The life and adventures of Jack Rann; alias sixteen-string Jack, the notorious highwayman

Preface

. Twelve months have wo journeyed together, gentle reader, and that long pilgrimage has been, I hope, for you as for me, one of happy companion ship. Iu portraying the life of Sixteen-string Jack, we have abided aa cloaely as posaible to the historical facts handed down of him, The commencement of his career as a coatermonger, is a literal fact, there being at the present day aged inhabitants, in the good City of Bath who well remember the musical voice, handsome face, ana persuading eloquence of the young tradesman. His subsequent career as a servant — his life on the road — connection with Elinor Roche, are all also more or less allied to truth. Whilst, however improbable it may appear, his having a cell full of young ladies to dine with him at almoat his last dinner upon earth, is also a verity.

Jack Rann throughout his gay career was an especial favourite with tho fair eex, and of his acts of gallantry many an exciting page could have been written, but as the work was destined for the main part to fall in youthful hands, it was considered judicious to omit his private amours. By JAMES LINDRIDGE. Author of " De Lisle," " Tyburn Tite," $c. LONDON : G. PURKESS, COMPTON STREE, SOHO. AND B01D BY ALL BCOKSELLEBf. IXTEEN-STRING JACK,

Chapter I. Jaok Rann Comes In

mOrRIA PERSON.E BEFORE «IE READERS. The fashionable city of Bath was one glorious November morning aroused by the cries of a vendor of harea, rabbits and vegetables. A slim, slight youth, of scarcely sixteen summers, was leading down the main street a donkey, grown grey and ancient in servitude, across whose back was thrown a couplo of hampers, having for contents the edibles before enumerated. 1 We have said he waa slight and slim, and so he was ; but had he bared his arm, he would have shown far more muscular power than many a man at twice his age. In appearance ho was extremely prepossessing. Dark-chesnut locks, falling in graceful curls (after the fashion of the time) down hie back, served only partly to hide a brow which, save from summer labour in the .•"elds, would have been one of snowy whiteness.

In addition, and to his further adomation, ho possessed a nose perfectly acqueline — none too long — none too short — but being, all in all, as aquiline as was originally intended to express — a perfect beauty ! And so it was. Surmounting this nose (as every one knows that knows anything) were a pair of eyes ! And these eyes, black as jet, and dark aa midnight, shot forth such lightning in their angry glances, in indignation or in quarrel, that many a spirited man, although possessing double age and double strength, succumbed, ere they would chance a conflict with Bold and Brave Jack Rann' Yes, Sixteen-String Jack — at once the bravest, most daring, dashing, and intrepid highwayman : whose glorious exploits on the road were unequalled ; whose adventures and spirits threw the boasted valour of Dick Turpin and Claude du Val far, far into the rear— waa once a peasant boy, and drove a donkey, laden with eatables, through the good city of Bath.

Here's a specimen of his akill as a salesman JACK RANN ; OE, Having led hia sonr-footed attendant to an open space situated near the centre of the city, he placed his hand to his mouth— after the manner of many of our metropolitan hawkers — and then shouted with a tone that made the old place ring again, "Buyers, buyers, buyers !" Ine worda had not left hia lipa many seconds, before door after door was opened, and many a damsel, who was more intent on a compliment from handsome Jack than the errand on which she was sent, tripped lightly and blithely towards our hero ; followed at a sober, steady pace, by not a sew matronly dames who, despising the vain glories of the world, were intent only on a cheap dinner and a good bargain. " Oh ! young bright eyes !" exclaimed Jack, as a pretty girl tripped towards him, " here we are again, young, blooming, aud beautiful ; with eyes like fire, cheeka like roaea, lips like Christiuaa berries, and hoarta as firm" — said Jack, pausing, and then suddenly breaking oft', for he was now surrounded by some by whom hia flattering speech would have been anything but a compliment—" and hearts aa firm," he repeated, diving into a hamper, " aa thia jolly savoy ." .And ho drew forth before the admiring eyes of hia auditors a fine large cabbage of the species named.

