CHAPTER XIII
THE COMPANY OF REVENGE
The case was over--I stepped out of the Dock: I was free: everybody,including Mr. Caterham, K.C., was shaking my hand: the Lord Mayor sentfor me to the Bench and shook my hand warmly: he said that he had knownmy worthy father, Sir Peter, and that he rejoiced that my innocence hadbeen made as clear as the noonday: all the Jury shook hands with me: mycousin Tom paid my dues to the prison, without payment of which even afree man, proved innocent, must go back to the prison again and therestay till he discharges them--because a gaoler everywhere has a heartmade of flint. At last, surrounded by my friends I went out of Court.Outside in the street there was a crowd who shouted and cried my namewith 'Death to the Conspirators!' But I saw many who did not shout. Whoare they who had no sympathy with innocence? They stood apart, withlowering faces. They came down from the public gallery where--I wasafterwards told--the appearance in that witness-box first of thewell-known landlady of the Black Jack--their ancient friend: next, ofher daughter--also their friend: thirdly, of the young fellow calledJack, one of themselves, a rogue and the companion of rogues: andlastly, of the woman of whom they had been so proud, Jenny the actress,Jenny the Orange Girl: Jenny of Drury Lane: filled them with dismay andrage. What? Their own people turn against their own friends? Thelandlady of the Black Jack, even the landlady of the Black Jack, thatmost notorious receiver of stolen goods, and harbourer of rogues, togive evidence against her own customers? Thief betray thief? Dog bitedog? Heard ever man the like? Now you understand the lowering and gloomyfaces. These people whispered to each other in the Gallery of the CourtHouse: they murmured to each other outside on the pavement: when weclimbed into a hackney coach--Jenny--her mother and sister--the youngfellow called Jack and myself--they followed us--in pairs;--by fours,talking low and cursing below their breath. After a while they desisted:but one or two of them still kept up with the coach.
I sent Alice home under charge of Tom. I would get home, I said, asquickly as I could, after seeing Jenny safely at her own house.
We arrived at the house in Soho Square. It was empty save for somewomen-servants, for there was no entertainment that evening. We wentinto the small room on the left and lit the candles.
It was then about seven o'clock in the evening and quite dark, as thetime of year was November. Jenny was restless and excited. She went tothe window and looked out. 'The Square is quiet,' she said. 'How longwill it remain quiet?'
The servants brought in some supper. Jenny took a little glass of wine.She then went away and returned in a plain dress with a cloak and hood.
'I must be ready,' she said, 'to set off on my travels--whither?Mother'--she turned to the old lady--'you are a witch. Look into thefire and tell me what you see.'
The old woman filled and drained a glass of Madeira and turned her chairround. She gazed intently into the red coals.
'I see,' she said, 'a crowd of people. I see a Court. I see thecondemned cell....' She turned away. 'No, Jenny, I will look no more.'Twas thus I looked in the fire before thy father was taken. Thus andthus did I see. I will look no longer.'
'Well,' said Doll, 'what will they do next? They know now where youlive, Madame Vallance.'
The old woman sat down and sighed heavily. 'The Black Jack!' shemurmured. 'We shall never see it again.'
Jenny was quiet and grave. 'We have beaten them,' she said. 'They neversuspected that so complete a beating was in store for them. Now comesour turn--my turn rather.'
'Your turn, Jenny?'
'Yes, Will, my turn. Do you suppose they will forgive us? Why, we havegiven evidence against our own people. All St. Giles's trusted my motherand sister--Could one suspect the Black Jack? Why, because I was adaughter of the house, all St. Giles's trusted me--and we have betrayedthem! There will be revenge and that quickly.'
Doll nodded expressively. Her mother groaned.
'What kind of revenge?'
Doll nodded her head again and drew a long breath. Her mother groanedagain.
'I do not know, yet. Listen, Will. The people know very well that thiscase has been got up by myself. I found out, by my mother's assistance,those facts about the trials and floggings and imprisonments: I wentinto the country and secured the evidence. I brought up the gaolers totestify to the men's identity. I even went to my husband andpromised--yes, I swore--that I would put him into the conspiracy as wellas the other four if he did not give evidence without saying a word toProbus. And then I bought my mother out.'
'You bought out your mother?'
''Twas as sweet a business, Sir,' the old woman interrupted, 'as youever saw. A matter of three pounds a day takings and two pounds a dayprofit.'
'I bought her out,' said Jenny. 'I also compensated her for the contentsof her vaults.'
'Ah!' sighed the old woman. 'There were treasures!'
'The Black Jack is shut up. When the people go there thisevening'--again Doll nodded--'they will find it closed--and they willwreck the place.'
