Читать книгу: «Tom Burke Of "Ours", Volume I», страница 12

CHAPTER XV. THE CASTLE

Scarcely had the carriage driven from the gloomy portals of the jail, and entered one of the long, straggling streets that led towards the river, when I noticed a singular-looking figure who ran alongside, and kept up with us as we went. A true type of the raggedness of old Dublin, his clothes fluttered behind him like ribbons; even from his hat, his long, red hair straggled and streamed, while his nether garments displayed a patchwork no tartan could vie with. His legs were bare, save where a single topboot defended one of them; the other was naked to the foot, clad in an old morocco slipper, which he kicked up and caught again as he went with surprising dexterity, accompanying the feat with a wild yell which might have shamed a warwhoop. He carried a bundle of printed papers over one arm; and flourished one of them in his right hand, vociferating something all the while with uncommon energy. Scarcely had the carriage drawn up at the door of an old-fashioned brick building when he was beside it.

“How are ye. Major? How is every bit of you, sir? Are ye taking them this mornin’ – ‘t is yourself knows how! Buy a ha’porth, sir.”

“What have you got to-day, Toby?” said the major, with a greater degree of complacency in his manner than I had ever noticed before.

“An illigant new song about Buck Whaley; or maybe you ‘d like ‘Beresford’s Jig, or the Humors of Malbro’ Green.’”

“Why, man, they ‘re old these three weeks.”

“True for ye, Major. Begorra! there ‘s no chating you at all, at all. Well, maybe you ‘ll have this: here ‘s the bloody and cruel outrage committed by the yeomen on the body of a dacent and respectable young man, by the name of Darby M’Keown, with the full and true account of how he was inhumanly stabbed and murdered on the eighth day of July – ”

“Ay, give me that. I hope they ‘ve done for that scoundrel; I have been on his track three years.”

The fellow drew near, and, as he handed the paper to the major, contrived to approach close to where I stood. “Buy one, master,” said he; and as he spoke, he turned completely round, so as only to be observed by myself, and as suddenly the whole expression of his vacant features changed like magic, and I saw before me the well-known face of Darby himself.

“Did you get an answer to that for me, Toby?’, said the major.

“Yes, sir; here it is.” And with that he pulled off his tattered hat, and withdrew a letter which lay concealed within the lining. “‘T is sixpence you ought to be afther givin’ me this mornin’, Major,” continued he, in an insinuating tone of voice; “the devil a less than twenty-one mile it is out of this, not to spake of the danger I run, and the boys out on every side o’ me.”

“And what’s the news up the country, Toby?” asked the major, as he broke the seal of the letter.

“‘T is talking of a risin’ they do be still, sir, – av the praties was in; glory be to God, they say it ‘ll be a great sayson.”

“For which, Toby, – the crops or the croppies?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Toby, with a most provoking look of idiocy. “And you won’t buy Darby sir?” rejoined he, flourishing the printed placard. “No matter; here ‘s the whole, full, thrue, and particular account – ” And so he turned the angle of the building, and I could hear his voice mingling with the street noises as he wended his way down Dame Street.

The major looked after him and smiled; and brief as was that smile, I saw in it how thoroughly he was duped.

“Come, sir, follow me, if you please,” said he, addressing me.

I mounted a flight of old and neglected stairs, and entered an anteroom, where, having waited for a few seconds, the major whispered an order to the porter, and passed on to the inner room, leaving me behind.

As Major Barton passed out by one door, the porter turned the key in the other, and placing it in his pocket, drew his chair to the window and resumed the newspaper he was reading when we entered. How long I waited I cannot say. My thoughts, though sad ones, chased each other rapidly, and I felt not the time as it passed. Suddenly the door opened, and I heard my name called. I drew a deep breath, like one who felt his fate was in the balance, and entered.

The room, which was plainly furnished, seemed to serve as an office. The green covered table that stood in the middle was littered with letters and papers, among which a large, heavy-browed, dark-featured man was searching busily as I came in. Behind, and partly beside him, stood Barton, in an attitude of respectful attention; while, with his back to the fire, was a third person, whose age might have been from thirty-five to forty. His dress was in the perfection of the mode: his topboots reaching to the middle of his leg; his coat, of the lightest shade of sky-blue, was lined with white silk; and two watch chains hung down beneath his buff waistcoat, in the acme of the then fashion. His features were frank and handsome, and saving a dash of puppyism that gave a character of weakness to the expression, I should deem him a manly, fine-looking fellow.

