Chapter 5

THE CAPTURE.

The sun had set about an hour on the evening of the same day, when Mr. Lambert, with two stout attendants, set out from his residence on the outskirts of the village, and took his way through the intervening wood towards the sea shore. The two men with him were London officers, adepts at thief catching, resolute and determined; they were well armed, but bore no badge of their occupation outside. The agent had screwed his courage to the point of accompanying them, with some difficulty, but he was well aware that if they failed in capturing their man, he would have to encounter the nobleman's rage, and he feared the loss of his favor more than the chance of being shot or stabbed by Hunter; but he knew well it was an errand of no small danger he was upon; yet they were three to one, and he counted much upon the instructions he had given to Curly Tom; much also on Hunter's habit of drink, still he felt by no means easy and would have given much then to have been quietly in his bed; not so the officers; they were in high glee, the prospect of a desperate encounter being by men inured to deal with ruffians as they were, but small in comparison with the hope of a large reward.

They proceeded in silence, however--the agent, who was perfectly familiar with the way, leading. They soon emerged into the open country, and after a few miles began to ascend, and felt the keen air from the sea blow upon their faces--the path soon became rugged and uneven, but sloping towards the sea. In a short time they reached the beach. Here they dismounted and tied their beasts up under a shed, placed there for the purpose of drying fish. There was no moon, but it was a bright starlight night, and the tide was out. Creeping cautiously along, they skirted the base of a large cliff which projected far beyond low water mark, and against which the sea beat in fury when the tide was in; and keeping on its inner side; crept along until they reached the entrance of a cave. Not a word was spoken. Their instructions had been precise--for Lambert, who was born and had spent his earliest years there, knew every spot of the ground. They took their shoes off, and walking upon the hard sand which formed the ground, entered the pitchy darkness. Lambert going first, and knowing that a sound would be fatal--for they would have little chance in that narrow passage--he turned every angle as accurately as if it had been daylight, and the officers holding, one behind the other, followed stealthily along. Soon their path widened, and a glimmering light allowed them that the cavern was tenanted, or had been so. A few paces more, and they stopped. Some large masses of fallen rock here almost blocked up the path, leaving an opening so narrow as to require stooping to enter. Cautiously peeping through some spaces between the rocks, the agent and his myrmidons gazed upon a scene Salvator would have loved to paint. The cavern here expanded into a semicircular hall, stalactites hanging from its roof nearly to the ground. Here and there a niche and recess which seemed done by human art, but which in fact was Nature's handiwork, was seen, and every point of spar, from the lofty roof to the stalagmites below, was glittering in the light of a huge fire of brushwood fed by Curly Tom. A small rill of water trickled from a fissure in the rock above, and wound its way through the sand towards the sea. It was the very beau-ideal of a robber's cave. Its existence was known to few: only accessible at low water, the entrance had escaped notice, and the few that did find it were discouraged on entering by the long and tortuous way which led to this chamber, and did not track it far. The smoke found vent above, as the fire burnt clear and bright, and did not incommode the watchers.

Horace Hunter was pacing the cave with unsteady step, and with delight the officers saw that he was more than half intoxicated. No one could have recognized in the bloated countenance and reckless air of the hunted man, the gay and handsome young farmer of seven years before. There was still the same manly form and intelligent features, but the rich brown hair that then curled round his open brow, now wild and matted, only added to the desperate appearance of his sunken eyes and overhanging brows. Drink did not make him merry. On the contrary he was more bitter then than ever. Gloomy and ferocious as he had become since his sister's shame had been known to him, when he drank he only brooded heavier upon it; and the hope of a more complete revenge only restrained him then from some desperate act of violence. As he walked to and fro, chafing with inward passion, he might have been compared to a caged wild beast, hungry and with food in sight, yet unattainable.

'A curse upon you, Tom!' said he. 'Would you roast us alive, this hot night? Leave the fire alone and bring your hang-dog face here!'

He treated his associate with the most bitter contempt.

'I doant fancy biding here with narra light!' said the fellow. 'There be a mort of ugly things here!'

'There's nothing uglier than your own carcase. Drink and get courage. If your heart is cold with fear, warm it with brandy.'

So saying he took a deep draught himself and handed the bottle to his companion.

'I hate the stuff!' said he. 'Bah! it's poison--but it rouses me. Fire this infernal cave! What's that?' A bat, disturbed by the smoke, flitted close before his face. 'I have had nothing but evil omens to-day. What is the day of the month?'

'I heern lawyer say the 26th, yesterday.'

'The 27th of August, then. By twelve o'clock to-night my time will be up--then I shall be free to act. If that old seaman should play me false now! I promised him to wait three years, and I have kept my word!' He was speaking more to himself than to his companion. 'Three long years--too long for vengeance for wrongs like mine to wait. But that he swore, I should tame his pride--but that he spoke of hurling him from his high estate, ere this I would have had the heart's blood of that proud man. But to-night I shall be free, and then--'

He took from his vest a miniature, and gazed upon it long and earnestly. Gradually his features softened, and burying his face in his hands, he wept. There was yet one green spot in the desert of his heart--love for the fair girl he had been betrothed to. Reader, it was a terrible thing to see that man weep--it would have made your heart sicken and your blood boil, while every scalding tear that fell would cry aloud in your thoughts, 'Vengeance, vengeance!'

