Chapter 4

"Oh, give me liberty! For were even Paradise my prison, Still I should long to leap the crystal walls."

DRYDEN.

The motives which animated Spikeman to play the part which he did in the court that condemned the soldier, will now be better understood. He had cast eyes of licentious desire upon the blooming Prudence, who was, at the same time, beloved by Philip, and was solicitous to remove him out of the way. Bold in all his plans, neither honoring God nor fearing man, unscrupulous in regard to the means, to effect a purpose, and esteeming the gratification of his evil wishes the highest happiness, it was yet necessary to the achievement of his objects that a specious outside at least should be preserved, and this he had succeeded in doing up to the present time. In pursuance of his cunning policy, he was unwilling that even Joy should suspect him of unfriendliness, and for that reason had, in the course of the examination, excited the temporary vexation of Deputy Governor Dudley, by an observation which, to the unsuspecting Deputy, seemed indicative of a desire to screen Joy from punishment, and to Joy himself the interference of a friend; while, in fact, it was intended to entrap the prisoner into rash speeches, which would be prejudicial to his cause. How effectually he undeceived Dudley, after Joy had been removed, we have seen.

The Assistant had attained his object. Philip was in the first place to be imprisoned and fined, and afterwards banished, and the field was henceforth to be left free to himself. With his rival out of the way, he did not doubt of succeeding with the girl by means of such arguments and temptations as it would be in his power to employ. How he had begun by endeavoring to use the very affection of Prudence for her lover to make her betray herself, has been told; but thus far her simplicity and good fortune had been quite a match for his craft. In the hope to obtain some advantage for Philip, she had granted the Assistant the interview which we have just witnessed, and wherein he disclosed his character in a manner he had never done to her before. She now understood his designs thoroughly, but the knowledge was a secret which her fears suggested that she had better lock up in her own heart. What chance would a poor unprotected girl have in a contest with the rich and powerful Assistant? Who would take her word in opposition to his? Spikeman well appreciated his advantage, and calculating with absolute certainty upon her silence, was, in consequence, the more audacious.

When the spy of the Assistant found him at his store-house, he was meditating upon the approaching interview with Prudence, the contemplation of which it unpleasantly interrupted. The prospect of the soldier's liberation was exceeding disagreeable. It would interfere with, and perhaps defeat plans, which in blind passion he hugged to his heart. But engrossed by his unworthy madness, he could not then mature any scheme not connected with its immediate gratification. Machinations for the further accomplishment of his designs must be postponed for a calmer moment. It came after the interruption occasioned by the arrival of his wife, and soon his active brain had shaped his ideas into definiteness.

Accordingly in the evening, as soon as it became so dark that features were not readily distinguishable in the streets, the Assistant took his way to the prison in which the soldier was confined. It stood on the edge of the settlement, and was a low, one-story building, strongly made of unhewn logs, within a few feet of which was the dwelling of the jailer, but little differing from it in exterior. In those days a very strong jail was not so important as at present. If one had committed a crime so heinous that he was unfit to live, he was forthwith put beyond the power of doing mischief; but if the offence were of a less atrocious character, modes of punishment were usually resorted to which did not involve the necessity of supporting him at public charge--such, for instance, as whipping, cutting off the ears, slitting the nose, and like improvements of the human form divine. If through defect of the prison, or from any other cause, the offender escaped, it was pretty certain that he would not make his appearance in a hurry, lest some worse thing might befall him, and so there was one malcontent the less, and one disturber of the peace gone, even though the ends of punishment were not perfectly attained.

Spikeman, on reaching the house of the jailer, was about to knock at the door, when his attention was arrested by sounds which made him pause. The weather being warm, the window was open, and he was able to hear distinctly what was said within. Motives of delicacy or honor weighed not much in the mind of a man like him, and he scrupled not to appropriate any advantage to be derived from eaves-dropping.

"What made you, Sam Bars, take all the ornaments off Philip but the bracelets, without saying anything to me?" inquired a voice, which Spikeman recognized as belonging to the jailer's wife.

"Why, Margery, to confess, I forgot to tell you," answered her husband; "but," added he, laughing, "I had no fear on thy account, for thou art a match for a man any day."

