ON

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE RESCUE.

the night previous to the time appointed for the execution of the condemned rioters, a strong body of troopers was sent down from Westminster to the City, it being feared some attempt at rescue would be made, such rumours being afloat.

It was a strange, unusual sight, the scene that now presented itself in the streets of London. Crowds of the citizens, and multitudes from the neighbouring villages and hamlets, came hurrying along to witness IV.

the coming death-pageant even before the night set in. And every hostel in the ancient city was filled by these sight-seers; and the vendors of all sorts of food, from gingerbread to roasted geese, enjoyed a rich harvest, and thought it would be a good thing for trade if men were hanged every day in the week, and made merry. Carpenters, too, had their share of this busy scene, and hammered away with all their might at the barriers placed at every And the vergers of the churches admitted people to the belfrys and galleries 13 *

corner.

round the steeples, whilst carts were placed and platforms erected at every turning.

And shouts, cries, and ribald songs rent the night air; torches flashed and gleamed along; the tramp of many feet, the clattering hoofs, and clashing steel; the sounds were loud and boisterous, and were borne along even into the box where the prisoners lay.

Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp; the multitudes pressed along, increasing every moment, and sweeping along towards the place of death. Down poured the crowd from Lud Gate to St. Paul's, from St. Paul's to the Cross of the West Chepe, and from the Tower to the same spot. The soldiers patrolled the streets, suppressing all disturbances; and so the night rolled on, amidst the utmost noise and uproar.

When day began to dawn, the throng became so great that the troopers were compelled to separate into parties of three or four, in order to preserve the peace.

Yet, as the morning advanced, the crowd increased, the windows of the houses became thronged with spectators, and not only the windows, but the very roofs, the church steeples, and the lofty tower of Paul's. Yet, if the crowds were great to witness the cavalcade, how much greater were they to behold the execution. There so vast was the concourse that many were thrown down and trampled under foot, and shrieks and cries arose, mingling with the music from the taverns and the clank of the steel harness.

Time passed on; the hands went round the dial. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven had sounded, and the bells, the passing bells, began to toll, proclaiming the commencement of the death-pageant; and shouts and cries grew louder and more loud.

Stop! What is that clanking, rattling sound? what mean those shrieks and cries? The people fall back on every side, and leave a pathway clear. On they cometwenty gibbets,* tall and ghastly, drawn

* The gibbets for the execution of the rioters were so constructed as to be drawn through the streets on wheels, in order to terrify and subdue the citizens, and were placed in the following localities:-Standard in Cheap, Aldgate, Blanchspear, Grass-street, Leadenhall, opposite the Compter, Newgate, St. Martin's Tower, Aldersgate, and Bishopsgate.

on wheels. These engines of death are brought along, surrounded by a detachment of javelin men, in leather jerkins and helms of steel.

The Standard in the Chepe was the spot destined for the execution of Lincoln, Studeley, Bell, and Sherwin, and to it the gibbets were drawn, two of them placed between the pillory and stocks, each ward being, in those days, provided with such instruments; another nearer to the church of St. Mary Arcubus, whilst the whole was surrounded by cavalry, whilst the rest proceeded on their way. When these preparations had been completed, 'twas near the hour of noon. Bodies of the City trained bands came wheeling along; their arms and coats of steel flashed in the light, their gorgets richly inlaid, their steel casques and nodding plumes, as they dashed up the Chepe, passed the Cross and Blow-bladderlane, to the prison of Newgate.

At length the hour of noon arrived, and there issued from the gaol a dark and dismal cavalcade. See! on they come, guarded by Nick Denis and the hackbutt-men. Those men, drawn on hurdles to the human shambles, are the wretched victims. See there John Lincoln, the same gloomy expression on his brow; there Stephen Studeley, a deathly pallor on his cheek-his prowess hath departed; and there the honest smith, Nick Sherwin, clad in his leather jerkin, wherein he was wont to labour in the smithy. Slowly they pass along towards Paul's Cross, the spot where the sermon had been preached by Dr. Bell. Here for a time they halted, whilst four hundred men, valiant 'prentices and servitors, and followed by eleven females, manacled, bound by chains together, and with halters round their necks, passed along on their way to Westminster, there to supplicate the Royal mercy.

