The next day was ushered in by merry peals of bells, and by the
firing of the Tower guns; flags were hoisted on many of the church- steeples;
the usual demonstrations were made in honour of the anniversary of the King's
birthday; and every man went about his pleasure or business as if the city were
in perfect order, and there were no half-smouldering embers in its secret
places, which, on the approach of night, would kindle up again and scatter ruin
and dismay abroad. The leaders of the riot, rendered still more daring by the
success of last night and by the booty they had acquired, kept steadily
together, and only thought of implicating the mass of their followers so deeply
that no hope of pardon or reward might tempt them to betray their more notorious
confederates into the hands of justice.
Indeed, the sense of having gone too far to be forgiven, held the timid
together no less than the bold. Many who would readily have pointed out the
foremost rioters and given evidence against them, felt that escape by that means
was hopeless, when their every act had been observed by scores of people who had
taken no part in the disturbances; who had suffered in their persons, peace, or
property, by the outrages of the mob; who would be most willing witnesses; and
whom the government would, no doubt, prefer to any King's evidence that might be
offered. Many of this class had deserted their usual occupations on the Saturday
morning; some had been seen by their employers active in the tumult; others knew
they must be suspected, and that they would be discharged if they returned;
others had been desperate from the beginning, and comforted themselves with the
homely proverb, that, being hanged at all, they might as well be hanged for a
sheep as a lamb. They all hoped and believed, in a greater or less degree, that
the government they seemed to have paralysed, would, in its terror, come to
terms with them in the end, and suffer them to make their own conditions. The
least sanguine among them reasoned with himself that, at the worst, they were
too many to be all punished, and that he had as good a chance of escape as any
other man. The great mass never reasoned or thought at all, but were stimulated
by their own headlong passions, by poverty, by ignorance, by the love of
mischief, and the hope of plunder.
One other circumstance is worthy of remark; and that is, that from the moment
of their first outbreak at Westminster, every symptom of order or preconcerted
arrangement among them vanished. When they divided into parties and ran to
different quarters of the town, it was on the spontaneous suggestion of the
moment. Each party swelled as it went along, like rivers as they roll towards
the sea; new leaders sprang up as they were wanted, disappeared when the
necessity was over, and reappeared at the next crisis. Each tumult took shape
and form from the circumstances of the moment; sober workmen, going home from
their day's labour, were seen to cast down their baskets of tools and become
rioters in an instant; mere boys on errands did the like. In a word, a moral
plague ran through the city. The noise, and hurry, and excitement, had for
hundreds and hundreds an attraction they had no firmness to resist. The
contagion spread like a dread fever: an infectious madness, as yet not near its
height, seized on new victims every hour, and society began to tremble at their
ravings.
It was between two and three o'clock in the afternoon when Gashford looked
into the lair described in the last chapter, and seeing only Barnaby and Dennis
there, inquired for Hugh.
He was out, Barnaby told him; had gone out more than an hour ago; and had not
yet returned.
'Dennis!' said the smiling secretary, in his smoothest voice, as he sat down
cross-legged on a barrel, 'Dennis!'
The hangman struggled into a sitting posture directly, and with his
eyes wide open, looked towards him.
'How do you do, Dennis?' said Gashford, nodding. 'I hope you have suffered no
inconvenience from your late exertions, Dennis?'
'I always will say of you, Muster Gashford,' returned the hangman, staring at
him, 'that that 'ere quiet way of yours might almost wake a dead man. It is,' he
added, with a muttered oath--still staring at him in a thoughtful manner--'so
awful sly!'
'So distinct, eh Dennis?'
'Distinct!' he answered, scratching his head, and keeping his eyes upon the
secretary's face; 'I seem to hear it, Muster Gashford, in my wery bones.'
'I am very glad your sense of hearing is so sharp, and that I succeed in
making myself so intelligible,' said Gashford, in his unvarying, even tone.
'Where is your friend?'
