CHAPTER XXVIII Unfit to live or die--O marble heart! After him, fellows, drag him to the block.
Measure for Measure.
The jail at the county town of the shire of----was one of thoseold-fashioned dungeons which disgraced Scotland until of late years. Whenthe prisoners and their guard arrived there, Hatteraick, whose violenceand strength were well known, was secured in what was called thecondemned ward. This was a large apartment near the top of the prison. Around bar of iron,[Footnote: See Note 9.] about the thickness of a man'sarm above the elbow, crossed the apartment horizontally at the height ofabout six inches from the floor; and its extremities were strongly builtinto the wall at either end. Hatteraick's ankles were secured withinshackles, which were connected by a chain, at the distance of about fourfeet, with a large iron ring, which travelled upon the bar we havedescribed. Thus a prisoner might shuffle along the length of the bar fromone side of the room to another, but could not retreat farther from it inany other direction than the brief length of the chain admitted. When hisfeet had been thus secured, the keeper removed his handcuffs and left hisperson at liberty in other respects. A pallet-bed was placed close to thebar of iron, so that the shackled prisoner might lie down at pleasure,still fastened to the iron bar in the manner described.
Hatteraick had not been long in this place of confinement before Glossinarrived at the same prison-house. In respect to his comparative rank andeducation, he was not ironed, but placed in a decent apartment, under theinspection of Mac-Guffog, who, since the destruction of the bridewell ofPortanferry by the mob, had acted here as an under-turnkey. When Glossinwas enclosed within this room, and had solitude and leisure to calculateall the chances against him and in his favour, he could not prevail uponhimself to consider the game as desperate.
'The estate is lost,' he said, 'that must go; and, between Pleydell andMac-Morlan, they'll cut down my claim on it to a trifle. Mycharacter--but if I get off with life and liberty I'll win money yet andvarnish that over again. I knew not of the gauger's job until the rascalhad done the deed, and, though I had some advantage by the contraband,that is no felony. But the kidnapping of the boy--there they touch mecloser. Let me see. This Bertram was a child at the time; his evidencemust be imperfect. The other fellow is a deserter, a gipsy, and anoutlaw. Meg Merrilies, d-n her, is dead. These infernal bills! Hatteraickbrought them with him, I suppose, to have the means of threatening me orextorting money from me. I must endeavour to see the rascal; must get himto stand steady; must persuade him to put some other colour upon thebusiness.'
His mind teeming with schemes of future deceit to cover former villainy,he spent the time in arranging and combining them until the hour ofsupper. Mac-Guffog attended as turnkey on this occasion. He was, as weknow, the old and special acquaintance of the prisoner who was now underhis charge. After giving the turnkey a glass of brandy, and sounding himwith one or two cajoling speeches, Glossin made it his request that hewould help him to an interview with Dirk Hatteraick. 'Impossible! utterlyimpossible! it's contrary to the express orders of Mr. Mac-Morlan, andthe captain (as the head jailor of a county jail is called in Scotland)would never forgie me.'
'But why should he know of it?' said Glossin, slipping a couple ofguineas into Mac-Guffog's hand.
The turnkey weighed the gold and looked sharp at Glossin. 'Ay, ay, Mr.Glossin, ye ken the ways o' this place. Lookee, at lock-up hour I'llreturn and bring ye upstairs to him. But ye must stay a' night in hiscell, for I am under needcessity to carry the keys to the captain for thenight, and I cannot let you out again until morning; then I'll visit thewards half an hour earlier than usual, and ye may get out and be snug inyour ain birth when the captain gangs his rounds.'
When the hour of ten had pealed from the neighbouring steeple Mac-Guffogcame prepared with a small dark lantern. He said softly to Glossin, 'Slipyour shoes off and follow me.' When Glossin was out of the door,Mac-Guffog, as if in the execution of his ordinary duty, and speaking toa prisoner within, called aloud, 'Good-night to you, sir,' and locked thedoor, clattering the bolts with much ostentatious noise. He then guidedGlossin up a steep and narrow stair, at the top of which was the door ofthe condemned ward; he unbarred and unlocked it, and, giving Glossin thelantern, made a sign to him to enter, and locked the door behind him withthe same affected accuracy.
In the large dark cell into which he was thus introduced Glossin's feeblelight for some time enabled him to discover nothing. At length he coulddimly distinguish the pallet-bed stretched on the floor beside the greatiron bar which traversed the room, and on that pallet reposed the figureof a man. Glossin approached him. 'Dirk Hatteraick!'
'Donner and hagel! it is his voice,' said the prisoner, sitting up andclashing his fetters as he rose; 'then my dream is true! Begone, andleave me to myself; it will be your best.'
'What! my good friend,' said Glossin, 'will you allow the prospect of afew weeks' confinement to depress your spirit?'
'Yes,' answered the ruffian, sullenly, 'when I am only to be released bya halter! Let me alone; go about your business, and turn the lamp from myface!'
'Psha! my dear Dirk, don't be afraid,' said Glossin; 'I have a gloriousplan to make all right.'
