Chapter LI
COLONEL BLOOD HAS HIS REVENGE—STORMY INTERVIEW—MEETING IN THE WOOD—A STARTLING INCIDENT—DISCOVERY OF THE VICTIM—THE DEATH-BED CURSE.
It was a bold thing for Wildfire Ned to do, but he had sworn to accomplish the rescue of Ellen Harmer, and the gallant deed was accomplished.
Outside the palace gardens stood a carriage and four noble horses, ready to convey the fair Ellen to her father’s home.
Bob Bertram was the driver, and outside waiting for Ned Warbeck stood Lieutenant Garnet.
“Bravo, Ned!” said Garnet. “You have got the girl safe?”
“Yes,” said Ned; “but, as I expected, not without opposition and a sharp fight. I met Colonel Blood, and we crossed swords. He fell in less than a minute. I pushed my way up the back staircase, and rescued the maiden right under the nose, and in open defiance of the king.”
“I fear you will suffer for all this, Ned.”
“No matter. I care not for king or any one when virtue and honor are at stake. Drive on, Bob, with all your might.”
Bob Bertram did not want bidding twice.
He lashed up his four horses, and away went Ellen Harmer towards Darlington at full speed, whither Sir Edward Warbeck and her father had gone before her.
When she arrived there, Ellen was thoroughly exhausted with the length of the journey, and retired to rest immediately; and in her slumbers did not dream of the cruel fate which awaited her.
In the morning she was much better, and was visited by her foster sister, whom she loved more dearly perhaps than any one on earth.
This foster sister told her all that had transpired in the house since the fatal night of her abduction.
When she heard of Andrew’s mishap in being desperately wounded, and thrown from the bridge by some unknown man, Ellen wept bitterly; for in her heart she knew the villain must and could be none other than the cold-hearted, treacherous, Colonel Blood.
But when her foster sister told her also that Andrew, her old and faithful lover, was now a confirmed lunatic, she sank into a chair and sobbed aloud.
“Nay, do not weep, Ellen!” said her father, the old miller, who now entered the apartment, and stood before the two girls with a pale face. “Nay, do not weep for him, Ellen, but weep for me—for your honor and mine is gone forever.”
“Gone!” said Ellen, rising with a flushed face. “Nay, father, say not so! Your daughter is as spotless as on the night when she was cruelly carried away by a ruthless villain!”
“The world will not believe it, Ellen; but if I thought for a moment you had disgraced me and mine, I would rather see you dead at my feet.”
Nelly wept and sobbed by turns; but the cruel words of her father brought the hot blood to her fair cheeks, and she vindicated herself most eloquently from the foul aspersions of all idle, gossipping village scandal.
What at first, then, had been a stormy meeting between her father and herself (see cut in No. 18), closed as such meetings always should close between parents and children. Ellen threw herself into her father’s arms, and, with beating heart, told him all her trials and troubles.
“God bless you, child, God bless you!” said the old miller, as he tenderly kissed her and left the room.
Two days after this meeting of father and daughter, Ellen, accompanied by two female friends, strolled through the woods of Darlington, in order to call upon and console Andrew, who was reported to be dying raving mad.
They had enjoyed their walk, and were much flushed with exercise, when they were startled by a strange sight (see cut in No. 21).
In the distance, and partly concealed by the deep undergrowth of the forest, they perceived two men engaged in a hostile meeting.
So unlooked for was this strange sight, that the timid girls could have fainted; but, seized with horror and fright, they turned somewhat from their own path and ran swiftly away.
Still the clinking of swords sounded in their ears and it was long ere they could breathe freely again.
However, Ellen and her friends pursued their way towards the cottage of Andrew’s mother, but were greatly surprised to find that instead of dying, Andrew was not at home, but was well and hearty, except in mind, and had left the cottage rather suddenly a few nights before in pursuit of a strange horseman, whom he appeared to recognise as an enemy.
Since that time nothing had been seen or heard of the poor deranged youth, his old weeping mother said; nevertheless she did all that lay in her power to make her lady visitors as comfortable as possible.
But the good old dame wept very bitterly, for she was a widow, and since her son’s fatal accident she had fallen very rapidly in worldly circumstances, and was on the brink of great poverty, if, indeed, not of absolute want.
Ellen and her friends returned to the village, and did not fail to give an account of the duel which had taken place in Darlington Wood.
Miller Harmer and other villagers went forth, with their guns and swords, to see what had happened.
They scoured the woods thoroughly in all directions, but did not discover anything noteworthy.
As they were about to give up the search, however, old Harmer came upon a retired spot, and there found a large pool of blood.
The grass all round about had been trodden down as if men had been engaged in deadly combat.
But nobody was found, nor the least vestige of clothing which might have directed any further search or led to the discovery of the unknown persons.
A few days afterwards, however, Ellen Harmer, feeling sore at heart, and fretful in mind, went across the fields and through Darlington Woods to visit Andrew’s mother, and to ascertain, if possible, whether she or her father could do any good for the poor widow and her demented son.
She arrived at the cottage, but no tidings had been heard of poor Andy, and his mother was well-nigh broken-hearted.
No one had seen or knew anything of the poor youth, either in or out of the village.
For a second time Ellen Harmer returned home.
The old widow offered to accompany her part of the way through the forest, but Ellen pleasantly declined.
As she journeyed through the wood slowly and thoughtfully, she heard voices near, and suddenly beheld a large encampment of gipsies.
“Perhaps this swarthy tribe might know or have heard something regarding poor Andrew,” thought Ellen. “I will question them.”
Boldly advancing right into the gipsy encampment, to the no small surprise of both men and women, Ellen walked up to a tall, swarthy-looking man who stood near a covered cart or waggon, and appeared to be the chief man among them.
“Ellen Harmer is your name?” said the tall, swarthy man.
“It is. How know you that?”
“Ask no questions,” was the gruff answer, “and I will tell you no lies.”
“Perhaps, if I pay you well, it might be different?”
“Perhaps it might,” said the man, grinning, as he received a piece of gold offered to him.
“Have you been long encamped in these woods?”
“We have.”
“Did you hear or ascertain anything of a duel which was said to have taken place here a few days ago?”
“I did.”
“Who and what were the rash gentlemen?”
“They were not gentlemen at all,” answered the gipsy chief.
“Who, then, pray?”
“One was a spy in the pay of Colonel Blood.”
“Colonel Blood?” said Ellen, with a shudder.
“You know him, then? Ha! ha!” laughed the tall vagabond.
“No—yes, that is, I have heard of him, my good man. And who was the other?”
“A stranger.”
“And which fell?”
“The stranger was killed.”
“Oh, horrible! horrible!” said Ellen, aghast. “And know you not his name?”
“I do not,” said the gaunt, heartless-looking fellow, with a coarse laugh. “It matters naught to me. But, if you want to have a look at the body, here it is,” said he, with a grin, as at the same time he uncovered and lifted the lid of a rough coffin which was in the covered cart. (See cut in No. 19.)
From some strange impulse Ellen Harmer darted forward a step or two, and looked.
With a loud scream she fainted and fell.
The dead body was that of poor Andrew, her old and faithful lover, who had been brutally slain out of revenge by Colonel Blood’s spy.
