The Life and adventures of Tom King : the highwayman

Chapter I

I such a motley assemblage as London rarely saw, turned from the Old Bailey into Snow-hill. There was a party of mounted officers of police, with cutlasses in their hands, and formidable thick holster-pistols stuck in their girdles. Or e of the sheriffs of London, looking any thing but delighted with tbe business he TOM SHOWS THE AUTHORITIES THAT ALL ARE NO_ LOST WHO ARE IN DAGGER. — A RACE ON THE WESISRN HOAD. _ St. Sepulchre's clock had just struck mne, and a drizzly shower was falling, as Ko. was npon, rode, pale and agitated, after the police, and then came a cart drawn by a thick-set powerful . horse.blind of one eye, and of very doubtful vision with the other. By the stolid indifference with which this horse proceeded, despite a ringing shout that arose from the throats of about five thousand people, one might conclude that deafness like wise was among his infirmities.

By each side of the cart, rode men armed to the teeth, and it was followed by another party of police, so that, take it for all in all, the escort was unusually strong. But it is to the occupants of the cart that we would direct the most special attention. First, there was a coffin— not a very ornamental one, certainly, but still a coffin it was, with a double row of rather glaring white nails down each side of the lid. It was placed right across the front part of the cart, so that its ends projected some half a foot each way, and it was a prominent object above the heads of the crowd. Oh, what a crowd that was ! In the cart was a brawny looking thiek-set man, with red hair, without his coat. His sleeves were tucked up, and he was in the act of lighting a short pipe, as the cart turned out of the Old Bailey into Snow-hill.

That man was the public executionei. He cared as little for the wild yelling of the mob, as did the horse with the doubtful external senses. With a prayer-book in his hands, and in full canonicals, the chaplain of New gate steadied himself by one arm against the side of the cart, while amid fee din, he read some prayers to a man, who, if the truth must be told, paid more at tention to the thousands of upturned faces around him than he did to the words of the divine. That man stood in the middle of the flooring of the cart. His hands were folded across his chest, and with an easy grace, he swayed gently to the movements of the cart, as a practised sailor might do upon the deck of his vessel to the pitching and tossing of the waves. He was above the middle height, and rather slim in figure ; his hair was jet black, and hung in massive folds down to his shoulders ; his eyes were brilliantly dark, and but for the paleness of his face— a paleness approach ing to what might be called a positive whiteness - he might have been looked upon as singularly handsome, and in the prime of his youth and strength.

He wore a buff-coloured coat, within which could be seen a vest of scarlet silk, that, when the coat at times blew aside for a moment, had rather a startling effect. A cravat ot white silk, with a fringe of deep point lace, was round his neck, one end of which was tucked carelessly into the waistcoat. He wore tall horseman's boots, and he was bare headed. As we have said, the clock of St. Sepulchre's struck nine as this cortege hurried from the Old Bailey into Snow hill, and slowly took its way towards Holborn. "The shout that the mob — that gigan tic mob that, early as the hour was, had been long collecting — set up was abso lutely deafening. It was Monday, and Ssaithfield had poured forth all its crowds to witness the procession. Field-lane, and the frightful rookeries beyond it, and upon each side of it to Gray's-Inn- Boad on the one hand, and right away to St. Bartholomew's on the other, had , supplied a strong force, and Fleet Market, too, had contributed its hundreds to swell the assemblage.

But in addi tion to all those, parties had come from all parts of London and its suburbs to witness the march to Tyburn of one whose exploits had begun to be in every body's hearing. St. Giles's had sent its swarms ofthe idle, the dissolute, and the dishonest, to make up tbe crowd ; and by the time the head of the procession reached Holborn Bridge, it was forced to come to a dead stand. The yells and other cries, shouts, shrieks, and every variety of noise or execration which the human voice was capable of giving utterance to, now transcended all description. The officers pressed more closely round the cart. The clergyman dropped his book in trepida tion, and the hangman withdrew his pipe from his mouth. The prisoner stood with his arms still folded across his breast, unmoved, or apparently unmoved, by all the riot and racket that was taking place around him.

That prisoner was Tom King tha highwayman, the companion of Dick Turpin, and one who had, after some of the most daring exploits that had ever been performed upon the road, been treacherously captured — tried at the then present sessions, and upon the smallest possible amount of testimony that would suffice to accomplish that object, been at once condemned to death. body knew what, the procession reached the head of GrayVInn-Road, then as now anything but a very choice thoroughfare, although, then as now, from its situation it might have been made one of the best outlets from Holborn. At this point, the mob acquired fresh power, for some three or four hundred people were stationed at the head of Gray's-Inn-Road to join the procession, and another stoppage took place, as they all made a rush to take the lead of the dense throng that had accompanied Tom King and his guards from the City.

