Their measures being concerted, they set out in quest of plunder. They fortunately met a gentleman and his servant travelling along the road. Hind being raw and inexperienced, Allan was desirous to have a proof of his courage and address; he, therefore, remained at a distance, while Hind boldly rode up to them and took from them fifteen pounds, at the same time returning one to bear their expenses home. This he did with so much grace and pleasantry, that the gentleman vowed that he would not injure a hair of his head though it were in his power.
About this period, the unfortunate Charles I. suffered death for his political principles. Captain Hind conceived an inveterate enmity to all those who had stained their hands with their sovereign’s blood, and gladly embraced every opportunity to wreak his vengeance upon them. In a short time, Allan and Hind met with the usurper, Oliver Cromwell, riding from Huntingdon to London. They attacked the coach, but Oliver being attended by seven servants. Allan was apprehended, and it was with no small difficulty that Hind made his escape. The unfortunate Allan was soon after tried, and suffered death for his audacity. The only effect which this produced upon Hind was to render him more cautious in his future depredations. He could not, however, think of abandoning a course on which he had just entered, and which promised so many advantages.
The captain had ridden so hard to escape from Cromwell and his train that he killed his horse, and having no money to purchase a substitute, he was under the necessity of trying his fortune upon foot, until he should find means to procure another. It was not long before he espied a horse tied to a hedge with a saddle on and a brace of pistols attached to it. He looked round and observed a gentleman on the other side of the hedge. “This is my horse,” exclaimed the captain, and immediately vaulted into the saddle. The gentleman called out to him that the horse was his. “Sir,” said Hind, “you may think yourself well off that I have left you all the money in your pocket to buy another, which you had best lay out before I meet you again, lest you should be worse used.” So saying, he rode off in search of new booty.
There is another story of Hind’s ingenious method of supplying himself with a horse upon occasion. It appears that, being upon a second extremity reduced to the humble station of a footpad, he hired a sorry nag and proceeded on his journey. He was overtaken by a gentleman mounted on a fine hunter, with a portmanteau behind him. They entered into conversation upon such topics as are common to travellers, and Hind was very eloquent in the praise of the gentleman’s horse, which inclined the other to descant upon the qualifications of the animal. There was upon one side of the road a wall, which the gentleman said his horse would leap over. Hind offered to risk a bottle on it, to which the gentleman agreed, and quickly made his horse leap over. The captain acknowledged that he had lost his wager, but requested the gentleman to let him try if he could do the same; to which he consented, and the captain, being seated in the saddle of his companion, rode off at full speed and left him to return the other miserable animal to its owner.
At another time the captain met the regicide Hugh Peters in Enfield chace, and commanded him to deliver his money. Hugh, who was not deficient in confidence, began to combat Hind with texts of scripture, and to cudgel our bold robber with the eighth commandment: “It is written in the law,” said he, “that ‘Thou shalt not steal:’ and furthermore, Solomon, who was surely a very wise man, spoke in this manner, ‘Rob not the poor, because he is poor.’” Hind was desirous to answer him in his own strain, and for that purpose began to rub up his memory for some of the texts he had learned when at school. “Verily,” said Hind, “if thou hadst regarded the divine precepts as thou oughtest to have done, thou wouldst not have wrested them to such an abominable and wicked sense as thou didst the words of the prophet, when he said, ‘Bind their kings with chains, and their nobles with fetters of iron.’ Didst thou not then, detestable hypocrite, endeavor, from these words, to aggravate the misfortunes of thy royal master, whom thy cursed republican party unjustly murdered before the gate of his own palace?” Here Hugh Peters began to extenuate that proceeding, and to allege other parts of scripture in his own defence. “Pray, sir,” replied Hind, “make no reflections against men of my profession, for Solomon plainly said, ‘do not despise a thief.’ But it is to little purpose for us to dispute; the substance of what I have to say is this, deliver thy money presently, or else I shall send thee out of the world to thy master, the devil, in an instant.” These terrible words of the captain’s so terrified the old Presbyterian, that he forthwith gave him thirty broad pieces of gold and then departed.
But Hind was not satisfied with allowing so bitter an enemy to the royal cause to depart in such a manner. He accordingly rode after him at full speed, and, overtaking him, addressed him in the following language:—“Sir, now I think of it, I am convinced this misfortune has happened to you because you did not obey the words of the scripture, which expressly says, ‘provide neither gold, nor silver, nor brass, in your purses, for your journey,’ whereas it is evident that you had provided a pretty decent quantity of gold. However, as it is now in my power to make you fulfil another commandment, I would by no means slip the opportunity; therefore, pray give me your cloak.” Peters was so surprised that he neither stood still to dispute nor to examine what was the drift of Hind’s demand. But he soon made him understand his meaning, when he added, “You know, sir, our Savior has commanded, that if any man take away thy cloak, thou must not refuse thy coat also; therefore, I cannot suppose that you will act in direct contradiction to such an express command, especially as you cannot pretend you have forgot it, seeing that I now remind you of that duty.” The old Puritan shrugged his shoulders some time before he proceeded to uncase them; but Hind told him that his delay would be of no service to him, for he would be implicitly obeyed, because he was sure that what he requested was entirely consonant with the scripture. He accordingly surrendered, and Hind carried off the cloak.
The following sabbath, when Hugh ascended the pulpit, he was inclined to pour forth an invective against stealing, and selected for his subject these words: “I have put off my coat, how shall I put it on?” An honest plain man, who was present, and knew how he had been treated by the robber, promptly cried out, “Upon my word, sir, I believe there is nobody here can tell you, unless captain Hind were here.” Which ready answer to Hugh’s scriptural question put the congregation into such an outrageous fit of laughter, that the parson was made to blush, and descended from his pulpit, without prosecuting the subject farther.
The captain, as before mentioned, indulged a rooted hatred against all those who were concerned in the murder of the late king; and frequently these men fell in his way. He was one day riding on the road, when president Bradshaw, who had sat as judge upon the king, and passed the sentence of death upon him, met with the captain. The place where they came into collision was on the road between Sherbourne and Shaftesbury. Hind rode up to the coach, and demanded Bradshaw’s money, who, supposing that his very name would convey terror along with it, informed him who he was. “Marry,” cried Hind, “I neither fear you nor any king-killing villain alive. I have now as much power over you, as you lately had over the king, and I should do God and my country good service, if I made the same use of it; but live, villain, to suffer the pangs of thine own conscience, till justice shall lay her iron hand upon thee, and require an answer for thy crimes, in a way more proper for such a monster, who art unworthy to die by any hands but those of the common hangman, or at any other place than Tyburn. Nevertheless, though I spare thy life as a regicide, be assured, that unless thou deliver up thy money immediately, thou shalt die for thy obstinacy.”
Bradshaw began to perceive that the case was not now with him as it was when he sat at Westminster hall, supported by all the strength of the rebellion. A horror took possession of his soul, and discovered itself in his countenance. He put his trembling hand into his pocket, and pulled out about forty shillings in silver, which he presented to the captain, who swore he would that minute shoot him through the heart, unless he found him coin of another species. To save his life, the sergeant pulled out that which he valued next to it, and presented the captain with a purse full of Jacobuses.
But though Hind had got possession of the cash, he was inclined to detain the sergeant a little longer, and began the following eulogium upon the value of money:—