'And drink up all that's left,' said Doll.
'Let us prevent murder. Jack, you will find it best for your health toget at far as possible out of London. Take my mother and sister to oneof the taverns in the Borough. There's a waggon or a caravan startsevery morning for some country place or other; never mind where. Go withthem, Jack: stay with them for a while till they are settled. Mother,you won't be happy unless you can have a tavern somewhere. If you canfind one, Jack will do for you. There you will be safe, I think. St.Giles's doesn't contain any of our people. But in London you will bemurdered--you and Doll, too--for sure and certain.'
'For sure and certain,' said Doll, grimly.
Jenny gave her mother more money. 'That will carry you into thecountry,' she said. 'You can let me know, somehow, where you are. Buttake care not to let anyone know who would tell the people here. Thegipsies are your best friends, not the thieves.'
I asked her if it was really necessary to make all these preparations.
'You don't know these people, Will. I do. The one thing to which theycling is their safety from the law so long as they are among themselves.There will be wild work this evening. As for me I have under my dressall my money and all my jewels. I am ready for flight.'
'Why, Jenny, you don't think they will attack you here?'
'I do, indeed. There is nothing more likely. Did you observe a womanrunning along Holborn beside the coach? I know that woman. She is theCaptain's girl. Revenge was written on her face--easy toread--revenge--revenge. She stood beside the doorstep when we came in.She marked the house. She has gone back to St. Giles's to tell themwhere we can be found this evening. But they learned that fact in Court.Oh! They will come presently.'
'Well, Jenny, let us escape while we can.'
'There are many ways of escape,' she said. 'There is no hurry. We canpass over the roof of the next house and so into the garrets of thehouse beyond. I have proved this way of escape----Oh! Will, I countedthe cost beforehand. Or there is the back door which opens on Hog Lane.We can get out that way. I am sure they will not think of the back door.Or it is easy to climb over the garden wall into the next house: thereare plenty of ways. I am not afraid about our escape--if we can keepthem out for a few minutes. But, Jack, you had better take my mother andsister away at once.'
'No,' said Jack, stoutly. 'Where you are, Madame, there I am.'
'You are a fool, Jack,' she replied with her sweet smile, which made himmore foolish still. 'They will murder you if they can.'
'They shan't murder you, then,' the lad replied, clutching his cudgel.
By the time we finished supper and held this discourse it was close uponeight.
'Will,' said Jenny, 'you and Jack had better barricade the door. It is astrong door but even oak will give way. Take the card-tables and pilethem up.'
The card-tables were thin slight things with curved legs all gilt andlacquer. But the long table was a heavy mahogany thing. We took outsome of the pieces by which it was lengthened and closed it up. Then wecarried
it out to the hall and placed it against the door: the length ofthe door filled the breadth of the hall and jammed in the boards untilit seemed as if it would bear any amount of pressure from without. Wepiled the smaller tables one above the other behind the large table: ifthe mob did get in, they would be encumbered for awhile among the legsof so many tables. This was the only attempt we could make at fortifyingthe house: the lower windows were protected by the iron railingsoutside.
'Will,' said Jenny, 'we have made the door safe. But Lord! what is toprevent their breaking down the railings and entering by the area? Orwhy should they not bring a ladder and force their way at the firstfloor?'
'Would they be so determined?'
'They scent blood. They are like the carrion crow. They mean blood andpillage. The latter they will have. Not the former.'
At this point we heard a low grumbling noise in the distance, whichbecame the roar of many voices.
'They are already at the Black Jack,' said Jenny. 'I should like to seewhat they are doing. Come with me, Will. It is too dark for anyone torecognise me, and there will be a great crowd. All St. Giles's will beout to see the wreck of the Black Jack.'
She drew her hood over her head which in a measure hid her face, andtaking my hand, she led me through the garden and so out by the backdoor into Hog Lane. The place, always quiet, was deserted and, besides,was nearly pitch dark, having no lamps in it.
Jenny's house--the Assembly Rooms of Soho Square--stood at the corner ofSutton Street, and with its gardens extended back into Hog Lane. Nearlyopposite Sutton Street, a little lower down, the short street calledDenmark Street ran from Hog Lane into St. Giles's High Street oppositethe Church. The Black Jack stood opposite to the Church.
When we got to Denmark Street we took the north side, because there werefewer people there. Yet the crowd was gathering fast. We stood at thecorner of the street at the East and where we could see what was goingon and be ready to escape as quickly as possible in case of necessity.