Whilst these passed, a horseman, closely wrapped in a sable mantle, came riding quickly forward, forcing a passage amidst the crowd, who murmured at his approach. Unheedful, he pursued his way along, went round St. Paul's to the great western door, and there he halted.

*It was situated at the end of Bucklersbury.

The cavalcade proceeds upon its way down the Chepe to the Standard. The barriers are opened, and they enter the enclosure, and Nick gazed round about him, and saw his fellow-rioters of the Eastchepe. There was deep despair in their hearts, dejection in their looks, and with them, as though some memento of the past, they bore Nick Sledge. Another cavalcade now advanced from the Stocks Market, bound on the same sad errand, and bearing Ambrose Quartermain to the place of death. And as he passed along over that very spot where, seven years before, he had preserved the life of Henry-the very spot where his fortunes had commenced, when all seemed smiling on him, when rank and wealth were his; and yet, within so short a space, how lowly was he brought to die upon a scaffold. Thoughts such as these flashed through his mind as the scene broke upon his view from the death-cart. Down the Chepe the cavalcade proceeded. The ring which Henry at Baynard's Castle had bestowed upon him he had lost, he knew not how or where. And so they passed by the ancient cathedral, before the western door of which a scaffold and a gibbet had been reared. No shout or cry assailed him as he was borne along. Yet scarcely had he passed when one stout newsman shouted forth his last and dying speech.

The procession halts, the soldiers file around, and from the Tyburn cart the prisoner steps forth upon the platform, where the gibbet and the ladder, the block, the axe, the basket, and the sawdust are already prepared, and by them stands the legal officer of death, the headsman.

The prisoner kneels with his confessor. Yet, listen to those shouts-those loud huzzas from Ludgate! "A pardon! a pardon!" the people cry, and on, amidst a cloud of dust, a trumpeter comes riding. But, see! he is now by the concourse stayed, and yet the cry is borne along, "A pardon! a pardon!" on to the very gibbet. The sheriff now advances to learn the tidings. See! he communes earnestly with the messenger, and now returns. Yet, hark! he orders the execution to proceed, and declares the pardon for Sherwin, Studeley, and Betts.

Within ten minutes, loud shouts rent the air, and then came a horseman dashing wildly forward. He was clad in a leather jerkin, blackened and begrimed with smoke, and bore aloft a huge sledge-hammer, looking like one of the Cyclops, forsooth, so wild and fierce, so flushed and glowing; and who should it be but "Honest Nick," Nick o'the Chepe, Blacksmith Nick, the pardoned malefactor! Down the Chepe, and round the Paul's enclosure, rearing and plunging, on he comes. The concourse, at his approach, fall back, and so he advances with the speed of thought, until he nearly reached the scaffold; then, by a dexterous leap that would have done honour to the most accomplished equestrian, he sprang from out the saddle to the platform. The hangman was there, the sheriff, and confessor, but Quartermain, where-where was he? Look up, Nick; behold him suspended from the gibbet. Nick waited not to look ; but, springing up the ladder, he seized the headsman's knife. "Fire!" shouted the captain of the trained band—“Fire!" And a dozen bullets went whizzing through the air. A heavy fall succeeded; the body of Quartermain, released by the arm of Nick, fell to the platform. "He lives!" he cried" he lives! Make way-make way!" and, ere the military could interfere, he seized the body in his arms, and sprang amidst the crowd.

Shouts and cries succeeded as the multitude, bearing the lifeless form above them, dashed along, with Sherwin at their head. "To the Bridge!" he shouted, and on they went, pursued by the troopers. The end of Watling-street was closed, and no way

of escape accessible, except to force their way along the Chepe. Pressing onward cagerly with the stream-on, on they went, passed where the gibbets had been reared, and where still hung the lifeless form of John Lincoln, the broker.

At the head of the pursuers rode the stranger, and who seemed flushed with demoniac fury as he urged his horse to its utmost speed, and yelled for the rest to follow him. Pursuers and pursued fled onward down Lombard-street and Gracechurchstreet, and so towards the Bridge.

At the moment that the stranger turned the corner of the street, a man sprang for ward, and, seizing the bridle of his horse, shouted to the soldiers to secure him for the crime of murder. This man was Cordwell Colner, and he whom he accused was no less a person than the Spanish knight, Sir Michael de la Pole.

"Secure him," cried Colner; secure him. I accuse him of murder, and will substantiate my accusation."

