“My companion, who had before spoken of the descent as a thing of the greatest ease, now changed his mind, and confessed it to be very difficult and full of danger. ‘However,’ said he, ‘I shall most certainly be hanged if I remain now, for we cannot throw the rope back without its falling into the water, and so betraying us both and our friends. I will therefore descend, please God, preferring to expose myself to danger with the hope of freedom, rather than to remain here with good certainty of being hanged.’ So he said a prayer, and took to the rope. He descended fairly enough, for he was strong and vigorous, and the rope was then taut: his weight, however, slackened it considerably, which made the danger for me greater, and though I did not then notice this, yet I found it out afterwards when I came to make the trial.
“So commending myself to God, to our Lord Jesus, to the Blessed Virgin, to my Guardian Angel, and all my Patrons, particularly to Father Southwell, who had been imprisoned near this place for nearly three years before his martyrdom, to Father Walpole, and to all our Saints, I took the rope in my right hand and held it also with my left arm; then I twisted my legs about it, to prevent falling, in such a way that the rope passed between my shins. I descended some three or four yards face downwards, when suddenly my body swung round by its own weight and hung under the rope. The shock was so great that I nearly lost my hold, for I was still but weak, especially in the hands and arms. In fact, with the rope so slack and my body hanging beneath it, I could hardly get on at all. At length, I made a shift to get on as far as the middle of the rope, and there I stuck, my breath and my strength failing me, neither of which were very copious to begin with. After a little time, the Saints assisting me, and my good friends below drawing me to them by their prayers, I got on a little further and stuck again, thinking I should never be able to accomplish it. Yet I was loath to drop into the water as long as I could possibly hold on. After another rest, therefore, I summoned what remained of my strength, and helping myself with legs and arms as well as I could, I got as far as the wall on the other side of the moat. But my feet only touched the top of [pg cxxiv] the wall, and my whole body hung horizontally, my head being no higher than my feet, so slack was the rope. In such a position, and exhausted as I was, it was hopeless to expect to get over the wall by my own unaided strength. So John Lilly got on to the wall somehow or other (for, as he afterwards asserted, he never knew how he got there), took hold of my feet, and by them pulled me to him, and got me over the wall on to the ground. But I was quite unable to stand, so they gave me some cordial waters and restoratives, which they had brought on purpose. By the help of these I managed to walk to the boat, into which we all entered. They had, however, before leaving the wall, untied the rope from the stake and cut off a part of it, so that it hung down the wall of the tower. We had previously, indeed, determined to pull it away altogether, and had with this object passed it round a great gun on the tower without knotting it. But God so willed it that we were not able by any exertion to get it away; and if we had succeeded, it would certainly have made a loud splash in the water, and perhaps have brought us into a worse danger.
“On entering the boat we gave hearty thanks to God, Who had delivered us from the hand of the persecutor and from all the expectation of the people; we returned our best thanks also to those who had exposed themselves to such labours and perils for our sakes. We went some considerable distance in the boat before landing. After we had landed I sent the gentleman, my companion, with John Lilly, to my house, of which I have before spoken, which was managed by that saintly widow, Mistress Line. I myself, however, with Richard Fulwood, went to a house which Father Garnett had in the suburbs; and there Little John and I, a little before daylight, mounted our horses, which he had ready there for the purpose, and rode straight off to Father Garnett, who was then living a short distance in the country.[107] We got there by dinner-time, and great rejoicing there was on my arrival, and much thanksgiving to God at my having thus escaped from the hands of my enemies in the name of the Lord.
“In the meanwhile I had sent Richard Fulwood with a couple of horses to a certain spot, that he might be ready to ride off with [pg cxxv] my gaoler, if he wished to consult his immediate safety. For I had a letter written, of which I made previous mention, which was to be taken to him early in the morning at the place where he was accustomed to meet John Lilly. Lilly, however, did not carry the letter, for I had bidden him remain quiet within doors until such time as the storm which was to be expected had blown over. So another, who also knew the gaoler, took the letter, and gave it to him at the usual meeting-place. He was indeed surprised at another's coming, but took the letter without remark, and was about to depart with the intention of delivering it to me as usual; but the other stopped him, saying, ‘The letter is for you, and not for any one else.’
“ ‘For me?’ said the gaoler, ‘from whom then does it come?’
“ ‘From a friend of yours,’ replied the other; ‘but who he is I don't know.’
“The gaoler was still more astonished at this, and said, ‘I cannot myself read; if, then, it is a matter which requires immediate attention, pray read it for me.’
“So the man that brought the letter read it for him. It was to the effect that I had made my escape from prison; and here I added a few words on the reasons of my conduct, for the purpose of calming his mind. Then I told him, that though I was nowise bound to protect him from the consequences, as I had but used my just right, yet, as I had found him faithful in the things which I had intrusted him with, I was loath to leave him in the lurch. If, therefore, he was inclined to provide for his own safety immediately, there was a horse waiting for him with a guide who would bring him to a place of safety, sufficiently distant from London, where I would maintain him for life, allowing him two hundred florins [20l.] yearly, which would support him comfortably. I added that if he thought of accepting this offer, he had better settle his affairs as quickly as possible, and betake himself to the place which the bearer of the letter would show him.
“The poor man was, as may well be supposed, in a great fright, and accepted the offer; but, as he was about to return to the Tower to settle matters and get his wife away, a mate of his met him, and said, ‘Be off with you as quick as you can; for your prisoners have escaped from the little tower, and Master [pg cxxvi] Lieutenant is looking for you everywhere. Woe to you if he finds you!’ So, returning all in a tremble to the bearer of the letter, he besought him for the love of God to take him at once to where the horse was waiting for him. He took him, therefore, and handed him over to Richard Fulwood, who was to be his guide. Fulwood took him to the house of a friend of mine residing at the distance of a hundred miles from London, to whom I had written, asking him, if such a person should come, to take him in and provide for him. I warned him, however, not to put confidence in him, nor to acknowledge any acquaintance with me. I told him that Richard Fulwood would reimburse him for all the expenses, but that he must never listen to the man if at any time he began to talk about me or about himself.
“Everything was done as I had arranged; my friend received no damage, and the gaoler remained there out of danger. After a year he went into another county, and, becoming a Catholic, lived there comfortably for some five years with his family on the annuity which I sent him regularly according to promise. He died at the end of those five years, having been through that trouble rescued by God from the occasions of sin, and, as I hope, brought to Heaven. I had frequently in the prison sounded him in matters of religion; and though his reason was perfectly convinced, I was never able to move his will. My temporal escape, then, I trust, was by the sweet disposition of God's merciful providence the occasion of his eternal salvation.