The Land of Bondage

"We, too! Why, where shall we go?"

"Where? Why, to England, lad. To London. To thy mother. Shall we not have the wherewithal? We have fifty guineas already; we shall have more than double by Wednesday morning; and then away for Holyhead or Liverpool by the first packet that sails, and so to London."

"But, Oliver, what will you do to live? The guineas will not last for ever."

"No, that is true; but they will go far, and with them I can traffic as a master and not a man. Or I can hoard them for thy use" (how unselfish he was, I thought!) "and go back to work as a journeyman-they say none need want for work in London-and so be ever near to watch and ward over thee."

"Oliver," I exclaimed, "I think that even now the Lord has raised up that champion for me of whom you spoke. It seems that you are mine."

"Nay, there will arise a better for thee than I can ever be; but until he comes I must, perforce, do my best. Now let us make our plans."

And these are the plans we arranged. Knowing that there was no longer any search likely to be made for me-since 'twas certain that those who sought my ruin thought it was as good as accomplished-I was to sally forth next night disguised, and was to prowl about Macarthy's tavern and other haunts of my abandoned cousin until I had safely run him to earth. After this Quin was to be summoned by me from the hipping-hawd where he would be, and, presuming that the captain of the Dove had sent the expected word, he was then to keep Mr. Roderick St. Amande in sight until we could secure him.

There was nought else to arrange, for if these plans but fell out as we hoped all must go well; nothing could upset them.

And the next day, when it came, seemed to give promise of one thing at least happening as we desired, the wind was blowing strong from the N.N.E., a wind that would carry the Dove well beyond Bray Head, did it but hold for thirty-six hours.

At six o'clock that night, therefore, I, having made a slight meal of some food Oliver had let in the garret for me, banked up the fire, put out the light, and sallied forth to follow the instructions he had given me to find our quarry. Of compunctions as to what I was about to do I had none, as, perhaps, it was not to be expected I should have. For, consider. That which was to happen to this cousin of mine was but the portion which his father had endeavoured to deal out to me, and, as I learnt an hour or so later, was a portion which Roderick knew was intended for me and over which he gloated in his cups. Therefore, I say, I felt no pity for him, and I set about to perform my part of the task with determination to go through with it to the best of my power. My rags were now discarded, and the clothes which I wore, and which Oliver had purchased for me with some of O'Rourke's guineas, were in themselves a disguise. To wit, I wore a fine silk drugget suit lined with silk shagreen, for which he had given six of the pieces; my muslin ruffles were of the best, a pair of long riding-boots covered my stockings to the knees, and a handsome roquelaure enveloped me and kept the cold out. To add to my disguise as well as my appearance, I wore a bag wig, and at my side-Oliver said I might find some use for it ere long-a good sound rapier. Who could have guessed that in the youth thus handsomely apparelled, and looking any age near twenty-two or three-the wig and boots giving me an appearance much above my actual years-they saw the beggar who, a fortnight before, slunk about the streets of Dublin dressed as a scarecrow!

The wind still blew from the same quarter as I passed down the street in which Quin dwelt, while one or two passers-by turned to look at the unaccustomed sight of a well-dressed young man in such a neighbourhood, and as I went along I meditated on all that was before me. Moreover, I could not but muse on how strange it was that such a worldly-wise villain as O'Rourke, to say nothing of those others, my uncle and Considine, could have fallen so easily into the trap of Oliver and have been willing to believe in his turning against me thus treacherously. Yet, I told myself, 'twas not so very strange after all. They could never have dreamt, no mortal man could possibly have dreamt, that he should have conceived so audacious and bold a scheme of turning the tables on them so completely as to dare to kidnap his very employer's own child in place of the one he wanted to have transported to the colonies. And, when they trusted him, if they did in very truth trust him, they only did so to a small extent, since, if he failed to produce me and to yield me over to the tender clutches of the captain of the Dove, they had but lost a handful of guineas and could make a cast for me again. Lastly, as I learned more surely when I grew older, when men are such uncommon rogues as these three were, they are often bound, whether they will or no, to hope that others with whom they have dealings are as great rogues as they themselves, and to make their plans and rely upon that hope accordingly.

