like, and will undertake to produce himwhenever he is required."
"I could not do that myself," the constable said, "but I will goround to the Court now with the boy's confession, and I have no doubtthe Alderman will let him go. But let me give you a word of advice:don't let him stir out of the house after dark. We have no doubt thatthere is a big gang concerned in this robbery, and the others ofwhich we found the booty at the receiver's. They would not know howmuch this boy could tell about them, but if he went back to you theywould guess that he had peached. If he went out after dark, thechances would be against his ever coming back again. No, now I thinkof it, I am sure you had better let him stay where he is. The Masterwill put him apart from the others, and make him comfortable. Yousee, at present we have no clue as to the men concerned in therobberies. You may be sure that they are watching every move on ourpart, and if they knew that this boy was out, they might take thealarm and make off."
"Well, if you think so, I will leave him here."
"I am sure t
hat it would be the best plan."
"You will make him comfortable, Master Holroyd?"
"Yes; you need not worry about him, Captain Dowsett."
They then turned to the boy.
"You will be moved away from the others, Tom," Captain Dave said,"and Mr. Holroyd has promised to make you comfortable."
"Oh, Captain Dave," the boy burst out, "will you forgive me? I don'tmind being punished, but if you knew how awfully miserable I havebeen all this time, knowing that I was robbing you while you were sokind to me, I think you would forgive me."
"I forgive you, Tom," Captain Dave said, putting his hand on theboy's shoulder. "I hope that this will be a lesson to you, all yourlife. You see all this has come upon you because you were a coward.If you had been a brave lad you would have said, 'Take me to mymaster.' You might have been sure that I would have heard your storyas well as theirs, and I don't think I should have decided againstyou under the circumstances. It was only your word against Robert's;and his taking you to this man's, and finding the money in yourpocket in so unlikely a way, would certainly have caused me to havesuspicions. There is nothing so bad as cowardice; it is the father ofall faults. A coward is certain to be a liar, for he will nothesitate to tell any falsehood to shelter him from the consequencesof a fault. In your case, you see, cowardice has made you a thief;and in some cases it might drive a man to commit a murder. However,lad, I forgive you freely. You have been weak, and your weakness hasmade you a criminal; but it has been against your own will. When allthis is over, I will see what can be done for you. You may live to bean honest man and a good citizen yet."
Two days later Cyril was returning home late in the evening afterbeing engaged longer than usual in making up a number of accounts forone of his customers. He had come through Leadenhall Street, and hadentered the lane where the capture of the thieves had been made, whenhe heard a footstep behind him. He turned half round to see who wasfollowing him, when he received a tremendous blow on the head whichstruck him senseless to the ground.
After a time he was dimly conscious that he was being carried along.He was unable to move; there was something in his mouth thatprevented him from calling out, and his head was muffled in a cloak.He felt too weak and confused to struggle. A minute later he heard avoice, that sounded below him, say,--
"Have you got him?"
"I have got him all right," was the answer of the man who wascarrying him.
Then he felt that he was being carried down some stairs.
Someone took him, and he was thrown roughly down; then there was aslight rattling noise, followed by a regular sound. He wonderedvaguely what it was, but as his senses came back it flashed upon him;it was the sound of oars; he was in a boat. It was some time beforehe could think why he should be in a boat. He had doubtless beencarried off by some of the friends of the prisoners', partly,perhaps, to prevent his giving evidence against them, partly fromrevenge for the part he had played in the discovery of the crime.
In a few minutes the sound of oars ceased, and there was a bump asthe boat struck against something hard. Then he was lifted up, andsomeone took hold of him from above. He was carried a few steps androughly thrust in somewhere. There was a sound of something heavybeing thrown down above him, and then for a long time he knew nothingmore.
When he became conscious again, he was able, as he lay there, to cometo a distinct conclusion as to where he was. He had been kidnapped,carried off, taken out in a boat to some craft anchored in the river,and was now in the hold. He felt almost suffocated. The wrap roundhis head prevented his breathing freely, the gag in his mouth pressedon his tongue, and gave him severe pain, while his head ached acutelyfrom the effects of the blow.
