CHAPTER XIV.
"FAIR STOOD THE WIND FOR FRANCE."
Was it worth being saved from murder at the hands of Lord Alderby'shirelings on Breakneck Stairs, to swing a few months later at Tyburn?Dick asked himself this question in the first few hours during which heeither sat listless in the dim-lit cell shared by him with a half-dozenfoul-mouthed and outwardly reckless rascals, or paced the courtyard uponwhich his and other cells opened.
It was not so much the confinement that crushed him, though that was aterribly galling thing; he had endured closer confinement in Boston, andon the _Adamant_. But never had he been surrounded by so vile a herd ofbeings. He accustomed himself, though, in time, to their crime-stampedfaces, their disgusting talk, and the sodden drunkenness they wereenabled to maintain by means of the liquor smuggled to them byvisitors,--for the courtyard and the cells thronged every day withvisitors of either sex, and of quality similar to that of the prisonersthemselves. Dick was presently able to discriminate among hisjail-mates, and so he found one or two of more gentle stuff.
One of these was a young Frenchman awaiting trial for an assault ofwhich he declared that he had been the victim and that the complainanthad been the aggressor. In order to converse with this one refinedcompanion without being understood by their coarse associates, Dickresumed, with him, the study of French, and, as he now had plenty oftime, he made rapid progress. There were several French books broughtby this tutor's visitors, from which to learn the written language,and there was the tutor's own speech from which to acquire thepronunciation.
It will be seen, thus, that Dick had plucked up heart, as it was hisnature to do. He steadfastly refrained from looking into the future, andhe made no provision in regard thereto. A grinning attorney hadbenevolently buttonholed him on his first day of imprisonment, and hadproposed to take his case in hand, but, on learning how little moneyDick would have for the luxury of a defence, this person had gone away,minus grin and benevolence.
Dick had more money than he had offered the shark of the law, but heneeded it in order to pay for quarters and food of a grade above thatwhich had to be endured by those miserable prisoners who could paynothing and who had to live on a penny loaf a day. The court in whichDick abode was neither the best nor the worst in Newgate; but the best,where those dwelt who paid most, was loathsome enough as to the company.
To follow the example set by Wetheral himself in his memoirs, and tomake swift work of his Newgate life,--for only in the "Beggar's Opera"is Newgate life a merry thing to contemplate,--let it be said at oncethat a true bill was duly found against him by the grand jury, and thathis trial was set for the September sessions at the Old Bailey SessionsHouse, next door to Newgate Prison. As Dick surveyed the long list ofwitnesses who would be called for the Crown, and bethought him that hewas without witness or counsel, the vision of Tyburn gallows was for amoment or two exceedingly vivid before his mind's eye.
It was now about the middle of August, and that same day there came toDick another piece of news brought in by visitors,--that on the fourthday of July the American rebels, in the State House in Philadelphia, haddeclared the colonies to be free and independent States. A thrill of joyand pride brought the tears to Dick's eyes, and the apparition ofTyburn, the very sense of the Newgate walls and herd around him, gaveway to visions of things far over seas, of people rejoicing in thecities he had passed through towards Cambridge, of his father rubbinghands and crying "Well done!" over the news, at home in the Pennsylvaniavalley; of the cheers of Washington's men, and the sage comments of oldTom MacAlister. When he awoke to Newgate and the Tyburn phantom, hebrought his teeth hard together and fretted at fate.
Early in September, sitting idly on a bench at an end of the court, hisears pricked up at the words, "American prisoner," uttered in course oftalk by a woman who was making a visit to an imprisoned waterman accusedof robbing a passenger.
"They say as 'ow, afore 'e was picked up, off the Lizard, by the ship asbrought 'im 'ere," she went on, "the rebel 'ad got out o' jug, byjumpink on a 'orse in Pendennis Castle, and ridink away in broaddaylight, afore a multitood o' people."
A prisoner escaped from Pendennis Castle on horseback! Dick instantlyjoined in the conversation. "You say a ship picked the man up, off theLizard," he put in. "How did they know he was the man who had escaped onthe horse?"
"By 'is clothes, in course," said the woman, "and by the descriptions aswas sent everywhere."
"But you say the ship has brought him to London?"
"Yes. 'E was picked up in a small boat, far hout to sea, a-trying for tomake the French coast. The ship's captain, having put out of Plymouthon a long voyage,--for this 'appened last February,--'ad no mind to turnback, and so he took the fellow all the way to the Barbados, and thenbrought him 'ome to London. So now he lies at St. Catherine's, onshipboard, while the Government is making up its mind what to do with'im."