A strange proceeding now took place. Curly Tom took from his pocket a small phial, and previously filling his own cup with brandy, poured the contents into the bottle. He watched his companion intently during this process, but his terrible emotion too completely mastered him for the moment. It was but momentary. He arose and commenced to pace the floor again. 'My Mary! you too sacrificed! O, fiend! fiend! But my vengeance shall be terrible! To-night I shall be free from my oath!' He walked up to the table and drank. Curly Tom watched him intently as he resumed his unsteady walk.

'He little dreams that I can enter his very chamber at any hour. Oh! coward, fool, dolt, that I have been, to delay my just revenge on the word of that old pirate. I believe him,--some paid minion of this proud man; for he has them in every guise, perhaps the very appointment made three years ago in the West Indies, was a trap, perhaps,--even this clod is a spy and accomplice;' he took a pistol from an inner pocket and cocking it, pressed it to the ear of his companion. 'Tom,' said he, 'if I thought you would betray me.' The ruffian possessed that brute indifference to danger too often mistaken for true courage,--he did not tremble, though a slight paleness was visible on his repulsive countenance as he felt the touch of the iron barrel. 'Whoy! Measter Horace,' said he, 'didn't you save moy old mawther from being drowned by the boys vor a witch, noa, noa,--I be true, and hate yearl and lawyer, and all the great volk.'

'I believe you,' said the other, replacing the pistol, 'but' he began to mutter indistinctly, took a few steps in a wild, uncertain way;--'I feel dizzy,--d----nation,' he staggered to a seat and dropped his head upon the piece of rock that served them for a table;--the opiate had done its work.

Curly Tom cautiously arose, and walking up to him, looked upon him long and steadily, listening to the heavy breathing,--he wished to remove his arms, but the position Hunter was lying in, prevented his doing so. The ruffian felt no remorse; it was true that Hunter had saved the wretch's mother from being abused and ill-treated, perhaps murdered, by the superstitious villagers: true that he had regularly allowed the poor old woman support till her death,--while her ruffian son was pursuing his career of crime,--but the villain knew his own neck was in danger, and being conscious of perfidy, now hated Hunter for his momentary suspicion. As he leaned over the insensible man, his light, bleary eyes gleaming with ferocious satisfaction, his lank, shambling figure, and yellow, matted hair hanging in elf locks round his sharp visage, he looked like an unclean bird of prey hovering over a carcase. And a carcase it was over which he bent his head; dead now to every honorable hope, worse than useless to his kind, a hunted outcast, a mass of decaying matter, kept alive only by the fiery hope of vengeance that burnt within. The ruffian had hitherto been faithful, and procured Hunter those necessaries that he could not venture in quest of himself, for he was a deserter from that service, which kidnaps men to do its work, and hunts down the poor slaves when they escape, even in the land whose inhabitants are singing, 'Britons ever will be free.' Bitter, mockery of freedom. Curly Tom now held up his hand, and cautiously the officers emerged from their hiding place, slowly they came forward, anticipating an easy capture; they were mistaken. The opiate, as it frequently does on excitable natures, had only partially stupefied him, and the first effect wearing off, it now began to act as a stimulant;--the officers had traversed about half the distance to the rock on which Hunter's head reclined, when he started up and looked wildly around him,--for a moment he seemed stupefied, and passed his hand before his face as if to assure himself he was not dreaming--the officers rushed forward. He saw it all now,--he drew a pistol, but Curly Tom threw his long arms round him,--too late to prevent the explosion, however. The ball whizzed by the side of the foremost officer, and struck the agent in the leg--he fell. Curly Tom possessed more strength than his lank figure promised,--but Hunter, thoroughly sobered by his danger; tore his hold away, and striking the ruffian a tremendous blow with the butt end of the discharged pistol, felled him to the ground,--and snatching a knife from the rock close at hand, stabbed the foremost officer to the heart,--he fell with a heavy groan, and the next moment the remaining officer, a man of herculean strength had closed upon him. Terrible was now the struggle--the officer had dexterously struck the knife from his hand as he closed with him, but he could not draw his pistols. Locked in each other's grasp they wrestled together for life: each one well knew that death would be the lot of the vanquished,--the officer burning to revenge his comrade's death:--Hunter struggling for life and his cherished vengeance. Gradually they approached the spot where the agent sat watching the conflict with terrible anxiety, so absorbing as to make him forgetful of the pain of his wound; here, by a tremendous effort the officer succeeded in throwing his antagonist; falling, however, with him. Hunter made desperate efforts to rise, but getting within reach of the agent in the struggle, Lambert seized his hair, and held his head firmly down; to master his hands now, and slip a pair of handcuffs over his wrists, was, to the powerful and practised officer, the work of a moment,--and furious with passion, but exhausted by the struggle, Hunter lay upon the earth, a captive.