She was led away from the spot in a swooning condition by two men.
“Do not go with them—do not trust yourself with those two ruffians,” said a haggard-looking old woman who now came upon the scene.
“Hold thy tongue, Hannah,” said the gipsy chief, with an oath.
“I will not, I cannot!” said the old woman; “you mean the girl no good; you have evil in your eye. Miss Harmer, Miss Harmer, do not go with them through Darlington Woods. Heed me, hear me, sweet lady, hear me.”
But before she could utter another word she was struck to the ground in a brutal manner, and Ellen Harmer, more dead than alive, was borne through the woods towards her native village.
But alas! she never reached it!
The two gipsy men, obeying the secret injunctions of their leader, saw her as far as the little wooden bridge—on which Andrew had met Colonel Blood—and, ere she was aware of any danger, while in the act of rewarding the two gruff villains for escorting her so far, they cast her headlong into the river.
Four days afterwards her body was found lying on the river bank by the same villains, and they were in the act of robbing the body of everything valuable when they were discovered by Wildfire Ned and Garnet, who had been out hunting in the woods.
One of the villains, finding that they were discovered, drew forth his large knife, and looked around to see when and where the threatened danger was. (See cut in No. 16).
At that instant, however, Ned and Garnet, who had been watching the gipsies for several days, felt satisfied of the guilt of both villains.
Without any compunction they took deadly aim and fired at the two rascals, and killed them on the spot.
But the tragedy did not end here.
Several weeks afterwards a terrible storm arose.
Poor old Hannah the gipsy was lying abed, almost dying, from the effects of the brutal treatment she had received at the hands of the gipsy chief.
The wind was howling outside the humble cot in which poor Hannah lay.
Lightning flashed and the thunder rolled.
Rain fell in pitiless torrents, when a horseman, evidently dressed in disguise, and looking pale and weak, alighted from his horse at Hannah’s door, and sought shelter from the storm.
A female opened the door for the stranger, who entered.
It was Colonel Blood on his way to Darlington.
For a moment he gazed around him, and then at the swarthy sufferer in bed.
There was something about poor Hannah which attracted his attention.
He stood and gazed at her as she slept and murmured in her dreams.
Opening her eyes rather suddenly she encountered the fixed look of the storm-bound stranger.
With a loud laugh Hannah rose up in bed, looking as wild as the wildest maniac (see cut in No. 22).
With eyes glowing in passion, and with a long, lean arm pointed at him, she hissed out, rather than said—
“Curses befall you, man of blood! Curses before, behind, and on every side attend you; for wherever you are, wherever you go, you despoil the innocent! I have longed to see this hour, Colonel Blood,” continued Hannah, in a fierce voice; “your hand robbed me of my husband and my daughters! My children have been dragged into a life of infamy through you, and my husband slain for defending them! I have done with life; my time has come. I die satisfied, knowing that with my last breath I have cursed you and the very ground you tread upon!”
With these words she fell back into bed and expired!
Chapter LII
CAPTAIN JACK AND THE “BAKER’S DOZEN” ARE LODGED IN GAOL, AND AWAIT THE JUDGMENT OF THE LAW.
If, during his whole lifetime, Wildfire Ned had done nothing more, the successful capture of Captain Jack and his noted gang was more than enough to bring his name prominently before the world, with honourable mention for deeds of daring in the cause of the public good.
For a long time the public knew but little of the doings of the “Baker’s Dozen,” as the gang was called, but after their apprehension so many things came to light to prove their villany that all good people shuddered when they heard of them.
Old Bates and Captain Jack had long been before the world in the character of “thief-takers,” but as we have already seen in the pages of this story, they themselves were the greatest rascals left unhung.
And well did Colonel Blood know it.
But Blood, like a wicked, designing man as he really was, never breathed a single syllable of their doings, so long as they payed him well for his silence, or proved of any use to him in his own nefarious practices.
But now that Captain Jack and his companions were in prison, Colonel Blood drew up a report of their doings and mode of proceeding, which, in brief, was as follows:—
“As soon as any considerable robbery was committed, and old Bates received intelligence by whom, he immediately went to the thieves, and inquired how the thing was done, where the person lived who was injured, and what the booty consisted of when taken away.
“Then pretending to chide them for their wickedness and exhorting them to live honest for the future, he gave it them, as his advice, to lodge what they had taken in a proper place, which he appointed, and promised to take some measures for their security, by getting the people to give them a reward to have their things returned to them again.
“Having thus wheedled those who had committed a robbery into compliance with his wishes, his next business was to divide the goods into several parcels, and cause them to be sent to different places, always avoiding them being sent to his own hands.
“Things being in this condition, Bates and Captain Jack went to the persons who had been robbed, and after condoling with them, pretended that they had some acquaintance with a broker to whom certain goods had been brought, some of which they suspected to have been stolen, and hearing that the person to whom they thus applied had been robbed, they thought it their duty to inform them thereof, and to enquire what goods they were which they had lost, in order to discover whether those they spoke of were the same or not.
“People who had had such losses were always ready to listen to anything of that kind, trusting to know something of their goods.
Therefore, in a day or two, Bates or Captain Jack was sure to come again, with intelligence that they had found part of the things, and that, providing no one was brought into trouble, and the broker had something in consideration of his care, they might be had again.
“This practice of old Bates, if well considered, carried with it a great deal of policy.
“For, first, it seemed a very honest act to prevail on evil persons to restore the goods that they had stolen.
“And then it was a great benefit to those who had been robbed to have their goods again upon a reasonable premium, old Bates all the while apparently taking nothing, his advantages arising out of the gratuity left with the broker, and out of what he had bargained to give the thief, who also found his advantage, the rewards being very nearly as large as the price given by receivers, since receiving became so dangerous, and affording, moreover, a certain security into the bargain.
“With respect to Bates or Jack, this contrivance placed them in safety from all the laws then in being, so that in a short time he and Captain Jack began to give themselves out for persons who made it their business to restore stolen goods to their right owners, and no more.
“When Captain Jack first did this, he acted with so much art that he acquired a very great deal of reputation, not only from those who dealt with him, but even from people of a higher station, who, observing the industry with which he prosecuted malefactors, took him for a friend of justice, and, as such, afforded him countenance.
“He was constantly bringing men to the gallows, and, in order that he might keep up that character which he had attained in all his course of acting, not one man escaped him.
“When this practice of Jack became noted it produced not only much discourse but some inquiries into his behaviour.
“Jack and Bates also foresaw all this, and, in order to evade all evil consequences, they put, upon such occasions, an air of gravity, and complained of the evil dispositions of the times, which would not permit a man to serve his neighbours and his country without censure.
“‘For do not I,’ said Jack, ‘do the greatest good when I persuade people who deprived others of their property to restore it to them again for a reasonable consideration, and the villains who I have brought to suffer punishment, do not their deaths show how much use I am to my country? Why, then, should people asperse me?’
“Besides these professions of honesty, two great things there were which contributed to his preservation, which were these—
“First, the great readiness government always shows in detecting persons guilty of capital offences, in which cases it is common to offer not only pardon but rewards to persons guilty, provided they make discovery, and this Captain Jack was so sensible of that he did not screen himself behind the lenity of the supreme power, but made use of it also as an authority, taking upon him, as it were, the character of a minister of justice, which, however ill-founded, proved of great advantage to him in the course of his life.