The first thing to do was, if possible, to free his hands, so as torelieve himself from the gag and muffling. An effort or two soonshowed him that he was but loosely bound. Doubtless the man who hadattacked him had not wasted much time in securing his arms, believingthat the blow would be sufficient to keep him quiet until he was safeon board ship. It was, therefore, without much difficulty that hemanaged to free one of his hands, and it was then an easy task to getrid of the rope altogether. The cloak was pulled from his face, and,feeling for his knife, he cut the lashings of the gag and removed itfrom his mouth. He lay quiet for a few minutes, panting from hisexhaustion. Putting up his hand he felt a beam about a foot above hisbody. He was, then, in a hold already stored with cargo. The nextthing was to shift his position among the barrels and bales uponwhich he was lying, until he found a comparatively level spot. He wasin too great pain to think of sleep; his head throbbed fiercely, andhe suffered from intense thirst.
From time to time heavy footsteps passed overhead. Presently he hearda sudden rattling of blocks, and the flapping of a sail. Then henoticed that there was a slight change in the level of his position,and knew that the craft was under way on her voyage down the river.
It seemed an immense time to him before he saw a faint gleam oflight, and edging himself along, found himself again under thehatchway, through a crack in which the light was shining. It was somehours before the hatch was lifted off, and he saw two men lookingdown.
"Water!" he said. "I am dying of thirst."
"Bring a pannikin of water," one of the men said, "but first give usa hand, and we will have him on deck."
Stooping down, they took Cyril by the shoulders and hoisted him out.
"He is a decent-looking young chap," the speaker went on. "I wouldhave seen to him before, if I had known him to be so bad. Thosefellows didn't tell us they had hurt him. Here is the water, youngfellow. Can you sit up to drink it?"
Cyril sat up and drank off the contents of the pannikin.
"Why, the back of your head is all covered with blood!" the man whohad before spoken said. "You must have had an ugly knock?"
"I don't care so much for that," Cyril replied. "It's the gag thathurt me. My tongue is so much swollen I can hardly speak."
"Well, you can stay here on deck if you will give me your promise notto hail any craft we may pass. If you won't do that I must put youdown under hatches again."
"I will promise that willingly," Cyril said; "the more so that I canscarce speak above a whisper."
"Mind, if you as much as wave a hand, or do anything to bring an eyeon us, down you go into the hold again, and when you come up nexttime it will be to go overboard. Now just put your head over therail, and I will pour a few buckets of water over it. I agreed to getyou out of the way, but I have got no grudge against you, and don'twant to do you harm."
Getting a bucket with a rope tied to the handle, he dipped it intothe river, and poured half-a-dozen pailfuls over Cyril's head. Thelad felt greatly refreshed, and, sitting down on the deck, was ableto look round. The craft was a coaster of about twenty tons burden.There were three men on deck besides the man who had spoken to him,and who was evidently the skipper. Besides these a boy occasionallyput up his head from a hatchway forward. There was a pile of barrelsand empty baskets amidship, and the men presently began to wash downthe decks and to tidy up the ropes and gear lying about. The shore onboth sides was flat, and Cyril was surprised at the width of theriver. Behind them was a small town, standing on higher ground.
"What place is that?" he asked a sailor who passed near him.
"That is Gravesend."
A few minutes afterwards the boy again put his head out of thehatchway and shouted,--
"Breakfast!"
"Can you eat anything, youngster?" the skipper asked Cyril.
"No, thank you, my head aches too much; and my mouth is so sore I amsure I could not get anything down."
"Well, you had best lie down, then, with your head on that coil ofrope; I allow you did not sleep much last night."
In a few minutes Cyril was sound asleep, and when he awoke the sunwas setting.
"You have had a good bout of it, lad," the skipper said, as he raisedhimself on his elbow and looked round. "How are you feeling now?"
"A great deal better," Cyril said
, as he rose to his feet.
"Supper will be ready in a few minutes, and if you can manage to geta bit down it will do you good."
"I will try, anyhow," Cyril said. "I think that I feel hungry."