A company of men with whom were a good many women and a few boys, werebesieging the dark and deserted Black Jack. They were a company apartacting by themselves without any assistance from the crowd, which lookedon approvingly and applauded. They neither asked for, nor would theyaccept, assistance. If any man from the outside offered to join them, hewas roughly ordered back. 'It is their revenge, Will,' said Jenny. 'Theywill have no one with them to join in their own business.' Theirresolution and the quiet way with which they acted--for the roars andshouting we heard did not proceed from the company of revenge but fromthe crowd that followed them--struck one with terror as if we werecontemplating the irresistible decrees of Fate. They battered at thedoors: as no one answered, they broke in the doors; but first with avolley of stones they broke every window in the house.
'Poor mother!' said Jenny. ''Twould break her heart. But she will losenothing. I bought her out. It is the landlord who will suffer. Now theyhave found candles: they light up; see, they are going all over thehouse in search of the landlady.' We saw lights in the rooms one afterthe other. 'They will not find her: nor her money: nor anything that isvaluable. It is all gone, gentlemen: all provided for and stowed away ina safer place. This is not a house where a woman who values her throatshould be found, after to-day's work. See--now, they have made up theirminds that no one is left in the house. What next? Will they set fire toit?'
No: they did not set fire to the house. They proceeded to break upeverything: all the furniture: the beds, chairs and tables and to throwfragments out of windows into the open space below where some of themcollected everything and made a bonfire. When the house was emptied theybegan to bring out the bottles and to haul up the casks out of thecellars: upon this there was a rush of the crowd from the outside:strange as it may appear the company of revenge were going to break thebottles and to set the casks running. But the mob rushed in: there wasfighting for a few minutes: someone blew a whistle and the rioters drewapart, and stood together before the house. Then one of them; theirleader, spoke.
'This is the revenge of St. Giles's on the landlady of the Black Jack.Drink up all her casks and all her bottles, and be damned to ye!'
The people that rushed upon the casks were like ravenous beasts of prey:you would have thought that they had never had their fill of strongdrink before: indeed for such people it is impossible to have their fillof strong drink unless insensibility means satiety. They set the casksrunning: they made cups of their hands: they drank with their mouthsfrom the taps: they filled empty bottles: they fought for the fullbottles: the place was covered with broken glass: their faces werebleeding with cuts from broken bottles: the bonfire lifted its fierceflame hissing and roaring: at the open windows of houses hard-by womenlooked on, shrieking and applauding: some, within the railings of theChurch, looked on as from a place of safety: as the flames lit up theirpale faces, they might have been the ghosts of the dead, called out oftheir quiet graves to see what was going on.
'It is not their intention to burn down the Black Jack,' said Jenny.'Then there will be a new landlady, and the Thieves' Kitchen will go onagain.'
The leader of the Company blew his whistle, and the men fell into somekind of line.
'My turn now,' said Jenny. 'Let us fly, Will. Let us fly back again.'
We ran down Denmark Street into the quiet, dark Hog's Lane before theCompany reached the place. We ran through the garden door and locked it.Then we went back to the house. The old woman was half drunk by thistime and half asleep. Doll was sitting upright, waiting. Jack stood bythe door.
'They are coming,' said Jenny. 'They have sacked the Black Jack, Doll.They would have murdered you had you been in the house: they have brokenall the furniture and made a bonfire of it: and they have brought outall the liquor. The people are drinking it up now--beer and rum andgin--and wine. Well, you have lost nothing, Doll--nothing at all. Nowthey are coming here.' She rang the bell, and called the servants. Therewere six of them. 'There is a mob on their way to this house,' she toldthem. 'They are going to wreck the place and to murder me, if they can.You had better get out of the house as soon as you can. Put together allthat you can carry, and go out of the back way. You can go to one ofthe inns in Holborn for the night: if any of you have the courage toventure through the streets of Soho, you might go to the Horse Guardsand call the soldiers to save the house. Now be quick. To-morrow I willpay you your wages.'
The women looked astonished, as well they might. What sort of companywas Madame keeping? There was the old woman bemused with drink: therewas the young country man: who were they? What did it mean?
'The mob are coming to-night, Madame?'
'They are coming now. They will be here in a few minutes. If you wouldescape, go put your things together and fly by the garden door.'
They looked at each other: without a word they retired: and I supposethey got away immediately, because we saw no more of them.
And then we heard a steady tramp of feet along Sutton Street.
'They are here,' said Jenny.
We heard the feet, but there was no shouting. They marched in a silencewhich was more threatening than any noise. I closed the wooden shuttersof the room. It was as well not to show any lights.