“The other point which contributed to keep him from prosecution, was the great willingness of people who had been robbed to discover their goods, so that, provided for a small sacrifice they regained things very considerable, they were so far from bringing the offender to justice that they thought the premium as a cheap price to get off.
“Thus, by the lenity of the subject and the rigour of the magistrate, Captain Jack claimed employment.
“And, according as the case required it, the poor thieves were either trussed up to satisfy the just vengeance of the one, or protected and encouraged to satisfy the demands of the other.
“If any title can be devised suitable to Jack’s character it must be that of director-general of the united forces of highwaymen, house-breakers, pickpockets, and private thieves.
“Now the maxims by which he supported himself in this capacity were these:—
“In the first place, he continually exhorted the plunderers to let him know precisely what goods they at any time took.
“By which means he had it in his power to give a direct answer to those who came to make inquiries of him.
“If they complied faithfully with his injunctions he was a certain protector on all occasions.
“And sometimes he had interest enough to procure them liberty when apprehended.
“But if they pretended to become independent and despise his rules, or throw out any threatening speeches against their companions, or grumbled at the composition made for them, in such cases as these Jack took the first opportunity of informing some of his creatures of the first fresh act they committed.
“He immediately set about to apprehend them, and laboured so indefatigably therein that they never escaped him.
“Thus he not only procured the reward for himself, but also gained an opportunity of pretending that he not only restored goods to their rightful owners, but also apprehended the thief as often as lay in his power.
“In those parts of his business which were not hazardous, Captain Jack made the people themselves take the first steps by publishing advertisements of things lost, and directing them to be brought to him, who was empowered to receive them, and pay such a reward as the person who lost them thought fit to offer.
“Jack in this capacity appeared no otherwise than as a person on whose honour the injured person could rely.
“After he had gone on with this trade for several years with success he began to lay aside much of his former caution, taking a larger house in Lambeth than that in which he formerly lived, giving the woman, whom he called his wife, abundance of fine things, and keeping an open office for the recovery of stolen goods.
“Captain Jack’s fame at last came to that height that persons of the highest quality would condescend to make use of his abilities when they had the misfortune to lose their watches or other articles of value.
“But as his method of treating those who applied to him for assistance might be misrepresented, what is given here may be relied on.
“In the first place, when a person was introduced to Jack’s office it was hinted to him that a guinea at least must be deposited by way of fee for his advice.
When this was complied with a large book was brought out.
“Then the loser was examined with much formality as to the time, place, and manner wherein the goods were missing, with a promise of careful investigation being made, and of hearing more concerning them in a few days.
“Jack had not the least occasion for questions, but to amuse the persons he asked.
“For he knew beforehand all the circumstances connected with the robbery much better than they did, and perhaps had the very goods in his house at the time.
“When the enquirers came a second time, Captain Jack or Bates took care to amuse them again.
“He then told them that he had made enquiries, but was sorry to communicate the event to them, for that the thief, who was a bold, impudent fellow, rejected the offer that had been made him, pretending that he could sell the goods for double the price, and, indeed, would not hear a word of restitution, unless upon better terms.
“‘But,’ says Jack, ‘if I can but get to speak to him, I do not doubt of bringing him to reason.’
“After two or three more attendances, Jack would say as a definite answer to the enquirer,
“‘Provided no questions were asked, and you gave so much money to the party who brought them, you might have the things returned privately at such an hour.’
“This was always done with an outward sign of friendship on his side, and with seeming frankness and generosity; but when you came to the last part of the agreement, that is to say, what Jack himself expected for his trouble, then an air of coldness was put on, and he answered with indifference, that what he did was purely from a principle of doing good, and as a gratuity for the trouble he had taken, he left it entirely to yourself—you might do as you thought proper.
“When money was presented to him, he received it with the same cold indifference, always putting you in mind that he did not accept your gift as a reward conferred upon himself, but as a favour conferred upon you.
“Thus, by his dexterity in his management, he fenced himself against the rigour of the law, in the midst of these notorious transgressions of it.
“For what could be imputed to him?
“He neither saw the thief who took away the goods, nor received them after they were taken.
“The method he pursued was neither dishonest or illegal, if you would believe his account of it, and no other account could be obtained of it.
“Had Captain Jack or Bates continued satisfied with this way of dealing, he, in all probability, would have gone down to the grave in peace.
“But he was greedy.
“And instead of keeping constant to this safe method, came at last to take the goods into his own house, giving those that stole them what he thought proper, and then making such a bargain with the loser as he was able to bring him to, sending the porter himself, and taking, without ceremony, whatever was offered to him.
“A gentleman who dealt in silks had a piece of extraordinary rich material bespoke of him on purpose for a birthday suit, and, having bought such trimmings as was proper for it, the gentleman made the whole of it up into a parcel, and placed it at one end of the counter in expectation of it being called for by the purchaser.
“Accordingly the man came for it, but when the tradesman went to get him the goods the parcel was gone, and no account could possibly be had of it.
“As the master had been all day in the shop, there was no pretence of charging his servants either of carelessness or dishonesty.
“After an hour or so he saw no other remedy but communicating with Captain Jack in hopes of receiving some benefit from his assistance; the loss consisting not so much of the things as in the disappointment of his customer.
“As soon as he called at the house of Captain Jack and acquainted him with his business, the usual deposit of a guinea being made, and the common questions of how, when, and where having been asked, the tradesman, being very impatient, said, with some warmth—
“‘Captain Jack, is it in your power to serve me? If it is I have thirty guineas here ready to lay down; but if you expect that I should dance attendance upon you for a week or two, I assure you I shall not be willing to part with half that money.’
“‘My dear sir,’ replied Jack, ‘I am no receiver of stolen goods, nor am I a thief, so that if you do not wish to give me time to inquire you can take what proceedings you may think proper.’
“When the tradesman found he was likely to be left without any hopes he began to talk in a milder strain, and, with abundance of entreaties, begged Jack to help him all he possibly could.
“Captain Jack stepped out a minute or two, and as soon as he came back he told the tradesman,
“‘It was not in his power to serve him in such a hurry, if at all; however, in a day or two he might be able to give him some answer’.
“The tradesman insisted that a day or two would lessen the value of the goods one half to him.
“And Jack insisted as peremptorily that it was not in his power to do anything sooner.
“At last a servant came in a great hurry, and told Jack that a gentleman wished to see him instantly.
“Jack bowed, and begged to be excused for a few moments.
“Shortly afterwards he returned with a smiling countenance, and, turning to the tradesman, said—
“‘I protest, sir, you are the luckiest man I ever knew; I spoke to one of my people to go to a house where I sometimes resort, and directed him to talk of your robbery, and to say you had been with me and offered thirty pounds for the things again. This story had its effect, and if you go directly home I fancy you will hear more of it than I can tell you. But pray, sir, remember, the thirty pounds was your own offer, and you are free to give it or not, just as you please; but as I have taken an interest in the matter an adequate reward would not be out of place.’
“Away went the tradesman wondering where this affair would end.
“But while walking towards his own shop a fellow overtook him, patted him on the shoulder, delivered him the parcel unopened, and told him the price was twenty guineas.
