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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 passages, 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 shirts 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.
"Well, what conclusions do you arrive at?" they asked, when he leapt down from his seat.
"They are not very cheering," he replied, "and I recognize fully that we cannot possibly make our escape, without aid from without."
"That is the same as to say that we cannot make our escape at all."
"Not exactly. We have found one unknown friend, who supplied us with our dinners. There is no absolute reason why we should not find one who would supply us with means of escape. There must be a great number of people who sympathize with us, and whose hearts are with King James. I have seen several men come from the market, stand and look up at this prison, and then walk off, slowly, as if they were filled with pity for us. Now, I propose that one of us shall always be at the window."
"Oh, that is too much!" O'Sullivan said. "That ledge is so narrow that I could hardly sit there, even holding on by the bars; and as to stopping there half an hour, I would almost as soon be on the rack."
"There will be no occasion for that," Desmond said. "We can easily move one of the pallets under it, pile the other straw beds upon it, and, standing on these, we could look out comfortably, for our shoulders would be well above the ledge."
"I don't see that we should be nearer to it, then, Kennedy."
"We should have gained this much: that directly we saw any person looking up, with a sympathizing air, especially if of a class who could afford to do what is necessary for us, we could wave our hands and attract his attention. If disposed to help us, he might give some sign. If not, no harm would be done. We might, too, tie a handkerchief to the bars, which in itself might be taken for an indication that there are followers of the Stuarts here."
"But supposing all this turned out as you suggest it might, how could even the best disposed friend do anything to help us?"
"That is for after consideration. Let us first find a friend, and we shall find a way to open communication with him. We have no paper, but we could write the message on a piece of linen and drop it down. As far as we can see, from here, there is nothing to prevent anyone coming up to the foot of the wall below us."
For the next four days, nothing whatever happened. They could see that the white handkerchief at the bars attracted some attention, for people stopped and looked up at it, but continued their way without making any gesture that would seem to show that they interested themselves, in any way, in the matter.
On the fourth day, Desmond, who was at the window, said in a tone of excitement:
"There is a man down there who, after looking fixedly in this direction, is making his way towards us. He does not come straight, but moves about among the houses; but he continues to approach. I can't make out his face yet, but there is something about him that reminds me of Mike; though how he could be here, when we left him in the prison at Harwich, is more than I can say."
O'Neil and O'Sullivan in turn looked through the window. Not being so much accustomed as he was to Mike's figure and walk, they could not recognize in the man, in the dress of a country peasant, the well-set-up soldier who attended on Desmond. Both admitted, however, that in point of figure it might well be the man.
"If it is," Desmond said, "all our difficulties are at an end, and I will wager that we shall be free in three or four days. Now, how are we to communicate with him?"
"I have a piece of paper in my pocket. It is only an old bill, and they threw it down, contemptuously, when they searched me," O'Neil said. "I picked it up again. I hardly know why, except perhaps that the idea occurred to me that, some day, I might get a chance of paying it. But as we have no ink, nor pen, nor charcoal, I don't see how it can benefit us."
He drew the bill from the pocket of his coatee. Desmond took it, and stood looking at it in silence for a minute. Then an idea occurred to him.
"I have it!" he exclaimed, presently. "O'Neil, see if you can get a piece of this gold wire off my facings. I want it five or six inches long, so that when it is doubled up and twisted together, so as to be an inch long, it will be stiff enough for our purpose."
Somewhat puzzled, O'Neil did as he was requested. Desmond straightened out the fine wire wrapped round the centre thread, doubled, and again doubled it, and finally twisting it together, reduced it to a length of about an inch, and the thickness of a pin. The others looked on, wondering what was his intention.
He held the paper out before him, and began pricking small holes through it, close together. He continued to work for some time, and then held it up to the light. The others understood the nature of his work, and they could now read:
Come ten tonight under window. Bring long thin string. Whistle. We will lower thread. Tie end of string to it. Will give further instructions.