'I suppose,' said Doll, 'that you will give us time to escape. Otherwisewe shall all four have our throats cut, and perhaps this gentleman too,for whom you've taken all this trouble--and him with a wife of his own.He'd better go back to her.'
'Yes, Doll,' Jenny replied meekly, without replying to the suggestion.'You shall have time to escape.'
They drew up, apparently in very good order before the house, withoutany shouting, because most of the crowd that had followed them to theBlack Jack were still on the spot drinking what they could get in thegeneral scramble. There were some, however, who came with them and hungoutside and behind the company of revenge who began to assemble and toshout 'Huzzah' after the way of the Londoners. But I believe they knewnot what was intended save that it was revenge of some kind: there wouldmost certai
nly be the breaking of windows and the smashing of doors:there would be the pleasant spectacle of revenge with more bonfires ofbroken furniture: perhaps more casks and bottles of strong drink: inall probability women would be turned out into the street with everykind of insult and ill-usage, as had happened, indeed, only a weekbefore in the Strand when a company of sailors wrecked a house andturned the women out of doors with blows and curses.
First they knocked loudly at the door, shouting for the door to beopened or it would be the worse for everybody inside. Then they pushedthe door which yielded not.
'They will not force the door easily,' said Jenny. 'Who will rundownstairs and see that the area door is secure?'
I volunteered for this duty. The kitchen windows were provided withstrong iron bars which would keep the people off for a time: the areadoor was strong and was barred within: for further precaution I lockedand barred the kitchen door and a strong door at the head of thestaircase: we should thus gain time.
Crash--smash--crash! Were you ever in a house while the mob outside werebreaking the windows? Perhaps not. 'Tis like a field of battle with therattle of musquetry. At one moment half the windows in the house werebroken: at the next moment the other half went: and stillcrash--crash--the stones flew into the windows tearing out what littleglass remained.
Then there was silence again.
'Our time is nearly up,' said Jenny. 'Doll, wake up mother. Tie her hatunder her chin, wrap her handkerchief round her neck--so. What will theydo next? Jack, are you afraid to reconnoitre? Go up to the first floor,and look out of window.'
I went with him. The stones were still flying thickly through thewindows. We made our way along the wall till we came to the window. Thenwe went on hands and knees and crept to the window. I wrapped one handin a curtain and held it before my face while I looked out.
They were lighting torches and conferring together. By the torchlight Icould make out their faces. They were of the type which I had had arecent opportunity of studying in Newgate: the type which means both thehunter and the hunted. It is a cruel and hard type: a relentless type:the faces all had the same expression--it meant 'Revenge.' 'We have beenbetrayed,' said the faces, 'by our friends, by the very people wetrusted: we will have revenge. As we have sacked the Black Jack, so wewill sack the Assembly Rooms. As we would have killed the landlady ofthe Black Jack: so we will kill her daughter, the Orange Girl, if wefind her.' That is what the faces seemed to say.
They were conferring what to do next. One of them I could see, advocatedbreaking down the iron railings: but they had no instruments: anotherwanted to use a battering ram against the front door but they had nobattering-ram: a third proposed a ladder and entering by the first floorwindows. But they had no ladder.
While they were thus debating a man came into the Square who brought aladder for them. There was no further hesitation. 'Come, Jack,' I said.'There is no time to be lost: we must get away as quickly as possible.'
'You go on,' said Jack, 'I will follow.'
He waited. The ladder was raised to the window at which he watched. Afellow ran up quickly. Jack sprang to his feet, threw up the sash andhurled him headlong off the ladder. The poor wretch fell on the spikes.He groaned but only once. He was killed. There was silence for a moment.Then there arose a mighty scream--I say it was like the screaming of awoman. The mob had tasted blood. It was their own--but it was blood.They yelled and roared. Some of them ran to hold the ladder while adozen men ran up. Jack prudently retired, but locked the door behindhim.
'I believe I have killed him,' he said quickly. 'The one who ran up theladder. I think he fell on the spikes.'
'Come,' said Jenny. 'We must go at once if we mean to go at all. Wake upmother again, Doll. Farewell to my greatness. Will, I grudge not anycost--remember--whatever it is. Take me with you, to your own home forawhile, till I am able to look round again. These devils! they areoverhead, I hear them falling over the furniture. Pray that they breaktheir shins. Come, everybody.'
She blew out the candles and led the way. The old woman half awake wasled out by Jack and Doll. I followed last. As we passed out into thegarden, we could hear the cursing of the fellows overhead and thesmashing of the door which Jack had locked.
