During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. It had been removed from the scabbard by the Jew. He uttered a deep groan, but said nothing.
Despatch him! roared Jonathan.
Having no means of defence, Sir Rowland cleared the blood from his vision; and, turning to see whether there was any means of escape, he descried the open door behind him leading to the Well Hole, and instantly darted through it.
As I could wish! cried Jonathan. Bring the light, Nab.
The Jew snatched up the link, and followed him.
A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued. The wounded man had descended the bridge, and dashed himself against the door beyond it; but, finding it impossible to force his way further, he turned to confront his assailants. Jonathan aimed a blow at him, which, if it had taken place, must have instantly terminated the strife; but, avoiding this, he sprang at the thief-taker, and grappled with him. Firmly built, as it was, the bridge creaked in such a manner with their contending efforts, that Abraham durst not venture beyond the door, where he stood, holding the light, a horrified spectator of the scene. The contest, however, though desperate, was brief. Disengaging his right arm, Jonathan struck his victim a tremendous blow on the head with the bludgeon, that fractured his skull; and, exerting all his strength, threw him over the rails, to which he clung with the tenacity of despair.
Spare me! he groaned, looking upwards. Spare me!
Jonathan, however, instead of answering him, searched for his knife, with the intention of severing his wrist. But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. He then stamped upon the hand on the lower bannister, until that also relaxed its gripe.
Sir Rowland then fell.
A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water.
Give me the link, cried Jonathan.
Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well.
Shoot him! shoot him! Put him out of hish mishery, cried the Jew.
Whats the use of wasting a shot? rejoined Jonathan, savagely. He cant get out.
After making several ineffectual attempts to keep himself above water, Sir Rowland sunk, and his groans, which had become gradually fainter and fainter, were heard no more.
Alls over, muttered Jonathan.
Shall ve go back to de other room? asked the Jew. I shall breathe more freely dere. Oh! Christ! de doors shut! It musht have schwung to during de schuffle!
Shut! exclaimed Wild. Then were imprisoned. The spring cant be opened on this side.
Deres de other door! cried Mendez, in alarm.
It only leads to the fencing crib, replied Wild. Theres no outlet that way.
Cant ve call for asshistanche?
And wholl find us, if we do? rejoined Wild, fiercely. But they will find the evidences of slaughter in the other room,the table upset,the bloody cloth,the dead mans sword,the money,and my memorandum, which I forgot to remove. Hells curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped. Its all your fault, you shaking coward! and, but that I feel sure youll swing for your carelessness, Id throw you into the well, too.
CHAPTER XIII. THE SUPPER AT MR. KNEEBONES
Persuaded that Jack Sheppard would keep his appointment with Mr. Kneebone, and feeling certain of capturing him if he did so, Shotbolt, on quitting Newgate, hurried to the New Prison to prepare for the enterprise. After debating with himself for some time whether he should employ an assistant, or make the attempt alone, his love of gain overcame his fears, and he decided upon the latter plan. Accordingly, having armed himself with various weapons, including a stout oaken staff then ordinarily borne by the watch, and put a coil of rope and a gag in his pocket, to be ready in case of need, he set out, about ten oclock, on the expedition.
Before proceeding to Wych Street, he called at the Lodge to see how matters were going on, and found Mrs. Spurling and Austin at their evening meal, with Caliban in attendance.
Well, Mr. Shotbolt, cried the turnkey, Ive good news for you. Mr. Wild has doubled his offer, and the governor has likewise proclaimed a reward of one hundred guineas for Jacks apprehension.
You dont say so! exclaimed Shotbolt.
Read that, rejoined Austin, pointing to the placard. I ought to tell you that Mr. Wilds reward is conditional upon Jacks being taken before to-morrow morning. So I fear theres little chance of any one getting it.
You think so, eh? chuckled Shotbolt, who was eagerly perusing the reward, and congratulating himself upon his caution; you think soha! ha! Well, dont go to bed, thats all.
What for? demanded the turnkey.
Because the prisoners arrival might disturb youha! ha!
Ill lay you twenty guineas you dont take him to-night, rejoined Austin.
Done! cried Shotbolt. Mrs. Spurling, youre a witness to the bet. Twenty guineas, mind. I shant let you off a farthing. Egad! I shall make a good thing of it.
Never count your chickens till theyre hatched, observed Mrs. Spurling, drily.
My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so, replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. Get ready your heaviest irons, Austin. Ill send you word when I catch him.
Youd better send him, jeered the turnkey.
So I will, rejoined Shotbolt; so I will. If I dont, you shall clap me in the Condemned Hold in his stead. Good-bye, for the presentha! ha! And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge.
Ill lay my life hes gone on a fox-and-goose-chase to Mr. Kneebones, remarked Austin, rising to fasten the door.
I shouldnt wonder, replied Mrs. Spurling, as if struck by a sudden idea. And, while the turnkey was busy with the keys, she whispered to the black, Follow him, Caliban. Take care he dont see you,and bring me word where he goes, and what he does.
Iss, missis, grinned the black.
Be so good as to let Caliban out, Mr. Austin, continued the tapstress; hes only going on an errand.
Austin readily complied with her request. As he returned to the table, he put his finger to his nose; and, though he said nothing, he thought he had a much better chance of winning his wager.
Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street. On the way, he hired a chair with a couple of stout porters, and ordered them to follow him. Arrived within a short distance of his destination, he came to a halt, and pointing out a dark court nearly opposite the woollen-drapers abode, told the chairmen to wait there till they were summoned.
Im a peace-officer, he added, about to arrest a notorious criminal. Hell be brought out at this door, and may probably make some resistance. But you must get him into the chair as fast as you can, and hurry off to Newgate.
And whatll we get for the job, yer honr? asked the foremost chairman, who, like most of his tribe at the time, was an Irishman.
Five guineas. Heres a couple in hand.
Faix, then well do it in style, cried the fellow. Once in this chair, yer honr, and Ill warrant hell not get out so aisily as Jack Sheppard did from the New Prisn.