He tore off the portion of the bill on which the message was written, twisted off two of the buttons of his coatee, folded them in the paper, and took his place at the window again. The man who had been watching was standing some sixty feet from the foot of the wall. His back was towards them. Presently he turned, carelessly looked up at the window, and then, as if undecided what to do, took off his cap and scratched his head.
"It is Mike, sure enough," Desmond exclaimed, and, thrusting his hand through the bars, waved it for a moment.
Then, taking the little packet, he dropped it. Mike put on his hat again, turned round, then looked cautiously to see that no one was noticing him, and strolled, in an aimless and leisurely way, towards the wall. Desmond could no longer see him, but felt sure that he would find the missive.
Presently he came in sight again, walking quietly away. He did not look round; but when nearly at the bottom of the hill turned, lifted one hand, and disappeared behind some houses.
"He can't read," Desmond said, "but I have no doubt he will get someone to do it for him."
A vigilant watch was kept up, but nothing was seen of Mike, till late in the afternoon, when he emerged into one of the open spaces. They had now taken the handkerchief down from the window, and, directly they saw him, Desmond waved it, showing that they were watching him. He threw up his arm, turned, and disappeared again.
"He has made out my message," Desmond said. "We may expect him here at ten o'clock."
While he had been watching, his two comrades had, under his instructions, been unravelling a portion of one of their blankets. When enough thread had been obtained, the strands were tied together and doubled, and Desmond had little doubt that it was sufficiently strong to draw up the string Mike would bring with him. He now took another portion of the bill, and pricked upon it the words:
At nine tomorrow night, bring, if possible, fine steel saw, two files, and small bottle of oil. Fasten these to string we will lower with further instructions.
He then opened his coatee, took out some of the white wool with which it was padded, formed this into a loose ball, in the centre of which the note was fastened, and all being in readiness, waited patiently, until, just as the city clock struck ten, they heard a low whistle. The ball had already been attached to the end of the thread, and Desmond at once lowered it down.
Presently, they heard another whistle and, hauling at it again, they found that the ball had gone, and attached to the end of the thread was a very light silken cord, which they drew in. There was another low whistle, and all was silent.
"So far, so good," Desmond said. "We are fairly on our way to liberty. How long do you suppose it will take us to cut through these bars?"
"It would take us a long while to file through them all," O'Neil said, "but with a fine steel saw, I should think that a couple of nights' work should do it. But of course that is mere guesswork, for I have not the least idea how fast even the best saw could cut through iron."
"Well, there is no particular hurry, for we know that no day has been fixed yet for our trial. So, whether it is one night or six, it does not matter much."
On the following evening at nine o'clock the whistle was heard, and another ball lowered down at the end of the string. The instructions this time were:
When we are ready, we will show a handkerchief at window. Bring with you, at nine that evening, rope strong enough to bear us, and have disguises for three ready for us at foot of wall. Herewith are ten louis to purchase three disguises.
The cord brought up a small packet, which contained two very fine small steel saws, two files, and the oil. They did not lose a moment in setting to work, and, oiling the saws, one began to cut through the central bar, just above the point where the lowest cross bars went through it, as they determined to leave these to fasten the rope to. There was not room for two of them to work together, and they agreed to take it by turns, changing every quarter of an hour.
To their great satisfaction, they found that the saw did its work much more quickly than they had expected, and by the time each had had a turn the bar was cut through; and by morning the side bars had also all been cut. They did not attempt to cut the main bar higher up, as, had they done so, it would have been difficult to keep the portion cut out in its place.
When it was light, they filled up all the cuts with bread, which they had managed to secrete in the palms of their hands at dinner. This they kneaded into a sort of putty, rolled it in the dust of the floor until black, and then squeezed it into the interstices.
"There is no fear of their noticing it," O'Neil said, when they had finished. "I cannot see the cuts myself from the floor, though I know where they are; and unless they were to climb up there, and examine the place very closely, they would not see anything wrong."
"Shall we hang out the flag today, Kennedy?"
"I think we had better wait till tomorrow. He will be hardly expecting to see it, today, and may not be ready with the rope and disguises."