And thus had fate treated Edward Lawson, otherwise Captain Ted, Dick'swhimsical gentleman of Taunton! To think that a fugitive, in exchanginghimself out of an incriminating suit of clothes to avoid detection,should exchange himself into the clothes of another fugitive, and becaught as the latter! Dick laughed to himself, even as he went to beg aturnkey to inform the governor that he, Dick, had an importantdisclosure to make.
The turnkey carried the message, for a consideration, and Dick wassummoned to the governor's room, where it was finally got into the headof that functionary that Dick claimed to be the American prisoner forwhom the other man had been taken. Dick was sent back to his court, withno satisfaction; but the next day he was led again into the governor'sroom, and confronted with the whimsical gentleman himself, who lookeddecidedly the worse for wear. It appeared that the highwayman was gladto be known, even in his true colors, rather than as a rebel prisonerwho might be charged with treason.
The two were taken by hackney coach to Bow Street, and there thewhimsical gentleman, much to his relief, was identified as Captain Ted,by the very ladies who had identified Dick as the same person, JusticeFielding subsequently observing that the resemblance between the two menwas so great as to leave no ground for a charge of perjury against theidentifiers. Captain Ted was then promptly committed to Newgate, on theevidence of the woman who had first laid information against him. With afriendly smile and courteous bow to Dick, he was led away.
And now Dick, relieved of the oft-recurring Tyburn vision, was to learnwhat disposition was to be made of himself. Standing out from theprisoners' pen, and in the vacant space before the magistrate's table,he was addressed at some length by Sir John Fielding. It appeared thathis story, as related to the governor of Newgate the previous day,having tallied with certain statements made by the other prisoner, hadbeen considered by no less a personage than the Secretary of State. Ifhe was one of the American prisoners who had been confined at PendennisCastle, the justice said, his treatment ordinarily would have been thesame as theirs,--that is to say, he would have been taken aboard the_Solebay_ frigate on the 8th of January, and sent back to America as aprisoner of war, subject to exchange (this was Dick's first intimationof what had befallen Allen and the others). But he had broken fromcustody while he still regarded it as likely that he would be proceededagainst for high treason, and he was therefore to be considered ashaving admitted his guilt of high treason. However, it was the desire ofthe King to exhibit great clemency to his rebellious American subjects,even in the most aggravated cases; hence the justice dared presume thatthe Crown would not move against the prisoner on the charge of treason(Dick afterward guessed that the real reason for this self-denial on theCrown's part lay in the difficulty and expense of getting witnesses tothe alleged treason). The prisoner had, however, been shown to have solda stolen suit of clothes; he ought to have known, by the circumstancesin which he had acquired the clothes, even if those circumstances wereas he alleged, that the clothes had been stolen; his not so knowing wasa fault, yet was the fault of no one other than him, hence must be hisfault. The justice was, therefore, compelled, on in
formation sworn bythe Monmouth Street dealer and by Mr. Charteris's servant, to commit theprisoner for trial on this new charge.
So back to Newgate went Dick, wondering whether matters were improved,after all. At the September sessions he was haled, upon indictment,before the bewigged judges and the stolid jury in the Old Bailey;pleaded not guilty, was tried with great expedition, convicted withoutdelay, and sentenced (at the end of a solemn speech in which he thoughtat first the judge was driving at nothing less than death by hangingwith the next Tyburn batch) to hard labor for three years on the riverThames. It appeared that the prisoner's general honesty, to which hisGeorge Street landlady's son voluntarily testified, influenced the judgeagainst a capital sentence. Well, what is three years' hard labor to aman who has seriously contemplated a gibbet for several weeks past?
The vessel on which Dick found himself, in consequence of thismanifestation of British justice,--which in those benighted days wasalmost as dangerous for an honest man to come in contact with as NewYork City justice is to-day,--resembled an ordinary lighter, though ofbroader gunwale on the larboard side. A floor about three feet wide ranalong the starboard side, for the men to work on, and their duty was toraise ballast, of which the vessel's capacity was twenty-seven tons, bymeans of windlass and davits. The convicts slept aft, where the vesselwas decked in, and the overseer had a cabin in the forecastle.