The land was now but a faint line on either hand. A gentle breeze wasblowing from the south-west, and the craft was running along over thesmooth water at the rate of three or four miles an hour. Cyrilwondered where he was being taken to, and what was going to be donewith him, but determined to ask no questions. The skipper wasevidently a kind-hearted man, although he might be engaged in lawlessbusiness, but it was as well to wait until he chose to open thesubject.
As soon as the boy hailed, the captain led the way to the hatchway.They descended a short ladder into the fo'castle, which was low, butroomy. Supper consisted of boiled skate--a fish Cyril had nevertasted before--oaten bread, and beer. His mouth was still sore, buthe managed to make a hearty meal of fish, though he could not managethe hard bread. One of the men was engaged at the helm, but the othertwo shared the meal, all being seated on lockers that ran round thecabin. The fish were placed on an earthenware dish, each man cuttingoff slices with his jack-knife, and using his bread as a platter.Little was said while the meal went on; but when they went on deckagain, the skipper, having put another man at the tiller, while theman released went forward to get his supper, said,--
"Well, I think you are in luck, lad."
Cyril opened his eyes in surprise.
"You don't think so?" the man went on. "I don't mean that you are inluck in being knocked about and carried off, but that you are notfloating down the river at present instead of walking the deck here.I can only suppose that they thought your body might be picked up,and that it would go all the harder with the prisoners, if it wereproved that you had been put out of the way. You don't look like aninformer either!"
"I am not an informer," Cyril said indignantly. "I found that myemployer was being robbed, and I aided him to catch the thieves. Idon't call that informing. That is when a man betrays others engagedin the same work as himself."
"Well, well, it makes no difference to me," the skipper said. "I wasengaged by a man, with whom I do business sometimes, to take a fellowwho had been troublesome out of the way, and to see that he did notcome back again for some time. I bargained that there was to be nofoul play; I don't hold with things of that sort. As to carrying downa bale of goods sometimes, or taking a few kegs of spirits from aFrench lugger, I see no harm in it; but when it comes to cuttingthroats, I wash my hands of it. I am sorry now I brought you off,though maybe if I had refused they would have put a knife into you,and chucked you into the river. However, now that I have got you Imust go through with it. I ain't a man to go back from my word, andwhat I says I always sticks to. Still, I am sorry I had anything todo with the business. You look to me a decent young gentleman, thoughyour looks and your clothes have not been improved by what you havegone through. Well, at any rate, I promise you that no harm shallcome to you as long as you are in my hands."
"And how long is that likely to be, captain?"
"Ah! that is more than I can tell you. I don't want to do you harm,lad, and more than that, I will prevent other people from doing youharm as long as you are on board this craft. But more than that Ican't say. It is likely enough I shall have trouble in keeping thatpromise, and I can't go a step farther. There is many a man who wouldhave chucked you overboard, and so have got rid of the troublealtogether, and of the risk of its being afterwards proved that hehad a hand in getting you out of the way."
"I feel that, captain," Cyril said, "and I thank you heartily foryour kind treatment of me. I promise you that if at any time I am setashore and find my way back to London, I will say no word which canget you into trouble."
"There is Tom coming upon deck. You had better turn in. You have hada good sleep, but I have no doubt you can do with some more, and anight's rest will set you up. You take the left-hand locker. The boysleeps on the right hand, and we have bunks overhead."
Cyril was soon soundly asleep, and did not wake when the othersturned in. He was alone in the cabin when he opened his eyes, but thesun was shining brightly through the open hatchway. He sprang up andwent on deck. The craft was at anchor. No land could be seen to thesouth, but to the north a low shore stretched away three or fourmiles distant. There was scarcely a breath of wind.
"Well, you have had a good sleep, lad," the captain said. "You hadbest dip that bucket overboard and have a wash; you will feel betterafter it. Now, boy, slip down and get your fire going; we shall beready for breakfast as soon as it is ready for us."
Cyril soused his head with the cold water, and felt, as the captainhad said, all the better for it, for the air in the little cabin wasclose and stuffy, and he had felt hot and feverish before his wash.
