The Collected Novels. William Harrison Ainsworth

waiting for a reply, but darting a malevolent look at the prisoner, he quitted the cell, the door of which was instantly double-locked and bolted.

      “I’ve not quite done yet,” said Jonathan, as he joined the turnkeys. “I should like to see whether Blueskin is a little more composed. I’ve a question to ask him. Give me the keys and the light. I’ll go alone.”

      So saying, he descended a short spiral staircase, and, entering a long stone gallery, from which several other passages branched, took one of them, and after various turnings — for he was familiar with all the intricacies of the prison — arrived at the cell of which he was in search. Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. He was asleep when Jonathan entered, and growled at being disturbed. But, as soon as he perceived who it was, he roused himself, and glared fiercely at the intruder from under his bent brows.

      “What do you want?” he asked, in a gruff voice.

      “I want to know what you’ve done with the rest of the notes — with the gold — and the papers you took away from my room!” rejoined Wild.

      “Then you’ll never know more than this,” retorted Blueskin, with a grin of satisfaction; —“they’re in a place of safety, where you‘ll never find ’em, but where somebody else will, and that before long.”

      “Hear me, Blueskin,” said Jonathan, restraining his choler. “If you’ll tell me where to look for these things, and I do find them, I’ll set you free. And you shall have a share of the gold for yourself.”

      “I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” rejoined the other. “Set Captain Sheppard free, and when I hear he’s safe — not before — I’ll put the money and papers into your possession, and some other matters, too, that you know nothing about.”

      “Impracticable dolt!” exclaimed Jonathan, furiously. “Do you think I’d part with the sweetest morsel of revenge on those terms? No! But I’ll have the secret out of you by other means.”

      So saying, he violently shut and locked the door.

      About ten days after this interview, Blueskin, having been indicted by Wild for several robberies, and true bills found against him, was placed at the bar of the Old Bailey to be arraigned; when he declared that he would not plead to the indictment, unless the sum of five hundred pounds, taken from him by Jonathan Wild, was first restored to him. This sum, claimed by Wild under the statute 4th and 5th of William and Mary, entitled “An act for encouraging the apprehending of Highwaymen,” was granted to him by the court.

      As Blueskin still continued obstinate, the judgment appointed to be executed upon such prisoners as stood mute, was then read. It was as follows, and, when uttered, produced a strong effect upon all who heard it, except the prisoner, who, in no respect, altered his sullen and dogged demeanour.

      “Prisoner at the bar,” thus ran the sentence, “you shall be taken to the prison from whence you came, and put into a mean room, stopped from the light; and shall there be laid on the bare ground, without any litter, straw, or other covering, and without any garment. You shall lie upon your back; your head shall be covered; and your feet shall be bare. One of your arms shall be drawn to one side of the room, and the other arm to the other side, and your legs shall be served in the like manner. Then, there shall be laid upon your body as much iron, or stone as you can bear, and more. And the first day, you shall have three morsels of barley bread, without any drink; and the second day, you shall be allowed to drink as much as you can, at three times, of the water that is next to the prison-door, except running-water, without any bread. And this shall be your diet till you die.”

      “Prisoner at the bar,” continued the clerk of the court, “he against whom this judgment is given, forfeits his goods to the king.”

      An awful silence prevailed throughout the court. Every eye was fixed upon the prisoner. But, as he made no answer, he was removed.

      Before the full sentence was carried into execution, he was taken into a small room adjoining the court. Here Marvel, the executioner, who was in attendance, was commanded by Wild to tie his thumbs together, which he did with whipcord so tightly, that the string cut to the bone. But, as this produced no effect, and did not even elicit a groan, the prisoner was carried back to Newgate.

      The Press Room, to which Blueskin was conveyed on his arrival at the jail, was a small square chamber, walled and paved with stone. In each corner stood a stout square post reaching to the ceiling. To these a heavy wooden apparatus was attached, which could be raised or lowered at pleasure by pullies. In the floor were set four ring-bolts, about nine feet apart. When the prisoner was brought into this room, he was again questioned; but, continuing contumacious, preparations were made for inflicting the torture. His great personal strength being so well known, it was deemed prudent by Marvel to have all the four partners, together with Caliban, in attendance. The prisoner, however, submitted more quietly than was anticipated. He allowed his irons and clothes to be taken off without resistance. But just as they were about to place him on the ground, he burst from their hold, and made a desperate spring at Jonathan, who was standing with his arms folded near the door watching the scene. The attempt was unsuccessful. He was instantly overpowered, and stretched upon the ground. The four men fell upon him, holding his arms and legs, while Caliban forced back his head. In this state, he contrived to get the poor black’s hand into his mouth, and nearly bit off one of his fingers before the sufferer could be rescued. Meanwhile, the executioner had attached strong cords to his ankles and wrists, and fastened them tightly to the iron rings. This done, he unloosed the pulley, and the ponderous machine, which resembled a trough, slowly descended upon the prisoner’s breast. Marvel, then, took two iron weights, each of a hundred pounds, and placed them in the press. As this seemed insufficient, after a lapse of five minutes, he added another hundred weight. The prisoner breathed with difficulty. Still, his robust frame enabled him to hold out. After he had endured this torture for an hour, at a sign from Wild another hundred weight was added. In a few minutes, an appalling change was perceptible. The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears.

      “Water!” he gasped.

      The executioner shook his head.

      “Do you submit?” interrogated Wild.

      Blueskin answered by dashing his head violently against the flagged floor. His efforts at self-destruction were, however, prevented.

      “Try fifty pounds more,” said Jonathan.

      “Stop!” groaned Blueskin.

      “Will you plead?” demanded Wild, harshly.

      “I will,” answered the prisoner.

      “Release him,” said Jonathan. “We have cured his obstinacy, you perceive,” he added to Marvel.

      “I will live,” cried Blueskin, with a look of the deadliest hatred at Wild, “to be revenged on you.”

      And, as the weights were removed, he fainted.

      CHAPTER 16.

       HOW JACK SHEPPARD’S PORTRAIT WAS PAINTED.

       Table of Contents

      Early in the morning of Thursday, the 15th of October, 1724, the door of the Castle was opened by Austin, who, with a look of unusual importance, announced to the prisoner that four gentlemen were shortly coming up with the governor to see him — “four such gentlemen,” he added, in a tone meant to impress his auditor with a due sense of the honour intended him, “as you don’t meet every day.”

      “Is Mr. Wood among them?” asked Jack, eagerly.

      “Mr. Wood!