“Will you supply his place and accompany us?” asked Luke of the ferryman.
“No, no,” replied Jem, shaking his head; “there’s too much risk, and too little profit, in the business for me — it won’t pay.”
“And what might tempt you to undertake the enterprise?” asked Alan.
“More than you have to offer, Master Peter,” replied Jem, who had not been enlightened upon the subject of Alan’s real name or condition.
“How know you that?” demanded Alan. “Name your demand.”
“Well, then, I’ll not say but a hundred pounds, if you had it, might bribe me ——”
“To part with your soul to the devil, I doubt not,” said Luke, fiercely stamping the ground. “Let us be gone. We need not his mercenary aid. We will do without him.”
“Stay,” said Alan, “you shall have the hundred, provided you will assure us of your services.”
“Cut no more blarneyfied whids, Master Sexton,” replied Jem, in a gruff tone. “If I’m to go, I must have the chink down, and that’s more nor either of you can do, I’m thinking.”
“Give me your purse,” whispered Alan to his grandson. “Pshaw,” continued he, “do you hesitate? This man can do much for us. Think upon Eleanor, and be prudent. You cannot accomplish your task unaided.” Taking the amount from the purse, he gave it to the ferryman, adding, “If we succeed, the sum shall be doubled; and now let us set out.”
During Alan’s speech, Jem’s sharp eyes had been fastened upon the purse, while he mechanically clutched the bank-notes which were given to him. He could not remove his gaze, but continued staring at the treasure before him, as if he would willingly, by force, have made it all his own.
Alan saw the error he had committed in exposing the contents of the purse to the avaricious ferryman, and was about to restore it to Luke, when the bag was suddenly snatched from his grasp, and himself levelled by a blow upon the floor. Conkey Jem found the temptation irresistible. Knowing himself to be a match for both his companions, and imagining he was secure from interruption, he conceived the idea of making away with them, and possessing himself of their wealth. No sooner had he disposed of Alan, than he assailed Luke, who met his charge half way. With the vigor and alacrity of the latter the reader is already acquainted, but he was no match for the herculean strength of the double-jointed ferryman, who, with the ferocity of the boar he so much resembled, thus furiously attacked him. Nevertheless, as may be imagined, he was not disposed to yield up his life tamely. He saw at once the villain’s murderous intentions, and, well aware of his prodigious power, would not have risked a close struggle could he have avoided it. Snatching the eel-spear from the wall, he had hurled it at the head of his adversary, but without effect. In the next instant he was locked in a clasp terrible as that of a Polar bear. In spite of all his struggles, Luke was speedily hurled to the ground: and Jem, who had thrown himself upon him, was apparently searching about for some weapon to put a bloody termination to the conflict, when the trampling of a horse was heard at the door, three taps were repeated slowly, one after the other, and a call resounded from a whistle.
“Damnation!” ejaculated Jem, gruffly, “interrupted!” And he seemed irresolute, slightly altering his position on Luke’s body.
The moment was fortunate for Luke, and, in all probability, saved his life. He extricated himself from the ferryman’s grasp, regained his feet, and, what was of more importance, the weapon he had thrown away.
“Villain!” cried he, about to plunge the spear with all his force into his enemy’s side, “you shall ——”
The whistle was again heard without.
“Don’t you hear that?” cried Jem: “’Tis Turpin’s call.”
“Turpin!” echoed Luke, dropping the point of his weapon. “Unbar the door, you treacherous rascal, and admit him.”
“Well, say no more about it, Sir Luke,” said Jem, fawningly; “I knows I owes you my life, and I thank you for it. Take back the lowre. He should not have shown it me — it was that as did all the mischief.”
“Unbar the door, and parley not,” said Luke contemptuously.
Jem complied with pretended alacrity, but real reluctance, casting suspicious glances at Luke as he withdrew the bolts. The door at length being opened, haggard, exhausted, and covered with dust, Dick Turpin staggered into the hut.
“Well, I am here,” said he, with a hollow laugh. “I’ve kept my word — ha, ha! I’ve been damnably put to it; but here I am, ha, ha!” And he sank upon one of the stools.
“We heard you were apprehended,” said Luke. “I am glad to find the information was false,” added he, glancing angrily at the ferryman.
“Whoever told you that, told you a lie, Sir Luke,” replied Dick; “but what are you scowling at, old Charon? — and you, Sir Luke? Why do you glower at each other? Make fast the door — bolt it, Cerberus — right! Now give me a glass of brandy, and then I’ll talk — a bumper — so — another. What’s that I see — a dead man? Old Peter — Alan I mean — has anything happened to him, that he has taken his measure there so quietly?”
“Nothing, I trust,” said Luke, stooping to raise up his grandsire. “The blow has stunned him.”
“The blow?” repeated Turpin. “What! there has been a quarrel then? I thought as much from your amiable looks at each other. Come, come, we must have no differences. Give the old earthworm a taste of this — I’ll engage it will bring him to fast enough. Ay, rub his temples with it if you’d rather; but it’s a better remedy down the gullet — the natural course; and hark ye, Jem, search your crib quickly, and see if you have any grub within it, and any more bub in the cellar: I’m as hungry as a hunter, and as thirsty as a camel.”
CHAPTER 2
MAJOR MOWBRAY
Mephistopheles. Out with your toasting iron! Thrust away!
Hayward’s Translation of Faust.
Conkey Jem went in search of such provisions as his hovel afforded. Turpin, meantime, lent his assistance towards the revival of Alan Rookwood; and it was not long before his efforts, united with those of Luke, were successful, and Alan restored to consciousness. He was greatly surprised to find the highwayman had joined them, and expressed an earnest desire to quit the hut as speedily as possible.
“That shall be done forthwith, my dear fellow,” said Dick. “But if you had fasted as long as I have done, and gone through a few of my fatigues into the bargain, you would perceive, without difficulty, the propriety of supping before you started. Here comes Old Nosey, with a flitch of bacon and a loaf. Egad, I can scarce wait for the toasting. In my present mood, I could almost devour a grunter in the sty.” Whereupon he applied himself to the loaf, and to a bottle of stout March ale, which Jem placed upon the table, quaffing copious draughts of the latter, while the ferryman employed himself in toasting certain rashers of the flitch upon the hissing embers.
Luke, meanwhile, stalked impatiently about the room. He had laid aside his tridental spear, having first, however, placed a pistol within his breast to be ready for instant service, should occasion demand it, as he could now put little reliance upon the ferryman’s fidelity. He glanced with impatience at Turpin, who pursued his meal with steady voracity, worthy of a half-famished soldier; but the highwayman returned no answer to his looks, except such as was conveyed by the incessant clatter of his masticating jaws, during the progress of his, apparently, interminable repast.
“Ready for you in a second, Sir Luke,” said Dick; “all right now — capital ale, Charon — strong as Styx — ha,