“The tradesman paid it to him directly, and returning to Captain Jack’s house begged of him to accept the other ten pounds for his own trouble.
“Jack told him that he had saved him nothing, but he supposed the people considered twenty guineas enough considering that they thought themselves safely from prosecution.
“The tradesman still pressed the ten guineas on Jack, who, after taking them out of his hand, returned him five of them, and assured him,
“‘That was more than enough,’ adding—
“‘It is satisfaction sufficient to an honest man that he is able to procure people their goods again.’
“This was a remarkable instance of the moderation Captain Jack sometimes practised, the better to conceal his villanies.
“Another story is no less extraordinary.
“A lady, whose husband was out of the kingdom, and who had sent over draughts for her assistance to the amount of between £700 and £1,000, lost the pocket book in which they were contained near Fleet Street, where the merchant lived upon whom they were drawn.
“She, however, went to the gentleman, and he advised her to go directly to Captain Jack.
“Accordingly she went to Lambeth, deposited the guinea, and answered the questions that he put to her.
“Jack said that in an hour’s time some of his people might discover who it was that picked the lady’s pocket.
“The lady was vehement in her desire to have it again, and at last went so far as to offer one hundred pounds.
“Jack, upon that, made answer—
“‘Though they are of much greater value to you, madam, yet they cannot be anything like it to them; therefore, keep your own council, and I will give you the best direction I am able for the recovery of your notes. In the meantime, if you will adjourn to any hotel at hand, and partake of some refreshment, I will furnish you with an answer as quickly as possible.’
“The lady would not be satisfied unless Captain Jack consented also to partake of some with her.
“He at last complied, and ordered a fowl and other refreshment at the house which he named, and with which he was well acquainted.
“After waiting some time, Captain Jack joined her, and told her he had heard news of her missing pocket-book, desiring her to lay ten pounds on the table in case she should have occasion for them; and, as the waiter came up to acquaint the lady that the fowl was ready, Jack requested that she would just step down and see if there was any woman waiting at the door.
“The lady, without minding the mystery, did as he desired her, and discovered a woman in a grey cloak, who walked two or three times past the door.
“This aroused her curiosity, and prompted her to go nearer; but recollecting she had left the gold on the table upstairs, she went and snatched it up, ran down once more, and went towards the woman in the grey cloak, who still walked before the door.
“It seems she had suspected correctly; for no sooner did the woman see her approach towards her, than she came up directly, and presenting the pocket-book, desired she would open it.
“‘Here,’ she added, ‘is another note.’
“Upon which the unknown woman presented her with a little billet, on the outside of which was written, ‘ten pounds.’
“The lady took the money immediately, and presented the woman with a piece for herself.
“This done, she returned to Jack, and told him, with much pleasure, that she had secured her book, and would now eat her dinner most heartily.
“When the table was cleared, she considered it was time to return to the merchant’s, who, probably, now had come back from Change, but first considered it necessary to make Captain Jack a handsome present.
“For this purpose she put her hand into her pocket, and, to her surprise, found it was gone, in which was the remainder of fifty pounds which the merchant had lent her in the early part of the day.
“Upon this she looked very much confused, but did not speak a word.
“Jack quickly perceived her confusion, and asked her if she was unwell.
“‘I am well in health, sir,’ she replied, ‘but amazed that the woman took but ten pounds for my lost pocket-book, and at the same time picked my pocket of thirty more!’
“Jack hereupon seemed in as much confusion as the lady, and said he hoped she was not in earnest, but, if she were, requested her not to disturb herself, for she should not lose one farthing.
“Upon this Jack desired her to sit still, while he stepped over to his own house, and issued, as may be supposed, necessary directions, for, in less than half an hour a little boy that Jack kept bolted into the room, and told them the woman was taken, and on the point of going to prison.
“‘You shall see, madam,’ said Jack to the lady, ‘what exemplary punishment I will make of this infamous woman.’
“Then, turning himself to the boy, he said,
“‘Was the purse of money taken about her?’
“‘Yes, sir,’ replied the lad.
“‘Oh,’ said the lady, ‘I will take the purse.’
“The lady begged of Jack to have no hand in apprehending or punishing the poor wretch,
“‘For,’ said she, ‘I would rather lose all I have than the poor creature should suffer.’
“‘Oh, I beg ten thousand pardons, madam,’ said Jack, with a very profound bow; ‘I have served your ends, so far, and now this culprit must serve mine; in less than two weeks you will hear that this pickpocket has suffered the full penalty of the law.’
“True to his word, the poor wretch did suffer, for she was hung at Tyburn in less than the time he had promised.
“Thus acted Captain Jack and Bates towards all the notorious characters with whom they were connected.
“The poor devils in the first place served Jack and Bates by enriching them with systematic roguery, and, after they had ‘run their race,’ as Jack was wont to say, with a laugh, the gallows was sure to be their reward and the chief witness against them in all cases was Jack or Bates.
“For a long series of years these two villains and the Baker’s Dozen carried on this devilish system of rearing and fostering thieves, and afterwards hanging them; but now, to use Jack’s own words, he and the Dozen had likewise ‘run their race,’ for within a month after their arrest by Wildfire Ned, Lieutenant Garnet, and the gallant assistance of Bob Bertram, they were condemned to die, and were hung in gibbets on the identical cross roads of which Colonel Blood had spoken in an early chapter of this tale.
“They stoutly protested their innocence, of course, and spoke loudly against the knavery of Colonel Blood; but, before they suffered, Captain Jack and old Bates were seized with remorse, and bewailed their past lives as bitterly as men possibly could do.”
Chapter LIII
NED WARBECK AND BOB BERTRAM HAVE AN INTERVIEW WITH CAPTAIN JACK AND OLD BATES IN PRISON—ASTOUNDING REVELATIONS OF DEEDS OF CRIME.
Captain Jack and Bates wrote long accounts of their career in crime which greatly startled the pious old chaplain who attended them daily.
There was only one request which either Captain Jack or Bates desired, and this was to have a final and a parting interview with Ned Warbeck and Bob Bertram.
This request was, of course, immediately granted, and, at an early hour, Ned and Bob Bertram entered the prison cell wherein Jack and Bates were chained and manacled.
“I have sent for you, Ned Warbeck, to say a few words before I die.”
“Then unburden your conscience, Jack,” said Ned, “and, in order that what you say may be made public hereafter, I have brought a quick writer with me, who will put down on paper all you say.”
“I have no objection in the world,” said Jack.
“Nor I,” said Bates, in a surly tone.
“Then let me, in the first place ask, why did you arrest young Bolton, old Redgill’s travelling collector for?”
“So as to screen Phillip Redgill, who gave me several thousand pounds to shift the guilt from his own shoulders to that of some one else.”
“Oh, the villain!” said Bob.
“But why did you still screen him when you knew that he had dealings with Death-wing and his villanous Skeleton Crew?”
“Because I knew if I arrested him, he might give evidence against me in turn; for I know, and have long known, that Colonel Blood was only waiting an opportunity to hang me—before my time,” said Jack, laughing.
“How can you account for his father’s death?”
“Why, he upset the carriage, and thus drowned him; but instead of getting any property, the old man was insolvent, and not worth a penny.”
