In the Irish Brigade Part 19

Newgate, in those days, stood across the street, and const.i.tuted one of the entrances to the city. Its predecessor had been burnt, in the great fire of 1666, and the new one was at this time less than forty years old, and, though close and badly ventilated, had not yet arrived at the stage of dirt and foulness which afterwards brought about the death of numbers of prisoners confined there, and in 1750 occasioned an outbreak of jail fever, which not only swept away a large proportion of the prisoners, but infected the court of the Old Bailey close to it, causing the death of the lord mayor, several aldermen, a judge, many of the counsel and jurymen, and of the public present at the trials.

The outward appearance of the building was handsome, but the cells were, for the most part, small and ill ventilated.

"This place is disgraceful," O'Neil said. "There is barely room for our three pallets. The air is close and unwholesome, now, but in the heat of summer it must be awful. If their food is as vile as their lodging, the lookout is bad, indeed."

"I fancy the cells in the French jails are no better," O'Sullivan said. "No doubt, in the state prisons, high-born prisoners are made fairly comfortable; but the ordinary prisoners and malefactors, I have been told, suffer horribly. Thank goodness I have never entered one; but even the barrack cells can scarcely be called inviting."

"You are learning philosophy from Kennedy," O'Neil said, with a laugh.

"I don't know that I shall feel philosophic, if we are served with nothing but bread and water. However, the turnkey told us that, until we have been tried and condemned, we are at liberty to get our food from outside--certainly a mockery, in most cases, considering that we all were relieved of any money found upon us, when we arrived in Harwich. It is a comfort that we are, as he said, to take our meals together, and the money we have in our boots will alleviate our lot for some time. Probably, it will last a good deal longer than we are likely to be here."

When they joined their companions, in the room in which they were to dine, all were astonished at seeing an excellent dinner on the table, with eight bottles of wine.

"Is this the way they treat prisoners here?" Colonel Wauchop asked one of the jailers, of whom six remained present.

The man smiled.

"No, indeed. It has been sent in from a tavern outside, and with a message that a like meal will be provided, as long as you are here. One of us was sent across, to enquire as to the person who had given the order. The landlord said that he was a stranger to him, but that he had paid him a fortnight in advance, and would call in and renew the order, at the end of that time."

"Well, gentlemen," the colonel said, "before we begin to eat, we will drink the health of our unknown benefactor. Not only is the gift a generous and expensive one, but it cannot be without danger to the donor, for none but a strong adherent of King James would have thought of thus relieving our necessities."

It was plain that the authorities suspected that some message might have been sent in to the prisoners, concealed in the viands.

The bread had been cut up into small squares, the crust had been lifted from two pasties, the meat had evidently been carefully searched; and the turnkeys placed themselves round the table so that they could narrowly watch every one of the prisoners, as they ate, and notice any movement that would seem to indicate that they had come across some pellet of paper or other substance.

Every day, the servants at the tavern brought in similar fare, and this continued as long as the prisoners were in the jail; and it was a matter of deep regret, to all, that they were never able to discover the name of the person to whom they were so much indebted.

Chapter 9: An Escape From Newgate.

After being allowed to remain an hour at the table, the prisoners were again marched off to their cells.

"I wish we had Mike with us," Desmond said, as he and his comrades discussed the possibility of escape. "He is a shrewd fellow, and would probably be allowed greater freedom in moving about the prison than we are; but I was sure that we should see no more of him after we left Harwich.

"Of course, the first question is, are we to try bribery, or to work our way out of this cell?"

"I think that it would be dangerous to try bribery," O'Sullivan remarked. "Our turnkey is a sour-faced rascal. I am convinced that, if we were to try to bribe him, he would denounce us at once. Not from any principle, you know, but because he would think that it would pay him better to do so, and so obtain promotion and reward, rather than to accept our money and run the risk of being detected and hanged."

"I don't blame him," O'Neil said. "He is, as you say, a sour-looking rascal, but I don't think that he is a fool, and none but a fool would run that risk for the sake of the money that we could give him; for, in any case, we should have to retain a portion of our store, in order to obtain disguises and maintain ourselves till we could find means of crossing the channel."

"Then let us put that idea altogether aside, O'Neil, and give our whole attention to the manner in which we are to escape."

"The manner in which we are to try to make our escape!" O'Neil repeated, with a laugh.

"Well, put it that way if you like. Now, in the first place, there is the window, in the second the door, and lastly the walls and floor."

"The door would withstand a battering ram," O'Sullivan said. "I noticed, as I went out, that it was solid oak some four inches thick, with two bolts as well as the lock, and, moreover, if we could get through it we should be no nearer escaping than we are at present. What with the corridors and pa.s.sages, and the turnkeys and the outer gate, that course seems to me impossible.

"Let us come to the second point, the window."

They looked up at it. The sill was fully six feet from the ground.

The window was a little over a foot wide, with a heavy bar running down the centre, and cross bars.

"The first point is to see where it looks out on," Desmond said.

"I will stand against the wall, and as you are the lighter of the two, O'Neil, you can stand on my shoulder and have a good look out, and tell us what you see.

"Give him your hand, O'Sullivan.

"Put your foot on that, O'Neil, and then step on my shoulder."

O'Neil was soon in his place.

"You need not hold me," he said. "The wall is very thick, the bars are placed in the middle, and there is just room for me to take a seat on the edge, then I can see things at my ease."

He sat looking out, for a minute or two, before he spoke.

"Well, what can you see?" O'Sullivan asked, impatiently.

"This room is on the outer side of the prison," he said. "I noticed, as we came in, that it was built along on both sides of the gate; and, no doubt, this side stands on the city wall."

"Then what do you see?"

"I see the ground, sloping steeply down to a stream that runs along the bottom of it. There are a good many small houses, scattered about on the slope and along by the stream. Over to the left, there is a stone bridge across it. Near this is a large building, that looks like another prison, and a marketplace with stalls in it. Houses stand thickly on either side of the road, and beyond the bridge the opposite side of the slope is covered with them. Among these are some large buildings.

"If we were once out, there would not be much chance of our being detected, if we had something to put over our uniforms; but, of course, they would betray us to the first man we met."

"Yes, of course," O'Sullivan said; "but we might possibly obtain plain clothes at one of those small houses you speak of, though that would be risky."

"We might leave our coatees behind us, and go only in our s.h.i.+rts and breeches; and give out that we had been attacked, and robbed of our money and coats by footpads," Desmond said.

"That is a good idea," O'Neil agreed. "Yes, that might do, especially as, after dark, they would not be likely to notice that our breeches were of a French cut."

"But it seems to me that we are beginning at the wrong end of the business. It is of no use discussing what we are to do, when we escape, till we have settled upon the manner in which we are to get out. Let us talk over that first.

"Are the bars firmly in, O'Neil?"

O'Neil tried, with all his strength, to shake them.

"They are as firm as the walls," he said. "There is no getting them out, unless we have tools to cut away all the stonework round them."

"I suppose there is no chance of cutting through them?" O'Sullivan asked.

"There is not," O'Neil said. "We have not got such a thing as a knife about us. If we had, we could never saw through these thick bars; it would take a year of Sundays."

"You are rather a Job's comforter. Now, do you get down, and let Kennedy and myself have a chance of a breath of fresh air, to say nothing of the view."

A few minutes satisfied O'Sullivan, but Desmond, when he took his place, sat there considerably longer; while the other two, throwing themselves on their pallets, chatted gaily about Paris and their friends there.