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“Oh, there is,” Saturn assured him, “Only the final inch needs to be cleared.” And he hefted a thick iron bar.
THE FINAL INCH CONSISTED OF planks. It was a floor built over a relatively wide shaft that led down into the sewer. It was all that separated that cloacal world from the House of Office in the back of the brothel in Bell Savage I
Saturn was, in general, not one to throw his weight around, and make much of his bigness; he was a big man of the understated type. Which made it all the more impressive when he decided to make the most of his endowments. Nothing could have prepared the ladies of the establishment for the sight of him erupting from the floor of their toilet in a volcano of shards and splinters. They made no pretense of trying to puzzle it out, but only ran for the exits, abandoning customers in various states of deshabille and divers levels of excitement. The brothel had two bouncers: these were naturally posted at the front door, and so some minutes passed before they were made to believe that their services were needed in the House of Office. Eventually they came, swinging coshes, and found themselves outnumbered, out-muscled, and out-weaponed by seven filthy men who had, by that time, emerged from the hole inaugurated by Saturn.
“If you have come to eject us,” Daniel said to them, “you might like to know that our only desire is to leave. Pray, where is the exit?”
OUT IN THE CLOSE of Bell Savage I
Southward, The Great Old Bailey ran to Ludgate. Thence, under the name of Water Street, it went to Black Fryars Stairs along the river.
Northwards, a stone’s throw away, the Court of Sessions lay on the opposite side of the street, and just up from that was Newgate Prison. A pursuer might be forgiven for supposing that the escapees would have turned south toward the river and freedom, not north toward judgment and the worst prison in the city. But north was where they went, and in a very short time the wagon had stopped. Saturn stood up, shouldering the tarpaulin aside, and fetched a lanthorn from the driver. Jimmy, Da
“Newgate Prison,” Jimmy said.
“Do not attend too much to the low dark places,” said Saturn, opening the lanthorn’s shutters, “but elevate your gaze, and regard the great treble window, there, above those statues.” He looked up to demonstrate. The windows in question were thirty feet above the level of the pavement. A single candle was gleaming between the iron bars. It leapt up, briefly illuminating a face-but only long enough for the flame to be blown out. And yet in that instant the face had been recognized.
“Da-” cried Jimmy, but the final consonant was muffled by the hand of Tomba, which had clamped down over his mouth.
From that alone, Jack Shaftoe might have guessed who was in that wagon; but Saturn now removed all doubt by playing the lanthorn-beam over the faces of Jimmy, Da
“You must all fly like birds,” Jack said. He was not shouting, but somehow projecting his voice right at them. “Fly, and stop for nothing until you’ve reached America.”
“You mean, ‘we’! Don’t you, Dad!? It’s we all who must fly together!” Jimmy called.
“If wanting, alone, could tear down prisons, all men would be free,” Jack returned. “No. I am here. You are there. Tomorrrow I’ll be here still, and you had better be far away!”
“Dad, we can’t just leave you up there,” Da
“Shut up! You must go now. Now! Listen. I have been saying for thirty years that I must provide for my boys. It was all bollocks until this moment. But now I’ve done it, finally! That is what you must remember me by-none of the other shite. Go! Go to America, find wives, have children, tell them what Grandfather did for his sons-and tell them they’re expected to do no less. Good-bye!”
His voice broke as he got to the end of this, and he swam dimly into view once more as he sagged against the bars. Saturn gestured to the driver, who popped his whip and got the wagon turned west out of town, making a cacophony that drowned out the farewell cries of the three escaped prisoners. Their dim and distant view of Jack Shaftoe was killed by the descent of the tarpaulin. The wagon rattled away. The square was left empty. High above it, five human forms could be made out: Jack slumped against the window, and below him, in their niches, the statues of Liberty, Justice, Mercy, and Truth. These all seemed to have turned their backs on Jack, and they pointedly ignored the muffled sobbing noises that continued to escape from the window for some minutes after.
THEY STAYED ON HIGH HOLBOURN only as far as Chancery Lane. There they doubled back south toward the river, and passed down through the middle of the Temple to the stairs, where a boat waited, ma
“There’s no telling when your escape will be noted,” Daniel said, once he felt that they’d recovered sufficiently from that brutal leave-taking that they might hear and mark his words. The escapees had been stuffing their faces with bread and cheese and boiled eggs waiting for them in the boat, and their eyes turned toward him as he spoke. He got the idea, from this, that they were used to listening with care, and heeding instructions.
“First thing they’ll do is send word downriver to look for men matching your descriptions trying to get out via Gravesend. So, you don’t go that way. Swift horses and clean clothes await you on yonder shore. There is a man there who shall guide you to a place in Surrey, where you’ll change over to fresh horses-and so on all the way to Portsmouth. With luck you can ship out there tomorrow, on a vessel bound for Carolina-you’ll be in the guise of indentured servants, going in company of many such to labor on Mr. Ickham’s plantation there. But if word of your escape should reach Portsmouth before the ship sails, you may have to pay some smuggler or other to take you over to France.”
“Dad said he wants us in Carolina, though,” Da