The men were chained together in pairs, and Dick, to his surprise,recognized his own comrade as none other than the body-snatcher throughwhom he had accidentally come to try his card tricks in London taverns.This amiable person had been caught while conveying a pauper's body,wrapped in a sack, by hackney coach, from Shoreditch to St. George'shospital, for the use of surgeons. He belonged to a gang that worked forthe Resurrectionist, an inhabitant of the Borough, who was a famoustrader to the surgeons.
Dick had to work all day, and to eat nothing but ox-cheek, legs andshins of beef, and equally coarse food; to drink only water or smallbeer, and to wear a mean uniform, which, as autumn wore into winter, illprotected him from the cold. Yet the hard work kept his blood going byday, gave him appetite for the food, and made sleep a pleasure. Thefatigues of the day left the convicts no inclination to talk at night.One day was like another, and the monotony of uninteresting toil wasendurable only for the prospect of freedom at the end of the threeyears. Dick had no mind to attempt an escape, for on receiving sentencehe had been told that his term might be abridged for good behavior, thatit would certainly be doubled on a first attempt to escape, and that ona such second attempt he would be liable to suffer death. So when, inthe fifth month of his durance, he was awakened one night by thegrave-robber, and a general plot to break away was cautiously broachedto him, he resolutely refused to take part or to hear more, and went tosleep again. He observed, the next few days, that he was narrowlywatched by the other convicts, who doubtless feared he might inform theoverseer; but he had no such intention.
One night in February,--it was between Sunday and Monday,--when thevessel was moored off Woolwich, Dick was violently awakened by a kind oftugging at his leg. Throwing out his hand in the darkness toinvestigate, he heard a threatening whisper, "If you move or call out,I'll blow your head off with this pistol! Bill the Blacksmith is takingoff our irons. You can join us if you like, or you can stay here, butyou'll keep quiet!"
The voice was that of the body-stealer, to whom Dick was chained. Inreleasing the former, the Blacksmith, working in the darkness, hadnecessarily disturbed the chain attached to Dick. Bill the Blacksmithwas a person unknown to Dick. As afterward appeared, he was one of arescue party that had come on this dark night to free those prisonerswho were in the plot. Some of the party had got aboard, crawled unseenwithin a few feet of the guards, reached the sleeping-place of theconvicts, supplied some of these with weapons, and were now at workremoving their irons.
Dick lay perfectly still. Presently the grave-robber stood up,unshackled. The chain was still fastened to Dick's leg.
"Well," whispered the grave-robber, "will you stay as you are, or willyou join us?"
To be shortly free of the chafing fetters, able to use his whole body ina dash for liberty; to seize now what would not be offered to him fortwo long and miserable years! The temptation was too strong. "I'lljoin," whispered Dick.
"This one, too, Bill," said the grave-robber, and the Blacksmith went towork on Dick's fetters.
Other skilful hands were employed at the same time on the shackles ofother convicts. The operations went on in the utmost silence. Now andthen, at some sound from without, they would stop for a while. It wasonly after he had been awake some time, that Dick could distinguish thedark forms of the artisans working over the prostrate forms of theprisoners. Never had he seen such a combination of skill, patience,persistence, and noiselessness. Pick-locks, burglars, jail-breakers,all, exercising their abilities this time to free their comrades, werethe men at work; yet Dick could not but admire the manner in which theywent about their business. Doubtless there was a large reward to beearned, perhaps from some employer of certain of these convicts,--somesuch great man as the Resurrectionist, of the Borough, or as GipsyGeorge, leader of smugglers; for any one of these rescuers would assoon turn King's evidence against a comrade as liberate him.
At last all irons were off. Instantly, with the grave-robber at thehead, there was a general rush to the platform on which the men worked.The surprised guards were either shot at, struck, intimidated, or sweptinto the hold, by the advancing convicts. The latter scrambled over thevessel's side, some dropping into a boat that suddenly unmasked twolanterns. Another boat, also belonging to the rescue party, now showed alight a little farther off. For this boat Dick swam, with many otherswho had plunged at once into the water, and presently he was hauledaboard like a hooked shark.
Some of the convicts, as if fearing there would not be room for them onthe boats, struck out for the shore. Dick never knew what became ofthem, or of those who crowded into the first boat. The craft in which hefound himself was speedily filled, whereupon the men at the oars, aidedby convicts who had found other oars waiting, pulled rapidly down theriver, the boat's lantern again being darkened. By this time those incharge of the convict vessel had recovered their senses and begun firingshots of alarm. Dick made up his mind to get away from his villainouscompany at the first opportunity.