The next morning the signal was hung out. They saw nothing of Mike, but as he would be able to make out the handkerchief from a considerable distance, they had no doubt whatever that he had observed it, but thought it prudent not to show himself near the prison again. As soon as it was dark they recommenced work, and had cut through the main bar, and cautiously lowered the grating to the ground, before the clock struck nine. Then, on hearing Mike's signal, they lowered the cord, and soon brought up a rope which, although small, was more than strong enough to support them.
"We had better tie some knots in it," Desmond said. "They will help us to avoid sliding down too rapidly. If it was a thick rope, I think we could manage without them; but, not being sailors, I do not think that we could grasp this tightly enough."
"How close shall we put them, Kennedy?"
"About two feet apart. Then we can come down hand over hand, helping our arms by twisting our legs round it.
"Now," he went on, when they had finished the knots, "who will go down first?"
"You had better do so," O'Sullivan said. "You are the lightest of us, and, I fancy, the strongest, too."
"Very well. I don't think that it will make any difference, for the rope is strong enough to hold the three of us together. However, here goes. We may as well leave our coatees behind us. They might get us into difficulties, if we took them."
So saying, he took off his coat, fastened the end of the rope securely to the bars that had been left for the purpose, and, holding it firmly, made his way through the opening and swung himself over. With his muscles strengthened by military exercises and sword practice, he found it easier work than he had expected. The depth was some sixty feet, and in a couple of minutes his feet touched the ground.
Mike had been hanging on by the rope to steady it, and as Desmond descended, he seized him by the hand and shook it enthusiastically, murmuring brokenly, "My dear master, thank God that you are free!"
"Thanks to you also, my dear fellow. Now, hold on again. My friends O'Neil and O'Sullivan shared my cell with me, and are following me."
He added his weight to that of Mike, and it was not long before O'Neil came down; but not so quietly as Desmond had done, for his strength had failed him, and the rope had slipped rapidly through his fingers, and Mike and Desmond narrowly escaped being knocked down by the suddenness with which the descent was made. He stood for a minute, wringing his hand, and swearing in an undertone in English, Irish, and French.
"By the powers," he said, "it has taken the skin off the inside of my hands, entirely! A red-hot poker could not have done it more nately!
"Mike, you rascal, what are you laughing at? I have a mind to break your bones before thanking you."
O'Sullivan succeeded better, but was completely exhausted when he joined his friends.
"Now, Mike, where are the disguises?"
"Here they are, your honour. They are just like my own. Loose coats, rough breeches, white stockings and buckled shoes, and soft hats with wide brims. I thought that you would pass better, like that, than in any other way; for if you were dressed up as citizens, your tongues might betray you, for somehow they don't speak English as we do; and whenever I open my mouth, they discover that I am an Irishman."
Desmond laughed.
"There would be no difficulty about that. Now, let us put on our disguises at once, and be off. Sometimes the turnkeys take it into their heads to look in during the night, and we had to keep one on watch while we were at work, and take to our beds when we heard a footstep approaching.
"I see you have brought shoes. I forgot to mention them. Our jack boots would have attracted attention, so we have left them behind us, after getting our stores of money from their hiding places."
They were soon dressed.
"What are we supposed to be, Mike?"
"You are sedan chair men, sir. Most of the chairs are carried by Irishmen, who seem to be stronger in the leg than these London folk. You will have to cut your hair short, and then you will pass without observation."
"Where are you taking us to?" Desmond asked, as they descended the hill.
"I have got a lodging in a house out in the fields. I said that I was an Irishman who had come to London in search of employment, and that I expected three friends to join me, and that we intended to hire chairs and carry the gentry about, for here they seem too lazy to walk, and everyone is carried; though it is small blame to them, for dirtier streets I never saw. They are just full of holes, where you go in up to the knee in mud and filth of all kinds. Faith, there are parts of Paris which we can't say much for, but the worst of them are better than any here, except just the street they call Cheapside, which goes on past Saint Paul's, and along the Strand to Westminster."
"What have you brought these sticks for, Mike?"
For he had handed, to each, a heavy bludgeon.