"The wind died out, you see," the captain said, "and we had to anchorwhen tide turned at two o'clock. There is a dark line behind us, andas soon as the wind reaches us, we will up anchor. The force of thetide is spent."
The wind, however, continued very light, and the vessel did littlemore than drift with the tide, and when it turned at two o'clock theyhad to drop anchor again close under some high land, on the top ofwhich stood a lofty tower.
"That is a land-mark," the captain said. "There are some bad sandsoutside us, and that stands as a mark for vessels coming through."
Cyril had enjoyed the quiet passage much. The wound at the back ofhis head still smarted, and he had felt disinclined for any exertion.More than once, in spite of the good allowance of sleep he had had,he dozed off as he sat on the deck with his back against the bulwark,watching the shore as they drifted slowly past it, and wonderingvaguely, how it would all end. They had been anchored but half anhour when the captain ordered the men to the windlass.
"There is a breeze coming, lads," he said; "and even if it only lastsfor an hour, it will take us round the head and far enough into thebay to get into the tide running up the rivers."
The breeze, however, when it came, held steadily, and in two hoursthey were off Harwich; but on coming opposite the town they turnedoff up the Orwell, and anchored, after dark, at a small village somesix miles up the river.
"If you will give me your word, lad, that you will not try to escape,and will not communicate with anyone who may come off from the shore,I will continue to treat you as a passenger; but if not, I mustfasten you up in the cabin, and keep a watch over you."
"I will promise, captain. I should not know where to go if I landed.I heard you say, 'There is Harwich steeple,' when we first came insight of it, but where that is I have no idea, nor how far we arefrom London. As I have not a penny in my pocket, I should find itwell-nigh impossible to make my way to town, which may, for aught Iknow, be a hundred miles away; for, in truth, I know but little ofthe geography of England, having been brought up in France, and nothaving been out of sight of London since I came over."
Just as he was speaking, the splash of an oar was heard close by.
"Up, men," the captain said in a low tone to those in the fo'castle."Bring up the cutlasses. Who is that?" he called, hailing the boat.
"Merry men all," was the reply.
"All right. Come alongside. You saw our signal, then?"
"Ay, ay, we saw it; but there is an officer with a boat-load ofsailors ashore from the King's ship at Harwich. He is spending theevening with the revenue captain here, and we had to wait until thetwo men left in charge of the boat went up to join their comrades atthe tavern. What have you got for us?"
"Six boxes and a lot of dunnage, such as cables, chains, and somesmall anchors."
"Well, you had better wait for an hour before you take the hatchesoff. You will hear the gig with the sailors row past soon. The tidehas begun to run down strong, and I expect the officer won't be longbefore he moves. As soon as he has gone we will come out again. Weshall take the goods up half a mile farther. The revenue man on thatbeat has been paid to keep his eyes shut, and we shall get them allstored in a hut, a mile away in
the woods, before daybreak. You knowthe landing-place; there will be water enough for us to row in therefor another two hours."
The boat rowed away to the shore, which was not more than a hundredyards distant. A little later they heard a stir on the strand, thencame the sound of oars, and two minutes later a boat shot past closeto them, and then, bearing away, rowed down the river.
"Now, lads," the captain said, "get the hatches off. The wind iscoming more offshore, which is all the better for us, but do not makemore noise than you can help."
The hatches were taken off, and the men proceeded to get up a numberof barrels and bales, some sail-cloth being thrown on the deck todeaden the sound. Lanterns, passed down into the hold, gave themlight for their operations.
"This is the lot," one of the sailors said presently.
Six large boxes were then passed up and put apart from the others.Then followed eight or ten coils of rope, a quantity of chain, somekedge anchors, a number of blocks, five rolls of canvas, and someheavy bags that, by the sound they made when they were laid down,Cyril judged to contain metal articles of some sort. Then the othergoods were lowered into the hold and the hatches replaced. The workhad scarcely concluded when the boat again came alongside, this timewith four men on board. Scarcely a word was spoken as the goods weretransferred to the boat.
"You will be going to-morrow?" one of the men in the boat asked.