Presently the men at the oars were relieved by another force, whichincluded Dick. Thus, aided by the river's current, and thanks to theirsystem of alternating at the oars, as well as to the strength derivedfrom fear of recapture, the desperate crew made incredible speed. Asdawn began to show itself, Dick saw, on the southern bank of the Thames,a considerable town against a hillside, environed by meadows and fields,pleasure grounds and country-seats. A high hill near by was crowned by awindmill. Vessels of every size lay in the harbor. Dick learned from thetalk in the boat that this was Gravesend.
The men rowed straight for a certain sloop, which, it appeared fromtheir conversation, was engaged in the business of conveying stolenhorses to Dunkirk and other Continental ports. Dick inwardly determinedto follow the fortunes of this rascal boat's crew no longer. Oncealongside the sloop, the convicts proceeded to board it, each man forhimself. The stern of the boat drifted several feet away from the sloop.Dick, pretending he would leap in his turn, across the interveningspace, purposely missed hold of the sloop, and sank into the water.Diving some distance, he came up at a spot far from where the attentionof his erstwhile comrades was directed. He then struck out for theoutskirts of Gravesend, and landed a little east of the town, in thegray of the morning.
Skirting the town, and passing only bare vegetable gardens andfishermen's houses, he reached the Dover road, and walked on four milesto Gad's Hill, where Sir John Falstaff had played valorous pranks. Threemiles more of walking brought him to Rochester, with its twelfth centuryCathedral, and its ruined Norman Castle aloft by the Medway. A sailor'swife, living in a small house in a squalid part of the town, gave him abreakfast of porridge, while he
dried his clothes at her fire.
Knowing he might be detected by his uniform, and finding the womangood-hearted, Dick offered to exchange the suit he had on for someworn-out raiment of her husband's, saying that the cloth of his garmentsmight be made over into clothes for her little son. This exchange beingmade in the woman's parlor while she was at work in the kitchen, Dickproceeded on his way. At Sittingbourne, ten miles farther southeast, hestopped at a villager's house, on pretence of asking the road, andreceived a glass of milk and an egg, which he ate raw. Thus refreshed,he trudged on seven miles, to Ospringe, where he passed the night undera sheep-skin, in a cart-house.
The next morning (Tuesday), breakfasting on a pot of ale given himby an oysterman of Faversham, Dick went on to Canterbury, where,procuring a pack of cards from an hostler of an inn in High Street,he fell back on his card tricks for a living, though now with greataversion. He risked wearing out his welcome at the Canterbury inns andtap-rooms, for that he so much liked the town; and it was reluctantlythat, on Saturday morning, he left the old Cathedral behind, and set hisface southeastward. Passing the Gothic towers of Lee Priory, he ploddedon, mile after mile, hour after hour, over downs and through villages,till he stood at last on the hills at whose feet, before him, lay thetown and the harbor of Dover, and from whose top, near the old castlesupposed to have been founded by Julius Caesar, could be seen, beyond theruffled waves of the Channel, the distant coast of France.
Tired and hungry, Dick descended from the cliff and proceeded alongnarrow Snaregate Street to a straggling suburb of low-built housesinhabited by sailors and fishermen. It was late in the afternoon, whenhe entered a small tippling-house, where were a number of seafarersboisterously talking, and called at the bar for a glass of rum. Whiledrinking, he asked the barman how one might go to France more cheaplythan by the regular packet. He was immediately referred to one of thefellows drinking at a small table in the room. Thus introduced to thisperson, who was a stalwart, sea-browned man of fifty, Dick ingratiatedhimself into his liking, drank with him, and presently began his usualprocedure with the cards.
As invariably happened, certain of his spectators offered Dick smallsums to show them how one or other of his most puzzling tricks weredone. As always, Dick refused. But his first acquaintance, under acuriosity to which Dick had adroitly ministered, persisted hard inbegging to know the secret of a certain sleight. Dick finally replied:
"I shall tell you on the other side of the Channel."
"T'other side of the Channel?" repeated the seafarer. "When shall I seeyou there, man?"
"When you shall have taken me there in your fishing-smack."
"So 'tis settled I'm to take you? But the pay?"
"Good Lord! If I show you my card trick, isn't that pay? I call amiserable passage across the Channel a mighty cheap price for one of mysecrets. But if you will haggle, you shall have all my money into thebargain,--one shilling, and one sixpence. Well, well, so you don't wantto learn the trick? Good evening, then!"