'To the bottomless pit with your plans!' replied his accomplice; 'youhave planned me out of ship, cargo, and life; and I dreamt this momentthat Meg Merrilies dragged you here by the hair and gave me the longclasped knife she used to wear; you don't know what she said.Sturmwetter! it will be your wisdom not to tempt me!'
'But, Hatteraick, my good friend, do but rise and speak to me,' saidGlossin.
'I will not!' answered the savage, doggedly. 'You have caused all themischief; you would not let Meg keep the boy; she would have returned himafter he had forgot all.'
'Why, Hatteraick, you are turned driveller!'
'Wetter! will you deny that all that cursed attempt at Portanferry, whichlost both sloop and crew, was your device for your own job?'
'But the goods, you know--'
'Curse the goods!' said the smuggler, 'we could have got plenty more;but, der deyvil! to lose the ship and the fine fellows, and my own life,for a cursed coward villain, that always works his own mischief withother people's hands! Speak to me no more; I'm dangerous.'
'But, Dirk--but, Hatteraick, hear me only a few words.'
'Hagel! nein.'
'Only one sentence.'
'Tousand curses! nein.'
'At least get up, for an obstinate Dutch brute!' said Glossin, losing histemper and pushing Hatteraick with his foot.
'Donner and blitzen!' said Hatteraick, springing up and grappling withhim; 'you WILL have it then?'
Glossin struggled and resisted; but, owing to his surprise at the fury ofthe assault, so ineffectually that he fell under Hatteraick, the backpart of his neck coming full upon the iron bar with stunning violence.The death-grapple continued. The room immediately below the condemnedward, being that of Glossin, was, of course, empty; but the inmates ofthe second apartment beneath felt the shock of Glossin's heavy fall, andheard a noise as of struggling and of groans. But all sounds of horrorwere too congenial to this place to excite much curiosity or interest.
In the morning, faithful to his promise, Mac-Guffog came. 'Mr. Glossin,'said he, in a whispering voice.
'Call louder,' answered Dirk Hatteraick.
'Mr. Glossin, for God's sake come away!'
'He'll hardly do that without help,' said Hatteraick.
'What are you chattering there for, Mac-Guffog?' called out the captainfrom below.
'Come away, for God's sake, Mr. Glossin!' repeated the turnkey.
At this moment the jailor made his appearance with a light. Great was hissurprise, and even horror, to observe Glossin's body lying doubled acrossthe iron bar, in a posture that excluded all idea of his being alive.Hatteraick was quietly stretched upon his pallet within a yard of hisvictim. On lifting Glossin it was found he had been dead for some hours.His body bore uncommon marks of violence. The spine where it joins thesku
ll had received severe injury by his first fall. There were distinctmarks of strangulation about the throat, which corresponded with theblackened state of his face. The head was turned backward over theshoulder, as if the neck had been wrung round with desperate violence. Sothat it would seem that his inveterate antagonist had fixed a fatal gripeupon the wretch's throat, and never quitted it while life lasted. Thelantern, crushed and broken to pieces, lay beneath the body.
Mac-Morlan was in the town, and came instantly to examine the corpse.'What brought Glossin here?' he said to Hatteraick.
'The devil!' answered the ruffian.
'And what did you do to him?'
'Sent him to hell before me!' replied the miscreant.
'Wretch,' said Mac-Morlan, 'you have crowned a life spent without asingle virtue with the murder of your own miserable accomplice!'
'Virtue?' exclaimed the prisoner. 'Donner! I was always faithful to myshipowners--always accounted for cargo to the last stiver. Hark ye! letme have pen and ink and I'll write an account of the whole to our house,and leave me alone a couple of hours, will ye; and let them take awaythat piece of carrion, donnerwetter!'
Mac-Morlan deemed it the best way to humour the savage; he was furnishedwith writing materials and left alone. When they again opened the door itwas found that this determined villain had anticipated justice. He hadadjusted a cord taken from the truckle-bed, and attached it to a bone,the relic of his yesterday's dinner, which he had contrived to drive intoa crevice between two stones in the wall at a height as great as he couldreach, standing upon the bar. Having fastened the noose, he had theresolution to drop his body as if to fall on his knees, and to retainthat posture until resolution was no longer necessary. The letter he hadwritten to his owners, though chiefly upon the business of their trade,contained many allusions to the younker of Ellangowan, as he called him,and afforded absolute confirmation of all Meg Merrilies and her nephewhad told.
To dismiss the catastrophe of these two wretched men, I shall only add,that Mac-Guffog was turned out of office, notwithstanding his declaration(which he offered to attest by oath), that he had locked Glossin safelyin his own room upon the night preceding his being found dead in DirkHatteraick's cell. His story, however, found faith with the worthy Mr.Skriegh and other lovers of the marvellous, who still hold that the Enemyof Mankind brought these two wretches together upon that night bysupernatural interference, that they might fill up the cup of their guiltand receive its meed by murder and suicide.