Sheppard, meanwhile, whose hands were at liberty, managed to possess
himself, unperceived, of the spike of a halbert, which was lying,
apart from the pole, upon a bench near him. Having secured this
implement, he burst from his conductor, and, leaping into the hatch,
as clowns generally spring into the clock-faces, when in pursuit of
harlequin in the pantomime,--that is, back foremost,--broke into a
fit of loud and derisive laughter, kicking his heels merrily all the
time against the boards. His mirth, however, received an unpleasant
check; for Abraham, greatly incensed by his previous conduct, caught
him by the legs, and pushed him with such violence into the hole that
the point of the spike, which he had placed in his pocket, found
its way through his clothes to the flesh, inflicting a slight,
but painful wound. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his
composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried
his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace
in Sharples's face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into
the recess beside him.
“How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?” asked Sharples, in a
jeering tone.
“Better than your company, Saint Giles,” replied Sheppard; “so, shut
the door, and make yourself scarce.”
“That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell,” observed
Sharples.
“Or the street,” returned Jack: “mind my words, the prison's not
built that can keep me.”
“We'll see that, young hempseed,” replied Sharples, shutting the
hatch furiously in his face, and locking it. “If you get out o' that
cage, I'll forgive you. Now, come along, gem'men, and I'll show you
some precious sport.”
The two janizaries followed him as far as the entrance to the inner
room, when Abraham, raising his finger to his lips, and glancing
significantly in the direction of the boys, to explain his intention
to his companions, closed the door after them, and stole softly back
again, planting himself near the recess.
For a few minutes all was silent. At length Jack Sheppard
observed:--“The coast's clear. They're gone into the next room.”
Darrell returned no answer.
“Don't be angry with me, Thames,” continued Sheppard, in a tone
calculated, as he thought, to appease his companion's indignation. “I
did all for the best, as I'll explain.”
“I won't reproach you, Jack,” said the other, sternly. “I've done
with you.”
“Not quite, I hope,” rejoined Sheppard. “At all events, I've not
done with you. If you owe your confinement to me, you shall owe your
liberation to me, also.”
“I'd rather lie here for ever, than be indebted to _you_ for my
freedom,” returned Thames.
“I've done nothing to offend you,” persisted Jack. “Nothing!” echoed
the other, scornfully. “You've perjured yourself.”
“That's my own concern,” rejoined Sheppard. “An oath weighs little
with me, compared with your safety.”
“No more of this,” interrupted Thames, “you make the matter worse by
these excuses.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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