"Oh, hold! I didn't say no. I don't haggle. I'll take you, lad,to-morrow night,--when I go a-fishing."
If Dick thought it strange to go fishing by night, particularly Sundaynight, he kept his thoughts to himself. He had heard tales of thefisherfolk and other worthy people of the coast towns, and was preparedto be blind to certain signs. As for the readiness with which theseafarers in the ale-house let him come among them, his own appearanceof poverty had quickly served to establish a fellowship. His winning,yet confident, manner prevented his being despised for the poverty heshowed. Moreover, his desire to cross the Channel indicated, in a personof his attire, such motives for absence from England as these men wereof a class to sympathize with. They knew at first glance that he had nopurpose inimical to them, so keen was their scent for a government spyin any disguise. In fine, Dick had the gift of adapting his demeanor tothe society of a Lord or of a cutthroat, and easily made himselfreceived without distrust by these wary folk who fished by night.
On Saturday night, that of his arrival at this humble suburb of Dover,he slept in a corner of the fisherman's loft. All the next day, he layquiet indoors, sharing the Sunday life of the fisherman's family, whichincluded a wife and two huge, awkward sons, respectively sixteen andeighteen years old. At night, preceded by these sons, the fisherman ledDick some distance from the town, to a cove, where lay the smack. Anunknown man was already aboard, adjusting sail. The four immediatelyjoined him, Dick bestowing himself in the stern while the fisherman andhis sons assisted the unknown at the ropes. Few, short, and low werethe words spoken, and very soon the little craft glided out from shore,upon the easy swell of the Channel. The night was lit by stars only, thewind was fair, and the heave of the sea was not violent.
Dick noticed that his skipper kept a very keen lookout, seeming tosearch the sea ahead for some particular object. He wondered how soonthese nocturnal fishermen would begin to cast lines, and what sort offish they would be catching at this season. But presently he drew in allhis thoughts to his own affairs, for he had become unmistakably seasick.Busy for a long while in seeking relief, his head over the side of theboat, he gave no heed to the doings or words of the crew.
He was, in time, vaguely aware of a hail from another vessel; of thefact that this vessel loomed into close view; that his own boat lay toalongside of it; that the two crews conversed in mixed French andEnglish; that sundry bales, kegs, ankers, and two or three barrels, werelowered from the other vessel into the boat, and then that he was shakenat the shoulder by his conductor, who said, "Come aboard the lugger,lad, and make haste!"
Surprised but unquestioning, Dick staggered after the fisherman andclambered from the boat's gunwale, with the crew's help, to the othervessel. Just as the fisherman was about to follow, one of his sons gavea low cry. The fisherman uttered a curse, and leaped to his rudder,while the son who had called out seized a rope and began vigorouslymaking sail. At the same moment a man on the lugger instantly releasedthe line by which the Dover smack had been kept alongside, and there wasa general noise of ropes, blocks, and canvas, in quick movement. BeforeDick knew what was the matter the two vessels had parted company, andthe lights of a third appeared, from which came a sharp, mandatory hail.This, being unanswered, was followed by a flash and a boom and asplashing up of water,--the last in the wake of the boat from Dover.That craft showing its heels in fine fashion, and Dick's vessel alsomaking speed, the former was soon out of sight. The revenue cutter, forsuch was the intruder whose advent had caused the two smuggling vesselsto part so suddenly, chose to pursue the English boat, so that theFrench lugger to which Dick had been transferred went its wayunhindered.
Dick turned with an inquiring look to the man who seemed in command ofthe lugger. The latter, evidently supposing that Dick's solicitude wasin regard to the Dover smack, said in French, "Have no fear, my brother.Your comrades will carry their fish safe home. Their King's vesselswaste time and powder chasing them. _Mon Dieu_, the bottom of the oceanmust be paved with the cannon-shot the revenue vessels have sent afterthe night fishermen in vain!"
Dick, from his long association with the French teacher in Newgate,could grasp the meaning of this speech after a few moments. He knew fromthe words and manner that the Frenchman understood him to be on a goodunderstanding with the Dover fishermen, and would treat him as one whodeserved well of the vast fraternity of Channel smugglers. It wascomforting to know that his way had thus been made smooth by the Doverman when the latter had bespoken Dick's passage, for the French smugglerwas as villainous-looking a rascal as Dick had seen in Newgate, and, hadDick come to him without proper introduction, would doubtless have beenas ready with a hostile knife or belaying-pin as he now was withdeference and amiability. Dick found, without directly asking, that thelugger was bound for Boulogne.