Mr Dennis looked round as in expectation of beholding him asleep upon his bed
of straw; then remembering he had seen him go out, replied:
'I can't say where he is, Muster Gashford, I expected him back afore now. I
hope it isn't time that we was busy, Muster Gashford?'
'Nay,' said the secretary, 'who should know that as well as you? How can I
tell you, Dennis? You are perfect master of your own actions, you know, and
accountable to nobody--except sometimes to the law, eh?'
Dennis, who was very much baffled by the cool matter-of-course manner of this
reply, recovered his self-possession on his professional pursuits being referred
to, and pointing towards Barnaby, shook his head and frowned.
'Hush!' cried Barnaby.
'Ah! Do hush about that, Muster Gashford,' said the hangman in a low voice,
'pop'lar prejudices--you always forget--well, Barnaby, my lad, what's the
matter?'
'I hear him coming,' he answered: 'Hark! Do you mark that? That's his foot!
Bless you, I know his step, and his dog's too. Tramp, tramp, pit-pat, on they
come together, and, ha ha ha!--and here they are!' he cried, joyfully welcoming
Hugh with both hands, and then patting him fondly on the back, as if instead of
being the rough companion he was, he had been one of the most prepossessing of
men. 'Here he is, and safe too! I am glad to see him back again, old Hugh!'
'I'm a Turk if he don't give me a warmer welcome always than any man of
sense,' said Hugh, shaking hands with him with a kind of ferocious friendship,
strange enough to see. 'How are you, boy?'
'Hearty!' cried Barnaby, waving his hat. 'Ha ha ha! And merrry too, Hugh! And
ready to do anything for the good cause, and the right, and to help the kind,
mild, pale-faced gentleman--the lord they used so ill--eh, Hugh?'
'Ay!' returned his friend, dropping his hand, and looking at Gashford for an
instant with a changed expression before he spoke to him. 'Good day, master!'
'And good day to you,' replied the secretary, nursing his leg.
'And many good days--whole years of them, I hope. You are heated.'
'So would you have been, master,' said Hugh, wiping his face, 'if you'd been
running here as fast as I have.'
'You know the news, then? Yes, I supposed you would have heard it.'
'News! what news?'
'You don't?' cried Gashford, raising his eyebrows with an exclamation of
surprise. 'Dear me! Come; then I AM the first to make you acquainted with your
distinguished position, after all. Do you see the King's Arms a-top?' he
smilingly asked, as he took a large paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and held
it out for Hugh's inspection.
'Well!' said Hugh. 'What's that to me?'
'Much. A great deal,' replied the secretary. 'Read it.'
'I told you, the first time I saw you, that I couldn't read,' said Hugh,
impatiently. 'What in the Devil's name's inside of it?'
'It is a proclamation from the King in Council,' said Gashford, 'dated
to-day, and offering a reward of five hundred pounds--five hundred pounds is a
great deal of money, and a large temptation to some people--to any one who will
discover the person or persons most active in demolishing those chapels on
Saturday night.'
'Is that all?' cried Hugh, with an indifferent air. 'I knew of that.'
'Truly I might have known you did,' said Gashford, smiling, and folding up
the document again. 'Your friend, I might have guessed-- indeed I did guess--was
sure to tell you.'
'My friend!' stammered Hugh, with an unsuccessful effort to appear surprised.
'What friend?'
'Tut tut--do you suppose I don't know where you have been?' retorted
Gashford, rubbing his hands, and beating the back of one on the palm of the
other, and looking at him with a cunning eye. 'How dull you think me! Shall I
say his name?'
'No,' said Hugh, with a hasty glance towards Dennis.
'You have also heard from him, no doubt,' resumed the secretary, after a
moment's pause, 'that the rioters who have been taken (poor fellows) are
committed for trial, and that some very active witnesses have had the temerity
to appear against them. Among others--' and here he clenched his teeth, as if he
would suppress by force some violent words that rose upon his tongue; and spoke
very slowly. 'Among others, a gentleman who saw the work going on in Warwick
Street; a Catholic gentleman; one Haredale.'
Hugh would have prevented his uttering the word, but it was out already.