" Here's a specimen of vegetables! Only look! No buyers?" he asked, glancing round. "Well, I am glad of that, for I have been watching this fellow's growth for many a day ; in fact, eet him in a favourite piece of ground on purpose, that he might grow lusty and jolly ; and hasn't he, that's all ! Fact is, shouldn't have brought him out for sale, having reserved him for my own eating, but father being short of the mopuaaes — quarter-day coming on ye know — he made me. Poor old codger ! I assure you ho shed many a tear over it afore he would part with it; for, like his son," said Jack, drawing his cuff over hia eyes, with a ludicrous attempt at grief, " he likes good cabbage !" What, no buyers now ?" said Jack. " Yes, by all that's good great generous, beneficent and kind, here comes the tailor's wife, determined to treat her love to that, which of all things in this wide world he loveth best namely, a cabb — " What's that, you rascal ?" exclaimed the .ady, whoBe quick eara caught the phrase just in time to prevent its completion.

" What's that you say?" "What this?" Baid Jack, lifting the vegetable over his head, and turniug the point of conversation from being a personal remark on cabbage to the cabbage in his hand. "Why this, ma'am, is the finest specimen — a true spe cimen — of what a good gardener, on good ground, in old England can produce." " Lord a massy on the boy's tongue. Why, for talking, he bangs all the women in Bath, I do declare," said the tailor's wife. " Now, Jack though really — the lowest mite you can possibiy take, and perhaps — perhaps I may buy it." " Sold again, and got the money,' shouted Jack, sure of his customer. Here's a cabbage grown from Beed bought of the Eing of Savoy ata guinea an ounce, going for the insignificant sura of one penny." SIXTEEN- STRING JACK. 5 The money was paid without a demur, aud Jack pocketing the ccjn with tho utmost promptitude, turned to the young lady whom he had first accosted. ■' Now, my love, what can I do for you?"

" A rabbit," eimpered the girl. " A rare-bit!" replied Jack. " What do I see before me, eh ? Whet elee but the rarest bit of feminine loveliness that ever trod in two shoes? And what do I see here ?" said Jack, applying himself to his basket, and bringing forth a fine, plump little creature; "what do I 6ee here? why the finest, nimblest little fellow, when alive, that ever run on four feet." " Come, como, stop this rigmarole," said an old lady, tartly. " If you are going to serve us, don', talk so much about it, but do it, my time is too valuable to be Bpcnt in foolery in Bath streets." Business before pleasure," said Jack, by no means disconcerted or abashed, "an excellent reproof; and, by our lady, in most fitting time. Come, missis, don't be angry with poor Jack !" " Oh! get out with your foolery," eaid the woman turning away.

"I will, madam, and to business," eaid Jack, colouring slightly. "Come, as you are in great ha6te, it shall be your turn first — this young lady has a leeser distance and lighter legs to carry her over it, so with her usual ami ability, I hope she will allow the preference of age before honesty." " Age before honesty! what the devil does he mean by that?" grunted the old dame ; " I am as honest as most folks, I'll warrant, ugh ! How much for this?" she said, suddenly seizing a large rabbit, and endeavouring by lifting it up and down to calculate its weight. It was heavy, bony, and, as Jack fancied wiry and tough, "old womanish," he called it, not inaptly, perhaps, but what we, in modern parlance and in milder terms, should pronounce ancient. " How much?" eaid the dame ; having satisfied hereelf itwas a full weight one Jack announced the price in a whisper, in confidence, and to enhance the value of the bargain, in her ear.

" You are positive its young ?" " Was at its birth," answered Jack. " And tender ?" said the old woman, fumbling in her pocket for the money. " As a chicken.'' " You are n;t deceiving me now ? eh, you rascal ?" "Judge for yourself," answered Jack, carelessly. " Here, this will show you it's young," and he adroitly snapped a bone in the creature's foot. " Oh, you brute, you have broken it's leg," grumbled the old woman. "He'll run devil a whit the woise for it, marm," answered Jack, drily ; "Come, do you buy?'' "Yes, here's the money," said the old woman, seizing her prize and nobbling off. " Well sold ! ' exclaimed Jack, triumphantly, " that's dog bite cat with a vengeance ! She palmed a leaden sixpence off on me the other day, and now ha ! ha ! ha !" and his musical laugh rung clear and sharp in the brisk air " she has got my worth for her lead money, ha, ha, ha ! and I've some siller |o boot."