'A game fellow,' said the officer, wiping the perspiration from his brow, 'and strong as a bear, but I've tackled as tough hands as him in my day, and so has poor Bill Maddox there. I hope the Earl will settle a good pension on his widow--it will be sad news for her and her four poor children:--stone dead. He took the famous highwayman, Jack Blount summut in this way, five years ago. Well, he's gone, and as the tide is coming in, we had best be smart. That shot was unlucky for you, Mr. Lambert, but such accidents will happen. You behaved beautifully. I'm blowed if I thought you so fly to these things. Poor Bill--we can't move him until next tide, but sea-water can't hurt him now. I must rouse this chuckle-headed yokel and get him to help me.' So saying, the veteran thief-catcher lighted a dark lantern, and taking some water sprinkled it freely over the head and face of Curly Tom. The fellow returned to consciousness, and gazed around him--a look of ferocious joy animated his eyes, as he saw that Hunter was taken, and drinking the brandy he had reserved unmixed in the cup, he professed his readiness to help them.

Leaving him to guard the prisoner, first, however, removing Hunter's remaining pistol, and even securing the discharged one, the sturdy official took the wounded agent on his back, and crept out of the cavern. He soon returned, and with Tom's assistance removed Hunter also, who now from the combined effects of exhaustion, liquor and the opiate, was fast becoming insensible. Leaving one of his pistols with the agent, in case of treachery on the part of Tom, he once more returned, and taking off the outer clothing of the dead man, fastened a cord to his feet, and tied it firmly round a piece of rock near by. He was too used to scenes of blood to shed a tear, but he shook the dead man's hand and said, 'Poor Bill,' as he quitted the cave. His precautions with regard to Tom were unneeded. The ruffian's hatred had been aroused by Hunter's suspicion, and confirmed by the blow. Nor did he refuse to start to Erith for assistance to convey the prisoner and the wounded man there. He had been assured by the agent that no harm should come to him, protected by the powerful influence of the nobleman; and to allow himself to be captured had been part of the plan from the first. He had not sense enough to know that the heavier crime of murder, now laying upon the soul of the unfortunate man, did away with the necessity of his appearing as a witness, as it had been done in the presence of Mr. Lambert and the officer, and they were both too wise to undeceive him. Indeed the wily agent had determined, now that the service was rendered, to sacrifice his ruffianly tool, as his presence might be troublesome. Tom soon returned with a posse of police officers and a cart, to convey the prisoner and the wounded. A surgeon was with them, who dressed Mr. Lambert's wound temporarily, and pronounced it trifling, and the party departed--Tom going with them as a voluntary prisoner.

Great were the encomiums bestowed upon the officer by his brother official, for his conduct and bravery, and the agent also came in for his share of praise--and the whole party were in high glee at the result, which brought one poor hunted human being under the dread ban of the law, while he whose lust had driven him to crime revelled in luxury, and mingled with the fair and good, courted and caressed by those who would have shrunk from expressing any sympathy for the poor victims of his pride. Weep, angels, weep! and devils, shout for joy! Hell has no minister so powerful as the proud man's lust.

It may be as well to mention here at once, that the agent, pursuing his plan of getting rid of Curly Tom, much to that worthy's astonishment, pressed the charge of highway robbery against him, before the trial of Hunter, which was postponed through the influence of the Earl, which was indirectly exerted also to procure the condemnation of his base tool; and so it came to pass, that after a trial, which was a mere form--for the seaman's bare deposition, which Mr. Lambert had taken, was admitted as evidence--the good citizens of Canterbury being in want of a little excitement, that interesting individual performed a dance upon nothing, in company with a sheep-stealer and a forger, for their especial behoof, one fine day in September, under the personal superintendence of that accomplished artist, Mr. John Ketch, in the presence of a highly respectable and numerous audience, who all retired to their homes in peace, much gratified with the exhibition, and duly impressed with a deep sense of the blessing of being permitted to vegetate under the protection of a government so wise in its councils, so strong in _execution_, and so paternal in its care for the morals of the people. So said the newspapers next day; and thus ended the career of a heartless ruffian, it is true, but who had ever sought to make him otherwise?

To proceed with our tale. Day was now fast breaking; and as the cortege moved away with their prisoner, two horsemen appeared on the cliffs above, and dismounting, watched the party with eager but disappointed looks. They were the old seaman and Edward Barnett, the village landlady's eccentric nephew.

'A plague upon my awkward riding,' said the seaman, 'we are too late! They have taken him, and that rascal too with him! Fool that he was to place any confidence in such a hound.'

'He had been kind to Tom's mother,' said Edward, 'and he supposed that gratitude.'

'Bah!' said the sailor; 'when you have buffeted as many of the storms of life as I have, you will learn that gratitude is rarely found on earth--least of all in such a brutified nature as that fellow's. But why do I blame him? He was but what the law made him. Punished for a venial fault--sent to herd with hardened malefactors, is it wonderful that he should become schooled in crime? And now the law will punish the criminal it made. We can do no good here--we had best proceed to Erith. I have much to say to you, and much to do. But fear not; Hunter shall not perish without an effort, even if I tear him from the gallows.' So saying, he remounted, and the two slowly pursued their way towards Erith.