In Sutton Street, over the garden wall, everything seemed quiet: thatis, there were no footsteps as of a crowd. Yet in the Square the crowdroared and yelled, and from St. Giles's was still heard the clamour ofthe people fighting over the drink. We looked out of the garden doorcautiously. No one was in Hog Lane, which was as deserted as a city inthe Desert. We closed the door and turned to the right, and so makingour way by streets which I knew well, either by day or by night, we gotto St. Martin's Lane and then to Charing Cross where we found a hackneycoach.
'Jenny,' I said in the coach, taking her hand. 'The evening spoils theday. All this you have suffered for my sake. What can I say? What can Ifeel?'
'Oh! Will, what are a few sticks of furniture and curtains compared toyour safety and to Alice's happiness? I care not a straw. I am ruined,it is true; but--for the first time in my life, I am thankful for it--Iam a married woman. My debts will all be transferred to Matthew. Will!Think of it! The first effect of the victory will be to make Matthew abankrupt at once. After what he owned in Court, after he receives thenews of my debts: there can be no delay. Henceforth, my dear Will, youwill be safe from Mr. Probus.'
I was, indeed, to be safe from him, but in a way which she could notexpect.
'Meantime,' she added, with a sigh, 'they have not done with me, yet.'
'Why, what further harm can they do you?'
'I know not. You asked the same question before. There is no end to theways of a revengeful spirit. They will murder me, perhaps: or they willcontrive some other way.'
'Then go out of their reach.'
'The only place of safety for me is with my own folks. I should be safein a gipsy camp. They have their camps everywhere, but I do not want tolive with them. No, Will. I shall remain. After all, the revenge ofpeople like these soon passes away. They will wreck my house to-night.That very likely will seem to them enough. I should have thought so, butfor the things that mother saw in the coals. She is a witch, indeed. Isay, mother, you are a proper witch.' But the good lady was fast asleep.
We left her with her daughter Doll and the young fellow they calledJack, at the White Hart Inn. It appeared that a waggon was going on inthe morning to Horsham in Sussex. They might as well stay at Horsham fora time as anywhere else. There was very little fear that the St.Giles's company of revenge would make any further inquiries about them.So they left us and I saw the pair no more--and cannot tell you whatbecame of them in the end. As for the young fellow, you will hear moreabout him. The hackney coach took us to our cottage on the Bank where,after so many emotions and surprises, I, for one, slept well.
Let us return to the house in the Square. The rioters finding no onewithin, quickly pulled away the barricade of the front door and threw itopen. Then the work of wrecking the place began. When you remember thatsupper was sometimes provided for two thousand people, you willunderstand the prodigious quantity of plates, dishes, knives, forks,tables, benches, and things that were stored in the pantries andkitchens. You have heard of the hangings, the curtains, the candelabra,the sconces, the musical instruments, the plants, the vases, thepaintings, the coloured lamps, the card-tables, the candlesticks, thestores of candles--in a word the immense collection of all kindsnecessary for carrying on the entertainments. It is true that thesuppers were cooked at a tavern and sent in, cold; but they had to beserved in dishes and provided with plates. There was no wine to speak ofin the house, because the wine was sent in for the night from the tavernwhich supplied it. Everything in the house was broken. The company ofrevenge did its work thoroughly. Everything was broken: everything wasthrown out of the windows: the centre of the Square was made the site ofa huge bonfire which, I believe, must be remembered yet: all thefurniture was piled up on this bonfire: the flames ascended to theskies: that of the Black
Jack was a mere boy's bonfire compared to this,while the piles of broken glass and china rendered walking in the Squaredangerous for many a day to come.
You have heard that Jenny recommended her women-servants to call out thesoldiers. One of them dared to run through the dark streets to the HorseGuards. Half an hour, however, elapsed before the soldiers could beturned out. At last they started with muskets loaded and bayonets fixed:when they arrived, the work was nearly finished: it would have beenbetter for poor Jenny had it been completely finished, as you willpresently discover: the furniture was all broken and, with the hangings,curtains and carpets, was burning on the bonfire. The soldiers drew upbefore the door: the mob began throwing stones: the soldiers fired intothem. Four or five fell--of whom two were killed on the spot: the restwere wounded. The mob soon ran away. Some of the soldiers proceeded tosearch the house: they found a dozen or twenty fellows engaged insmashing the mirrors and the candelabra in the dancing-hall: theysecured them: and then, the mob all gone, and the bonfire dying awaythey left a guard of four or five and marched back with their prisonersand the wounded men. In the morning the soldiers fastened up the brokendoor somehow and left the empty house. Alas! If only the mob had beenable to fire the house and to burn down and gut the place from cellar togarret.
This was the first act of revenge on the part of St. Giles's. There wasto be another and a more deadly act.
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