"What idle tale is this?" quoth the sheriff, riding up. "If you know aught against this noble gentleman, declare it, though, by the mass, you might have chosen a more fitting opportunity."

"This man," cried Colner, "some two years since murdered the Lord Wansted, and, forging the will of that nobleman, appropriated the property to his own use." "Silence," roared the sheriff. "If there be any truth in the statement you have made, the matter shall be looked into; but now we must pursue yon yelling multitude." "Stay," cried Colner. "This is not all. The King this morning granted a pardon for Ambrose Quartermain, yet the messenger was attacked and taken prisoner,

and is even now confined in the vaults of Wansted Hall."

"This is strange," the sheriff said. "Know you the relation this gentleman stood in towards the Lord Wansted? Know you not that he was his only son, and would inherit by right that which you would say he seized by violence ?"

"His son!" repeated Colner. "If, indeed, it be so, it doth but increase his crime, for, at a surety, he hath slain him."

"His son!" re-echoed the Spaniard. A pallor overspread his countenance. "It's false-it's all false. This man is mad. Set him in the stocks, and let us on."

Stay yet," cried Colner. "Ambrose Quartermain hath full title to the Lordship of Wansted. His father liveth, the uncle of this murderer."

"It's false," cried Michael; "it's false. Let us on. See, see, they'll surely escape!" And, by way of example, he dashed his spurs into his horse's flanks, and rode away, not in the direction of the flying multitude, but towards Aldgate, with fearful speed. Down Leadenhall he went-away, away— passed by the civic granaries-on, on, unto the ancient gateway.

All was now confusion, troopers riding hither and thither, yells, screams, shouts, and cries mingling together, whilst the vast multitude, bearing the body of Ambrose Quartermain, went rushing wildly onwards to the Bridge and pleasant villa of Southwark, led on by the stalwart Sherwin, whose huge frame might still be seen, waving his ponderous sledge aloft, and shouting to his men to follow. And the steel caps of the trained bands flashed in the sunbeams, and on, on they went, pursuers and pursued, towards the borough of Southwark.

MANY

Before describing how to make your steamer, I will briefly explain the internal economy and mode of working of the same. The hull, which is of wood, is hollowed well out, and the inside is lined with tin to prevent the wood from being scorched by the heat of the lamp. In the centre of the boat is a small boiler placed in an horizontal position, in which steam is generated by a lamp placed beneath it; from the boiler is a pipe leading to the end of the stern and near the bottom of the rudder; consequently, when your boat is in the water, the end of the pipe will be in the water also; the steam, after being generated in the boiler, passes through the pipe and escapes out at the end of the rudder, as described; by the force and pressure of the steam upon the water your boat is propelled, and when in motion has all the appearance of a powerful screw-boat.

Having thus briefly, but I trust clearly, explained how your boat works, we will commence the manufacture of the same. For the hull you must procure a piece of either oak or ash, which should be fourteen inches long and three inches broad; having shaped your hull, you must draw a line lengthways down the centre of your deck, and measure four inch esfrom the stern, and the same number of inches from the prow; the space between you must carefully hol

The boiler now requires our attention. It should be about three and a half inches long and one and a quarter inch in diameter-a piece of brass or copper tube of about that diameter would do exceedingly well. If the tube is longer than required, you can easily file it the necessary length. As it now is, our boiler is open at both ends; these must be closed up either by a piece of brass or copper, which must be filed to the required size and soldered on. The soldering you will not well be able to manage yourself-any tinman or coppersmith would, however, do it for a mere trifle. In the top end of your boiler you must bore a small hole about one-sixteenth of an inch in diameter.

Having now our boiler ready, we must make the supports for it. These consist simply of two pieces of rather stout wire secured firmly into the bottom of your boat, and bent at the top so as to receive and hold the boiler. You must make the bend sufficiently high to allow a small spiritlamp to be placed underneath.

You must now procure a small piece of pipe rather more than an eighth of an inch in diameter, and about five inches long. This is the part that leads from the boiler to the end of the stern. You must now carefully bore a hole upwards from the end of your stern, a little larger in diameter than your pipe, which you must pack firmly into the hole, and make it watertight by means of some cotton cord and some putty, or, if you can obtain it, a little white lead. You must take pains in packing your pipe, for if it leaks in the slightest, the water will enter