“And what became of his wife?”
“She lived for some time with Mr. Augustus Fumbleton, and kept a house of ill-fame. Her father, old McTurk, however, did not disdain to receive money from her, but ultimately the house was accidentally burnt to the ground, and Fanny, young Redgill’s wife, was as the same time consumed in the flames.”
“And what became of old McTurk?”
“He went to the workhouse, and there lingers out a wretched life. His wife is dead, and he himself is like a walking skeleton.”
“And do you know how it was that my brother, Charley, got into such disgrace at the Indian house?”
“Yes. Phillip Redgill told me all one night when drunk, and seemed to glory in it.”
“What did he say?”
“Why, that he stole the notes, and lost them that same night in gambling.”
“He must have been an unscrupulous, inconceivable villain! But he is dead, I hear,” said Ned.
“No, he is not,” said Jack; “but if he doesn’t die, I have written down and sworn to more than enough to gibbet him.”
“And are you content to die?” asked Bob, in great surprise at the coolness of Jack and Bates.
“I must be so,” was the reply. “We have had Gibbet in our eye for more than fifteen years, and surely now that the time’s come, we are men enough to face it.”
“Perhaps ’tis well that society is about to get rid of you?” said Ned.
THIS TALE WILL CONCLUDE IN No. 24,
With which Number will be presented
NUMBERS 1 & 2 OF A NEW WORK.
* * * * *
“Perhaps it is. We have had a long and successful run of it; but if we had lived a little longer, I have no doubt we should have made ourselves more famous than we are.”
“Infamous, you should have said,” remarked Ned.
“Well, just as you please to word it; it is of little consequence to us now, eh, Bates?”
“Not a particle, as I can see. So they lets us spend all our money in drink and grub, I don’t care what they do with us afterwards.”
“And cannot this Blood be brought to justice?” asked Ned, in a whisper.
“I think not, Ned Warbeck,” said Captain Jack; “he’s a bigger villain than any of the ‘Dozen’ ever were; but, you see, his case is different; he’s a great rogue, and tried to steal the crown jewels out of the Tower, and everybody thought he would have suffered on the block; but, instead of that, the king not only pardons him, but gives him a handsome pension into the bargain.”
“He is a desperate scoundrel,” growled Ned.
“Yes; and for that very reason I’d advise you to have as little to do with him as possible, for when one is a king’s favourite every one must smile upon him if they wish to live in peace and quietness.”
“Good advice,” said Bates, “very, and if the young gentleman follows it, he will do well, and enjoy the title and riches, which, as the descendant of the once famous Edward Lawrence, he will be sure to receive from his natural guardian—old Sir Richard Warbeck.”
“What mean you?” said Ned, in surprise.
“I mean what I say.”
“How know you this?”
“Phillip Redgill once asked us to go down to Darlington Hall to rob it.”
“No.”
“’Tis true every word, my brave lad.”
“You surprise me.”
“Well, while we were there, I and Jack pulled about the old knight’s papers and parchments, while the Skeleton Crew were fighting and hanging the servants, and so drank good wine in the library, and read the family papers.”
“And was it Phillip Redgill who planned that attack?”
“Yes, and no other.”
“No wonder, then, that I always instinctively hated him,” said Ned.
“You two were as different as fire and water. Phillip Redgill planned your murder once or twice.”
“I know he did.”
“But you had a charmed life, Ned,” said Jack, “and no one can harm you; all the gipsies and weird women on the Cornish coast have said so.”
“Oh, yes, no doubt about that,” said old Bates. “Ned Warbeck must have as many lives as a cat, or he would have been killed long and long enough ago.”
“Can you account for the fact that my father was found with his legs cut off,” said Bob Bertram.
“Yes. When Phillip Redgill murdered him, he ‘limbed’ the poor old man to get the bank notes which he heard your father had sewn up in his leather leggings.”
“The infamous scoundrel! the barbarian!” swore Bob, in a great rage.
“But he’s paid out for that bit of butchery, long ago,” said Jack, “for he has confessed it.”
“How? In what way?”—
“The phantom legs of old Farmer Bertram follows him both night and day.”
“Follows him?” said Ned, aghast with horror.
“Yes, follows him; at certain times and on particular occasions they are visible to him, and to others also. I saw them once.”
“You?”
“Yes; but I never want to look at them any more,” said Captain Jack, shrugging up his shoulders, “for it is a most awful sight.”
“When did this happen?”
“The very night he, and I, and old Bates were secreted in the library at Darlington Hall.”
“Aye, true,” said old Bates, with chattering teeth, “and when they walked on to the table right afore us, with their gory tops and stumps, an awful voice was heard; but I was too horror-struck to remember what was said.”
“But I did though,” said Jack.
“And what were the words,” said Ned and Bob Bertram, both at once.
“Why, the legs walked across the table, and stood right before Phil Redgill, and some awful voice said,
“‘Phillip Redgill, I will follow you for ever!’
“Awful!” said Ned. “It was a judgment of heaven!”
“Whether it was or not, we didn’t stop to see any more, but made our exit as quickly as possible.”
“And that was the only thing that prevented us destroying all the old gentleman’s family papers,” said Bites. “If it hadn’t been for that, we had all things ready to set fire to the library and the whole mansion.”
Much more was revealed to Ned Warbeck and Bob Bertram by Jack and Bates than we have room for in this concluding number of the Skeleton Crew; but what else happened after the gibbeting of the Baker’s Dozen, and their two notorious leaders, will appear in the next chapter.
Chapter LIV
THE RED MAN OF THE GIBBET GIVES WARNING TO THE SKELETON CREW—DEATH-WING LEADS ON THE LAST ATTACK OF HIS CREW—NED WARBECK, BOB BERTRAM, LIEUTENANT GARNET, AND TIM HAVE AMPLE REVENGE—STIRRING SCENES.
But although the “Dozen,” with Captain Jack, and old Bates, were disposed of by the grim hands of the law, there were other enemies who roamed still at large.
Phillip Redgill lay dying upon his bed in a lunatic asylum, and made night hideous with his awful shouts and oaths.
It almost seemed as if he were haunted by a thousand demons, for both night and day he screeched and yelled in the most frightful manner, so that his dismal cries could be heard afar off.
“Take them away! take them away!” he would scream aloud with a foaming mouth, wild, widely distended eyes, his hair standing on end, and gnashing his teeth.
“Take them away, take them away! the legs are bleeding—they are walking—they are following me, wherever I go. Away with them—destroy them! Take them away!” he would shout, both day and night, while he kicked and tore the bed-clothes like an incarnate fiend.
The keepers shook their heads, and looked very serious and silent.
Some of the men went so far as to say that they had seen the gory legs.
Others, not so bold, swore that they had heard them walking up and down the maniac’s cell, at the hour of midnight.
Certain it is, that after suffering the most terrible tortures of mind and body, Phillip Redgill seemed to become suddenly calmer, and his reason returned.
But on a certain night, just as the tower clocks chimed the hour of twelve, he shouted out—
“Here is the Red Man of the Gibbet, he stands beside me! on my left hand is the ghost of my father; and walking over the bed-clothes are the phantom legs! Mercy—mercy! pardon—pardon! A thousand devils haunt my heart and soul. Away, away! avaunt! I die—I die!”