One of the horses belonging to the officer fell, and instead of helping the man to rise, tbe mob rolled over bim, and a melee began, that at one time threatened to be of rather a fearful character. The screams of women and children, the shouts and outcries of the men, and the clatter of the horses' feet, made up such a medley of sounds, that was fearful to listen to. By a vigorous charge, heedless of the amount of mischief they did, the officers brought off their comrade from amid the mob, but his clothes were torn to tatters, and he had been so mauled, that they were fain to place him in the cart, where be lay upon his back, looking much more like a fitting candidate for the coffin than Tom King. " Ob, tnis is very dreadful 1" said the clergyman to the condemned man. " You ought to feel that it is you who are the real author of all this riot and mischief, young man ; and it is truly shocking to find you so hard of heart; even yet, when you are at each step approaching death."

Tom waved his Land, and slightly smiled. The mob did not know_ what it was at ; but they saw tbe action, and raised a shout of — " Bravo Tom ! Hurrah!— hurrah!" He was on his way to Tyburn. " Puch on," cried the sheriff, turning almost a shade paler than was the prisoner who was fceing taken to death. 8 Push on. This won't do." The man who had the care of the torse was on foot, and now that he saw the sheriff was determined to make way, he proceeded to use his whip ; aud hold ing the horse by the bridle, the caval cade again moved on slowly through the throng of people up Holborn-hill. The mounted officers used their cutlasses flatwise ; and after something of a scuffle with the more forward of the crowd, and some half-dozen broken heads, a way was cleared, and the cavalcade moved slowly past St. Andrew's Church.

Tbe most ticklish spot was now con sidered to be past ; for it was where Field Lane on tbe one side, and Fleet Market and Shoe Lane on the other, sent forth their streams of rabble, that the officers feared if an attempt at all at the rescue of the prisoner should take place, it would be there attempted. That some thing of the sort was apprehended, was sufficiently evidenced by the unusual strength of the police force sent with the party upon the occasion. The mob now appeared to be more inclined upon cheering the prisoner on his route to death, than upon rescuing him. It is rather a remarkable circum stance, that in not one solitary instance did the immense mobs collected upon tbe occasion of popular favourites being taken to death at Tyburn, really rescue any one ; and yet in twenty cases at the least, the populace assembled in force enough to have walked over the escort.

It was in the lull, after this ringing— shout such a lull as was sure to follow it, when every one who had joined his breath to it stopped to rest from the exertion— -tbat one clear note from a bugle horn struck upon the ear. Nobody knew where this note came from ; and yet everyone heard it, and looked around for tiie author of the sound ; but the effect that it produced upon Tom King was manifest to all. The moment the sound of the bugle struck upon his ear, a vivid flush came over his previously pale face, and his eyes " Keep np, Tom !" cried one. "A stout heart, old feller," would shout an other! "Not dead yet!" screamed a third; and with such like cries and vociferations ringing in the air, and occasionally some immense shout at no- ADVENTDKES OF a keen eye. The officers who were upon the watch for his slightest move ment, did not fail to notice the change of demeanour, but what it porteuded they had no possible means of guessing.

Contrary, however, to all supposition upon that point, the cavalcade passed through St. Giles's without any demon stration in favour of the prisoner, beyond the usual yelling and shouting which had accompanied him all the way from New gate ; and when once the procession had turned iuto Oxford Street, it got on at a much better pace, for the majority of the mob feeliug now apparently convinced that the execution would really take place without any doubt, set off at a race, to get to the place appointed by Tyburn Gate, and secure the best place before the prisoner could arrive. "Well, Tom," said the hangman, "it's all up with you, I take it, uow; lighted up with a brilliancy that, for a moment, was dazzling. It was only for a moment, though, that the condemned mansufferedany one to see how deeply he j was interested in the bugle note. ; " What's the meaning of that ?" said the sheriff to the officer who rode the ■ nearest to him. j " I don't know, sir, but I don't like it.

