by Walter Scott
CHAPTER LVII
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.When the prisoners and their guard arrived there, Hatteraick, whoseviolence and strength were well known, was secured in what was calledthe condemned ward. This was a large apartment near the top of theprison. A round bar of iron,[Footnote: See Note 9.] about the thicknessof a man's arm above the elbow, crossed the apartment horizontally atthe height of about six inches from the floor; and its extremities werestrongly built into the wall at either end. Hatteraick's ankles weresecured within shackles, which were connected by a chain, at thedistance of about four feet, with a large iron ring, which travelledupon the bar we have described. Thus a prisoner might shuffle along thelength of the bar from one side of the room to another, but could notretreat farther from it in any other direction than the brief length ofthe chain admitted. When his feet had been thus secured, the keeperremoved his handcuffs and left his person at liberty in other respects.A pallet-bed was placed close to the bar of iron, so that the shackledprisoner might lie down at pleasure, still fastened to the iron bar inthe manner described.
Hatteraick had not been long in this place of confinement beforeGlossin arrived at the same prison-house. In respect to his comparativerank and education, he was not ironed, but placed in a decentapartment, under the inspection of Mac-Guffog, who, since thedestruction of the bridewell of Portanferry by the mob, had acted hereas an under-turnkey. When Glossin was enclosed within this room, andhad solitude and leisure to calculate all the chances against him andin his favour, he could not prevail upon himself to consider the gameas 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 yetand varnish that over again. I knew not of the gauger's job until therascal had done the deed, and, though I had some advantage by thecontraband, that is no felony. But the kidnapping of the boy--therethey touch me closer. Let me see. This Bertram was a child at the time;his evidence must be imperfect. The other fellow is a deserter, agipsy, and an outlaw. Meg Merrilies, d-n her, is dead. These infernalbills! Hatteraick brought them with him, I suppose, to have the meansof threatening me or extorting money from me. I must endeavour to seethe rascal; must get him to stand steady; must persuade him to put someother colour upon the business.'
His mind teeming with schemes of future deceit to cover formervillainy, he spent the time in arranging and combining them until thehour of supper. Mac-Guffog attended as turnkey on this occasion. Hewas, as we know, the old and special acquaintance of the prisoner whowas now under his charge. After giving the turnkey a glass of brandy,and sounding him with one or two cajoling speeches, Glossin made it hisrequest that he would help him to an interview with Dirk Hatteraick.'Impossible! utterly impossible! it's contrary to the express orders ofMr. Mac-Morlan, and the captain (as the head jailor of a county jail iscalled 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 forthe night, and I cannot let you out again until morning; then I'llvisit the wards half an hour earlier than usual, and ye may get out andbe snug in your ain birth when the captain gangs his rounds.'
When the hour of ten had pealed from the neighbouring steepleMac-Guffog came prepared with a small dark lantern. He said softly toGlossin, 'Slip your shoes off and follow me.' When Glossin was out ofthe door, Mac-Guffog, as if in the execution of his ordinary duty, andspeaking to a prisoner within, called aloud, 'Good-night to you, sir,'and locked the door, clattering the bolts with much ostentatious noise.He then guided Glossin up a steep and narrow stair, at the top of whichwas the door of the condemned ward; he unbarred and unlocked it, and,giving Glossin the lantern, made a sign to him to enter, and locked thedoor behind him with the same affected accuracy.
In the large dark cell into which he was thus introduced Glossin'sfeeble light for some time enabled him to discover nothing. At lengthhe could dimly distinguish the pallet-bed stretched on the floor besidethe great iron bar which traversed the room, and on that pallet reposedthe figure of 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 releasedby a halter! Let me alone; go about your business, and turn the lampfrom my face!'
'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 returnedhim after he had forgot all.'
'Why, Hatteraick, you are turned driveller!'
'Wetter! will you deny that all that cursed attempt at Portanferry,which lost 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 ownlife, for a cursed coward villain, that always works his own mischiefwith other 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, losinghis temper 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 furyof the assault, so ineffectually that he fell under Hatteraick, theback part of his neck coming full upon the iron bar with stunningviolence. The death-grapple continued. The room immediately below thecondemned ward, being that of Glossin, was, of course, empty; but theinmates of the second apartment beneath felt the shock of Glossin'sheavy fall, and heard a noise as of struggling and of groans. But allsounds of horror were too congenial to this place to excite muchcuriosity 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 washis surprise, and even horror, to observe Glossin's body lying doubledacross the iron bar, in a posture that excluded all idea of his beingalive. Hatteraick was quietly stretched upon his pallet within a yardof his victim. On lifting Glossin it was found he had been dead forsome hours. His body bore uncommon marks of violence. The spine wherei
t joins the skull had received severe injury by his first fall. Therewere distinct marks of strangulation about the throat, whichcorresponded with the blackened state of his face. The head was turnedbackward over the shoulder, as if the neck had been wrung round withdesperate violence. So that it would seem that his inveterateantagonist had fixed a fatal gripe upon the wretch's throat, and neverquitted it while life lasted. The lantern, crushed and broken topieces, 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 ourhouse, and leave me alone a couple of hours, will ye; and let them takeaway that piece of carrion, donnerwetter!'
Mac-Morlan deemed it the best way to humour the savage; he wasfurnished with writing materials and left alone. When they again openedthe door it was found that this determined villain had anticipatedjustice. He had adjusted a cord taken from the truckle-bed, andattached it to a bone, the relic of his yesterday's dinner, which hehad contrived to drive into a crevice between two stones in the wall ata height as great as he could reach, standing upon the bar. Havingfastened the noose, he had the resolution to drop his body as if tofall on his knees, and to retain that posture until resolution was nolonger necessary. The letter he had written to his owners, thoughchiefly upon the business of their trade, contained many allusions tothe younker of Ellangowan, as he called him, and afforded absoluteconfirmation of all Meg Merrilies and her nephew had told.
To dismiss the catastrophe of these two wretched men, I shall only add,that Mac-Guffog was turned out of office, notwithstanding hisdeclaration (which he offered to attest by oath), that he had lockedGlossin safely in his own room upon the night preceding his being founddead in Dirk Hatteraick's cell. His story, however, found faith withthe worthy Mr. Skriegh and other lovers of the marvellous, who stillhold that the Enemy of Mankind brought these two wretches together uponthat night by supernatural interference, that they might fill up thecup of their guilt and receive its meed by murder and suicide.