JAOK RANN J OR, " What is it, a tough 'un, Jack ?" inquired a bjstander. " It's jilst as," answered Jack, inflated with delight ; " something like our old cow wo killed the other day, and a rare feast we had, too, over her. My stars, such platefuls, such a tightener. While we were at it tooth and nail, in comes parson. ' Bless me, dear mo, God bless mo, Rann, what iiave you got for dinner ?' ' Beef, eh',' 6ays my father. ' Beef, sir,' replies parson, ' and can you, Bir — you sir, who have ever professed poverty, who have even dared to ask assistance from our impoverished city — can you with the utmost coolness, calmly and with unquivering conscience and unblushing front, sit down in the face of me, to whom you have come for parochial relief, and in the deceitful Btillness of your supposed humble home, sit down to tho sumptuous fare of roast beef?1 I could see dad's face redden at this, and a leer in his eye told me something good was coming. ' Parson,' says dad bluntly and boldly, ' when I 'plied to you I was not only in want of beef, but I was also in want of bread, and so was my kids.

Now, parson, circumstances ie a little altered, though I have none too much bread, I have plenty of beef, and all I can say,' says dad, ' as an honest man, is, that if you like to make my dinner an apology for your lunch, you are welcome to a snack.' ' Well, Rann, I will not refuse your invitation ; my walk has certainly given mo an appetite,' so down he sat. " Father sawed away at the joint. ' Your knife seems out of sorts,' said parson getting a little impatient at the delay ' why the fact of it ie,' said dad , resting a bit, ' I believe the knife has taken a perverse turn, it's like me, parson, it ain't used to beef, and so can't cut it. I am really afraid I ahall not be able to digest what I eat — I really am. There,' said dad, cutting off a sliver at last — 'there, you are heartily welcome, sir; ask a blessing, and fire away.' Parson mumbled over eomething, then seizing his knife and fork, he went to work, saw, saw. 'Rann,' eaid parson, 'you're knives aio wretchedly dull. ' Get another, Jack,' father says j I got him another.

The same old game, saw, saw, saw. At last ho did manage to get a piece into his mouth, and then he found out it was not the knives that were in fault, but the beef. Presently out he spat hia mouthful into the fire.' "What's the matter, sir?" asked father. "Rann," replied th'e parson " I asked you for beef and not mahogany." "And please, father, I asked you for beef," exclaimed my littlo sister Charlotte. " And beef I gave you," answered father, sternly. " Yes, father, but please, father, it is so hard, I think you must have cut it off the horns." " Didn't I laugh ! didn't we all laugh. Parson seemed inclined to melt. " One minute, Bir," said father, catching his button aa he was going away, " Tiay reduce a lesson from this, and learn when you viait a poor man's cottage, that you do so in the sacred capacity of a minister of God ; and not as you have done this day, enter hia house, to insult hia poverty — to wound his feelings— and to trample further down to the earth the care worn mao, instead of lifting him, as your duty is, where if performed nearer to SIXTEEN-STRING JACK.

Heaven. Get you gone — and as true aa I stand here," said Jack, then dad opened the door, and showed him the way out. " And earve him well right," said tho old matron, " for a nasty prying sneak as he is ; but come, Jack, my dear boy serve ua, and let's be going." '■ Right, ma'am," eaid Jack, Betting to his work in a business like manner. ' ' I have only to divest this young gentleman of his coat, for the benefit of this young lady, and then I am at your service." The rabbit was skinned in a twinkling. " Here he is," said Jack, " and a fine plump little fellow he is, but, if they grumble at your stopping sq long, my darling, tell them all 1 have told you, and bo then they'll all want to come and if they do come, I shall have all the more customers, and the more the merrier. Good bye ; here, half a minute," said Jack, " perhaps you'll be kind enough to ask Mrs. Thingamay how the rabbit ate I sold her.

