Kate Aylesford: A Story of the Refugees

by Charles J. Peterson

“Beyond the infinite and boundless reach
Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death,
Art thou damned.” —Shakespeare.

“I’ll lay a scene of blood,
Shall make this dwelling horrible to nature.” — Otway.

Our heroine was so completely prostrated by physical fatigue and mental excitement, that she sank into the first chair which presented itself, when the door closed; and covering her face with her hands, remained in a sort of stupor, till she was aroused by some person endeavoring to effect an entrance. Starting to her feet, she was only in time to see Arrison enter, bearing some food, which having deposited he was about to address her, when voices were heard calling him from without, on which he abruptly departed.

Those few minutes of rest had, however, partially refreshed Kate, and, alive now to her unprotected situation, she looked about her to see if there was any prospect of escape, and failing in this, if she could preserve her apartment from intrusion. Though she had eaten nothing since breakfast, the instinct of safety predominated over that of hunger, and therefore she left the coarse, and by no means tempting food, untasted for the present.

Her chamber was comparatively small, quite one half of it being taken up by the bed, which, to her surprise, was neatly arranged, as if female hands had been occupied about it. Opposite its foot, and where the light from the solitary window fell strongest, stood a dressing-table, made of common pine, but cushioned on top, and covered with spotless dimity, another proof that some person of her own sex, and one not without germs of refinement at least, occupied the apartment generally. This discovery cheered Kate’s spirits wonderfully. Her naturally sanguine character whispered to her that, with a woman by, she could not be foully wronged.

But this bright coloring to her thoughts was not destined to be of long duration. An examination of the room satisfied her that escape was impossible. There were no outlets but the window and the door, and while the former was secured without, the latter led, as we have seen, into the common apartment. There was but one consolatory feature, which was that the door opened inwards, so that by barricading it, ingress would be effectually prevented, except with considerable difficulty.

The refugees, meantime, appeared to be preparing for a debauch. They had called for something to eat, as soon as they arrived, and Kate now thought that she heard a woman’s step, moving about as if preparing a meal. She listened in vain, however, to detect a female voice amid the increasing din of jokes, laughter, snatches of coarse songs, and noisy conversation. The uproar, however, served her purpose, since in consequence of it, she was enabled to move the bedstead unheard, and barricade the door with that comparatively heavy article of furniture. After this, reflecting that she would need all her strength, she forced herself to partake of some of the food which had been brought by Arrison.

The clink of glasses, and the increasing boisterousness of the mirth, showed that the refugees, in the contiguous apartment, had now finished their meal and were beginning their debauch in earnest. It was impossible for Kate, in such close vicinity to the revellers, not to hear much that was said. Her attention was soon arrested by her own name being mentioned in connexion with that of her cousin: and listening with awakened curiosity, she gradually made out that she had been betrayed into the hands of her captors by Aylesford himself. She had not dreamed that such baseness and perfidy could exist in the world. With ashen lips she asked herself, “if this was the conduct of her own relative, who was a gentleman by birth and education, what had she to expect from a ruffian like Arrison?”

Breathless with interest she listened to what should come next. At last, after much had passed, but little of which, however, she could distinguish, in the uproar, though that little confirmed the connexion of Aylesford with the murderers, the conversation took a new turn, and now consisted principally of boasts of their exploits, on the part of the ruffians, alternated with jests at each other’s courage. The narratives of their several butcheries, though loathsome to Kate as a woman, were yet terribly fascinating to her as a prisoner in the unrestrained power of such villains. On their own showing her captors had nothing of human mercy left in their hearts. The gratification of all unbridled passions was the acknowledged object of their lives; and they appeared to have been collected together from all parts of the state, lured to this comparatively remote quarter, by the prospect of increased booty under the leadership of Arrison.

“You should have seen how Steve Ball prayed and begged for his life,” said one, with a mocking laugh, alluding to one of his exploits, “when we hung him at Bergen Point. He wouldn’t believe we were in earnest for a good while; for he had brought provisions to sell under a promise of a safe return, but when the time was up, and he saw the tree and cord, he bellowed like a bull. If we’d only give him an hour, he cried, or a half, or a quarter. Ha! ha! ‘twas better than a play. But we told him we’d no time to lose, and that if he wanted a parson, one of us was ready to serve him in that line. When we turned him off, I put a pistol into his hand, telling him it should never be said we sent him into the other world without arms.”