He fell prostrate on the stone floor, foaming at the mouth.
Life was not yet quite extinct.
Again he screamed out—
“The legs—the phantom legs are here once more—away, away!”
A voice at that same moment was heard to say in awful sepulchral tones,
“Phillip Redgill, I will follow you for ever!” Phillip Redgill rose to his feet like one again raised to life—uttered a terrible scream, and—fell dead, foaming blood!
LV. DESTRUCTION OF THE SKELETON CREW BY YOUNG LORD WARBECK
“Well,” said Ned Warbeck, when he had left the condemned cell, in which he had had his interview with Captain Jack and old Bates. “Well,” said he, in astonishment, “wonders never cease.”
“Just to fancy,” said Garnet, “that these scoundrels, with the advice and consent of Phillip Redgill, should for years past have been seeking your disgrace and destruction.”
“True,” said Ned Warbeck; “but evil designs and curses, like chickens, come home to roost. What they intended and wished might fall upon myself and Charley have overtaken themselves.”
“But Death-wing is not yet captured, Ned,” said Garnet; “it would be an excellent finish to all our adventures to arouse the London Apprentices, at least, a select hand of them, and utterly destroy Death-wing and all that remains of his band.”
“I intend to do so,” said Ned, “and to-night shall see the accomplishment of that design.”
During the day, Ned Warbeck, Garnet, Bob Bertram and Tim, were continually on horseback, riding hither and thither, consulting with some of the bravest and choicest spirits among the Apprentices, and towards night all preparations were completed.
Select detachments of the young Apprentices, under the guidance of well-known leaders, assembled at the halls of their several guilds, all armed, and eager for the fray.
The butcher boys with long knives, cleavers, choppers, and ponderous axes, were ready, and marshalled in fours ready to march at the given time.
The blacksmiths’ apprentices, with sledge hammers, crowbars, and other ponderous weapons, were assembled at another place.
The sword makers, cutlers, and others, with all manner of implements of war, sharp and bright, had gathered together.
Five detachments, from no less than six trades, were under arms; but none of them, save their chosen leaders, knew on what errand they were bound.
“Who is to lead us?” some of them whispered.
“Wildfire Ned,” was the answer, given in a suppressed tone of voice.
When this fact became known that Ned Warbeck was to be the commander-in-chief on this secret expedition, all rejoiced, for Ned’s name acted like a charm on the youth of London, who had long heard his name coupled with deeds of daring.
So secretly had the expedition been organized that but few of the good old tradesmen of the town had any notion of what was on foot.
Hence during the night, that is to say, from eight o’clock until eleven, was unusually quiet in the principal streets, and the night watch went their rounds with staff and lantern, calling the hour in croaking voices, but innocent of the great commotion which was shortly to take place.
Carriers and messengers were galloping hither and thither from Ned Warbeck to the leaders of the valiant Apprentices, giving his final instructions and orders.
Chief of these messengers was Tiny Tim.
He did not like fighting much, but as message carrying was not very dangerous work, and as he was passionately fond of riding good horses, he galloped here and there in great glee, and assuming all the airs of a commander-in-chief, that is to say, where he was not known.
Ned Warbeck, however, had been the busiest of all.
During the day he had sent out trusty scouts to ascertain the precise locality in which Death-wing and his infamous gang were secreted.
All manner of reports were brought back to him, but so contradictory that he knew not which nor what to believe.
At last, when night had fairly set in, he went forth himself, accompanied by Bob Bertram and Garnet, and by superior intelligence and tact he soon discovered where Death-wing and his gang were hiding, and laid his plans accordingly.
Death-wing indeed was not without information of what was intended by Ned Warbeck, for he also had scouts out, who speedily informed him of the intended attack; but none of them knew when it was to take place, or the number and class of persons who were to take part in it.
Since his defeat and disgrace at the Block-house the leader of the Skeleton Crew had been recruiting his forces.
He sent messengers to different parts calling in scattered parties of the crew who were out on their usual depredations.
So that on the night in question Death-wing had a large number of followers around him, each and all of whom swore to perish rather than allow Ned Warbeck, that hated name, to triumph over them.
One of the skeleton spies had fast returned to Death-wing with the latest information he was able to procure when all the Skeleton Crew sat down to a splendid repast, and drank wine more extravagantly than ever.
“If this is to be our last night let it be a merry one,” said Death-wing.
“Bravo!” shouted fifty voices.
“I understand that Captain Jack, old Bates, and all his lot were gibbeted to day,” said one.
“No doubt of it; I heard the bells tolling.”
“And I,” said a third, “saw crowds of people following the carts.”
“It was a tremendous gathering, I hear,” said Death-wing; “such a sight as London never saw before.”
“I passed under several of the gibbets to-night,” said one of the scouts, “and the night-birds and vultures were very busy with the bodies already. Colonel Blood kept his word with them.”
“Serve them right,” said Death-wing; “they were always cunning, tricky knaves, every one of them, and our enemies. Has any one heard of Phillip Redgill?” said Death-wing.
“Yes,” one replied; “he is still in the madhouse.”
“I know that; but is he better?”
“I did not hear.”
“Perhaps he will recover, and, when I am gone,” said Death-wing, “he will lead the Crew as I have done.”
“Never,” said a sepulchral voice near him.
It was the ghost of Phillip Redgill!
All the Crew started to their feet as they saw this ghastly apparition, all gory and horrible.
“Never!” said a voice.
“Dead!” said Death-wing, dropping a goblet of wine from his hand.
“Dead! Yes; for ever dead!” said the apparition, as it stalked through the apartment. “Dead! for ever dead!” it said, and vanished.
Death-wing and his followers had scarcely seated themselves once more when they were again startled out of their propriety by the entrance of a tall stranger, robed in a black cloak from head to foot.
“Who and what art thou?” said Death-wing, with drawn sword.
“The Red Man of the Gibbet!” said the stranger, dropping the disguise from off his shoulders.
Every one rose.
“What wouldst thou with us, worthy chief?” said Death-wing. “You never come without bad tidings. What would you have us do?”
“Prepare for death!” was the solemn answer; “your hour has come! This is the last time I can ever quit my iron cage and prison house. No more can I walk abroad at certain times, to aid, to guide, and protect you; the spell is broken. Phillip Redgill has ceased to live, and all is over. Farewell, farewell! Ned Warbeck triumphs.”
Thus he spoke, and disappeared.
“Ned Warbeck triumph! never!” said Death-wing, with an oath.
“Never!” shouted all assembled, brandishing swords, daggers, guns, pikes, and all sorts of deadly weapons.
“Let our bones be ground down to powder ere the hated house of Warbeck shall triumph! Victory or death!” said Death-wing. “Comrades, swear!”
Each and all raised a goblet, filled to the brim, and swore, “For victory or death!”
At that moment, however, and as if by magic, all assembled dropped their goblets, and started from their seats.
A loud shout outside rent the air.
“It is Warbeck and his followers; to arms, men, to arms,” said Death-wing; “spare no living soul; each of you seek out Ned Warbeck, for if he falls we shall triumph.”