“So this is your ‘Robespierre,’ Major, is it?” cried he, bursting into a laugh, as I appeared.

Barton approached nearer to him, and muttered something in a low, mumbling tone, to which the other seemed to pay little if any attention.

“You are here, sir,” said the dark-featured man at the table, holding in his hand a paper as he spoke, “you are here under a warrant of the Privy Council, charging you with holding intercourse with that rebellious and ill-fated faction who seek to disturb the peace and welfare of this country, – disseminating dangerous and wicked doctrines, and being in alliance with France – with France – What ‘a that word, Barton? – to – ”

“In two words, young gentleman,” said the young man at the fire, “you are charged with keeping very bad company, learning exceedingly unprofitable notions, and incurring very considerable present risk. Now I am not disposed to think that at your age, and with your respectable connections, either the cause or its associates can have taken a very strong hold of your mind. I am sure that you must have received your impressions, such as they are, from artful and designing persons, who had only their own ends in view when involving you in their plots. If I am justified in this opinion, and if you will pledge me your honor – ”

“I say, Cooke, you can’t do this. The warrant sets forth – ”

“Well, well, we ‘ll admit him to bail.”

“It is not bailable. Right Honorable,” said Barton, addressing the large man at the table.

“Phelan,” said the younger man, turning away in pique, “we really have matters of more importance than this boy’s case to look after.”

“Boy as he is, sir,” said Barton, obsequiously, “he was in the full confidence of that notorious French captain for whose capture you offered a reward of one thousand pounds.”

“You like to run your fox to earth. Barton,” replied the Under-Secretary, calmly, for it was he who spoke.

“In alliance with France,” continued the dark man, reading from the paper, over which he continued to pore ever since, “for the propagation – ay, that’s it – the propagation of democratic – ”

“Come, come, Browne; never mind the warrant. If he can find bail – say five hundred pounds – for his future appearance, we shall be satisfied.”

Browne, who never took his eyes from the paper, and seemed totally insensible to everything but the current of his own thoughts, now looked up, and fixing his dark and beetling look upon me, uttered in a deep, low tone, —

“You see, sir, the imminent danger of your present position, and at the same time the merciful leniency which has always characterized his Majesty’s Government, – ahem! If, therefore, you will plead guilty to any transportable felony, the grand jury will find true bills – ”

“You mistake, Browne,” said Cooke, endeavoring with his handkerchief to repress a burst of laughter; “we are going to take his bail.”

“Bail!” said the other, in a voice and with a look of amazement absolutely comic.

Up to this moment I had not broken silence, but I was unable to remain longer without speaking.

“I am quite ready, sir,” said I, resolutely, “to stand my trial for anything laid to my charge. I am neither ashamed of the opinions I profess, nor afraid of the dangers they involve.”

“You hear him, sir; you hear him,” said Barton, triumphantly, turning towards the Secretary, who bit his lip in disappointment, and frowned on me with a mingled expression of anger and warning. “Let him only proceed, and you ‘ll be quite satisfied, on his own showing, that he cannot be admitted to bail.”

“Bail!” echoed the Right Honorable, whose faculties seemed to have stuck fast in the mud of thought, and were totally unable to extricate themselves.

At the same moment, a gentle tap was heard at the door, and the porter entered with a card, which he delivered to the Secretary.

“Let him wait,” was the brief reply, as he threw his eyes over it.” Captain Bubbleton!”, muttered he, between his teeth; “don’t know him.”

I started at the name, and felt my cheek flush. He saw it at once.

“You know this gentleman, then?” said he, mildly.

“Yes; to his humanity I am indebted for my life.”

“I think I shall be able to show, sir,” said Barton, interposing, “that through this Burke’s instrumentality a very deep scheme of disaffection is at this moment in operation among the troops in garrison. It was in the barrack at George’s Street that I apprehended him.”

“You may withdraw, sir,” said the Secretary, turning towards me. “Let Captain Bubbleton come in.”

As I left the room, the burly captain entered; but so flurried and excited was he, that he never perceived me, as we passed each other.

I had not been many minutes in the outer room when a loud laugh attracted me, in which I could distinctly recognize the merry cadence of my friend Bubbleton; and shortly after the door was opened, and I was desired to enter.