He was a rare old gentleman and no mis take — great — great grandfather to the one you hold in your hands, and was to the day of his death, regularly, the oldest inhabitant of the rabbit warren. We should have shot him, but 'pon honour, he grew so childish it was a a mercy to kill him. Good bye, my love — I'll remember you in my dreams," eaid Jack, then disposing of hi3 wares to one and the other almost like magic, serving all generously, and leaving all well satisfied, both with the goods they had purchased and with him they had purchased of. Jack found himself with empty hampers; and whistling a blythe tune, he turned his donkey's bead, as his mission was fulfilled, towards home. On tho road home, Jack fell in with a companion — a dark-haired full whiskered fellow ; glorying in a full round smock, ruddy face, and a rare poitly person.

This man's name was Jones he was celebrated aa a poacher, and on aundry and divers small occasions, such crimes aa sheep stealing, horse etealing, and house-breaking were laid to his charge ; but no positive proof beiug obtainable, he had been on all times acquitted, and though he was viewed with a Bharp and suspicious eye by the various justices and their minions, the constabulary, he still walked a free man ou the king's highway. On catching sight of our hero, thia person broke into the polite exclamation of — "Strike me ! and is it yourself, handsome Jack, coming home with your moke, and empty hamper's thia time o' day ? Strike me ! aummut must a' happened or you'd never a' show'd your fair skin here yet at thia hour, I knows." " Oh! you waa always famous for swearing too much," was all the reply Jack condescended to give him ; then striking his donkey with his hand, he trotted beside it to keep pace with the animal's increased speed ; his intention was evident — it was to rid himself of an undesirable companion.

" He too, cuss him, like all the rest, treats me like a scurvy hound — like a mangy dog," muttered Jones, with vehement bitterness, between his clenched teeth; "but I'll be even with him ; I'll do eummut ; I'll teach him to respect Luke Jones ; I'll tread him under my sect, as I would a snail. I'll crush him to the earth, I will ; and by God I will bring him to the gallows. Yes, if I swing "* ; OR, The man'a face, ever dark, grew purple as he gave vent to these bitter words, and were, in fact, as disgusting as they were frightful to look upon. But Jack, happily for him then, though unhappily for him hereafter, trotted on beside his docile companion, pleasantly and quickly, without hear ing or heeding the words. To dismiss from his countenance the angry look and the ominous frown, was, with Luke Jones, the work of but an instant— so great an adept waa he in the vile art of dissimulation, that all traces of evil thoughts and malign intent vanished from his face as a summer cloud does before the hurrying winds of heaven.

Jones, by dint of running at considerable speed, speedily overtook our hero, who, upon hearing a footstep behind, immediately stopped aud faced about. "Halloa !" he said to Jones, "what now ?'' " Nothing, Jack," was the reply, " but — " " Oh. if it's nothing," eaid Jack. " why you are served at once, and are welcome to take it — and go !" " You're over witty to day, maeter Jack, sharp aa a needle'; strike me ! bs full of pointed replies as a blackthorn is o' prickles. Now pray master Jack, pray don't despise the companionship of poor Luke Jones — did I ever do you any harm 1" "No!" answered Jack, bluntly. " Then, why spurn me as you would a spitting toad — why treat a fellow man as you would a 'ojus snake, eh, Jack ?" This appeal was touching Jack in his vulnerable part, for Jack Rann was all generosity — far moro prone to good intents and generous deeds, than evil ones " Dash me down, Luke," said Jack, extending his hand, " but if I've hurt your feelings, I beg your pardon, that I do !