It sounds like a signal of some sort." " A signal ? Then it can only be a signal tbat Tom King is going to be hanged at Tyburn." '• I hope so, sir." " liou hope so ? Well, that is a good idea, when yon see him in the cart, Mr. Officer. There will be no attempt at rescue, much, as it was threatened by I | don't know how many letters to New- | gate. People who mean to embark in ! suoh a course, don't look so much bei and I hope you won't feel any malice, as you go out of the world, to a poor fellow, who only does his duty. You know, if I didn't do the job, there's plenty that would." forehand." The officer grinned his acquiescence in the sentiment, and then with a nod, he said — " If they try on anything, sir, it will be by St. Giles's church, but it ain't at all likely." "Certainly not. Now, come on quicker, will you there, with the cart !

Are we to be all day reaching Tyburn ?" A groan from the mob, levelled at the sheriff, showed bow they appreciated his services upon the occasion; and a pebble was thrown into the cart, striking the executioner on the arm. " Wait till it's done," said Tom. "Wait till it's done? Umpli ! it won't matter, I take it, then, Tom King. Do you recollect what the recorder said,. when he sentenced you to dance upon nothing, at Tyburn-tree ?" " Yes. He said that he was very sorrv to part me from my dear friend, Dick Turpin, but that he hoped to have the pleasure of sending bim after me, next sessions. Was not that it F" " Ten guineas reward for the man who threw that !" cried tbe sheriff. " Ha ! ha !" laughed the hangman. "Ecod, it was.— Ha!" " Silence !" said the chaplain. " How dare you, at such a time as this, indulge in unseenly mirth F" " There it is, again !" cried the sheriff, as once more the bugle sounded on the damp morning air, for tbe rain still fell.

" There it is, again ! Where did that sound come from F" "How much for the woman?" cried a shrieking female voice in the crowd. This produced a roar of laughter at the expense of the sheriff, who, although he thought he actually saw the virago from whence the words came, did not deem it prudent to attempt her capture, but upon the maxim of always finishing the business you have on hand first, be fore you begin anything else, he rode on now in gloomy anger. The appearance of Tom King now was rather strange. He had again, after his brief gesture to the chaplain, by way of reply to his exhortation, folded his arms across his chest, but although he kept his head rather down, it was tolerably evident that he was scanning the outsldrts of the crowd with rather This time Tom King just caught his breath at the moment, and then he sub dued every appearance of unwonted emo tion, and looked calmly around him, as though he too was as much puzzled as any one to know where the bugle sound came from.

The officers looked rather perplexed, but although they raised themselves in their stirrups, and took long aud wistful glances about them, tbey could not see any one who seemed at all a likely per son to have made the sound. " There's more in this than meets the eye or tbe ear, either, sir," said one of the mounted men to the sheriff. your career is over now. Look about you, and take a last glance at London." "Very good," said Tom. *' Ha ! ha ! it is very good. Push on, will you, with the horse there ! What do you mean by crawling in such a way, sir ?" The man who had charge of the horse's head, was one of the unner-turnkeys of Newgate, or probably lie might not have taken the rough reproofs of the sheriff quite so meekly as he did. As it was, however, he gave the horse two or three savage cuts with the whip, and the whole cavalcade went on at a kind of trot that was so distressing to the chaplain, that he was fain to call out that it should be moderated to a walk again, which was done accordingly.

" Ah, what does it mean ?" "Why, I don't know, sir." " Indeed, I could have told you as much as that; but pass tbe word among your comrades for them to look to their pistols. I don't know yet what may happen, but this I do know, that if Tom King sees twelve o'clock again in this world, I will never ride as sheriff to a banging again." " What will you take for tbe bay horse ?" said Tom King, as he looked calmly in tbe sheriff's face, for the speech of that functionary was addressed to him. " This horse, do you mean ?" " Yes, to be sure, Mr. Sheriff, for if you never ride to a banging again, I don't at all see what you want with him."

Chapter II. Tom Is

A BETTER JUDGE OF THINGS IN GENERAL THAN THE SHERIFF. Notwithstanding that a great por tion of the crowd had certainly gone on in advance of the cart, yet the mob that followed it, and still surrounded it, was very great. Itinerant ballad singers chanted quite close to the officers the exploits of Tom King in verse, and one mendicant, in stentorian accents, lad the gross impertinence to offer, for one half penny, his dying speech and confession, which certainly was, upon the whole,, rather a premature productiou. From Soho, a great throng, too, joined the procession, that neighbourhood being then, as it is now, not very choice in its morals ; so tbat, by the time the gallows had actually appeared in sight, towering above tbe densely-packed throng of people who surlounded it, tbere were as many people accompanying the proces sion, as there were waiting for it by Tyburn Gate".