"Yes, I shall get up to Ipswich on the top of the tide--that is, if Idon't stick fast in this crooked channel. My cargo is all either forIpswich or Aldborough. Now let us turn in," as the boatmen made theirway up the river. "We must be under way before daylight, or else weshall not save the tide down to-morrow evening. I am glad we have gotthat lot safely off. I always feel uncomfortable until we get rid ofthat part of the cargo. If it wasn't that it paid better than all therest together I would not have anything to do with it."
Cyril was very glad to lie down on the locker, while the men turnedinto their berths overhead. He had not yet fully recovered from theeffects of the blow he had received, but in spite of the aching ofhis head he was soon sound asleep. It seemed to him that he hadscarcely closed his eyes when he was roused by the captain's voice,--
"Tumble up, lads. The light is beginning to show."
Ten minutes later they were under way. The breeze had almost diedout, and after sailing for some two miles in nearly a straightcourse, the boat was thrown over, two men got into it, and, fasteninga rope to the ketch's bow, proceeded to tow her along, the captaintaking the helm.
To Cyril's surprise, they turned off almost at right angles to thecourse they had before been following, and made straight for theopposite shore. They approached it so closely that Cyril expectedthat in another moment the craft would take ground, when, at a shoutfrom the captain, the men in the boat started off parallel with theshore, taking the craft's head round. For the next three-quarters ofan hour they pursued a serpentine course, the boy standing in thechains and heaving the lead continually. At last the captainshouted,--"You can come on board now, lads. We are in the straightchannel at last." Twenty minutes later they again dropped theiranchor opposite a town of considerable size.
"That is Ipswich, lad," the captain said. "It is as nasty a place toget into as there is in England, unless you have got the wind dueaft."
The work of unloading began at once, and was carried on until afterdark.
"That is the last of them," the captain said, to Cyril'ssatisfaction. "We can be off now when the tide turns, and if wehadn't got clear to-night we might have lost hours, for there is nogetting these people on shore to understand that the loss of a tidemeans the loss of a day, and that it is no harder to get up and doyour work at one hour than it is at another. I shall have a clean up,now, and go ashore. I have got your promise, lad, that you won't tryto escape?"
Cyril assented. Standing on the deck there, with the river bank buttwenty yards away, it seemed hard that he should not be able toescape. But, as he told himself, he would not have been standingthere if it had not been for that promise, but would have been lying,tightly bound, down in the hold.
Cyril and the men were asleep when the captain came aboard, the boyalone remaining up to fetch him off in the boat when he hailed.
"There is no wind, captain," Cyril said, as the anchor was got up.
"No, lad, I am glad there is not. We can drop down with the tide andthe boat towing us, but if there was a head wind we might have tostop here till it either dropped or shifted. I have been here threeweeks at a spell. I got some news ashore," he went on, as he took hisplace at the helm, while the three men rowed the boat ahead. "A man Isometimes bring things to told me that he heard there had been anattempt to rescue the men concerned in that robbery. I heard, beforeI left London, it was likely that it would be attempted."
There were a lot of people concerned in that affair, one way andanother, and I knew they would move heaven and earth to get them out,for if any of them peached there would be such a haul as theconstables never made in the city before. Word was passed to theprisoners to be ready, and as they were being taken from theGuildhall to Newgate there was a sudden rush made. The constableswere not caught napping, and there was a tough fight, till thecitizens ran out of their shops and took part with them, and the men,who were sailors, watermen, 'longshore-men, and rascals of all sorts,bolted.
"But two of the prisoners were missing. One was, I heard, anapprentice who was mixed up in the affair, and no one saw him go.They say he must have stooped down and wriggled away into the crowd.The other was a man they called Black Dick; he struck down twoconstables, broke through the crowd, and got clean away. There is agreat hue and cry, but so far nothing has been heard of them. Theywill be kept in hiding somewhere till there is a chance of gettingthem through the gates or on board a craft lying in the river. Ourmen made a mess of it, or they would have got them all off. I hearthat they are all in a fine taking that Marner is safely lodged inNewgate with the others taken in his house; he knows so much that ifhe chose to peach he could hang a score of men. Black Dick could tella good deal, but he wasn't in all the secrets, and they say Marner isreally the head of the band and had a finger in pretty nigh everyrobbery through the country. All those taken in his place are also inNewgate, and they say the constables are searching the city likeferrets in a rabbit-warren, and that several other arrests have beenmade."
