IV.
Jolly nose! there are fools who say drink hurts the sight;
Such dullards know nothing about it.
’T is better, with wine, to extinguish the light,
Than live always, in darkness, without it!
“How long may it be since that boy was found in the way Mrs. Wood mentions?” inquired Jackson, as soon as the clatter that succeeded Mr. Smith’s melody had subsided.
“Let me see,” replied Wood; “exactly twelve years ago last November.”
“Why, that must be about the time of the Great Storm,” rejoined Jackson.
“Egad!” exclaimed Wood, “you’ve hit the right nail on the head, anyhow. It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him.”
“I should like to hear all particulars of the affair,” said Jackson, “if it wouldn’t be troubling you too much.”
Mr. Wood required little pressing. He took a sip of punch and commenced his relation. Though meant to produce a totally different effect, the narrative seemed to excite the risible propensities rather than the commiseration of his auditor; and when Mr. Wood wound it up by a description of the drenching he had undergone at the Mint pump, the other could hold out no longer, but, leaning back in his chair, gave free scope to his merriment.
“I beg your pardon,” he cried; “but really — ha! ha! — you must excuse me! — that is so uncommonly diverting — ha! ha! Do let me hear it again? — ha! ha! ha!”
“Upon my word,” rejoined Wood, “you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes.”
“To be sure! Nothing entertains me so much. People always rejoice at the misfortunes of others — never at their own! The droll dogs! how they must have enjoyed it! — ha! ha!”
“I dare say they did. But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you. And, though it’s a long time ago, I feel as sore on the subject as ever.”
“Quite natural! Never forgive an injury! —I never do! — ha! ha!”
“Really, Mr. Jackson, I could almost fancy we had met before. Your laugh reminds me of — of ——”
“Whose, Sir?” demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave.
“You’ll not be offended, I hope,” returned Wood, drily, “if I say that your voice, your manner, and, above all, your very extraordinary way of laughing, put me strangely in mind of one of the ‘droll dogs,’ (as you term them,) who helped to perpetrate the outrage I’ve just described.”
“Whom do you mean?” demanded Jackson.
“I allude to an individual, who has since acquired an infamous notoriety as a thief-taker; but who, in those days, was himself the associate of thieves.”
“Well, Sir, his name?”
“Jonathan Wild.”
“‘Sblood!” cried Jackson, rising, “I can’t sit still and hear Mr. Wild, whom I believe to be as honest a gentleman as any in the kingdom, calumniated!”
“Fire and fury!” exclaimed Smith, getting up with the brandy-bottle in his grasp; “no man shall abuse Mr. Wild in my presence! He’s the right-hand of the community! We could do nothing without him!”
“We!” repeated Wood, significantly.
“Every honest man, Sir! He helps us to our own again.”
“Humph!” ejaculated the carpenter.
“Surely,” observed Thames, laughing, “to one who entertains so high an opinion of Jonathan Wild, as Mr. Jackson appears to do, it can’t be very offensive to be told, that he’s like him.”
“I don’t object to the likeness, if any such exists, young Sir,” returned Jackson, darting an angry glance at Thames; “indeed I’m rather flattered by being thought to resemble a gentleman of Mr. Wild’s figure. But I can’t submit to hear the well-earned reputation of my friend termed an ‘infamous notoriety.’”
“No, we can’t stand that,” hiccupped Smith, scarcely able to keep his legs.
“Well, gentlemen,” rejoined Wood, mildly; “since Mr. Wild is a friend of yours, I’m sorry for what I said. I’ve no doubt he’s as honest as either of you.”
“Enough,” returned Jackson, extending his hand; “and if I’ve expressed myself warmly, I’m sorry for it likewise. But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you’re wholly in the wrong respecting my friend. Mr. Wild never was the associate of thieves.”
“Never,” echoed Smith, emphatically, “upon my honour.”
“I’m satisfied with your assurance,” replied the carpenter, drily.
“It’s more than I am,” muttered Thames.
“I was not aware that Jonathan Wild was an acquaintance of yours, Mr. Jackson,” said Kneebone, whose assiduity to Mrs. Wood had prevented him from paying much attention to the previous scene.
“I’ve known him all my life,” replied the other.
“The devil you have! Then, perhaps, you can tell me when he intends to put his threat into execution?”
“What threat?” asked Jackson.
“Why, of hanging the fellow who acts as his jackal; one Blake, or Blueskin, I think he’s called.”
“You’ve been misinformed, Sir,” interposed Smith. “Mr. Wild is incapable of such baseness.”
“Bah!” returned the woollen-draper. “I see you don’t know him as well as you pretend. Jonathan is capable of anything. He has hanged twelve of his associates already. The moment they cease to be serviceable, or become dangerous he lodges an information, and the matter’s settled. He has always plenty of evidence in reserve. Blueskin is booked. As sure as you’re sitting there, Mr. Smith, he’ll swing after next Old Bailey sessions. I wouldn’t be in his skin for a trifle!”
“But he may peach,” said Smith casting an oblique glance at Jackson.
“It would avail him little if he did,” replied Kneebone. “Jonathan does what he pleases in the courts.”
“Very true,” chuckled Jackson; “very true.”
“Blueskin’s only chance would be to carry his threat into effect,” pursued the woollen-draper.
“Aha!” exclaimed Jackson. “He threatens, does he?”
“More than that,” replied Kneebone; “I understand he drew a knife upon Jonathan, in a quarrel between them lately. And since then, he has openly avowed his determination of cutting his master’s throat on the slightest inkling of treachery. But, perhaps Mr. Smith will tell you I’m misinformed, also, on that point.”
“On the contrary,” rejoined Smith, looking askance at his companion, “I happen to know you’re in the right.”
“Well, Sir, I’m obliged to you,” said Jackson; “I shall take care to put Mr. Wild on his guard against an assassin.”
“And I shall put Blueskin on the alert against the designs of a traitor,” rejoined Smith, in a tone that sounded like a menace.
“In my opinion,” remarked Kneebone, “it doesn’t matter how soon society is rid of two such scoundrels; and if Blueskin dies by the rope, and Jonathan by the hand of violence, they’ll meet the fate they merit. Wild was formerly an agent to the Jacobite party, but, on the offer of a bribe from the opposite faction, he unhesitatingly deserted and betrayed his old employers. Of