But you know, Luke — you must know your character ain't such a one, as one likes to clash against." " It ain't" answered Luke, with every appearance of openness, " more's the pity. But Jack, lad, if I have done bad to others, has not others done bad to me? and bad as I have been, Jack, I have been always drove to it ; and get a bad name, Jack, be it ever so little, and the devil's own name will cling to you ever after. I speak from experience, Jack ; I 6peak, to my sorrow, for I've felt and knows what it is to be shunned, hated, and despised ; yes, Jack, and the knowledge that the folks of Bath believed me to be ten times worser than I was — that every tongue around me scoffed and reviled — that every eye meeting mine looked but ecorn— that every fellow man around mo looked upon mo with suspicion, and this contempt has raised the devil in my soul, and has drove me to ten times more sin than I should have com mitted ; it has hardened my heart, Jack, until I have hated every fellow creature — it has steeled my soul — that aught of evil that waa to be doue ; I've found nerve to do it, Jack ; it has ruined me, body and soul ; it has ruined met" As Jones finished these word, tears fell — waters of hypocrisy filled his eyes.

Touched at the sight of this man's distress, a man whom he had but SIXTEEN-STRtNQ JAOK. 9 hitherto considered desperately bad, beyond redemption, Jack was moved to his heart's core, aud poured forth, in a flood of soothing words, his indigna tion at the world's treatment, and hia pity and sympathy with the object of them ; begging in the same breath, again and again, his forgiveness for his ungenerous conduct. Although Luke's words were clothed in deceit, and spoken with a full in tent to the well being of the generous young man, who now in friendly in tercourse walked quietly by hia side, they yet contained the germ of a sad and dreadful truth. Every day we have undeniable proofs of the evil to which hie words referred; how far a sin, be it ever so light and simple, such is the rule of No 2.

J OR, society, that the person committing that sin is for ever banished, spotted shunned, and an outcast. We do not argue that a man would be acting a discreet part in taking into hia service a man who is known to have com mitted theft, or haa been convicted of a crime, be it petty larceny, or, robbery, or what not. We can only regret that, after the first false step, there is not a govermental provision made — that he may have the chance, if he has the inclination, of earning his own bread by the sweat of his brow. " I feel for you, Luke," exclaimed Jack Rann, " I swear I do, by all's that's good ! What else can I say." " Nothing, Jack," answered Luke, with enthusiasm, " for I now know you are what I always thought you — summat better than tho common herd — cuss 'em ! You're a brave, generous, sensible follow."

To say that young Rann did not feel flattered by these worda would be to lies, as the mantling blood that then crimsoned his cheek, told he took the words in pride and honour to himself. "I tell ye what, Luke," said Jack, after a thoughtful pause. — " What ?" queried Jonea, anxiously peering into his companion's face. " That it strikes me, Luke, instead of beiDg, like you are, a poor devil of a poacher — instead of lurking about here as you say you have, half a begger find half a thief, I would have played devil-may-care at once — would have chanced the rope — snapped my finger at the gallows— would have turned — " " Would have turned," repeated Luke, as Jack in his vehemence, literally paused for breath. — " A highwayman ! Luke — a glorious, daahing highwayman at once !" eaid Jack, in ecstasy.

" Yes, let me but crosa the back of a gallant steed — let me but feel want behind my back and a chance before my face, and with mask covered face and pistol in hand, show me the man that dare refuse my stand and deliver." I "ke absolutely paused in amazoment at Jack, as suiting word to tbe action, and action to the word ; the latter stood with firm planted foot, with. flashing eye, and with extended hand ; in action, thought and look, the very beau ideal of a " Knight of the Road." " Strike me, Jack !" cried Luke, " you've the soul of a man ! blast me if I aint struck all of a heap — why who'd a thought it ! Here's pluck — here's bottom ! almost equal to Dick Turpin hisaelf." "Equal to Dick Turpin," cried Jack, with a sneer in the curl of his hand some lip. "Equal! ha, ha, ha! if ever I was driven on the road— and, if I am, Luke, it will be from necessity, not from choice — I never waa a thief yet, and I never will bo unless I am forced, but if I do, Luke, it shall be to raise a name that shall last in the pages of history as long aa the word High wayman lives in the English language — shall last, ah ! until dick torpin's same, like hia body, shall be mouldered and forgotten."

