“My sister, having come to woman’s estate, had now been married something more than a twelvemonth to one Sawyer, a seafaring man, who, having got considerable prizes, my father also giving him 200l. with my sister, quitted his profession, and set up a public-house near the place of his nativity, which was Deal, in the county of Kent. I had frequent invitations to pass a short time with them; and, in the autumn of 1709, having obtained my master’s consent for that purpose, I left the city of Canterbury on foot, on Wednesday morning, being the 17th day of September; but, through some unavoidable delays on the road, the evening was considerably advanced before I reached Deal; and so tired was I, being unused to that way of travelling, that, had my life depended on it, I could not have gone so far as my sister’s that night. At this time there were many of her majesty, Queen Anne’s ships lying in the harbour, the English being then at war with the French and Spaniards; besides which, I found this was the day for holding the yearly fair, so that the town was filled to that degree, that not a bed was to be gotten for love nor money. I went seeking a lodging from house to house to no purpose; till, being quite spent, I returned to the public-house, where I had first made inquiry, desiring leave to sit by their kitchen-fire to rest myself till morning.
“The publican and his wife where I put up happened, unfortunately for me, to be acquainted with my brother and sister; and finding by the discourse that I was a relation of theirs, and going to visit them, the landlady presently said she would endeavour to get me a bed; and, going out of the kitchen, she quickly called me into a parlour that led from it. Here I saw, sitting by the fire, a middle-aged man, in a nightgown and cap, who was reckoning money at a table. ‘Uncle,’ said the woman, as soon as I entered, ‘this is a brother of our friend, Mrs. Sawyer; he cannot get a bed anywhere, and is tired after his journey. You are the only one that lies in this house alone: will you give him a part of your’s?’ To this the man answered, that she knew he had been out of order,—that he was blooded that day, and consequently a bedfellow could not be very agreeable. ‘However,’ said he, ‘rather than the young man shall sit up, he is welcome to sleep with me.’ After this, we sat some time together; when, having put his money in a canvas bag into the pocket of his nightgown, he took the candle, and I followed him up to bed.”
Having occasion to visit the garden during the night, the landlord lent him his pen-knife, that he might more easily open the door, the latch being broken. From this knife a piece of money falls, which Gwinett pockets. Returning to his room, he finds, to his great surprize, that his companion is absent. At six o’clock he rises, dresses himself hastily, and, impatient to see his sister (the reckoning being paid overnight), lets himself out at the street door.
He has not been above an hour or two with his relations, before three horsemen arrive, arrest him for robbery and murder, and he is carried back to Deal, to be dealt with accordingly.
He is taken with the knife in his possession, tried, condemned, and executed: yet, strange to say, the man yet lived; his groans were heard from the gibbet, and he was rescued from his frightful situation by his master’s dairymaid. He took ship, went abroad, and encountered Collins, the supposed victim, who, it appeared, had been forced from his home by a press-gang. After enduring many perils, he returned to his native land, crippled and poor, and subsequently became sweeper of the road at Charing Cross.
Mr. Jerrold has heightened the interest of his drama by superadding the passions of love and jealousy. We have no objection to fiction when it conduces to effect; and three rounds of applause are sufficient to justify any interpolation. This piece was well acted, and brought ample receipts to the treasury of the Coburg.
D—G.
Costume.
AMBROSE GWINETT.—First dress—Short brown tunic and vest, with full trunks—hose and half boots.—Second dress—Tunic and long cloak—hat and feathers.
NED GRAYLING.—First dress—That of a Blacksmith.—Second dress—A short plain tunic—full trunks—hose, and a small round hat.—Third dress—that of a mere mendicant.