Hearing the name, Barnaby turned swiftly round.
'Duty, duty, bold Barnaby!' cried Hugh, assuming his wildest and most rapid
manner, and thrusting into his hand his staff and flag which leant against the
wall. 'Mount guard without loss of time, for we are off upon our expedition. Up,
Dennis, and get ready! Take care that no one turns the straw upon my bed, brave
Barnaby; we know what's underneath it--eh? Now, master, quick! What you have to
say, say speedily, for the little captain and a cluster of 'em are in the
fields, and only waiting for us. Sharp's the word, and strike's the action.
Quick!'
Barnaby was not proof against this bustle and despatch. The look of mingled
astonishtnent and anger which had appeared in his face when he turned towards
them, faded from it as the words passed from his memory, like breath from a
polished mirror; and grasping the weapon which Hugh forced upon him, he proudly
took his station at the door, beyond their hearing.
'You might have spoiled our plans, master,' said Hugh. 'YOU, too, of all
men!'
'Who would have supposed that HE would be so quick?' urged Gashford.
'He's as quick sometimes--I don't mean with his hands, for that you know, but
with his head--as you or any man,' said Hugh. 'Dennis, it's time we were going;
they're waiting for us; I came to tell you. Reach me my stick and belt. Here!
Lend a hand, master. Fling this over my shoulder, and buckle it behind, will
you?'
'Brisk as ever!' said the secretary, adjusting it for him as he desired.
'A man need be brisk to-day; there's brisk work a-foot.'
'There is, is there?' said Gashford. He said it with such a provoking
assumption of ignorance, that Hugh, looking over his shoulder and angrily down
upon him, replied:
'Is there! You know there is! Who knows better than you, master, that the
first great step to be taken is to make examples of these witnesses, and
frighten all men from appearing against us or any of our body, any more?'
'There's one we know of,' returned Gashford, with an expressive smile, 'who
is at least as well informed upon that subject as you or I.'
'If we mean the same gentleman, as I suppose we do,' Hugh rejoined softly, 'I
tell you this--he's as good and quick information about everything as--' here he
paused and looked round, as if to make sure that the person in question was not
within hearing, 'as Old Nick himself. Have you done that, master? How slow you
are!'
'It's quite fast now,' said Gashford, rising. 'I say--you didn't find that
your friend disapproved of to-day's little expedition? Ha ha ha! It is fortunate
it jumps so well with the witness policy; for, once planned, it must have been
carried out. And now you are going, eh?'
'Now we are going, master!' Hugh replied. 'Any parting words?'
'Oh dear, no,' said Gashford sweetly. 'None!'
'You're sure?' cried Hugh, nudging the grinning Dennis.
'Quite sure, eh, Muster Gashford?' chuckled the hangman.
Gashford paused a moment, struggling with his caution and his malice; then
putting himself between the two men, and laying a hand upon the arm of each,
said, in a cramped whisper:
'Do not, my good friends--I am sure you will not--forget our talk one
night--in your house, Dennis--about this person. No mercy, no quarter, no two
beams of his house to be left standing where the builder placed them! Fire, the
saying goes, is a good servant, but a bad master. Makes it HIS master; he
deserves no better. But I am sure you will be firm, I am sure you will be very
resolute, I am sure you will remember that he thirsts for your lives, and those
of all your brave companions. If you ever acted like staunch fellows, you will
do so to-day. Won't you, Dennis--won't you, Hugh?'
The two looked at him, and at each other; then bursting into a roar of
laughter, brandished their staves above their heads, shook hands, and hurried
out.
When they had been gone a little time, Gashford followed. They were yet in
sight, and hastening to that part of the adjacent fields in which their fellows
had already mustered; Hugh was looking back, and flourishing his hat to Barnaby,
who, delighted with his trust, replied in the same way, and then resumed his
pacing up and down before the stable-door, where his feet had worn a path
already. And when Gashford himself was far distant, and looked back for the last
time, he was still walking to and fro, with the same measured tread; the most
devoted and the blithest champion that ever maintained a post, and felt his
heart lifted up with a brave sense of duty, and determination to defend it to
the last.