“You distinctly understand, then, Captain Bubbleton,” said Mr. Cooke, “that in accepting the bail in this case, I am assuming a responsibility which may involve me in trouble?”

“I have no doubt of it,” muttered Barton, between his teeth.

“We shall require two sureties of five hundred pounds each.”

“Take the whole myself, by Jove!” broke in Bubbleton, with a flourish of his hand. “In for a penny, – eh, Tom?”

“You can’t do that, sir,” interposed Barton.

The Secretary nodded an assent, and for a moment or two Bubbleton looked nonplussed.

“You ‘ll of course have little difficulty as to a co-surety,” continued Barton, with a grin. “Burke of ‘Ours’ is sufficiently popular in the Forty-fifth to make it an easy matter.”

“True,” cried Bubbleton, “quite true; but in a thing of this kind, every fellow will be so deuced anxious to come forward, – a kind of military feeling, you know.”

“I understand it perfectly,” said Cooke, with a polite bow; “although a civilian, I think I can estimate the esprit de corps you speak of.”

“Nothing like it! nothing like it, by Jove! I ‘ll just tell you a story, a little anecdote, in point. When we were in the Neelgharries, there was a tiger devilish fond of one of ours. Some way or other, Forbes – that was his name – ”

“The tiger’s?

“No, the captain’s. Forbes had a devilish insinuating way with him, – women always liked him, – and this tiger used to come in after mess, and walk round where he was sitting, and Forbes used to give him his dinner, just as you might a dog – ”

The Castle clock struck three just at this moment. The Secretary started up.

“My dear captain,” cried he, putting his hand on Bubbleton’s arm, “I never was so sorry in my life; but I must hurry away to the Privy Council. I shall be here, however, at four; and if you will meet me at that time with the other security, we can arrange this little matter at once.” So saying, he seized his hat, bowed politely round the room, and left us.

“Come along, Tom!” cried Bubbleton, taking me by the arm. “Devilish good fellow that! Knew I ‘d tickle him with the tiger; nothing to what I could have told him, however, if he had waited.”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Barton, interposing between us and the door; “Mr. Burke is in custody until the formality at least of a bail be gone through.”

“So he is,” said Bubbleton; “I forgot all about it. So good-by, Tom, for half an hour; I ‘ll not be longer, depend on it.”

With this he shook me warmly by the hand, bustled out of the room, and hurried downstairs, humming a tune as he went, apparently in capital spirits, while I knew from his manner that the bail he was in search of had about as much existence as the tiger in the Neelgharries.

“You can wait in this room, sir,” said Barton, opening the door of a small apartment which had no other exit save through this office.

I sat down in silence and in sorrow of heart, to speculate, as well as I was able, on the consequences of my misfortune. I knew enough of Bubbleton to be certain that all chance of assistance in that quarter was out of the question: the only source he could draw upon being his invention; the only wealth he possessed, the riches of his imagination, which had, however, this advantage over any other species of property I ever heard of, – the more he squandered it, the more affluent did he become. Time wore on; the clock struck four, and yet no appearance of Bubbleton. Another hour rolled by, – no one came near me; and at length, from the perfect stillness without, I believed they had forgotten me.

CHAPTER XVI. THE BAIL

Six o’clock, seven, and even eight struck; and yet no one came. The monotonous tread of the sentry on guard at the Castle gate and the occasional challenge to some passing stranger were the only sounds I heard above the distant hum of the city, which grew fainter gradually as evening fell. At last I heard the sound of a key moving in a lock, the bang of a door, and then came the noise of many voices as the footsteps mounted the stairs, amid which Bubbleton’s was pre-eminently loud. The party entered the room next to where I sat, and from the tones I could collect that Major Barton and Mr. Cooke were of the number. Another there was, too, whose voice was not absolutely new or strange to my ears, though I could not possibly charge my memory where I had heard it before.

While I was thus musing, the door opened noiselessly, and Bubbleton entering without a word, closed it behind him, and approached me on tiptoe.

“All right, my boy; they’re doing the needful outside; ready in ten minutes: never was such a piece of fortune; found out a glorious fellow; heard of him from Hicks the money-lender; he’ll go security to any amount; knows your family well; knew your father, grandfather, I believe; delighted to meet you; says he ‘d rather see you than fifty pounds.”

“Who is he, for Heaven’s sake?” said I, impatiently; for it was a new thing to me to receive anything like kindness on the score of my father’s memory.