* * * * *
It must be explained that after making all preparations, Ned Warbeck had issued orders that as the church clocks chimed half-past eleven o’clock all the detachments of London Apprentices should march towards Smithfield, and there join Lieutenant Garnet and Bob Bertram, each of whom had a company of stalwart fellows under his command.
This they did, and in great order, silently marching in military time and step, without disturbing the sleeping inhabitants.
They all arrived before midnight, and were marshalled by Ned Warbeck himself.
When twelve o’clock tolled from old St. Paul’s the order to march was given, and by various routes, guided and commanded by Ned, Garnet, and Bob, they took up various positions within a stone’s throw of Death-wing’s stronghold and rendezvous near the river.
Having done this, and then cut off all hope of retreat for the Skeleton Crew, Ned Warbeck advanced with twenty youths, and examined all the strong points of Death-wing’s retreat.
“Who comes there?” asked one of the Skeleton Crew, who was on guard.
“Ned Warbeck and his merry men,” said Bob Bertram.
“Three cheers for Ned Warbeck, and death to the Skeleton Crew!” shouted the brave apprentice youths.
The three cheers were given with great heartiness, and these were sounds which startled Death-wing in his banquet-hall.
A moment before all was quietness, and silent as the grave.
But now commenced a scene that baffles all description.
One company, under Garnet, advanced from the river side.
A second, under Bob Bertram, marched towards the north side of the rendezvous.
A third attacked the left side with great fury, led on by the chief of the London Apprentices.
And the fourth and last, commanded by Ned Warbeck in person, assailed the front.
In all directions shouts and cheers and yells were heard.
Sledge hammers, crowbars, guns, pistols, swords, and pikes were making a discordant din.
Dogs barked, people rushed from their beds in terror, and ran affrighted through the streets.
Night watchmen bellowed and bawled, and sprung their rattles.
All the river side was in dire affright and commotion.
“’Tis young Ned Warbeck and the Skeleton Crew,” shouted old men and women, in alarm.
“Let us fly—let us fly! we shall all be murdered!”
“Call the night-watch!”
“Go and call out the king’s guard!”
“Murder! thieves! Help, help!”
“Rouse up, good citizens, rouse up, the whole river side is running with human blood!”
These and such like were the cries, now heard on every side; while, on the other hand, nothing but cheers were heard from the bold Apprentices and their leaders, as they gallantly assailed Death-wing and his crew from front, flanks, and rear.
It was a most terrible battle, and lasted long.
For Death-wing had an immense quantity of fire-arms, already loaded and at hand, fit for instant use.
This being the case, he and his followers fired quick and deadly volleys into the ranks of the gallant youths, and knocked over very many.
The sight of their bleeding companions only served to nerve the gallant Apprentices, and instil new courage.
Some of them got ladders, and clambered in through the barricaded windows, axes and hatchets in hand, cutting down all and every obstruction before them.
The blacksmiths battered in all the doors and bolts and bars.
Once they had got possession of the doors and passages the scene was most fearful.
Some of the crew attempted to jump out of the windows, but in doing so they were caught on the spear and pike-heads of those below.
The Butchers’ Apprentices cut all who opposed them limb from limb without mercy.
But still Death-wing and his men fought like demons.
Three times had Ned Warbeck fought with and slain those he supposed to be the Skeleton chief.
But Death-wing was still alive and busy.
More than twenty times he took deliberate aim with guns and pistols at young Ned, and each time had he missed him.
“He is charmed! his life is charmed!” swore the grim chief, as he looked around him, and each instant saw that his men were falling thick and fast.
“Fire the magazine!” said he. “Let us blow up the rendezvous and all in it; better that than defeat and torture at Ned Warbeck’s hands.”
But this could not be done.
Garnet had fought his way to the magazine, and drowned it with water.
“No, no,” thought the gallant sailor, “I know their tricks before to-day; but they are not going to blow up all my brave lads in that way. They must fight; every man-jack of them shall perish with the sword, and their skulls and limbs shall decorate Temple Bar and London Bridge.”
Foiled in all his efforts, surrounded on every side, and with the building burning in half a dozen places, the Skeleton chief held a hasty council of war.
Unexpected, they sallied forth, fifty grim Skeletons, led on by Death-wing.
With loud shouts and oaths, they assailed Ned Warbeck’s little band.
Ned himself singled out Death-wing, and a terrible battle took place between them.
Thrice did Ned Warbeck stab the grim leader, and his life blood was ebbing fast.
But thrice did he refuse to surrender.
He endeavoured to retreat and shun the combat, and had almost succeeded in doing so, when, with the quickness of thought, Ned Warbeck rushed at him, and, after one moment of exciting cutting and thrusting, Ned Warbeck seized Death-wing’s battle flag, and ran the chieftain through and through the heart.
This desperate hand to hand combat was witnessed both by friends and foes, and loud shouts rewarded Ned Warbeck as he waved the banner of the Skeleton Crew high in triumph.
After this episode the battle did not last more than ten minutes.
Every one of the Skeleton Crew were slaughtered, and their bleeding mangled bodies strewed the ground, while the rendezvous itself was committed to the flames amidst the applause and frantic cheering of thousands, who had now run to witness the dreadful conflict, and Ned Warbeck, Garnet, Bob Bertram, and the chief of the London Apprentices, were carried through the streets in triumph, with links and torches, and music, and uproarious applause.
The cheers of assembled thousands greeted him as they carried him to old Sir Richard Warbeck’s mansion; and as his brother Charley and his wife, old Dame Worthington, and others, joyfully welcomed his return, old Sir Richard Warbeck took him by the hand before the whole multitude, and said aloud, “Welcome, Ned, to your ancestor’s home. I am no longer the owner of the estates; here is the royal warrant, read it. Wildfire Ned is now Lord Edward Warbeck, of Darlington Hall, and I simply the faithful steward of his fortunes.”
* * * * *
Our story is now soon brought to a close.
Wildfire Ned, as Sir Richard had said to the multitude, had been created Lord Warbeck, or rather, though the younger brother, the King had granted him the title when fully informed by Sir Richard of how much Sir Edward Lawrence had done and suffered in the cause of Charles the First; and if history is not at fault, young Wildfire Ned not only greatly distinguished himself in after years, but also married one of the lovliest maidens of great title which England could boast, and was long the pride and the boast of every youth who had read of his daring exploits.
Lieutenant Garnet followed the sea for many years, but afterwards distinguished himself so greatly in many ways, that he became one of the Lords of the Admiralty.
Bob Bertram returned to his native village and was honoured and respected by all who knew him.
He succeeded to several very large farms which his father had rented of Sir Richard Warbeck, for Ned, now Lord Warbeck, insisted upon his accepting them.
Bob, and the old miller Harmer, were great companions, and many a night in the village inn would they recount their strange adventures, and of the various villanies of the famous Colonel Blood.
Colonel Blood, for many years hung around the royal court; but how it was the King could countenance such a rascal, history itself has been unable to explain. Suffice it to say that after a career of roguery, he was seized and cast into prison, charged with plotting against the Duke of Buckingham, and soon afterwards died of a broken heart, or, as some said, from want of sleep caused by terrible remorse for all his crimes.
