CHAPTER XV
IN BOSTON JAIL
Jack was marched under a guard into the streets of Boston. Churchbells were ringing. It was Sunday morning. Young Clarke came with theguard beyond the city limits. They had seemed to be very careless inthe control of their prisoner. They gave him every chance to make abreak for liberty. Jack was not fooled.
"I see that you want to get rid of me," said Jack to the young officer."You'd like to have me run a race with your bullets. That is baseingratitude. I was careful of you when we met and you do not seem toknow it."
"I know how well you can shoot," Clarke answered. "But you do not knowhow well I can shoot."
"And when I learn, I want to have a fair chance for my life."
Beyond the city limits young Clarke, who was then a captain, left them,and Jack proceeded with the others.
The streets were quiet--indeed almost deserted. There were no childrenplaying on the common. A crowd was coming out of one of the churches.In the midst of it the prisoner saw Preston and Lady Hare. They wereso near that he could have touched them with his hand as he passed.They did not see him. He noted the name of the church and itsminister. In a few minutes he was delivered at the jail--a noisome,ill-smelling, badly ventilated place. The jailer was a tall, slim,sallow man with a thin gray beard. His face and form were familiar.He heard Jack's name with a look of great astonishment. Then the youngman recognized him. He was Mr. Eliphalet Pinhorn, who had sodistinguished himself on the stage trip to Philadelphia some yearsbefore.
"It is a long time since we met," said Jack.
Mr. Pinhorn's face seemed to lengthen. His mouth and eyes opened widein a silent demand for information.
Jack reminded him of the day and circumstances.
For a moment Mr. Pinhorn held his hand against his forehead and wasdumb with astonishment. Then he said:
"I knew! I foresaw! But it is not too late."
"Too late for what?"
"To turn, to be redeemed, loved, forgiven. Think it over, sir. Thinkit over."
Jack's name and age and residence were registered. Then Pinhorn tookhis arm and walked with him down the corridor toward an open door.About half-way to the door he stopped and put his hand on Jack'sshoulder and said with a look of great seriousness:
"A sinking cause! Death! Destruction! Misery! The ship is goingdown. Leave it."
"You are misinformed. There is no leak in our ship," said Jack.
Mr. Pinhorn shut his eyes and shook his head mournfully. Then, with awave of his hand, he pronounced the doom of the western world in onewhispered word:
"Ashes!"
For a moment his face and form were alive with exclamatory suggestion.Then he shook his head and said:
"Doomed! Poor soul! Go out in the yard with your fellow rebels. Theyare taking the air."
The yard was an opening walled in by the main structure and its twowings and a wooden fence some fifteen feet high. There was a ragged,dirty rabble of "rebel" prisoners, among whom was Solomon Binkus, allout for an airing. The old scout had lost flesh and color. He heldJack's hand and stood for a moment without speaking.
"I never was so glad and so sorry in my life," said Solomon. "It's ahell-mogrified place to be in. Smells like a blasted whale an' is ascold as the north side of a grave stun on a Janooary night, an'starvation fare, an' they's a man here that's come down with thesmallpox. How'd ye git ketched?"
Jack briefly told of his capture.
"I got sick one day an' couldn't hide 'cause I were makin' tracks inthe snow so I had to give in," said Solomon. "Margaret has been here,but they won't let 'er come no more 'count o' the smallpox. Sends mesuthin' tasty ev'ry day er two. I tol' er all 'bout ye. I guess thesmallpox couldn't keep 'er 'way if she knowed you was here. But shewon't be 'lowed to know it. This 'ere Clarke boy has p'isoned thejail. Nobody 'll come here 'cept them that's dragged. He's got it allfixed fer ye. I wouldn't wonder if he'd be glad to see ye rotted upwith smallpox."
"What kind of a man is Pinhorn?"
"A whey-faced hypercrit an' a Tory. Licks the feet o' the British whenthey come here."