“Eh! who is he? He ‘s a kind of a bill-broking, mortgaging, bail-giving, devilish good sort of fellow. I ‘ve a notion he ‘d do a bit of something at three months.”

“But his name? what ‘s he called?”

“His name is, – let me see, – his name is – But who cares for his name? He can write it, I suppose, on a stamp, my boy; that ‘s the mark. Bless your heart, I only spoil a stamp when I put my autograph across it; it would be worth prime cost till then. What a glorious thing is youth, – unfledged, unblemished youth, – to possess a name new to the Jews, a reputation against which no one has ‘protested’ I Tom Burke, my boy, I envy you. Now, when I write George Frederick Augustus Bubbleton on any bill, warrant, or quittance, straightway there ‘s a grin around the circle, – a kind of a damned impertinent sort of a half-civil smile, as though to say ‘nulla bona,’ payable nowhere. But hold! that was a tap at the door. Oh, they want us.”

So saying, the captain opened the door and introduced me.

“I say, Tom,” cried he, “come here, and thank our kind friend, Mr. – Mr. – ”

“Mr. Basset!” said I, starting back, as my eyes beheld the pale, sarcastic features of the worthy attorney, who stood at the table, conversing in a low tone with the Under-Secretary.

“Eh I what ‘s the matter?” whispered Bubbleton as he saw my color come and go, and perceived that I leaned on a chair for support. “What the devil ‘s wrong now?”

“You ‘ve betrayed me to my greatest enemy,” said I, in a low, distinct voice.

“Eh! what? Why, you seem to have nothing but foes in the world. Confound it, that’s always my luck; my infernal good-nature is everlastingly making a wrong plunge.”

“In that case, if I understand the matter aright, the bail is unnecessary,” said Mr. Cooke, addressing Basset, who never turned his head to the part of the room where we stood.

“No, sir; it is not necessary. While the law assists me to resume my guardianship of this young gentleman, I am answerable for his appearance.”

“The indentures are quite correct,” said Barton, as he laid the papers on the table, “as I believe Mr. Basset’s statement to be also.”

“No bail necessary,” interrupted Bubbleton, rubbing his hands pleasantly; “so much the better. Wish them good evening, Tom, my hearty; we shall be back in time for supper. You wouldn’t take an oyster, Mr. Cooke?”

“I thank you very much, but I am unfortunately engaged.”

“Not so fast, captain, I beg you,” said Basset, with a most servile but malignant expression in his features. “The habits I would inculcate to my apprentice are not exactly consistent with mess parties and barrack suppers.”

“Apprentice! apprentice!” said Bubbleton, starting as if stung by a wasp. “Eh! you ‘re surely not – not the – the – ”

“Yes, sir; there’s the indenture, signed and sealed, if you are desirous to satisfy yourself. The young gentleman himself will not deny his father’s instructions concerning him.”

I hung down my head, abashed and ashamed. The tears started to my eyes; I turned away to wipe them, and feared to face the others again. I saw that Bubbleton, my only friend, believed I had practised some deceit on him; and how to explain, without disclosing what I dare not.

There was a bustle in the room; a sound of voices; the noise of feet descending the stairs; and when I again looked round, they were all gone save Basset, who was leisurely collecting his papers together and fastening them with a string. I turned my eyes everywhere, to see if Bubbleton had not remained. But no; he had left me like the rest, and I was alone with the man I most dreaded and disliked of all the world.

“Well, sir,” said Basset, as he thrust the papers into the pocket of his greatcoat, “I’m ready now.”

“Where to, sir?” replied I, sternly, as he moved to leave the room; for without thinking of how and why I was to succeed in it, a vague resolution of defiance flitted through my mind.

“To my house, sir; or to Newgate, if you prefer it. Don’t mistake, young gentleman, for a moment, the position you occupy; you owe your liberation at this moment not to any merits of your own. Your connection with the disaffected and rebellious body is well known: my interest with the Government is your only protection. Again, sir, let me add, that I have no peculiar desire for your company in my family; neither the habits nor the opinions you have acquired will suit those you ‘ll meet there.”

“Why, then, have you interfered with me?” said I, passionately. “Why not have left me to my fate? Be it what it might, it would have been not less acceptable, I assure you, than to become an inmate of your house.”

“That question were very easily answered,” said he, interrupting me.

“Then, why not do so?”

“Come, come, sir; these are not the terms which are to subsist between us, nor is this the place to discuss our difference. Follow me.”