Thus meditating and resolving on what I had to do, I drew near to Macarthy's tavern-then one of the most fashionable in the city-and, raising myself on tiptoes, I peeped over the blind and saw my gentleman within regaling himself on a fine turbot, with, to keep him company, another youth and two young women, much bedizened and bedeckt. These I knew, having seen them before, to belong to the company of actors who had been engaged to play at the new theatre in Aungier Street.

CHAPTER VI

THE BIRD DRAW'S NEAR

And now it behoved me to pause and consider as to what course it would be best for me to follow. It was as yet but seven of the clock, and Quin quitted not his stall until eight, so that it would be impossible, or rather useless, to apprise him of my cousin's whereabouts. Moreover, nothing could be done at this early hour of the evening, while, on the other hand, when night came on and it grew late it was almost a certainty that Roderick would be in his cups. Yet it would not do to lose sight of him, for should he wander forth from Macarthy's, as was like enough seeing the company he was in, we might not find him again that night, in which case the Dove, if she sailed at dawn, would have to go without my gentleman.

So I determined to enter the tavern. Of recognition from Roderick there was but little likelihood-nay, there was none at all. It was six years since he had seen me (though scarcely many more days since I had seen him without his knowing it); six years since he had drowned my pup, there collection of which made my hatred of him now stir afresh in me; years during which I had been at school in two or three different towns in the country, and also had been in England; and these years had made much difference between the child of ten and the youth of sixteen. And, as I have written, what with my height, which was considerable, and my dress, which was more suited to a young man of twenty than to me, there was no possibility of Roderick knowing me. So I determined to enter the tavern, I say, and to ensconce myself in a box near where my cousin and the actresses sat, and which from the window I could perceive was vacant, and thus glean what news I might of his intended action that night. My entrance caused some little attention, the room not being well filled as yet, and "What a pretty fellow!" said one of the girls to the other in a very audible voice as I took my seat in the place I had selected.

"I' faith!" replied the second, a painted minx, like her friend, with half a score of patches on her face-"pretty enough, but too much like a girl. For my part, I prefer to look upon a man. Now, Roddy, here, hath none too much beauty yet enough, or will have when he is a man."

"When he is a man!" my cousin said, "when he is a man, indeed! Man enough any way to find the wherewithal for giving you a good supper, Mistress Doll, which it strikes me you would not get from your wages nor from any of your 'manly' actors who strut about the booths with you, nor from the half-starved looking playwrights I have seen lurking about the theatre doors."

"There! there! Roddy!" said the one who had spoken last, swallowing his abuse as best she might, "there, there! Take no offence where none is meant, and, for the supper, 'tis most excellent. Yet the claret runs low, my lad, and I am thirsty."

"Thirsty!" the gracious Roderick replied; "that you are always, Doll, like all your crew. But claret is useless to such as thee! Here, drawer, waiter, come here. Bring us some of the brandy punch that Macarthy knows so well how to brew, and quick-dost hear?"

"The score, sir," I heard the man whisper, "is large already. And I have to account to the master-"

"The devil take you, and the score, and your master, too! Is not my father the Honourable Viscount St. Amande, thou rogue, and can he not pay for all the liquor I drink as well as what my friends consume? Go, fetch it, I say."

Meanwhile I sat in my box sipping a small measure of claret-which stuff I wondered some could be found to approve so much of-and regarding sideways the others. The punch being brought, my cousin, with a lordly air, bade the other young man ladle it out, telling him coarsely to keep the glasses of the girls well filled, since they were capable of drinking the Liffey dry if 'twere full of liquor; and the women, taking no notice of these remarks, to which and similar ones they were probably well used, fell to discussing some play in which they were shortly to appear.

"The lines are fair enough," said the elder of the two, whom Roderick had fallen foul of, to the other; "yet there are too many of them, and the action halts. Moreover, as for plot-why, there's none."

"'Tis the failing of our modern playwrights," said her companion, "that there never seems to be any, so that the audiences soon weary of us. Yet, if at Lincoln's Inn or Drury Lane they would try more for the plot, I feel sure that-"

"Plot!" here, however, interrupted my well beloved cousin, who was by this time approaching intoxication, and adding noise to his other modes of entertaining his guests, "who's talking about plots? Plots, forsooth!" And now he smiled feebly, and then hiccoughed, "Plots, eh? I know a plot, and a good one, too."