Perhaps, even with all his courage, Tom King did not like tbe sight of the gallows ; for he resolutely kept his back to tbe horse, so that he saw nothing of it, until one tremendous shout from the dense crowd around it warned him that he must be close at hand to it. He then turned with a sharp jerk, and faced it. "A11'3 right," cried the sheriff. " Clear the way, officers — clear the way for the cart ! In good time, too !" The sheriff shook his head. " You carry it off boldly," he said, " my fine fellow ; but perhaps wheu you get a hempen cravat round your neck, instead of that silken one, perhaps we shall hear you sing a different tune." " Don't make too sure of tbat, Mr. Sheriff," said Tom. " Over confidence is the ruin of many." " Well, we shall see. Just look ahead, Tom King, and tell me what you can see now."

Tom did not look ahead. He knew quite well to what the sheriff alluded, without looking at all ; but he said, with something of a heightened colour — " I know well, tbat from first to last, from my capture to my condemnation, I have had your bad word ; and I don't know why, for I never took a penny piece from you or yours. I am of a forgiving disposition, Mr. Sheriff, but there are times and seasons when people go a trifle too far with me. Mind you don't do so." "That! for your times and seasons," said tbe sheriff, as he snapped bis fingers close to Tom King's face. " I don't mcau to deny but that you are a daring rascal, and that if you and 1 were upon Hounslow-healh, I should pay some attention to what you might say ; but understood, from the manner of the sheriff, that they were to be indulged with.

Another minute, and the cart halted under the gallows. With an adroitness, that practice and a total heedlessness of the consequences to any one who might be in the way had given them, the officers now, with their drawn cutlasses, formed round the cart and the gallows, and the last hour of Tom King appeared to have arrived. The hangman rose up, and from round his waist proceeded to uncoil the rope which was to do the work of death, and the chaplain, with his hand upon Tom's arm, earnestly spoke to him. "Let us all hope, now," he said, "you hardened sinner, that you will see the error of your ways, and repent be fore it be too late. You now stand upon the brink of tbat eternity, into wliich when, you have plunged, you will find—" " Yes," said Tom, " I know all that ; but do you tbink you can reconcile a man to death by such talking ?

I tell yon, as I told the judge, when he condemned me to death — and he was well pleased to do it — that, although I was guilty of many tbings, I was innocent of the charge that I was condemned upon." " Oh, do not say that, you hardened youug man !" "Indeed! Why not?" " Because tbe law has decided other wise." The sheriff looked at his watch, and gave a grim sort of smile ; for he did not now entertain the shadow of a doubt of the execution taking place according to arrangement. Tom King's face was now a little flushed, and that flush lent him quite a rare beauty. He had never in all his life — to be sure that was not a very long time, for he was then only twenty-seven —looked so decidedly handsome as he did at that moment, when death appeared to be before bim, and when every one in tbat vast assemblage fully believed that it would have been no great effort of arithmetic to have counted his mortal life in minutes.

The officers who were foremost, made themselves into a kind of compact wedge, and began to fight and push a path for the horse and cart through the closely packed throng ot people. It seemed marvellous how, by any possible amount of violence, a passage could be at all procured for the cavalcade; but it was, after a time, so procured, and at the expense of a fewer broken heads than any one would have supposed. A mob, after being squeezed as tightly as you would fancy it possible for it to go, will yet bear a little more compres sion ; aud so, in a tortuous way, Tom King was led to the fatal spot where so many had perished before him. The vociferations of the people were perfectly deafening during the slow pro gress of the cart. Some called upon him to die game ; others shouted, they knew not why, but that they had heard the saying somewhere, that he was worth fifty dead ones yet ; the women cried shame upon the law for hanging so very handsome a man ; and one or two stones that were thrown at the police, gave some indication that there were many in the crowd who only wanted a little egging on to make a regular riot of it.

Tbe officers who were struck, began to handle tbeir pistols, but the sheriff cried out to them,— " Wait a bit, my lads !— Wait & bit ! Let us get business over first, and then, perhaps, we may not take things quite so easy." The officers understood him, and nodded their satisfaction at the idea of having a g Hop amongst tbe mob after the execution was over, which they fully "Oh! and so the law makes facts, does it . Well, I never knew of that before. But, come — I dare say, now, that in your way you mean well by exhorting me as you do ; so I thank you for it, and if I must die, I die in peace with all men." " That is something," said the chaplain ; " but it is nothing unless you die in the faith of the established church, by law set up, and kept up, in this country." " Come, come," said the sheriff.