He led the way downstairs as he spoke, and, taking my arm within his, turned into the street. Without a word on either side, we proceeded down Parliament Street, and crossing Essex Bridge, followed the quays for some time; then turning into Stafford Street, we arrived at a house, when having taken a latchkey from his pocket. Basset opened the door and ushered me in, muttering half aloud as he turned the key in the lock, and fastened the bolt, “Safe at last!” We turned from the narrow hall into a small parlor, which, from its dingy furniture of writing-desk and stools, I guessed to serve as an office. Here my companion lit a candle from the embers of the fire, and having carefully closed the door, he motioned me to a seat.

“I have already told you, sir, that I am not in the least covetous of your company in my house; circumstances which I may or may not explain hereafter have led me to rescue you from the disgrace you must eventually have brought upon your family.”

“Hold, sir; I have none, save a brother – ”

“Well, sir; and your brother’s feelings are, I trust, not to be slightingly treated – a young gentleman whose position and prospects are of the very highest order.”

“You are his agent, I perceive Mr. Basset,” said I, with a significant smile.

“I am, sir,” replied he, with a deep flush that mounted even to his forehead.

“Then let me save you all further trouble on my account,” said I, calmly. “My brother’s indifference to me or my fate has long since absolved me from any regret I might feel for the consequences which my actions might induce on his fortunes. His own conduct must stamp him, as mine must me. I choose to judge for myself; and not even Mr. Basset shall decide for me, although I am well aware his powers of discrimination have had the double advantage of experience on both sides of the question.”

As I said this, his face became almost livid, and his white lips quivered with passion. He knew not before that I was acquainted with his history, nor that I knew of his having sold to the Government information which brought his schoolfellow and benefactor to the scaffold.

“Come, come,” continued I, gaining courage, as I saw the effect my words produced, “it is not your interest to injure me, however it may be your wish. Is there no arrangement we can come to, mutually advantageous? We shall be but sorry companions. I ought to have some property under my grandfather’s will.”

“There is, I believe, five hundred pounds,” said Basset, with a slow distinctness, as if not rejecting the turn the conversation had taken.

“Well, then, what will you take to cancel that indenture? You don’t set a very high value on my services, I suppose?”

“You forget, I perceive,” said he, “that I am answerable for your future appearance if called on.”

“There was no bail-bond drawn out, no sum mentioned, if I mistake not, Mr. Basset.”

“Very true, sir; very true; but I pledged myself to the law adviser, – my character is responsible.”

“Well, well, let me have two hundred pounds; bum that cursed indenture – ”

“Two hundred pounds! Do you fancy, then, that you are in the possession of this legacy? Why, it never may, in all likelihood it never will, be yours; it’s only payable on your attaining your majority.”

“Give me one hundred pounds, then, – give me fifty; let me only be free, at liberty, and not absolutely a beggar on the streets.”

Basset leaned his head on the chimney, and seemed sunk in reflection; while I, wound up to the highest pitch of excitement, trod up and down the room, pouring forth from time to time short and broken sentences, declaratory of my desire to surrender all that I might chance to inherit by every casualty in life, to my last guinea, only let there be no constraint on my actions, no attempt to control my personal liberty.

“I see,” cried I, passionately, – “I see what hampers you. You fear I may compromise my family! It is my brother’s fair fame you are thinking of. But away with all dread on that score. I ‘ll leave Ireland; I have long since determined on that.”

“Indeed!” said Basset, slowly, as he turned round his head, and looked me full in the face.

“Would you go to America, then?”

“To America? No, – to France! That shall be the land of my adoption, as it is this moment of all my heart’s longings.”

His eyes sparkled, and a gleam of pleasure shot across his cold features, as if he caught a glow of the enthusiasm that lit up mine.

“Come,” cried he, “I ‘ll think of this. Give me till tomorrow, and if you ‘ll pledge yourself to leave Ireland within a week – ”

“I ‘ll pledge myself to nothing of the kind,” replied I, fiercely. “It is to be free, – free in thought as in act, – that I would barter all my prospects with you. There must be but one compact between us, – it must begin and end here. Take a night if you will to think it over, and to-morrow morning – ”

“Well, then, to-morrow morning be it,” said he, with more of animation in his tone; “and now to supper!”

“To bed, rather,” said I, “if I may speak my mind; for rest is what I now stand most in need of.”