As we passed through the town the people stared at me as though the end of everything was come: but I took no heed of them; the world and everything therein seemed as nothing to me then. Thus that night found me in the jail at Dorchester.
On the terrors of that pestilential place I will not dwell. Over three hundred prisoners were crowded there like cattle in a pen, and almost every one of them was doomed to certain death. The air was foul and stifling, while cries and groans of anguish made up such a scene of horror as no pen could properly describe.
There were several faces there well known to me, and barely had I entered when a little wizened man came darting through the crowd and seized my hands. 'Twas old Samuel Robins, who, as you will remember, sold fish to Monmouth's men aboard the frigate and was kept there. That was his crime.
"Oh, Master Fane," he cried, looking up at me with wild imploring eyes, "what do it mean? What be Oi here for? I sold them fish as fair and straight as any man; fore-right I did, and how were Oi to know as it were Monmouth's ship? Zur, zur! My pretty boo-at! What be they a-goin' to do wi' me and her? Get back, zur; go you to the King and tell en old Sam Robins ne'er did harm to any man."
He tried to drag me to the door. Alas! he did not understand that I was just as helpless as himself. I tried to comfort him as best I could, but he only raved the louder, wringing his hands and asking God to save him and his "pretty boo-at".
Many of the prisoners were sick, and some still suffering from wounds. Amongst these moved a grey-haired gentleman, endeavouring, by word and touch, to give relief. His name was Dr. Temple, and he told me that he hailed from Nottingham, but had been in the Netherlands some years; that when Monmouth's expedition sailed thence he had shipped as surgeon, being told that they were bound for western seas, and had not found out the truth until they had been two days at sea. At Sedgemoor he had worked zealously among the wounded of both sides--and this was his reward!
"I am old," said he, "and if death comes it finds me well upon the road to meet it. But you are young and strong, and it troubles me to see you here."
Far into the night we two sat talking, until at last, in spite of stifling heat and groans, we fell asleep.
I dreamt prodigiously, and, strange as it may seem to you, my dreams were not unpleasant--being for the most part of old, happy days long passed--but, oh, the grim awakening!
CHAPTER XXIII