"When I took him in his supper," said the woman, "there was poor Philip rubbing his ankles to get the swelling out. Truly I pitied him, for he is a proper young man."

"Oh! goody, the women always pity proper young men. I warrant me now if it had been a grizzled old wolf like me, you would not have thought so much of his ankles."

"Say not so, Sam," replied the woman, affectionately, "nor liken thyself to a wolf. O, how they used to howl every night when we first came to this wilderness; but the Lord protected his people. I dare say now, it was thy kind heart made thee take off the irons."

"That it was not, wife. They were put on by order of one I am bound to obey; nor durst I take them off but by command of a higher authority."

"Why do you talk as though you were giving me riddles to guess? Am I not bone of thy bone?"

"A big heap of bones we make together," muttered Sam, glancing at the large frame of his wife, not much excelled by his own, "but she's a good soul, amiss only in her tongue at whiles; howbeit, saith not Paul, it is an unruly member? Well, Margery, an thou must know, it was by order of the Governor's own mouth to me they were taken off, and what is more, I am to let Philip go free in the morning."

"Bless his sweet face," cried the woman, "I always said the worshipful Governor was the sweetest; and virtuousest and excellentest man in the whole country."

"There be them among the elders and magistrates who be of a different opinion. Beshrew me! (may the Lord forgive me," he added, looking round in alarm. "I hope no one hears me,) but, according to my thinking, it is only because Master Winthrop asks for no pay, and spends so much out of his own purse for other folk, that they choose him Governor."

"What can anybody have against so sweet-tempered and liberal a gentleman?" inquired Margery.

"Well, then, the elders complain that he is not so zealous, even unto slaying, as becomes a leader of the Lord's host, which he is, like Moses and Joshua; and some of the deputies pretend that he takes too much state on him, and means to make himself a king, or least-wise, a lord."

"And I trow, good man, I know no reason why, when the Commonwealth, as they call it, gets big enough, we should not have a king as well as the folk on the other side of the water. It was always a pleasure to see his Majesty in the streets of London, with the grand lords and ladies all in their silks and satins, and jewels and feathers. It will be long, I am afraid," sighed the good woman, "before we shall see such fine sights in these woods."

"Hush, goody," said Sam, "take care your tongue do not get you into trouble. Speak lower, an you will talk about things you know nothing about. You love kings and lords better than some folk," he concluded, with a laugh.

"Take care of your own tongue, Sam Bars; I warrant you mine will take care of itself. But wherefore should I not love the king? Is it not written--touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm? And I will let you know, Sam Bars? that I will say what I please about him, God bless him! Marry, come up, a fine time of day truly, if a woman may not speak her mind! I should like to see the man or woman either, forsooth, to stop me. My tongue and ten commandments (stretching out her fingers) know how to take care of one another, I can tell you. My tongue get me into trouble! O, Sam, why do you aggravate me so? Me, the quietest and peaceablest and silentest wife in the world! Why dost not speak? Art as dumb as the bench your heavy carcass almost breaks down? Speak, I say, Sam, speak, or I shall go crazy."

But her husband, whom long experience had taught the best mode of weathering such storms, only shook his head in silence, until the good woman, after a variety of ejaculations and expletives, finding that she made no more impression on him than children's pop-guns on a sand-bank, concluded to cool down, when she asked what the Governor said to him.

Sam, glad that the current had taken another direction, answered readily "a mountain of questions about Philip. And he wanted to know why I put so many irons on him--how he found it out, the Lord only knows, unless"--here Bars sunk his voice, so that the words were inaudible to the listener, and he lost a sentence or two--"and when he dismissed me, he ordered that I should never do it again without his consent, and then sent me into the kitchen, where I had a pottle of sack."

"A whole pottle of sack!" exclaimed his wife, in a tone of disappointment; "and here was I at home, as dry in this outlandish hot weather as the children of Israel at Rephidim, when they did chide Moses because there was no water to drink." "You might have brought your own Margery a taste," she added, reproachfully.

"Did I say I had a whole pottle? If I did, I spoke only in a figure, as one may say; for there was Ephraim Pike to help me make away with it, and you know his gullet is like a London sewer. Love your bright eyes, Margery, a quart of sack stands no more chance with Ephraim, when his nose once gets scent of the liquor, or his lips touch the edge of the mug, than a mouse among a dozen cats."

