The MS. in a Red Box

by John A. Hamilton

"Such men as you have here to do with, will be the more respectful if they know you have money at command, and you may have unforeseen occasion for it."

When I had written a few words to my love, Mr. Ulceby left me, again assuring me he would bestir himself about my business early in the morning. It was long before I sought sleep, which indeed would have been hard to come by until after midnight, for my fellow-lodgers in the room next to mine, and in the one overhead, kept up such a noise of shouting and singing and laughter as astounded me, seeing they were prisoners. On Mr. Ulceby's departure, a maid looked in to ask whether I had need of anything; and, as I had no orders to give, locked and bolted the door on the outside, and I was left alone to my meditations.

Hitherto I had not been much given to reflection, and in these later days I had been concerned with the present danger and what might impend in the instant future, but now that the strain was relieved, thought came upon me like a flood. A few hours ago I had been threatened with the fate of a plantation slave. If any man had foretold on my coming of age that such a peril would befall me, how incredible it would have appeared! And I had been saved from such a doom not by the things in which I had pride, not by my name or place, not by my strength or courage, or by the staunchness of my friends, but by the kindness of a stranger. How much reason I had for thankfulness to him, and how much more to the Providence which had sent him for my deliverance! A great awe crept on me of the eye which had been upon me when I had thought myself buried out of sight, and of the hand which had brought me help when I was most helpless; and I felt how utterly undeserved was the kindness of God, and at the same time assuredly confident therein. These things I hold are not to be much spoken of, but some record I am bound to make of that which changed the face of the world to me, and filled my heart with a new, strange, and solemn gladness.

CHAPTER XVIII

My liberation did not come to pass so quickly as Mr. Ulceby had hoped, for the justices and the sheriff and the commander of the castle, and I know not how many authorities besides, all had something to say in the matter. After my friend's testimony that I was not his son had been accepted, I supposed I should be set free at once, but no such thing! "If I was not Jim Ulceby, who was I?" "Where was Jim Ulceby?" "How came I to resemble him?" So the authorities demanded, and seemed to think these questions must be answered before they gave me my liberty. One magistrate, whose gravity and dulness were of equal magnitude, took it into his head that a plot of some kind was on foot. If he could have had his way, I believe he would have put me to bodily torture; to torture of mind he often put me, coming to "examine the prisoner," by asking the most absurd questions, looking as solemn as an owl the while. I never understood his drift, nor I believe did he. Mr. Ulceby warned me of this man's first visit, and implored me to endure it with all the patience I could muster; so I contrived to keep my temper, and in the end the ass was good enough to express the judgment "that I was a blind instrument of the conspirators." That there was a conspiracy he was well assured.

Acton gave us some trouble at first, holding that I was in fact his one-time crony, and that Mr. Ulceby had taken the course of denying me, as the one means of saving me from transportation to America. He declared that no man would be at the pains and cost which Mr. Ulceby took on my behalf for a stranger, and claimed "hush-money." When he could not extort that, he did his worst against me secretly. Even when the surgeon had restored me to something more like my former looks, Acton would not be convinced. The surgeon did me good service by giving evidence as to the recent date of the distortion of my face, which was corroborated by the sergeant who brought me to Hull. He testified that he had been perplexed when he arrested me by the freshness of the tattooing and of the scars. But eight days passed before my good friend, who had been unceasing in his exertions in my cause, came with the order for my release. Every comfort which money could procure during those weary days I enjoyed, and Mr. Ulceby gave me as much of his time as might be spared from the business of expediting my deliverance. After the second day of durance I kept to my own room. On that day I had the curiosity to look over the prison. It consisted of two houses which had been thrown into one, and of buildings which occupied two sides of a quadrangle behind them. These buildings would not have been used as stabling by a man who valued his horses. Here the wretches were confined who could not, or would not, pay for accommodation within the house; some of them kept safely by being laid on the floor with iron bars across their legs; others having liberty to stand upright, but chained to staples in the wall. Some were free to roam the yard, variously ironed and fettered. The most part were half starved and in rags, the most miserable creatures I had ever seen.

The inmates of the house were such as had means to pay the exorbitant charges which the jailer made for food and lodging and fees for this, that, and the other. Many of these had money to waste in gambling and drunkenness, but few had any compassion for their poverty-stricken fellow-prisoners. In this den were prisoners awaiting trial, prisoners under sentence, and prisoners who had been acquitted, now detained for payment of the jailer's charges; prisoners of both sexes and of all ages, from childhood to decrepitude. While I was making the round of the yard, a greasy fellow came to one of the windows, and calling to the crowd, threw out the orts and scraps of his breakfast, for which the hungry wretches scrambled. In the struggle two women fell out and began to fight, tearing, scratching, and biting with the fury of tigresses, while men stood round them laughing and betting as to which would be the victrix. Turning away from this, I came upon a ragged, miserable creature, who lay moaning and whimpering in a corner. He had tried to climb the wall with the aid of a rope which a friend had managed to convey to him, but had been caught in the effort; so the jailer and his men had beaten the soles of his feet to a horrible condition. A few of the prisoners lay about dead drunk, the objects of the envy of others, who had not the luck to have friends able and willing to give them liquor. Much that I saw and heard is not to be described. I took refuge from the little hell in the solitude of my own room, right thankful I had not been compelled to herd with the vile and wretched crew. In a sense it was lucky for me that Acton held to the belief that I was Jim Ulceby, for he made it loudly known, and so saved me from being molested by the bullies in the house, who feared to meddle with one who had the repute of never failing to pay back in full any ill turn that might be done him.

Not until the fourth day of my incarceration did I receive a letter from Anna, for Mr. Ulceby's messenger had been delayed by one mishap after another, howbeit they need not be set down here. All the day I read and re-read that precious letter, wondering how a pen, which in my hand is an unwieldy tool, came to be such a wand of magic in hers, that I could, in a manner, hear her clear voice, and almost see her sprightly smile and the sudden coming of her tears. I will copy parts of the letter here, for they tell the story far better than it could be told in words of mine.

"When Luke brought me your letter, in which you promised to come on the day following, he told me of the wickedness of Sebastian Vliet, and I made him repeat the matter in my father's hearing. But when Luke went on to say you had sent a challenge to your would-be murderer, I was almost beside myself with anger that you should risk your life so lightly in fighting with a wretch so infamous. For a brief moment I thought you had slain my love by your folly, but I soon knew it still lived by the sinking at my heart for fear of what might be devised against you by so crafty a coward. When I learned that Vliet had gone to meet you alone and armed only with a sword, you may be sure all his doings were watched as closely as two women knew how to do. It filled me with wonder. But my fears were redoubled by Vermuijden's report of what had happened, which was that you had fled from Vliet in sudden terror, and gone he knew not whither. A lie so gross and palpable made me certain some foul deed had been done, but what I could not guess, and for days I was as one bereft of reason.