"I am not sorry the apprentice got away," Cyril said. "He is a badfellow, there is no doubt, and, by the look he gave me, he would dome harm if he got a chance, but I suppose that is only natural. As tothe other man, he looked to me to be a desperate villain, and he alsogave me so evil a look that, though he was in the dock with aconstable on either side of him, I felt horribly uncomfortable,especially when I heard what sort of man he was."
"What did they say of him?"
"They said they believed he was a man named Ephraim Fowler, who hadmurdered the skipper and mate of a coaster and then went off in theboat."
"Is that the man? Then truly do I regret that he has escaped. I knewboth John Moore, the master, and George Monson, the mate, and many aflagon of beer we have emptied together. If I had known the fellow'swhereabouts, I would have put the constables on his track. I amheartily sorry now, boy, that I had a hand in carrying you off,though maybe it is best for you that it has been so. If I hadn'ttaken you someone else would, and more than likely you would not havefared so well as you have done, for some of them would have savedthemselves all further trouble and risk, by chucking you overboard assoon as they were well out of the Pool."
"Can't you put me ashore now, captain?"
"No, boy; I have given my word and taken my money, and I am not oneto fail to carry out a bargain because I find that I have made a badone. They have trusted me with thousands of pounds' worth of goods,and I have no reason to complain of their pay, and am not going toturn my back on them now they have got into trouble; besides, thoughI would trust you not to round upon me, I would not trust them. Ifyou were to turn up in London they would
know that I had sold them,and Marner would soon hear of it. There is a way of getting messagesto a man even in prison. Then you may be sure that, if he saidnothing else, he would take good care to let out that I was the manwho used to carry their booty away, sometimes to quiet places on thecoast, and sometimes across to Holland, and the first time I droppedanchor in the Pool I should find myself seized and thrown into limbo.No, lad; I must carry out my agreement--which is that I am not toland you in England, but that I am to take you across to Holland orelsewhere--the elsewhere meaning that if you fall overboard by theway there will be no complaints as to the breach of the agreement.That is, in fact, what they really meant, though they did notactually put it into words. They said, 'We have a boy who is aninformer, and has been the means of Marner being seized and his placebroken up, and there is no saying that a score of us may not get arope round our necks. In consequence, we want him carried away. Whatyou do with him is nothing to us so long as he don't set foot inEngland again.' 'Will Holland suit you? I am going across there,' Isaid, 'after touching at Ipswich and Aldborough.' 'It would be muchsafer for you and everyone else if it happen that he falls overbefore he gets there. However, we will call it Holland.'"
"Then if I were to fall overboard," Cyril said, with a smile, "youwould not be breaking your agreement, captain? I might fall overboardto-night, you know."
"I would not advise it, lad. You had much better stay where you are.I don't say I mightn't anchor off Harwich, and that if you felloverboard you couldn't manage to swim ashore, but I tell you I wouldnot give twopence for your life when you got back to London. It is tothe interest of a score of men to keep Marner's mouth shut. They haveshown their willingness to help him as far as they could, by gettingyou out of the way, and if you got back they would have your life thefirst time you ventured out of doors after dark; they would be afraidMarner would suppose they had sold him if you were to turn up at histrial, and as like as not he would round on the whole lot. Besides, Idon't think it would be over safe for me the first time I showedmyself in London afterwards, for, though I never said that I would doit, I have no doubt they reckoned that I should chuck you overboard,and if you were to make your appearance in London they wouldcertainly put it down that I had sold them. You keep yourself quiet,and I will land you in Holland, but not as they would expect, withouta penny or a friend; I will put you into good hands, and arrange thatyou shall be sent back again as soon as the trial is over."
"Thank you very much, captain. I have no relations in London, and nofriends, except my employer, Captain David Dowsett, and by this timehe will have made up his mind that I am dead, and it won't make muchdifference whether I return in four or five days or as many weeks."