"Or than it has with you, Sam. But men be all alike; they be always guzzling; they never think of their poor wives. Here am I, Margery Bars, thine own help-meet, never away from home; never running about streets and going to Governor's houses to swill sack; never"--but here the voice of the discontented woman, who, in her excitement, had risen from her seat and walked away, was lost in the pantry, or rather subdued into an inarticulate grumble; and Spikeman, after waiting awhile, and finding it improbable that the conversation would be resumed, knocked in a peculiar manner on the door, which was almost immediately opened by Bars himself.

"Hath the order for the soldier's release arrived from the Governor?" inquired the Assistant.

"It hath, worshipful sir; he is to be dismissed in the morning," answer the jailer.

"Hast said anything about it to Joy, as I requested thee not?"

"He knows no more concerning it than the logs of his dungeon," said Bars.

"Then get the keys, and means to strike a light."

Without replying, as one accustomed to obey such orders, the jailer provided himself in a few moments with the articles required. He placed an unlighted candle in the lantern, and the two proceeded to the door of the jail.

"He is your only prisoner, I believe?" said Spikeman.

"None other," answered Bars.

"Remain outside by the door. I would speak a moment with him."

The jailer, in silence, put one key into the lock and opened the door, and gave another to Spikeman, and then stationed himself as directed, outside.

Spikeman entered, and closed the door after him; then striking a light, advanced like one well acquainted with the place. The space wherein he found himself was an entry or passage-way, some four feet wide, running along the four sides of the prison, and enclosing the cells in the middle, The security of the prisoners was greatly promoted by this arrangement, two walls being necessary to be broken in order to effect escape, and communication with persons without being thus made more difficult.

The Assistant advanced, until he came to the door of a cell which was closed, and which he knew from that circumstance was occupied, and unlocking it, stepped within. He stopped, and throwing around the light from the lantern, beheld the form of the soldier extended on some straw spread in a corner, and apparently asleep. Philip was indeed in a profound slumber. Relieved from the painful incumbrance of the irons which had prevented his lying down, and kept him consequently in a constrained posture, he was enjoying a luxury hard to be realized except by one in a condition as wretched as his own. Spikeman threw the light full upon his face, but it failed to awaken him. He only smiled, and muttering something indistinctly, turned upon his pallet, the irons on his wrists clanking as he moved. The Assistant stood looking at him awhile, and then pronounced his name, at first in a low tone, and afterwards louder. Even this did not banish sleep, and Spikeman was obliged to shake him by the shoulder before he could be aroused. It was then the soldier, without opening his eyes, demanded, drowsily, what was the matter. "You waked me, Bars," he said, "from such a grand dream. I wish you would let me alone."

"Arouse thyself and look up," said the Assistant. "It is not the jailer, but a friend, who desires thy good."

"It is Master Spikeman," said the soldier, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, "but I wish you had not disturbed my dream. I thought I was free again."

"I came to restore to thee that liberty whereof thou wert only dreaming."

The soldier, now thoroughly awake, got upon his feet as quickly as his swollen ankles and the manacles on his wrists would permit.

"Then," said Philip, "all the world hath not deserted me."

"Strange that such a thought could enter thy mind. Who was it, at thy trial, when the fierce Dudley would have silenced thee, demanded that thou shouldst be heard? To whom thinkest thou is owing thy release from thy heaviest chains?"

"I was blind," said the soldier, apologetically, "and this weary prison must have weakened my brain. But you came to free me. Let us leave this dismal place."

"I wish it were possible to take thee with me, but that cannot be. Yet will I so order things that thou mayest be far away and in safety before the dawn."

"Show me the way; undo these handcuffs, and I will be your bondman forever. But wherefore," inquired Joy, as if some sudden suspicion sprung up in his mind, "do you take this trouble and risk on my account?"

"Do I not know that the villains, thine accusers, lied? Should I not feel an interest in a brave man unjustly condemned by the artful Winthrop? Have no suspicion of me, Philip," said Spikeman, in a tone as if he were grieved at the thought.

