For some time after he was locked up in this prison Jack continued in
a very dejected state. Deserted by his older companion in iniquity,
and instigator to crime, he did not know what might become of
him; nor, as we have observed, was the sad spectacle he had just
witnessed, without effect. Though within the last two days he had
committed several heinous offences, and one of a darker dye than any
with which the reader has been made acquainted, his breast was
not yet so callous as to be wholly insensible to the stings of
conscience. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and
terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the
straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose
himself to slumber. When he awoke, it was late in the day; but though
he heard voices outside, and now and then caught a glimpse of a face
peeping at him through the iron grating over the door, no one entered
the prison, or held any communication with him. Feeling rather
exhausted, it occurred to him that possibly some provisions might
have been left by the constable; and, looking about, he perceived a
pitcher of water and a small brown loaf on the floor. He ate of the
bread with great appetite, and having drunk as much as he chose of
the water, poured the rest on the floor. His hunger satisfied, his
spirits began to revive, and with this change of mood all his natural
audacity returned. And here he was first visited by that genius
which, in his subsequent career, prompted him to so many bold and
successful attempts. Glancing around his prison, he began to think it
possible he might effect an escape from it. The door was too strong,
and too well secured, to break open,--the walls too thick: but the
ceiling,--if he could reach it--there, he doubted not, he could make
an outlet. While he was meditating flight in this way, and tossing
about on the straw, he chanced upon an old broken and rusty fork.
Here was an instrument which might be of the greatest service to him
in accomplishing his design. He put it carefully aside, resolved to
defer the attempt till night. Time wore on somewhat slowly with the
prisoner, who had to control his impatience in the best way he could;
but as the shades of evening were darkening, the door was unlocked,
and Mr. Dump popped his head into the cage. He brought another small
loaf, and a can with which he replenished the pitcher, recommending
Jack to be careful, as he would get nothing further till morning. To
this Jack replied, that he should be perfectly contented, provided
he might have a small allowance of gin. The latter request, though
treated with supreme contempt by Mr. Dump, made an impression on some
one outside; for not long after the constable departed, Jack heard a
tap at the door, and getting up at the summons, he perceived the tube
of a pipe inserted between the bars. At once divining the meaning of
this ingenious device, he applied his mouth to the tube, and sucked
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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