Smiling at the simplicity of the poor idiot, Gashford betook himself to
Welbeck Street by a different path from that which he knew the rioters would
take, and sitting down behind a curtain in one of the upper windows of Lord
George Gordon's house, waited impatiently for their coming. They were so long,
that although he knew it had been settled they should come that way, he had a
misgiving they must have changed their plans and taken some other route. But at
length the roar of voices was heard in the neighbouring fields, and soon
afterwards they came thronging past, in a great body.
However, they were not all, nor nearly all, in one body, but were, as he soon
found, divided into four parties, each of which stopped before the house to give
three cheers, and then went on; the leaders crying out in what direction they
were going, and calling on the spectators to join them. The first detachment,
carrying, by way of banners, some relics of the havoc they had made in
Moorfields, proclaimed that they were on their way to Chelsea, whence they would
return in the same order, to make of the spoil they bore, a great bonfire, near
at hand. The second gave out that they were bound for Wapping, to destroy a
chapel; the third, that their place of destination was East Smithfield, and
their object the same. All this was done in broad, bright, summer day. Gay
carriages and chairs stopped to let them pass, or turned back to avoid them;
people on foot stood aside in doorways, or perhaps knocked and begged permission
to stand at a window, or in the hall, until the rioters had passed: but nobody
interfered with them; and when they had gone by, everything went on as usual.
There still remained the fourth body, and for that the secretary looked with
a most intense eagerness. At last it came up. It was numerous, and composed of
picked men; for as he gazed down among them, he recognised many upturned faces
which he knew well--those of Simon Tappertit, Hugh, and Dennis in the front, of
course. They halted and cheered, as the others had done; but when they moved
again, they did not, like them, proclaim what design they had. Hugh merely
raised his hat upon the bludgeon he carried, and glancing at a spectator on the
opposite side of the way, was gone.
Gashford followed the direction of his glance instinctively, and saw,
standing on the pavement, and wearing the blue cockade, Sir John Chester. He
held his hat an inch or two above his head, to propitiate the mob; and, resting
gracefully on his cane, smiling pleasantly, and displaying his dress and person
to the very best advantage, looked on in the most tranquil state imaginable. For
all that, and quick and dexterous as he was, Gashford had seen him recognise
Hugh with the air of a patron. He had no longer any eyes for the crowd, but
fixed his keen regards upon Sir John.
He stood in the same place and posture until the last man in the concourse
had turned the corner of the street; then very deliberately took the blue
cockade out of his hat; put it carefully in his pocket, ready for the next
emergency; refreshed himself with a pinch of snuff; put up his box; and was
walking slowly off, when a passing carriage stopped, and a lady's hand let down
the glass. Sir John's hat was off again immediately. After a minute's
conversation at the carriage-window, in which it was apparent that he was vastly
entertaining on the subject of the mob, he stepped lightly in, and was driven
away.
The secretary smiled, but he had other thoughts to dwell upon, and soon
dismissed the topic. Dinner was brought him, but he sent it down untasted; and,
in restless pacings up and down the room, and constant glances at the clock, and
many futile efforts to sit down and read, or go to sleep, or look out of the
window, consumed four weary hours. When the dial told him thus much time had
crept away, he stole upstairs to the top of the house, and coming out upon the
roof sat down, with his face towards the east.
Heedless of the fresh air that blew upon his heated brow, of the pleasant
meadows from which he turned, of the piles of roofs and chimneys upon which he
looked, of the smoke and rising mist he vainly sought to pierce, of the shrill
cries of children at their evening sports, the distant hum and turmoil of the
town, the cheerful country breath that rustled past to meet it, and to droop,
and die; he watched, and watched, till it was dark save for the specks of light
that twinkled in the streets below and far away-- and, as the darkness deepened,
strained his gaze and grew more
eager yet.
'Nothing but gloom in that direction, still!' he muttered restlessly. 'Dog!
where is the redness in the sky, you promised me!'
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