"I entreat your pardon, and will allow of none," answered the soldier, and his frank face abundantly confirmed the truth of his declaration. "But how am I to escape?"

"I have considered many plans," replied Spikeman, "but only one doth seem capable of execution. Yet I fear me much thy courage will fail, even when thou hast but to extend thy hand to grasp thy freedom. The thing is not unattended with peril."

"Doubt not my courage, nor talk of peril to a man confined in a place like this, when the chance of freeing himself is offered. Try me, and see whether heart or hand fail."

"These are brave words, Philip, yet have I seen them who talked as boldly, and yet flinched at the decisive moment."

"Who ever dared to call Philip Joy a coward?" cried the soldier, impatiently. "Methinks it is so long since I struck a blow worthy of a man, that I long to be doing, if only to keep my hand in practice."

"Then listen," said Spikeman, lowering his voice, and supposing that he had got the soldier sufficiently worked up and committed by his language. "With this key"--taking one from his pocket--"will I unfasten thy manacles, and under pretext of unwittingly leaving open the door of thy cell, direct the jailer to enter and lock it, when thou, being a strong and active man, may, on his entrance, overpower him, and grant thyself free passage, and with five minutes' start, who is there could find thee in the woods?"

But Joy hesitated. "Liberty is sweet," he said, "yet would I be loth to do aught to harm Bars."

"What favor owe you him?" demanded Spikeman. "Has he not evil entreated thee, and loaded thee with unnecessary and cruel bands of iron, till compelled by me to remove them?"

"I do suppose he was acting by order of his superiors. In all other matters, Sam has been kind to me, and he did almost weep when he placed the iron bands around my body. Nay, but to lay hand on him, goes mightily against my stomach."

"Then remain to rot, if you like it better, in spite of all your boastful speeches, for the darkness and damp seem to have sucked all manhood out of thee; or shouldst thou survive a month, to have thine ears cropped and thy back scourged, and after that--"

"By all the devils in hell," interrupted Joy, "that shall never be. Unlock my irons.. I will do the part of a man."

The tempter applied the key, and unlocking the gyves, removed them, and placed them on the ground.

"They are heavy," he said. "A well-directed blow on the head would confuse a man's thoughts. It is time to depart. When thou art free, Philip, as, if possessing courage, thou art sure soon to be, forget not the friend who helped thee to thy liberty."

With these words, the Assistant took up the lantern, and leaving the door ajar as he had proposed, proceeded to the outer entrance, Here he found the jailer waiting, who, after locking up, attended him at his request a short distance on his way homeward.

"This Philip Joy," said the Assistant, as they walked together, "is a malignant and desperate villain. I did but visit him in order to get to the bottom of certain plots which I am well advised are hatching against our Commonwealth, whereunto he is privy, and which, indeed, he doth partly confess. Have thou him in strict charge, Bars. May the Lord forgive me," he cried, suddenly stopping, "if I have not, in my amazement at his venomous audacity, left open the door of his cell. Hasten, good Bars, lest by means of some confederate he escape in thine absence."

The jailer turned instantly, as Spikeman had anticipated, and rapidly retraced his steps. As for the Assistant himself, deeming his presence no longer necessary or convenient, he pursued his way, leaving further events to themselves.

When Bars returned, he found the door of the cell open. He looked in, and by the help of his lantern, seeing Joy extended on his straw, was about to close it without speaking, when the soldier called, and he stepped into the dungeon.

"Sam Bars," inquired Joy, "wherefore did you at first load me with irons, and afterwards take them off?"

"It was by order."

"And it was not of thine own head?"

"Truly," said Sam, "I would not of my own will lay a feather on thee, Philip,".

"These be feathers, Sam, heavier than a bird's," said the soldier, rising and approaching his keeper. "And being a friend, doubtless it would please thee to see me at liberty?"

"Assuredly, and that you will soon be."

"Thou art a prophet," cried Joy, springing upon the jailer; and seizing him with a powerful grasp, he hurled him to the ground, letting fall at the same time the manacles which he had loosely put on to deceive. "Make no noise," he added, "and I will not hurt thee, but to-night the words of thy prophecy must be fulfilled; so give me thy key."