"With submission, sir," said Doll, looking angrily at him-for she had evidently not forgiven his remarks-"we were talking about the difficulty that 'half-starved looking playwrights' found in imagining new plots for the playhouses and our crew, the actors. It follows, therefore, that even though the noble Mr. Roderick St. Amande should know a good plot, as he says, it could avail us nothing. He surely could not sink his nobility so low as to communicate such a thing to the poor mummers."

"Ha, ha!" answered Roderick, "but couldn't he, though. I' faith, I'll tell you a good plot-take some more drink, I say! – and when next some snivel-nosed dramatist wants a-a-what d'ye call it, a-plot, tell him this."

"We are all attention, sir. This is indeed an honour. We have of late had more than one noble lord as patron and poetaster-it seems we have another in store. Nell," to her companion, "listen carefully."

"Doll, thou art a fool and a vixen too, especially when thou hast supped, as the black fellow calls it, not wisely but too well. Yet, listen. Thou hast heard of my uncle's death-"

"Verily we have," interrupted Doll again. "All Dublin has. A noble lord buried by charity, and that not the charity of his relatives; a doubtful succession, an impugned title-ha! ha! – who has not heard of that! Yet, if this is the plot, 'tis useless for us. It may do in absolute real life, but not upon our boards. 'Twould be thought so unnatural and inhuman that, if we endeavoured to represent the thing, we should be hissed or worse."

"In truth, I have a mind to beat you," the now drunken youth roared out, "yet I will not. Gim'-me some drink. A plot, I said. Well, now, hear. There is a beggar's brat whom others are endeavouring to foist on us as my uncle's child-thus commenceth the plot-but they will not succeed. Not succeed? you ask. I will tell you. And there's the continuation of the plot. No, they will not succeed. To-morrow, early, that beggar's brat pays the penalty of his attempted cheat-he passes away, disappears for ever. Where to? No, not to the grave, though I trust he may find it ere long, but to the plantations. What! the bowl is empty? Thy throat's a lime-kiln, Doll. To the plantations, I say, to the plantations. That should kill the dog, if aught will. If the work and the fever and the beatings, to say nothing of the bad food, will not do it, why, perhaps the Indians will, and so we shall have no more disputed successions nor impugned titles. Now, say, is it not a good plot? Let's have more drink!" And he sank back into his chair.

The woman Doll regarded him for a moment with her steely blue eyes, what time he shut his own and seemed about to slumber-the other youth had long since gone off into a drowsy and, I suppose, tipsy nap. And then she whispered to her companion, "I wish I did but know where that beggar's brat he speaks of were to be found. I would mar his plot for him." And the companion nodded and said she too wished they had never consented to come with him to supper.

Meanwhile, I, who had also feigned sleep so that, if they should look at me, they would not think I had overheard them-though in truth I think they had forgotten my presence, since I was shielded from their sight by the box sides-called for my reckoning, and, paying it, rose to depart. For it was time now that I should go and seek Oliver. As I passed down the room the girls looked at me and then at each other, but said nothing; and so I went swiftly out and to the place appointed to meet Quin.

"Come quickly," I said to Oliver, who was on the watch for me and came out directly I put my head in the door, "come quickly. He is drunk now in the company of another youth who is as bad or worse than he, and of two actresses, neither of whom would, I believe, raise a finger to help him even though we slew him. He has insulted them and they will do nothing."

Therefore we hurried along, but as we went Quin told me we must be careful. First, the streets were full of people as yet, so that, if we endeavoured to carry him off, we should of a certainty arouse attention; and, next, the people at Macarthy's would be sure to keep an eye to him, more especially as he owed them a reckoning. And he told me that the captain of the Dove had sent to say he sailed at daybreak; "so that," he said, "if nought mars our scheme-which heaven forfend may not happen-we have the bird in the springe, and then for London to your lady mother by the packet boat which sails, I hear, to-morrow, at noon. And, Gerald, thou look'st every inch a young lord in thy brave apparel-she will scarce believe you have been hiding amongst the beggars of Dublin."

