violence upon himself.
Well, I came away with my money, and having taken sixpence out of it, before I made it up again I went to a chandler’s shop in Mile End and bought a halfpenny roll and a halfpenny worth of cheese, and sat down at the door after I bought it, and ate it very heartily, and begged some beer to drink with it, which the good woman gave me very freely.
Away I went then for the town, to see if I could find any of my companions, and resolved I would try no more hollow trees for my treasure. As I came along Whitechapel I came by a broker’s shop over against the church, where they sold old clothes, for I had nothing on but the worst of rags; so I stopped at the shop, and stood looking at the clothes which hung at the door.
«Well, young gentleman», says a man that stood at the door, «you look wishfully. Do you see any thing you like, and will your pocket compass a good coat now, for you look as if you belonged to the ragged regiment?» I was affronted at the fellow. «What’s that to you», says I, «how ragged I am? If I had seen anything I liked, I have money to pay for it; but I can go where I shan’t be huffed at for looking».
While I said thus pretty boldly to the fellow comes a woman out. «What ails you», says she to the man, «to bully away our customers so? A poor boy’s money is as good as my Lord Mayor’s. If poor people did not buy old clothes, what would become of our business?» And then turning to me, «Come hither, child», says she; «if thou hast a mind to anything I have, you shan’t be hectored by him. The boy is a pretty boy, I assure you», says she to another woman that was by this time come to her. «Ay», says the t’other, «so he is, a very well-looking child, if he was clean and well dressed, and may be as good a gentleman’s son, for anything we know, as any of those that are well dressed. Come, my dear», says she, «tell me what is it you would have». She pleased me mightily to hear her talk of my being a gentleman’s son, and it brought former things to my mind; but when she talked of my being not clean and in rags, then I cried.
She pressed me to tell her if I saw anything that I wanted. I told her no, all the clothes I saw there were too big for me. «Come, child», says she, «I have two things here that will fit you, and I am sure you want them both; that is, first, a little hat, and there», says she (tossing it to me), «I’ll give you that for nothing. And here is a good warm pair of breeches; I dare say», says she, «they will fit you, and they are very tight and good; and», says she, «if you should ever come to have so much money that you don’t know what to do with it, here are excellent good pockets», says she, «and a little fob to put your gold in, or your watch in, when you get it».
It struck me with a strange kind of joy that I should have a place to put my money in, and need not go to hide it again in a hollow tree, that I was ready to snatch the breeches out of her hands, and wondered that I should be such a fool never to think of buying me a pair of breeches before, that I might have a pocket to put my money in, and not carry it about two days together in my hand, and in my shoes and I knew not how; so, in a word, I gave her two shillings for the breeches, and went over into the churchyard and put them on, put my money into my new pockets, and was as pleased as a prince is with his coach and six horses. I thanked the good woman too for the hat, and told her I would come again when I got more money, and buy some other things I wanted; and so I came away.
I was but a boy, ‘tis true, but I thought myself a man, now I had got a pocket to put my money in, and I went directly to find out my companion by whose means I got it; but I was frighted out of my wits when I heard that he was carried to Bridewell. I made no question but it was for the letter-case, and that I should be carried there too; and then my poor brother Captain Jacque’s case came into my head, and that I should be whipped there as cruelly as he was, and I was in such a fright that I knew not what to do.
But in the afternoon I met him; he had been carried to Bridewell, it seems, upon that very affair, but was got out again. The case was thus: having had such good luck at the customhouse the day before, he takes his walk thither again, and as he was in the long-room, gaping and staring about him, a fellow lays hold of him, and calls to one of the clerks that sat behind, «Here», says he, «is the same young rogue that I told you I saw loitering about t’other day, when the gentleman lost his letter-case and his goldsmiths’ bills; I dare say it was he that stole them». Immediately the whole crowd of people gathered about the boy, and charged him point-blank; but he was too well used to such things to be frighted into a confession of what he knew they could not prove, for he had nothing about him belonging to it, nor had any money but six pence and a few dirty farthings.
They threatened him, and pulled and hauled him, till they almost pulled the clothes off his back, and the commissioners examined him; but all was one; he would own nothing, but said he walked up through the room, only to see the place, both then and the time before, for he had owned he was there before; so, as there was no proof against him of any fact, no, nor of any circumstances relating to the letter-case, they were forced at last to let him go. However, they made a show of carrying him to Bridewell, and they did carry him to the gate to see if they could make him confess anything; but he would confess nothing, and they had no mittimus; so they durst not carry him into the house; nor would the people have received him, I suppose, if they had, they having no warrant for putting him in prison.
Well, when they could get nothing out of him, they carried him into an alehouse, and there they told him that the lettercase had bills in it of a very great value; that they would be of no use to the rogue that had them, but they would be of infinite damage to the gentleman that had lost them; and that he had left word with the clerk, whom the man that stopped this boy had called to, and who was there with him, that he would give £ 30 to any one that would bring them again, and give all the security that could be desired that he would give them no trouble, whoever it was.
He was just come from out of their hands when I met with him, and so he told me all the story. «But», says he, «I would confess nothing, and so I got off, and am come away clear». «Well», says I, «and what will you do with the letter-case and the bills? Will you not let the poor man have his bills again?» «No, not I», says he; «I won’t trust them. What care I for their bills?» It came into my head, as young as I was, that it was a sad thing indeed to take a man’s bills away for so much money, and not have any advantage by it neither; for I concluded that the gentleman who owned the bills must lose all the money, and it was strange he should keep the bills, and make a gentleman lose so much money for nothing. I remember that I ruminated very much about it, and though I did not understand it very well, yet it lay upon my mind, and I said every now and then to him, «Do let the gentleman have his bills again; do, pray do»; and so I teased him, with «Do» and «Pray do», till at last I cried about them. He said, «What, would you have me be found out and sent to Bridewell, and be whipped, as your brother Captain Jacque was?» I said, «No, I would not have you whipped, but I would have the man have his bills, for they will do you no good, but the gentleman will be undone, it may be». And then I added again, «Do let him have them». He snapped me short. «Why», says he, «how shall I get them to him? Who dare carry them? I dare not, to be sure, for they will stop me, and bring the goldsmith to see if he does not know me, and that I received the money, and so they will prove the robbery, and I shall be hanged. Would you have me be hanged, Jacque?»
I was silenced a good while with that, for when he said, «Would you have me be hanged, Jacque?» I had no more to say. But one day after this he called to me. «Colonel Jacque», says he, «I have thought of a way how the gentleman shall have his bills again; and you and I shall get a good deal of money by it, if you will be honest to me, as I was to you». «Indeed», says I, «Robin» – that was his name – «I will be very honest; let me know how it is, for I would fain have him have his bills».
«Why», says he, «they told me that he had left word at the clerk’s place in the long-room that he would give £ 30 to any one that had the bills, and would restore them, and would ask no questions. Now, if you will go, like a poor innocent boy, as you are, into the long-room and speak to the clerk, it may do. Tell him if the gentleman will do as he promised, you believe you can tell him who