The man thus treated made no resistance, nor attempted to cry out, nor did he seem desirous to speak.

"What art in amaze about?" said the soldier. "Hast lost thy wits with fright? I tell thee I would not hurt thee, for all thy iron feathers."

"I am pondering," answered Bars, composedly, "whether it were better to allow thee to reap the fruit of thy folly, or to give thee good counsel."

"Speak quick, man," said Joy, "I have no time to spend in long talks like sermons."

"Be not profane, Philip; but there is that in the pocket of my doublet, and which, if my arms were loose, I would give thee, might make thee willing to abide till morning."

"A dagger, perhaps. Nay, I will search before I trust thee." So saying, the soldier proceeded to investigate the other's pockets, but he found nothing in them or about his person except his keys and a strip of paper.

"I see nothing," he said, "but thine arms and a worthless bit of paper."

"And that is an order for thy release on the morrow. Read and satisfy thyself."

Philip retreated a few steps, and still keeping his attention on the jailer, read the writing with some difficulty by the aid of the dim light.

"Why told you me not this before?" he demanded.

"Because it would have broke your sleep, and for another reason. And now, Philip, will you ruin yourself and me, or will you remain?"

"Good Sam," said Philip, extending his hand and raising the other up, "let thou and I be sworn friends. There is some mystery behind this matter which it behooves us both to have cleared up. Answer me a question. Did Master Spikeman know of that paper?"

"Surely he did. He inquired of me concerning it."

"Umph!" grunted Philip. "Now tell again, what is that other reason why thou didst say nothing of the paper to me before?"

"Answer for answer; tickle me and I will scratch thee. I will answer that question if you will me another."

"There is reason in thee. I promise."

"Because Master Spikeman commanded me not."

"And canst tell why he wanted to speak to me alone?"

"To get to the bottom of sundry plots wherewith you were acquainted, and which you had partly confessed. And now it is my turn to ask questions, so tell me how gattest thou rid of the irons?"

"Master Spikeman unfastened them."

"I might have guessed as much before," said Bars, scratching his head.

"Hark ye, Sam, that same canon-ball of thine which thou seemest to take so great delight in digging with thy fingers, would have been a bloody coxcomb had I followed the advice of our friend, Master Spikeman."

"How!" exclaimed the jailer, did he counsel injury to me?"

"Thou hast said. At any rate, to my thinking, there was not much difference from that."

"The accursed Judas!" burst out the excited jailer; "the blood-thirsty Joab, who would have had me smitten under the fifth rib. Profane Korah, Dathan and Abiram, whom the earth swallowed up for their bitterness against Moses, were children of light compared with this horrid Philistine."

"I suppose she was sick at the stomach, and so gulped them down for bitters, just as my good mother used to give me wormwood when I was weakly in the spring," said Philip, laughing. At any other time this speech would have drawn down a serious remonstrance for its impiety, but at the present moment Sam was too much engaged with the treachery of Spikeman to bestow upon it any attention.

"Philip," he said, "I accept thy offer to be sworn friends. This Satan, this Pharaoh, this platter with the inside unwashed, shall not have another chance to set on honest men to murder one another. Hearken, and thou shalt have another secret. It was this hell incarnate who commanded me to load thee with irons, and to starve thee besides, but that I could not do."

One revelation led to another, until the whole wickedness of the Assistant was laid bare. Philip also learned in addition that it was Bars himself who had communicated a knowledge of his condition to the knight, by whom directions had been left to have him come to the Mount of Promise as soon as he should be liberated. Prudence, too, he was told, had been at the prison to inquire after him, but the instructions to the jailer forbade the carrying or delivering of messages, for which reason Philip had hitherto remained ignorant of the interest betrayed by her.

With the discovery of the villainy of Spikeman there was mixed up some comfort for the soldier in reflecting on the affection of Prudence and the friendship of the knight; but for the jailer there was no such solace. He dwelt resentfully on the exposure of his person and the loss of office which would probably have been the consequence had Philip escaped, and meditated schemes of revenge.

When the jailer took leave, the soldier stretched himself again on the straw, and in spite of the prospect of liberty and the scenes he had just passed through, was soon asleep.