I prepared to obey him. Fleming went out, and I was following him round his side of the table, when Marables interposed.
“Stop: Fleming, what is that you mean to do?”
“Silence him!” retorted Fleming.
“But not murder him, surely?” cried Marables, trembling from head to foot. “You will not, dare not, do that.”
“What is it that I dare not do, Marables? but it is useless to talk; it is now his life or mine. One must be sacrificed, and I will not die yet to please him.”
“You shall not—by God, Fleming, you shall not!” cried Marables, seizing hold of my other arm, and holding me tight.
I added my resistance to that of Marables; when Fleming, perceiving that we should be masters, took a pistol from his pocket, and struck Marables a blow on the head, which rendered him senseless. Throwing away the pistol, he dragged me out of the cabin. I was strong, but he was very powerful; my resistance availed me nothing: by degrees he forced me to the side of the barge, and lifting me in his arms, dashed me into the dark and rapidly flowing water. It was fortunate for me that the threat of Fleming, upon our first meeting, had induced me to practise swimming, and still more fortunate that I was not encumbered with any other clothes than my shirt, in which I had come on deck. As it was, I was carried away by the tide for some time before I could rise, and at such a distance that Fleming, who probably watched, did not perceive that I came up again. Still, I had but little hopes of saving myself in a dark night, and at nearly a quarter of a mile from shore. I struggled to keep myself afloat, when I heard the sound of oars; a second or two more and I saw them over my head. I grasped at and seized the last, as the others passed me, crying “Help!”
“What the devil! Oars, my men; here’s somebody overboard,” cried the man, whose oar I had seized.
They stopped pulling; he dragged in his oar till he could lay hold of me, and then they hauled me into the boat. I was exhausted with cold and my energetic struggles in the water; and it was not until they had wrapped me up in a great-coat, and poured some spirits down my throat; that I could speak. They inquired to which of the craft I belonged.
“The Folly barge.”
“The very one we are searching for. Where about is she, my lad?”
I directed them: the boat was a large wherry, pulling six oars, belonging to the river police. The officer in the stern sheets, who steered her, then said, “How came you overboard?”
“I was thrown overboard,” replied I, “by a man called Fleming.”
“The name he goes by,” cried the officer. “Give way, my lads. There’s murder, it appears, as well as other charges.”
In a quarter of an hour we were alongside—the officer and four men sprang out of the boat, leaving the other two with directions for me to remain in the boat. Cold and miserable as I was, I was too much interested in the scene not to rise up from the stern sheets, and pay attention to what passed. When the officer and his men gained the deck, they were met by Fleming in the advance, and Marables about a yard or two behind.
“What’s all this?” cried Fleming, boldly. “Are you river pirates, come to plunder us?”
“Not exactly,” replied the officer; “but we are just come to overhaul you. Deliver up the key of your cabin,” continued he, after trying the door and finding it locked.
“With all my heart, if you prove yourselves authorised to search,” replied Fleming; “but you’ll find no smuggled spirits here, I can tell you. Marables, hand them the key; I see that they belong to the river guard.”
Marables, who had never spoken, handed the key to the officer, who, opening a dark lanthorn, went down into the cabin and proceeded in his search, leaving two of the men to take charge of Fleming and Marables. But his search was in vain; he could find nothing, and he came out on deck.
“Well,” said Fleming, sarcastically, “have you made a seizure?”
“Wait a little,” said the officer; “how many men have you in this barge?”
“You see them,” replied Fleming.
“Yes; but you have a boy; where is he?”
“We have no boy,” replied Fleming; “two men are quite enough for this craft.”
“Still I ask you, what has become of the boy? for a boy was on your decks this afternoon.”
“If there was one, I presume he has gone on shore again.”
“Answer me another question; which of you threw him overboard?”
At this query of the officer, Fleming started, while Marables cried out, “It was not I; I would have saved him. O that the boy were here to prove it!”
“I am here, Marables,” said I, coming on deck, “and I am witness that you tried to save me, until you were struck senseless by that ruffian, Fleming, who threw me overboard, that I might not give evidence as to the silver and gold which I found in the cabin; and which I overheard him tell you must be put into sacks and sunk, as two of the men had ’peached.”
Fleming, when he saw me, turned round, as if not to look at me. His face I could not see; but after remaining a few seconds in that position, he held out his hands in silence for the handcuffs, which the officer had already taken out of his pocket. Marables, on the contrary, sprang forward as soon as I had finished speaking, and caught me in his arms.
“My fine, honest boy! I thank God—I thank God! All that he has said is true, sir. You will find the goods sunk astern, and the buoy-rope to them fastened to the lower pintle of the rudder. Jacob, thank God, you are safe! I little thought to see you again. There, sir,” continued he to the officer, holding out his hands, “I deserve it all. I had not strength of mind enough to be honest.”
The handcuffs were put on Marables as well as on Fleming, and the officer, allowing me time to go down and put on my clothes, hauled up the sacks containing the valuables, and leaving two hands in charge of the barge, rowed ashore with us all in the boat. It was then about three o’clock in the morning, and I was very glad when we arrived at the receiving-house, and I was permitted to warm myself before the fire. As soon as I was comfortable, I laid down on the bench and fell fast asleep.
Chapter Eight.
One of the ups and downs of Life.—Up before the magistrates, then down the River again in the Lighter.—The Toms.—A light heart upon two sticks.—Receive my first Lesson in singing.—Our Lighter well-manned with two boys and a fraction.
I did not awake the next morning till roused by the police, who brought us up before the magistrates. The crowd that followed appeared to make no distinction between the prisoners and the witness, and remarks not very complimentary, and to me very annoying, were liberally made. “He’s a young hand for such work,” cried one. “There’s gallows marked in his face,” observed another, to whom, when I turned round to look at him, I certainly could have returned the compliment. The station was not far from the magistrates’ office, and we soon arrived. The principal officer went into the inner room, and communicated with the magistrates before they came out and took their seats on the bench.
“Where is Jacob Faithful? My lad, do you know the nature of an oath?”
I answered in the affirmative; the oath was administered, and my evidence taken down. It was then read over to the prisoners, who were asked if they had