Old Sir Richard lived to a good old age, as did also good dame Worthington, and Charley Warbeck, who, in the company of Clara, seemed to be the happiest of men; and oftentimes at Christmas, when all were assembled round the festive board, to which Tim and Bob Bertram were always invited, Sir Richard used to shout out merrily, “Fill your goblets high, my boys, let me propose the great toast of the evening.”
“Hurrah,” shouted Tim in great glee.
“Bravo, Sir Richard,” Bob would say.
“And the toast, ladies and gentlemen, which I hope we may all live long to give is this,—
“Success, long life, and all honour to Wildfire Ned who exterminated the Skeleton Crew.”
THE END.
Transcriber’s Notes
pg 7 Changed: bloodthirsty pirates and buccanneers to: bloodthirsty pirates and buccaneers
pg 7 Changed: infested the neigbouring seas to: infested the neighbouring seas
pg 8 Changed: I well tell you to: I will tell you
pg 15 Changed: In an intant, however, and as if by magic to: In an instant, however, and as if by magic
pg 20 Changed: Sir George to Sir Richard (3 times).
pg 22 Changed: various beverages washed the prog down to: various beverages washed the grog down
pg 22 Changed: watches, snuff-boxes, the diamond bilts to: watches, snuff-boxes, the diamond hilts
pg 30 Changed: The sight they then beheld was appaling to: The sight they then beheld was appalling
pg 30 Changed: One of the dancers had a tambarine to: One of the dancers had a tambourine
pg 33 Changed: Wildfire Ned with a long, stedfast gaze to: Wildfire Ned with a long, steadfast gaze
pg 37 Changed: out pounces a score of villians to: out pounces a score of villains
pg 38 Changed: I fear yon not, you cannot bite any one to: I fear you not, you cannot bite any one
pg 39 Changed: But it seemed as if to no pupose to: But it seemed as if to no purpose
pg 39 Changed: said Ned, never for a moment loosing to: said Ned, never for a moment losing
pg 40 Changed: Ned sought out Death-wing, but not where could to: Ned sought out Death-wing, but nowhere could
pg 40 Changed: seen at one moment he disappoared to: seen at one moment he disappeared
pg 43 Changed: all in a blaze of lured light to: all in a blaze of lurid light
pg 44 Changed: unable to stir, riggling and writhing to: unable to stir, wriggling and writhing
pg 45 Changed: was to form the acquaintence to: was to form the acquaintance
pg 46 Changed: and the yound villain cried for mercy to: and the young villain cried for mercy
pg 47 Changed: in the direction were Phillip sat to: in the direction where Phillip sat
pg 55 Changed: couldn’t have been a better fac simile to: couldn’t have been a better facsimile
pg 56 Changed: bottle in the cupboard which lodgers marked ‘pison’ to: bottle in the cupboard which lodgers marked ‘poison’
pg 61 Changed: Death-wing and his grissly band to: Death-wing and his grisly band
pg 63 Changed: swing and loose the four hundred to: swing and lose the four hundred
pg 64 Changed: justice was fairly meeted out to: justice was fairly meted out
pg 64 Changed: ease and luxurance of a palace to: ease and luxuriance of a palace
pg 68 Changed: you’ll be be my father-in-law soon to: you’ll be my father-in-law soon
pg 70 Changed: who gratified his audienee to: who gratified his audience
pg 74 Changed: Clara Haylark was Dame Worthington’s chief comfortor to: Clara Haylark was Dame Worthington’s chief comforter
pg 79 Changed: I don’t know all about your seheme to: I don’t know all about your scheme
pg 81 Changed: She had committed a grevious theft to: She had committed a grievous theft
pg 82 Changed: under the secret anspices of her mother to: under the secret auspices of her mother
pg 82 Changed: was never reen ahere more to: was never seen here more
pg 83 Changed: the evening passed extremly cheerful to: the evening passed extremely cheerful
pg 86 Changed: bullied and harrassed the servants to: bullied and harassed the servants
pg 86 Changed: How he maintined himself to: How he maintained himself
pg 91 Changed: her imagination was uncontrolable to: her imagination was uncontrollable
pg 94 Changed: one hundred points in in the rear to: one hundred points in the rear
pg 96 Changed: as Homer wery nicely remarks to: as Homer very nicely remarks
pg 99 Changed: plainly saw by the die to: plainly saw by the dye
pg 107 Changed: He attemped to descend the horse-block to: He attempted to descend the horse-block
pg 109 Changed: friends never waited for invitions to: friends never waited for invitations
pg 112 Changed: You will be botter to: You will be better
pg 112 Changed: Nonsence, Edward; you know she has to: Nonsense, Edward; you know she has
pg 112 Changed: he had occasion for never forgeting to: he had occasion for never forgetting
pg 113 Changed: few who are greater favouites to: few who are greater favourites
pg 114 Changed: Lord Stoner’s manison was but a short distance to: Lord Stoner’s mansion was but a short distance
pg 114 Changed: the purfume of flowers to: the perfume of flowers
pg 114 Changed: While gaity reigned at Lord Stoner’s to: While gaiety reigned at Lord Stoner’s
pg 115 Changed: no blood bespattered him, and cooly to: no blood bespattered him, and coolly
pg 115 Changed: fetch my instruments, and galop to: fetch my instruments, and gallop
pg 119 Changed: awoke in a maudling state to: awoke in a maudlin state
pg 122 Changed: every morning with cheerfullness to: every morning with cheerfulness
pg 122 Changed: and curse everything and everbody to: and curse everything and everybody
pg 125 Changed: altered his mind again for the hundreth time to: altered his mind again for the hundredth time
pg 130 Changed: Redgill exchauged with Bob to: Redgill exchanged with Bob
pg 135 Changed: your own band, Castain Jack to: your own band, Captain Jack
pg 139 Changed: sounded like that of a female in distresss to: sounded like that of a female in distress
pg 147 Changed: men who proferred exile to death to: men who preferred exile to death
pg 148 Changed: He was amusing, and the Merry Audrew to: He was amusing, and the Merry Andrew
pg 154 Changed: even relationship caunot warrant to: even relationship cannot warrant
pg 158 Changed: looking at his kneeling bother to: looking at his kneeling brother
pg 160 Changed: He pursuaded me to wed yon whited falsehood to: He persuaded me to wed yon whited falsehood
pg 161 Changed: True, said the grissly visitor to: True, said the grisly visitor
pg 161 Changed: a slight as air to: as light as air
pg 164 Changed: said Tim, pompuously to: said Tim, pompously
pg 168 Changed: Do you sea this ring to: Do you see this ring
pg 172 Changed: His four confederates noiselessy entered to: His four confederates noiselessly entered
pg 172 Changed: into my breakfafast parlor to: into my breakfast parlor
pg 178 Changed: if indeed you allude to any on at all to: if indeed you allude to any one at all
pg 184: Changed: he hoped she was not in earneet to: he hoped she was not in earnest
pg 184 Changed: spoke loudly againt the knavery to: spoke loudly against the knavery
pg 184 Changed: So as to screen Phillip Redill to: So as to screen Phillip Redgill
pg 184 Changed: great suprise at the coolness of Jack to: great surprise at the coolness of Jack
pg 188 Changed: Lords of the Admiratly. to: Lords of the Admiralty.
Punctuation has been normalized throughout the book.
Chapter heading numbers have been corrected.