" And," asked Luke, half ironically, " in what name then may future generations hail their hero ?" * See note I. at end of book " Expect ! i'faith," answered Jack, " I, a poor hawker-boy, have neither hope or expectation of living in fame or name beyond the term of my natural life ; but had I such a thought or intent of figuring in the chronicles of Newgate, I swear to you that the only name that should eclipse that of Dick Turpin for devilry, bravery and adventure, should be that of '» " Whose ?" enquired Luke. " Jack Rann !"

Chapter II. Whekbin Jaok Rann Proves Himself Possessed Of

" PLUCK," As Jack, accompanied by Luke, proceeded on hia journey homeward, they oamo at length to a wall surrounding a gentleman's mansion and lawn. Luke inquisitively peeped over, and something attractive catching his eye, he called out — " Strike me sensible, Jack, if old squire aint got a party. My eyes, eich a lot o'gals, and here's some coves a skating and sliding — blow me ! who'd a thought it had freezed so hard as that ?" " I should for one," answered Jack, after calling to hia moke to stop, " for our cabbages and taters were awful frost bit this day or two past. Hallo !" he shouted, springing upon the wall, in order to view the scene more at his ease. " Old Giles looks as if he found the ice uncommon slippy, don't he. Why, he'B going on any how, now he's down ! ha, ha, ha!" and Jack being a rare lover of mischief, laughed loudly at the sport.

Luke had by this time joined Jack on the wall, and accompanied our hero's laugh with a loud hurrah ! " Bravo, old 'un," shouted Luke, " that takes the shine out of 'em — there's summut stunning in that — show 'em the same caper agin my wenerable." We know of nothing worse in the way of sporting punishment than a ueavy fall on the ice ; a bruised shaken body is bad to bear, and one need have like-Job patience to bear it ; but when, in addition you are assailed with contemptuous laughter, then the punishment becomes double — it is un bearable. The squire, or old Jonea, aa lie war more commonly called, after kicking his legs in all directions, and slipping abont in anything but a scientific! manner, was at length, by the help of his friends, restored to bis feet. Turnjack rank; or, ing his face, scarlet, from over-exertion, passion, and excitement, to wher« young Rann and Jones were seated, he bawled — " Get off my wall, you villains !"

" You're very kind, old gent'man. but we shan't fall; we'ie safer here then you are in them skates." " Aye, that we are, I pound it," said Jones, laughingly ; then turning his conversation to the squire, he bid hinv buckle to and show his agility. " Oh, you scoundrels," exclaimed the old gentleman, in a towering passion, ' I'll teach you who you are insulting — I'll lock you up, you thieves, I will, for trespassing." " Who do you call a thief? ' said Jack Rann. " I tell you what it is, old fellow, you best be after minding what you are Baying, or I'll be down upon you with an action for libel, and no flies." " Ha, ha, ha !" laughed Luke, tickled at the impudence of the threat. " Bravo, Jack, that's the way to talk to them cantankerous old warmints." Here was unbearable insolence! The rich squire to be bearded on hia own grounds, before a company of visitors, by a mere boy, the son of a poor market gardener, who lived from hand to mouth, by hawking ; and to be in sulted, in addition, by Luke Jones, the discharged labourer and the reputed theif !

The great mans indignation know no bounds. " You varlets, you shall pay dearly for this temerity ;" and clinching his words with a blasphemous word, he swore he would hunt them with his dogs, if they were not off. .1'}. " I say, Jack," said Luke, " the sooner we make ourselves scarce the bettor I have no fancy of becoming meat for dogs. " Then go," said Jack, with a sneer. " If he sets his dogs at me, he sball rue it ; " and the lad, in his deBperate humour, drew a long clasp-knife from his pocket, and opened the formidable blade with his teeth. " What would you do, Jack ?" inquired Luke, with a glistening eye. " Do," replied Rann, " defend myself, that's all ; I won't be called thief for nothing If either of hia dogs assail me, by the living God they shall taste cold steel." " Do you mean that, Jack ?" inquired Luke.