By now we had returned to the outside of Macarthy's and, again peering over the blind of the bow-window, we saw that Roderick and his boon companions were still there. He and the young man with him were, however, by now fast asleep, and the two girls were talking together we could see; while, from the far end of the room, the waiter who had served me and them was seated on a chair yawning lustily, and every now and then regarding the party with his half open eye. Of others present there were none, perhaps because it was a cold, inclement night, though one or two of the boxes seemed to have been recently occupied, as did some of the tables in the middle of the room-near one of which our party sat judging by the disarranged napery and empty dishes left upon them.

But, as we gazed, we observed that the actresses appeared to have grown tired of the company they were in, and, softly rising, they went over to the hangers and took down their camlet cloaks and hoods and prepared to depart. The one called Doll took from her purse a piece of silver which she flung to the waiter, and said some words to him accompanied by a gesture towards my cousin and the other youth and also by a laugh-perhaps she said that 'twas all the vail he would get that night! – and then without more ado she passed with her friend out into the street. But they came forth so swiftly that Oliver and I had no time to do more than withdraw our eyes from the window and appear to be talking, as though we were acquaintances met in the street, before they were both upon us, and, fixing her eye upon me, Doll recognised me again in a moment. "Why," she said to her friend, with her saucy laugh, "'tis the pretty youth who was in the tavern but an hour ago." And then, turning to me, she went on, "Young sir, you should be a-bed by now. The night air is bad for-for young gentlemen. Yet, perhaps, you have a tryst here with some maid, or" – but now she halted in her speech and, bending her brows upon me, said-"or, no, it cannot be that you are concerned in the foul plot Mr. St. Amande spoke of within. No, no! That cannot be. You did not appear to know him, nor he you. Yet, again, that might be part of the plot, too." And once more she looked steadfastly at me.

I would have answered her but Oliver took the word now, and speaking up boldly to her, said:

"Madam, if my young master be concerned at all in the plot of which you speak it is to thwart it, as, by good chance, he most assuredly will do. Therefore, since you say it is 'foul,' by which I gather that you do not approve of it, I pray you pass on and leave us to do our best."

She looked at his great form and at me, her friend standing always close by her side, and then she said to me:

"Who are you? No friend of his, assuredly. And if such be the case, as it seems, then I heartily wish that your attempts to thwart his villainy may be successful. Oh! 'tis a shame-a shame."

"I guessed you thought as much," I answered in reply to her, "from what I overheard you say within. Therefore, I make bold to tell you that he will doubtless be so thwarted. And, if you would hear the ending of the plot which he described to you to-night, and which I assure you was incomplete, you will have to wait a little longer. Then, if I have the honour to encounter you again, it shall be told. Meanwhile, if you wish us well, I beg of you to leave us. He may come out at any moment when your presence would interfere with our plans."

"So be it," she replied, "and so farewell, and fortune go with you. And-stay-I should like to hear the ending of that gallant and courteous young gentleman's plot; a line to Mistress Doll Morris at the New Theatre in Aungier Street will reach me. Farewell."

"Farewell, my pretty page," said the other saucily, and so they passed down the street, I telling them as they went that, doubtless, they would hear something ere long.

And now the evening was gone, the passers-by were getting fewer, the shops were all shut; soon Macarthy's would shut too. The time for action was at hand.

CHAPTER VII

TRAPPED

And still the night drew on and we waited outside, sheltering ourselves in the stoop of an empty house opposite Macarthy's, or walking up and down the street to keep ourselves warm as well as not to attract observation to our loitering. Yet, indeed, there was but little fear that we should be observed, since there were but few people in the streets. A coach or hackney carriage would now and again rumble past; once the watch went by; two of his Majesty's sailors passed down singing a jovial chaunt about the West Indies and the girls and the drinking there-but that was all. The city was fast going to bed.

Knowing that my hopeful cousin was intoxicated by now, we had somewhat altered our plans, and we had determined that, directly we could seize him, we would carry him down to the boat which we had ready for us at Essex Stairs. Once there, we would await the arrival of O'Rourke's "honest gentleman" with the remaining hundred guineas and my uncle's acquittal, the form of which was already arranged; after which we would pull off to the Dove, which lay below Dublin in mid stream, and deposit our cargo with the captain, and take his guineas too. Resistance from our prize we had no fear of. I could myself have easily mastered him in the state he now was, while for any noise he might make-why, a gag would stop that and would be perfectly understood and approved of by the captain, should Roderick go aboard thus muzzled. It would, doubtless, not be the first victim he had shipped for Virginia in such a condition.

