CHAPTER XVII
We had a tedious passage, for the wind was light, and we missed theadvantage of the tide; so it was after six o'clock when we arrived. Myguards took me to a large house in Mytongate, adjoining a butcher'sshop, the butcher, Acton by name, being the lessee of the prison. WhenI had been some time in a little den which smelled vilely, my jailerappeared--a lewd fellow, far gone in liquor.
"And you're come to pay us a visit once more," said he, with oathswhich I need not repeat. "We have not much accommodation to spare justnow, but we must find you a garret somewhere on the old terms, Isuppose."
This talk of accommodation was Greek to me. "I don't understand," saidI, "not having the honour of your acquaintance."
Acton laughed until his red face turned purple. "Oh, that'sgood--'nation good! Gentleman Jim--Jim the bully-boy, hasn't thehonour of my acquaintance!"
As I stared at him he broke into laughter again, and gave me aresounding smack on the shoulder.
"You do it so well, Jim! Might ha' been born with a coronet on yourhead! 'Not having the honour of your acquaintance!'" Again he roared."You are going out as governor of the colony, are you! Oh, you'll bethe death of me with your jests!"
The fellow babbled on of the doings of Ulceby, of cheating at play andother frauds, of street brawls and manslaughter, until he talkedhimself dry and called for brandy, which was brought by a sluttishwench and placed on the table, the only furniture of the room, save arickety chair which I occupied. Acton ceased his jabbering in order todrink, and I tried to get in a word; but as soon as he had gulped hisdram, he went on unheeding me.
"The old man has more chink than ever, chandling and stockfish bringhim in a pretty penny; but now he's gone in for whale fishing in theGreenland sea, and he has the devil's own luck. They say he is downfor sheriff next year, but whether he can get you out of this scrape,Lord only knows."
"Of whom do you speak?" I asked.
Acton, seated on the table, was in the act of swallowing more brandy,but my question brought him to his feet, laughing, sputtering andcoughing well-nigh to suffocation. When he regained breath, he vowed Iwas the drollest fellow living. Then he changed his tone to one ofdrunken gravity, inquiring what money I had, and continued--
"Look ye, Jim, a jest is all very well, but I must see your father'smoney, or have his word for it, or out you go into the cellars."
I had hard work to draw a plain meaning out of the man, his tipsy headbeing filled with the notion that I was the "Gentleman Jim" with whomhe had such familiarity; but little by little I gathered that Ulcebythe elder lived not far away, a man of substance and standing, who hadpaid his son's debts two or three times, from whom Acton had received agood deal of money for prison fees and food and lodging. This gave mehope of liberty, so I demanded paper and pen and ink, and wrote a fewlines, asking Mr. Ulceby of his charity to come to see one, who wasfalsely imprisoned under the name of his son.
This letter Acton undertook to despatch and relieved me of hispresence. Some two hours I spent alone in the darkening room, the windhowling outside with a most melancholy sound, and hearing fitfully anoise of talk and laughing from some room near, whenever a door wasopened. About eight o'clock, Mr. Ulceby came in, Acton attending himwith much obsequiousness. When the jailer had placed candles on thetable and a chair for the visitor, Mr. Ulceby signified his desire tobe left alone with me. On the first glance my spirits rose. He was atall man, somewhat portly, silver-haired, and bore himself with naturaldignity. He heard what I had to say of my capture and imprisonment atMelwood, my escape and recapture, with grave attention, two or threetimes asking a pertinent question, and at the end of it said smilinghalf sadly--
"One thing can be easily proved. My testimony that you are not my sonshould suffice, after legal forms have been observed, to obtain yourrelease. That shall be my first business to-morrow morning. Possiblyit may take a few days to set you free."
I thanked him heartily for his kindness in coming so speedily to myhelp; but he cut short my thanks, making light of the matter of histrouble.
"I wish I could take you out of this den of wretchedness," he went on;"but as that is not possible, you must allow me to offer suchhospitality as may be had here." He rapped on the table with his cane,and Acton entered. "Can you let us have a more comfortable room and abit of cheerful fire?" he asked.