"Sure, your honour, 'tis not safe to be in the streets after nightfall. It is like that part of Paris where no dacent man could walk, without being assaulted by thieves and cutthroats. Dressed as we are, it is not likely anyone would interfere with us in the hope of finding money on us, but they are not particular at all, at all, and a party of these rascals might try to roll us in the mire, just for fun. So it is as well to be prepared."
However, they met with no interruption, passed out through Holborn Bars, and soon arrived at the house where Mike had taken a lodging. They were not sorry, however, that they were armed, for, several times, they heard outbursts of drunken shouting and the sound of frays.
Mike had hired two rooms. In one of these were three straw beds, for the officers. He himself slept on a blanket on the floor of the other room, which served as kitchen and sitting room.
Now, for the first time, they were able to talk freely.
"Mike, we have not said much to you, yet," Desmond began, "but I and these gentlemen are fully conscious that you have saved us from death, for we hear that Government is determined to push matters to the extremity, and to have all the officers captured condemned to be hanged."
"Bad cess to them!" Mike exclaimed, indignantly. "If I had two or three of them, it's mighty little they would talk of execution, after I and me stick had had a few minutes' converse with them.
"As to the getting you out, I assure you, your honour, there is little I have done, except to carry out your orders. When I first saw the prison, and the little white flag flying from the window, I said to myself that, barring wings, there was no way of getting to you; and it was only when I got your first letter that I saw it might be managed. Faith, that letter bothered me, entirely. I took it to the woman downstairs, and asked her to read it for me, saying that I had picked it up in the street, and wondered what it was about. She was no great scholar, but she made out that it was writ in a foreign language, and seemed to her to be a bit of an old bill. When I took it up to my room, I looked at it every way. I knew, of course, that it was a message, somehow, but devil a bit could I see where it came in.
"I fingered it for an hour, looking at it in every way, and then I saw that there were some small holes pricked. Well, I could not ask the woman what they meant, as I had told her I picked it up; so I went across to an Irishman, whose acquaintance I had made the day before, and who had recommended me, if I wanted work, to hire one of these chairs and get a comrade to help me carry it. I could see that he was a man who had seen better days. I expect he had come over in the time of the troubles, and had been forced to earn his living as he could; so I went to him.
"'I have got a message,' I said, 'pricked on a piece of paper. I picked it up, and am curious-like to know what it is about.'
"So he held it up to the light, and read out your message.
"'I think,' says he, 'it is some colleen who has made an appointment with her lover. Maybe she has been shut up by her father, and thought it the best way to send him a message.'
"'That is it, no doubt,' says I; 'and it is plain that it never came to his hand.'
"The next day, I went to him again with the second letter.
"'It's lying you have been to me,' he said. 'It is some plot you are concerned in.'
"'Well,' says I, 'you are not far wrong. I have some friends who have suffered for the Stuarts, and who have been laid by the leg, and it's myself who is trying to get them out of the hands of their persecutors.'
"'In that case, I am with you,' he said, 'for I have suffered for the cause myself; and if you want assistance, you can depend upon me.'
"'Thank you kindly,' says I. 'Just at present it is a one man job, but maybe, if I get them out, you will be able to give us some advice as to how we had best manage.'
"So that is how it stands, your honour."
"And now, tell us how you got away, Mike. You may guess how surprised we were, when we first made you out, believing that you were safe under lock and key at Harwich."
"The matter was easy enough," Mike said. "It took me two or three days to get to understand the position of the place, with water all round it except on one side; and it was plain that, if I were to start running, it is little chance I should have if I did not hit upon the right road. Luckily, they were mounting some cannon the day after you were taken away. We were ordered to go out and lend a hand, so it was not long before I learnt enough to know which road I ought to take. I was always a good runner, your honour, and many a prize have I carried off, at fairs in the old country, before troubles began. So it seemed to me that, if I could have anything of a start, I ought to be able to get off.
"There was nearly half a mile betwixt the town and the place where the narrow ground, at whose end it stood, widened out into the country. If I could only hold my own, as far as that, I could take to the woods and lanes and save myself.