It was that darkest hour which precedes the dawn, when the vesselanchored some distance off that port. The skipper and one of the crewrowed ashore with Dick in a small boat, getting out in the surf, anddragging the boat after them while they wad
ed to dry beach. They werenow on the sands near the town. The captain took polite leave of Dick,pointing out the most convenient way to go, and adding, with a grin,that, as this road was not obstructed by custom-house officers, Dickwould undergo no delay over his baggage. Nothing was said aboutpassage money. The Dover skipper had evidently provided for Dick'stransportation, which was doubtless a matter of reciprocal favor betweenthe English and the French smugglers. Dick was sorry the Dover man hadbeen disappointed, by the interference of the revenue cutter, of theintended trip to the French coast and of the proposed payment for Dick'spassage. "I'll show him the card trick if ever we meet again," thoughtDick, as he walked towards the town and realized that he was on Frenchground; "but, if we never meet, it isn't my fault he was left behind."
Dick entered Boulogne with two sailors whom he happened to overtake, andto whom he contrived to make known in French his desire of learning thenearest way to a public house. They led him to the upper town and to thecabaret for which they were bound. His pockets and stomach were alikeempty, and his teeth were chattering from the cold. He was goaded by hiscondition to immediate effort.
As soon as he entered the kitchen, where the sailors promptly sat downto bread and butter and brandy, Dick proposed he should share free theirloaf, their firkin, and their keg, on condition that any card they mightname should be found on the top of the pack he now held face downwardbefore him. If the top card should be any other, he should pay fortheir breakfast. Of course they jumped at the proposition, and of coursethe top card was the one they had named.
An hour later, filled with bread and butter, warmed inside by the brandyand outside by the kitchen fire, Dick went forth with some thought ofsoliciting employment from one of the several British merchants who, ashe had learned at breakfast, dwelt in Boulogne.
In the streets, he felt as if he had been suddenly transported to a newworld. The one night's trip across the Channel, between coasts in sightof each other, had wrought a greater transformation in his surroundingsthan the five weeks' voyage across the Atlantic had produced. Thespareness, alertness, fussiness, and excessive politeness of the peoplewas as great a contrast to the characteristics of the rubicund Britonshe had been among a day ago, as he could have imagined. The jabbering ofthe people, though, was not entirely strange to his ears; he had heardits like from the _habitans_ of Canada. Nor was the ubiquity of soldiersand priests new to eyes that had seen Quebec and its environs. Yet thetall, straight, carefully powdered French soldiers that he saw as hewalked near the fortifications, little resembled the stout, well-fedEnglish troops he had faced at Bunker Hill.
Now and then he could recognize in the crowd, at a glance, some round,red, contented-looking English face; and, when two of these passedtogether, it was a pleasure to Dick to hear the English words that fellfrom either mouth.
As he was approaching one of the best hotels of the place, Dick got arear view of a gentleman standing before it, from whose broad back andsolid-looking legs Dick would have sworn him to be an Englishman. Dickobserved that this gentleman was looking at a pretty girl at an upperwindow of a house across the street. Himself gazing at the same object,he bumped heavily against the gentleman in passing.
"Damme," cried the gentleman, in a robust voice, "must you frog-eatersbe always tumbling over people, because you have no footways in yourcursed streets?" And he glared indignantly into the face of Dick, whohad stopped and was inspecting him.
"I don't happen to be a Frenchman, and I agree with you in cursing thelack of footways," said Dick. "How have you fared since we met--andparted--at the Pelican at Newbury, Sir Hilary?"
"Eh? Sir Hilary? Pelican? Why, who the devil--By the lord, 'tis thegentleman that offered to pay the landlord, so we might all get awaybetimes! Welcome, sir! By your looks, I can guess you're like someothers of us on this side the Channel,--you've had your own reasons totry the air of France! Well, by George, you shall keep me companyawhile! You shall come in, and break a bottle with me, sir,--half adozen bottles, damme! And after that you shall be my guest. Come in! Iwon't hear you say no! God save the King, and huzza for old England!"
And, having capped these patriotic exclamations with a defiant lookaround at the French passers-by, the exiled Berkshire fox-hunter caughthold of Dick, who had not the slightest intention of saying no, andhustled him cordially into the inn.