" All is ready." " Die game, Tom !" shouted a voice from the crowd. " Give him a cheer, lads, and let him go off with it in his ears. Hip ! hip ! hip ! hurrah ! One cheer more for Tom King ! Hurrah !" Amid the deafening roar of the peo ple, the hangman intimated, by holding up one end of the rope to the sheriff, that he was quite ready for his part of the job. The other end he had fastened fairly to the cross beam of the gallows, and by hanging his whole weight upon it for a moment, had satisfied himself that it was firm. i " Why, keep ont of the noose as long ! as you can. Is that to be made a matter to stare at, eh ? But get out of the way, Mr. Jack Ketch, lf this is to be my iast hour, let me say my say to those who have come to see me die." The hangman shrank back to the other side of the cart, and Tom King, with one foot upon its edge, looked at the sea of heads before him, and held up his hand as an indication that he was going to speak.

For some few moments the most uproarious demands for silence were made in every variety of tone. '* Hat's off !" cried a hundred voices. " Hear—hear ! Bravo I Tom King ! Hold your row! Stop that fellow's bawling! Go it Tom! Hurrah!" These, and a thousand other discordant noises, made up such a tumult, that it was some minutes before Tom King began to speak ; bnt when he did, the great anxiety to hear him kept the multitude tolerably quiet, and it was a strange sight to see the man who was waiting for death, addressing that euormous mass of people, who, with one movement, could have saved him, and who really did wish to save him, but for want of some directing hand, remained inert. In aloud, cigar voice, Tom King spoke, and to the furthermost margin of tbe crowd, now, every word he said was audible.

The mob saw these proceedings of the executioner, and began groaning at him, while various pieces ot friendly advice were shouted to him as to the best mode of testing the strength of the ro??u '* Put yonr neck in it, old boy," cried one, "and we will pull your legs !" " Try it yourself," said another, " and hang the consequences !" " Less hang the sheriff!" said a third. This suggestion was greeted by a roar of laughter, but the sheriff did not seem at all to see the fun of it. He looked scowlingly about him, and mut tered— " Just wait till this job is over, my fine fellows, that's all, and maybe you will get a kick or two from the horses' heels." Tom King was evidently, with some anxiety, looking far away towards the outskirts of the crowd. There was now, upon his face, an aspect of intense expectation ; but what it could mean, no one but himself had the least idea, or could hazard the smallest conjecture.

"Now, Mr. Executioner," said the sheriff, "what are you waiting for F" " For me," cried Tom King. " You surely don't want to hang a man out of the world so quickly ! I believe it is usual to let a poor fellow say a few words of warning to the people before yoa turn him off F" " Oh, pho ! pho ! what can you want to say V " That's quite impossible for you to know, till you hear me, Mr. Sheriff. Of course, I sball do what's right. But I never heard of a poor fellow being turned off at Tyburn till he had had his say." "Be quick then, about it. You set yourself up for a brave mau, but it seems to me that yon wish to keep out of tbe noose as long as you possibly can, at any rate, King." " Which is very wonderful !" said Tom. " I beUeve you intend to do the same thing." "The same things What do you mean F" " Friends all— -you have come here to ' see me die. 1 can't say how mnch obliged to you I am for the compliment, but I know it is nlot to see a man take leave of his breath that you crowd round the gallows, but it is to bave a last look at poor Tom King, who in all his life never took a penny-piece from a poor man, but who has many a time poured his gold into the lap of the widow, and of the fatherless."

"Bravo!" yelled the mob. " Bring him away !" cried the sheriff. "This won't do." " Hold yet a moment," said Tom Kiug. " I am going to confess." "He says, he is going to confess," said the chaplain. "Let him do tbat." " Go on — go on ! Let him go on !" shrieked the mob. Tom raised his hand, and all was still again. How strange that the man who was such an idol with a multitude of some TOM KING. 8 sisted, and suddenly turning upon the hangman, he, with the greatest ease, tilted him out of the cart. Half-a-dozen officers sprang upon Tom King in a moment, and prevented him from taking any sort of advantage, il he had attempted to do so, of the temporary defeat of the hangman. " Hold him !" cried the sheriff, " hold him tight ! This comes of bringing a prisoner to Tyburn unpinioned ; but my colleague, Sheriff Brown, would needs have it so, to show that we were not afraid of him.