Yet there was no necessity for even this, as you shall now see, since my cousin's own actions, and his love for the bottle, led him to fall into our hands as easily as the leaf falls from the tree when autumn winds are blowing.

As we stood in the street waiting for him and his friend to come forth-who we hoped would soon part from him and seek his own home-we heard a hubbub and loud noises in Macarthy's, as well as expostulations in the drawer's voice, and then, suddenly, the door was flung open and out into the street there came, as though they had both been thrust forth together by strong hands, my cousin and his guest.

"Now what may this mean?" whispered Oliver, while, as he spoke, he drew me further within the porch, or stoop, so that we were quite invisible behind its thick pillars.

It took not long to learn. My cousin was mightily flustered as 'twas easy to see; his hat was awry as also was his steinkirk, his face was flushed and he breathed forth most dreadful execrations against the tavern first, and then his companion, who, perhaps because of his longer sleep within, seemed more cool and calm.

"I tell thee 'tis a scurvy trick, Garrett," bawled Roderick, after he had finished kicking at the tavern door, which was now fast closed, while the lights within were extinguished; and after he had yelled through the keyhole at them that "they should be indicted on the morrow." "A scurvy trick, and worst of all from a guest as thou art. But it shall not pass, and I will have satisfaction." And he began tugging at the sword by his side, though he lurched a good deal as he did so.

"Mr. St. Amande," replied the other, "satisfaction you shall indeed have, as I will for the blow you dealt me in there, which led to our ignominious expulsion. And you may have it now, or in the park to-morrow morning, or when and where you will. But, previously, let me tell you, sir, that when you say that I am any party to the departure of the young ladies, or that I know where they are, or am about to rejoin them, you lie. Now, sir, shall we draw?"

"Where are they then? I did but doze, yet when I opened my eyes they were gone," but he made no attempt further to unsheath his weapon.

"As I have now told you twice, I know not. But I cannot stay parleying here with you all night. A friend will wait upon you to-morrow. Frank Garrett must wipe out that blow. I trust my friend's visit will be agreeable. Sir, I wish you a good night," and he took off his richly gold laced hat with great ceremony and, bowing solemnly, withdrew. My cousin gazed with drunken gravity after him and hiccoughed more than once, and muttered, "A nice ending truly to a supper party. The girls gone, insulted by landlord and-and the reckoning to pay and fight to-morrow-Garrett knows every passado to be learnt at the fence school. I must see to it. And there is no more to drink." Here he reeled over to the tavern again from the middle of the road, and, beating on the door, called out to, them to come down and give him another draught and he would forget their treatment of him while the reckoning should be paid in the morning. But his noise produced no other reply than the opening of a window upstairs, from which a man thrust forth his head covered with a nightcap and bade him begone or the watch should be summoned. While for the reckoning, the man said, his honour might be sure that that would have to be paid since he knew his honour's father well. After which the window was closed.

But now, when once more all was still, Oliver and I stepped forth, and the former taking off his hat with great civility and bowing, said, "Sir, we have been witnesses of how ill you have been treated, both by your friend and the tavern-keeper. And 'tis a sin to thrust forth so gallant a gentle man when he wishes another cup."

"I do, plaguily," muttered Roderick.

"Therefore, young sir, if you require another draught I can show you where it may be obtained."

"Can you? Then you are a right good fellow, though who and what you are I know not from Adam. Some city put, I suppose, who wishes to be seen in company with a gentleman!" – 'twas ever my cousin's habit to make such amiable speeches as these, and thereby to encounter the ill will of those whom he addressed. "But, however, I care not whom I am seen in company with. I'll go along with you." Then, suddenly, his eye lighted on me, whereon he exclaimed, "What, my gentleman! Why, 'twas you who were in Macarthy's earlier in the evening. I suppose you left ere I awoke from my doze. Are you, too, stranded for a draught and obliged to be indebted to this good-humph! – person for procuring you one?"