on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate.
The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King’s service. This lady was singularly lucky in her matrimonial connections. She had been married four times: three of her husbands died of hempen fevers; and the fourth, having been twice condemned, was saved from the noose by Jonathan Wild, who not only managed to bring him off, but to obtain for him the situation of under-turnkey in Newgate.
On the appearance of the thief-taker, Mrs. Spurling was standing near the fire superintending some culinary preparation; but she no sooner perceived him, than hastily quitting her occupation, she elbowed a way for him and the knight through the crowd, and ushered them, with much ceremony, into an inner room, where they found the objects of their search, Quilt Arnold and Rykhart Van Galgebrok, seated at a small table, quietly smoking. This service rendered, without waiting for any farther order, she withdrew.
Both the janizary and the skipper arose as the others entered the room.
“This is the gentleman,” observed Jonathan, introducing Trenchard to the Hollander, “who is about to intrust his young relation to your care.”
“De gentleman may rely on my showing his relation all de attention in my power,” replied Van Galgebrok, bowing profoundly to the knight; “but if any unforseen accident — such as a slip overboard — should befal de jonker on de voyage, he mushn’t lay de fault entirely on my shoulders — haw! haw!”
“Where is he?” asked Sir Rowland, glancing uneasily around. “I do not see him.”
“De jonker. He’s here,” returned the skipper, pointing significantly downwards. “Bring him out, Quilt.”
So saying, he pushed aside the table, and the janizary stooping down, undrew a bolt and opened a trap-door.
“Come out!” roared Quilt, looking into the aperture. “You’re wanted.”
But as no answer was returned, he trust his arm up to the shoulder into the hole, and with some little difficulty and exertion of strength, drew forth Thames Darrell.
The poor boy, whose hands were pinioned behind him, looked very pale, but neither trembled, nor exhibited any other symptom of alarm.
“Why didn’t you come out when I called you, you young dog?” cried Quilt in a savage tone.
“Because I knew what you wanted me for!” answered Thames firmly.
“Oh! you did, did you?” said the janizary. “And what do you suppose we mean to do with you, eh?”
“You mean to kill me,” replied Thames, “by my cruel uncle’s command. Ah! there he stands!” he exclaimed as his eye fell for the first time upon Sir Rowland. “Where is my mother?” he added, regarding the knight with a searching glance.
“Your mother is dead,” interposed Wild, scowling.
“Dead!” echoed the boy. “Oh no — no! You say this to terrify me — to try me. But I will not believe you. Inhuman as he is, he would not kill her. Tell me, Sir,” he added, advancing towards the knight, “tell me has this man spoken falsely? — Tell me my mother is alive, and do what you please with me.”
“Tell him so, and have done with him, Sir Rowland,” observed Jonathan coldly.
“Tell me the truth, I implore you,” cried Thames. “Is she alive?”
“She is not,” replied Trenchard, overcome by conflicting emotions, and unable to endure the boy’s agonized look.
“Are you answered?” said Jonathan, with a grin worthy of a demon.
“My mother! — my poor mother!” ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees, and bursting into tears. “Shall I never see that sweet face again — never feel the pressure of those kind hands more — nor listen to that gentle voice! Ah! yes, we shall meet again in Heaven, where I shall speedily join you. Now then,” he added more calmly, “I am ready to die. The only mercy you can show me is to kill me.”
“Then we won’t even show you that mercy,” retorted the thief-taker brutally. “So get up, and leave off whimpering. Your time isn’t come yet.”
“Mr. Wild,” said Trenchard, “I shall proceed no further in this business. Set the boy free.”
“If I disobey you, Sir Rowland,” replied the thief-taker, “you’ll thank me for it hereafter. Gag him,” he added, pushing Thames rudely toward Quilt Arnold, “and convey him to the boat.”
“A word,” cried the boy, as the janizary was preparing to obey his master’s orders. “What has become of Jack Sheppard?”
“Devil knows!” answered Quilt; “but I believe he’s in the hands of Blueskin, so there’s no doubt he’ll soon be on the high-road to Tyburn.”
“Poor Jack!” sighed Thames. “You needn’t gag me,” he added, “I’ll not cry out.”
“We won’t trust you, my youngster,” answered the janizary. And, thrusting a piece of iron into his mouth, he forced him out of the room.
Sir Rowland witnessed these proceedings like one stupified. He neither attempted to prevent his nephew’s departure, nor to follow him.
Jonathan kept his keen eye fixed upon him, as he addressed himself for a moment to the Hollander.
“Is the case of watches on board?” he asked in an under tone.
“Ja,” replied the skipper.
“And the rings?”
“Ja.”
“That’s well. You must dispose of the goldsmith’s note I gave you yesterday, as soon as you arrive at Rotterdam. It’ll be advertised to-morrow.”
“De duivel!” exclaimed Van Galgebrok, “Very well. It shall be done as you direct. But about dat jonker,” he continued, lowering his voice; “have you anything to add consarnin’ him? It’s almosht a pity to put him onder de water.”
“Is the sloop ready to sail?” asked Wild, without noticing the skipper’s remark.
“Ja,” answered Van; “at a minut’s nodish.”
“Here are your despatches,” said Jonathan with a significant look, and giving him a sealed packet. “Open them when you get on board — not before, and act as they direct you.”
“I ondershtand,” replied the skipper, putting his finger to his nose; “it shall be done.”
“Sir Rowland,” said Jonathan, turning to the knight, “will it please you to remain here till I return, or will you accompany us?”
“I will