"A guard of soldiers, with muskets and bayonets, went out with us, and at the end of the second day I managed to slip off, and hide behind a pile of cannonballs. The rest assembled at a spot about fifty yards away, to be counted before they marched to prison again. As soon as the others had got there, and the guards had gathered round, I went off as hard as I could tear. And a good start I should have got, if it hadn't been that a sentry on a fort close by fired his piece at me. Still, I had a good hundred yards' start.
"The guards set to, to run after me, and when they got in sight of me fired their guns; but they were flurried, and the bullets flew past without one of them touching me. Then I felt pretty safe. If they stopped to load their muskets, I should get clean away. If, as I expected, they would not stop for that, they would not have a chance with me, carrying their muskets and cartridge boxes and belts. I had taken off my coatee and boots, while I was waiting for the start, and went up the hill like a deer.
"I did not look round, till I got to the top. Then I found that I had gained a hundred yards of them. I doubled down a lane, at once, and then struck through some orchards; and ran, without stopping, maybe a couple of miles.
"I never heard any more of the soldiers, and knew that, for the present, I was safe, though maybe they would send some dragoons to scour the country when the news came in. I went on at a jog trot till it was quite dark; then I sat down to think what I should do next.
"I had got my four louis with me, for they hadn't found them when they searched me. The first thing was to get some duds, and I walked along till I saw a light in a cottage, which I entered. There were two women there. I told them at once that I wanted clothes, and was ready to pay for them; but that, if they would not give them to me for money, I should take them without paying. Though I could see that they doubted the payment, and regarded me as a robber, they brought out the clothes, which belonged, one of the women said, to her husband. I took what I wanted.
"'Now,' I said, 'how much shall I pay you for these?'
"They were still terribly frightened, and said that I was welcome. However, I put one of my louis down on the table. This was certainly more than the clothes ever cost, so I said:
"'Here is a gold piece, but I want a shilling in change, to buy food with.'
"At first, they evidently hardly thought that I was in earnest. Then at last, when they found that I really intended to give the money, they brightened up, and not only gave me a shilling in change, but offered me some bread and cheese, which I was glad enough to take.
"Then I put the clothes on over my own, not wishing to lave anything behind that would show searchers that it was I who had been there. I told the woman that the coin was a French one, but that it was worth about the same as an English guinea. I advised them to put it away, for the present, and not to try and change it for a few weeks, as enquiries might be made as to how they had obtained it.
"I had no difficulty on my way up to London. I avoided the main road till I got to Colchester, and after that walked boldly on, having money to pay for victuals. When I got to town, I changed another of my louis at a money changer's. He asked me where I had got it, and when I said that it was no business of his, but that it had been paid me by a French Huguenot gentleman, who had lately arrived, and for whom I had been doing some work; and as there are many of these Huguenots in London, he was satisfied, and changed it for me.
"I then fell across the Irish porter I told you of. He told me whereabouts I could get lodgings, and advised me to apply to one of the men who let out a number of sedan chairs, to hire one out to me by the week.
"Well, your honour, once I had taken the lodging, I thought no more of the chair, but went about the business for which I had come to London. I had not been an hour in the town before I made the acquaintance of half a dozen, at least, of my countrymen, and found out which was the prison in which you were kept. At first, I thought of going there and giving myself up, on condition that I might be employed as your servant. Then I thought, perhaps they would not keep their word to me, but would send me back to Harwich; and then the thought struck me that I might, some way or other, get your honours out of prison.
"When I first saw the place, it seemed to me that it was impossible. The place was mighty strong, the windows all barred, and I had no means of finding out where you were lodged. I spent a whole day in prowling round and round the jail, but sorra an idea came into my thick head, though I bate it wid my fists till it was sore; for, says I to myself, there is no lock so strong but it can be picked, if you do but know the right way. It was the second day, when I espied a little bit of white stuff at one of the windows. It might be a signal, or it might not, and even if it was, there was no reason why it should be yours, except that, I said to myself:
