meanwhile, maintained profound secrecy as to his hopes of capturing the fugitive; and when Jack was brought back to Newgate on the Sunday evening, his arrival was wholly unexpected.
At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge. Hearing the stoppage, Austin rushed out, and could scarcely believe his eyes when he beheld Jack Sheppard in the custody of Quilt Arnold and Abraham Mendez.
Jack’s recapture was speedily made known to all the officers of the jail, and the Lodge was instantly crowded. The delight of the turnkeys was beyond all bounds; but poor Mrs. Spurling was in a state of distraction and began to abuse Jonathan so violently that her future husband was obliged to lay forcible hands upon her and drag her away.
By Wild’s command the prisoner was taken to the Condemned Hold, whither he was followed by the whole posse of officers and by the partners; two of whom carried large hammers and two the fetters. There was only one prisoner in the ward. He was chained to the ground, but started up at their approach. It was Blueskin. When he beheld Jack he uttered a deep groan.
“Captain,” he cried, in a voice of the bitterest anguish, “have these dogs again hunted you down? If you hadn’t been so unlucky, I should have been with you before to-morrow night.”
Jack made no answer, nor did he even cast his eyes upon his follower. But Jonathan, fixing a terrible look upon him, cried.
“Ha! say you so? You must be looked to. My lads,” he continued, addressing the partners; “when you’ve finished this job give that fellow a fresh set of darbies. I suspect he has been at work upon those he has on.”
“The link of the chain next the staple is sawn through,” said Ireton, stooping to examine Blueskin’s fetters.
“Search him and iron him afresh;” commanded Jonathan. “But first let us secure Sheppard. We’ll then remove them both to the Middle Stone Hold, where a watch shall be kept over them night and day till they’re taken to Tyburn. As they’re so fond of each other’s society they shan’t part company even on that occasion, but shall swing from the same tree.”
“You’ll never live to see that day,” cried Blueskin, fixing a menacing look upon him.
“What weight are these irons?” asked Jonathan, coolly addressing one of the partners.
“More than three hundred weight, Sir,” replied the man. “They’re the heaviest set we have — and were forged expressly for Captain Sheppard.”
“They’re not half heavy enough,” replied Wild. “Let him be handcuffed, and doubly ironed on both legs; and when we get him into the Stone Ward, he shall not only be chained down to the ground, but shall have two additional fetters running through the main links, fastened on each side of him. We’ll see whether he’ll get rid of his new bonds?” he added with a brutal laugh, which was echoed by the bystanders.
“Mark me,” said Jack, sternly; “I have twice broken out of this prison in spite of all your precautions. And were you to load me with thrice the weight of iron you have ordered you should not prevent my escaping a third time.”
“That’s right, Captain,” cried Blueskin. “We’ll give them the slip yet, and hang that butcherly thief-taker upon his own gibbet.”
“Be silent dog,” cried Jonathan. And with his clenched hand he struck him a violent blow in the face.
For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. The blow was scarcely dealt, when, with a bound like that of a tiger, Blueskin sprang upon him. The chain, which had been partially cut through, snapped near the staple. Before any assistance could be rendered by the jailers, who stood astounded, Blueskin had got Wild in his clutches. His strength has been described as prodigious; but now, heightened by his desire for vengeance, it was irresistible. Jonathan, though a very powerful man, was like an infant in his gripe. Catching hold of his chin, he bent back the neck, while with his left hand he pulled out a clasp knife, which he opened with his teeth, and grasping Wild’s head with his arm, notwithstanding his resistance, cut deeply into his throat. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. Blueskin drew the knife across his throat a second time, widening and deepening the wound; and wrenching back the head to get it into a more favourable position, would infallibly have severed it from the trunk, if the officers, who by this time had recovered from their terror, had not thrown themselves upon him, and withheld him.
“Now’s your time,” cried Blueskin, struggling desperately with his assailants and inflicting severe cuts with his knife. “Fly, Captain — fly!”
Aroused to a sense of the possibility of escape, Jack, who had viewed the deadly assault with savage satisfaction, burst from his captors and made for the door. Blueskin fought his way towards it, and exerting all his strength, cutting right and left as he proceeded, reached it at the same time. Jack in all probability, would have escaped, if Langley, who was left in the Lodge, had not been alarmed at the noise and rushed thither. Seeing Jack at liberty, he instantly seized him, and a struggle commenced.
At this moment, Blueskin came up, and kept off the officers with his knife. He used his utmost efforts to liberate Jack from Langley, but closely pressed on all sides, he was not able to render any effectual assistance.
“Fly!” cried Jack; “escape if you can; don’t mind me.”
Casting one look of anguish at his leader, Blueskin then darted down the passage.
The only persons in the Lodge were Mrs. Spurling and Marvel. Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. Blueskin therefore had nothing to stop him. Dashing through the open door, he crossed the Old Bailey, plunged into a narrow court on the opposite side of the way, and was out of sight in a minute, baffling all pursuit.
On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. Efforts were made to staunch his wounds and surgical assistance sent for.
“Has he escaped?” asked the thief-taker, faintly.
“Blueskin,” said Ireton.
“No — Sheppard?” rejoined Wild.
“No, no, Sir,” replied Ireton. “He’s here.”
“That’s right,” replied Wild, with a ghastly smile. “Remove him to the Middle Stone Hold — watch over him night and day, do you mind?”
“I do, Sir.”
“Irons — heavy irons — night and day.”
“Depend upon it, Sir.”
“Go with him to Tyburn — never lose sight of him till the noose is tied. Where’s Marvel?”
“Here, Sir,” replied the executioner.
“A hundred guineas if you hang Jack Sheppard. I have it about me. Take it, if I die.”
“Never fear, Sir,” replied Marvel.
“Oh! that I could live to see it,” gasped Jonathan. And with a hideous expression of pain, he fainted.
“He’s