Jack and Solomon lay for weeks in this dirty, noisome jail, where theirtreatment was well calculated to change opinions not deeply rooted infirm soil. They did not fear the smallpox, as both were immune. Buttheir confinement was, as doubtless it was intended to be, memorablypunitive. They were "rebels"--law-breakers, human rubbish whoseoffenses bordered upon treason. The smallpox patient was soon takenaway, but other conditions were not improved. They slept on strawinfested with vermin. Their cover and food were insufficient and "notfit fer a dog," in the words of Solomon. Some of the boys gave in andwere set free on parole, and there was one, at least, who went to workin the ranks of the British.
There is a passage in a letter of Jack Irons regarding conditions inthe jail which should be quoted here:
"One boy has lung fever and every night I hear him sobbing. His sorrowtravels like fire among the weaker men. I have heard a number of cold,half-starved, homesick lads crying like women in the middle of thenight. It makes me feel like letting go myself. There is one man whoswears like a trooper when it begins. I suppose that I shall be ashysterical as the rest of them in time. I don't believe General Howeknows what is going on here. The jail is run by American Tories, whoare wreaking their hatred on us."
Jack sent a line to the rector of the Church of England, where he hadseen Preston and Lady Howe, inviting him to call, but saw him not, andno word came from him. Letters were entrusted to Mr. Pinhorn forPreston, Margaret and General Sir Benjamin Hare with handsome paymentfor their delivery, but they waited in vain for an answer.
"They's suthin' wrong 'bout this 'ere business," said Solomon. "You'llfind that ol' Pinhorn has got a pair o' split hoofs under his luther."
One day Jack was sent for by Mr. Pinhorn and conducted to his office.
"Honor! Good luck! Relief!" was the threefold exclamation with whichthe young man was greeted.
"What do you mean?" Jack inquired.
"General Howe! You! Message to Mr. Washington! To-night!"
"Do you mean General Washington?"
"No. Mister! Title not recognized here!"'
"I shall take no message to 'Mr.' Washington," Jack answered. "If Idid, I am sure that he would not receive it."
Mr. Pinhorn's face expressed a high degree of astonishment.
"Pride! Error! Persistent error!" he exclaimed. "Never mind!Details can be fixed. You are to go to-night. Return to-morrow!"
The prospect of getting away from his misery even for a day or two wasalluring.
"Let me have the details in writing and I will let you know at once,"he answered.
The plan was soon delivered. Jack was to pass the lines on thenortheast front in the vicinity of Breed's Hill with a Britishsergeant, under a white flag, and proceed to Washington's headquarters.
"Looks kind o' neevarious," said Solomon when they were out in the jailyard together. "Looks like ye might be grabbed in the jaws o' a trap.Nobody's name is signed to this 'ere paper. There's nothin' behind thehull thing but ol' Pinhorn an'--who? I'm skeered o' Mr. Who? Pinhornan' Who an' a Dark Night! There's a pardnership! Kind o' well mated!They want ye to put yer life in their hands. What fer? Wal, ye knowit 'pears to me they'd be apt to be car'less with it. It's jestpossible that there's some feller who'll be happier if you was rubbedoff the slate. War is goin' on an' you belong to that breed o' pupsthey call rebels. A dead rebel don't cause no hard feelin's in theBritish army. Now, Jack, you stay where ye be. 'Tain't a fust rateplace, but it's better'n a hole in the ground. Suthin' is goin' tohappen--you mark my words, boy. I kind o' think Margaret is gittin'anxious to talk with me an' kin't be kept erway no longer. Mebbe theBritish army is goin' to move. Ye know fer two days an' nights we beenhearin' cannon fire."
"Solomon, I'm not going out to be shot in the back," said the youngman. "If I am to be executed, it must be don
e with witnesses in properform. I shall refuse to go. If Margaret should come, and it ispossible, I want you to sit down with her in front of my cell so that Ican see her, but do not tell her that I am here. It would increase hertrouble and do no good. Besides, I could not permit myself to touchher hand even, but I would love to look into her face."
So it happened that the proposal which had come to Jack through Mr.Pinhorn was firmly declined, whereupon the astonishment of thatofficial was expressed in a sorrowful gesture and the exclamation:"Doomed! Stubborn youth!"