Acton intimated that anything could be done which would be well paidfor; and Mr. Ulceby sent out to the Saracen's Head for the best supperthat could be furnished.
"Mr. Vavasour does me the honour to sup with me," he said to Acton, whofavoured me with a knowing wink and went about the business.
Presently we were in a room more spacious and airy, and after supper,Mr. Ulceby gave me a short account of his son, which is no part of mystory, except that it was given so tenderly and sorrowfully as to makeme sure that here was a good man indeed. He ended by saying--
"There seems little doubt of his death, but I must be certified of it,and if he met with foul play, bring his murderers to justice. My dutyto him can best be fulfilled by a partnership with you. Will you giveme confidence for confidence? You have told me of your imprisonmentand the horrible practice of your enemies, but nothing of the reason.Since the desire of money, or the love of woman is at the bottom ofmost mischief, perhaps there is a lady in the case. Believe me, thoughI am hoary-headed, I am not too old to feel with a true lover."
Of that I felt well assured and poured out all my tale, to which helistened with no sign of weariness, nodding and smiling now and then,and once rising from his chair to pace the room and murmur something tohimself. At the end he stretched out his hand, saying--
"Let us strike a bargain. We two are partners: until we know the truthconcerning the fate of my poor, misguided lad, and you are avenged ofyour enemies. Now that means," said he, as I put my hand in his, "thatthere is no distinction between _meum_ and _tuum_ for the term of ourpartnership. Nay, hear me," observant of the flush in my face as Ithought of my destitute condition. "I may have to ask you for morethan money can buy before we are at the end of our joint business. Thefirst thing I offer is counsel. Write a letter to Mistress Goel,assuring her of your safety and of your speedy coming, but sayingnothing further, not even where you are, lest the letter should fallinto other hands. I will send it by a trusty messenger as fast as goodhorseflesh ought to be ridden. To-morrow I will bring you a skilfulsurgeon, who should be able to do somewhat to repair the injury to yourface. There will be no loss of time thereby, for your liberation canscarcely be effected to-morrow; and if you have to go plaistered andbandaged, there may be advantage in the disguise. We might dress youlike a shipmaster too. We must pounce on the enemy, if we may, forthey will stick at nothing, now that you hold their liberty, perhapstheir lives, in your hand."
I had nothing to say against these counsels, being in truth verythankful to have a friend capable of advice and one so forward in mycause. Mr. Ulceby laid his purse on the table.
"Such men as you have here to do with, will be the more respectful ifthey know you have money at command, and you may have unforeseenoccasion for it."
When I had written a few words to my love, Mr. Ulceby left me, againassuring me he would bestir himself about my business early in themorning. It was long before I sought sleep, which indeed would havebeen hard to come by until after midnight, for my fellow-lodgers in theroom next to mine, and in the one overhead, kept up such a noise ofshouting and singing and laughter as astounded me, seeing they wereprisoners. On Mr. Ulceby's departure, a maid looked in to ask whetherI had need of anything; and, as I had no orders to give, locked andbolted the door on the outside, and I was left alone to my meditations.
Hitherto I had not been much given to reflection, and in these laterdays I had been concerned with the present danger and what might impendin the instant future, but now that the strain was relieved, thoughtcame upon me like a flood. A few hours ago I had been threatened withthe fate of a plantation slave. If
any man had foretold on my comingof age that such a peril would befall me, how incredible it would haveappeared! And I had been saved from such a doom not by the things inwhich I had pride, not by my name or place, not by my strength orcourage, or by the staunchness of my friends, but by the kindness of astranger. How much reason I had for thankfulness to him, and how muchmore to the Providence which had sent him for my deliverance! A greatawe crept on me of the eye which had been upon me when I had thoughtmyself buried out of sight, and of the hand which had brought me helpwhen I was most helpless; and I felt how utterly undeserved was thekindness of God, and at the same time assuredly confident therein.These things I hold are not to be much spoken of, but some record I ambound to make of that which changed the face of the world to me, andfilled my heart with a new, strange, and solemn gladness.