 | CHAPTER II.
The Saracen's Head. Herman de Ruyter |  |
2. CHAPTER II.
The Saracen's Head.
The `Saracen's Head,' towards which Herman
directed his step after quitting the wretched
stall of the Book-man, was situated at the
head of the narrow street he was traversing,
and in the neighborhood of the City Prison,
the dark Egyptian, walls of which towered
high and frowningly above it. It was at the
corner with a door on either side, and above
the angle projecting over the narrow side-walk
was a rude sign-board on which was pictured
a rude representation of a Turk's Head
in a green turban and an enormous blue beard,
The building was two low stories in height,
with a hip-roof and dormer windows; the
roof steep and much broken in places, and
the windows set with very small bull's eye
panes The house was sunken several feet
below the pavement, partly from age and
partly by the gradual elevation and levelling
of the streets that it faced upon. It had once
been red but was now a dingy brown and had
the appearance, altogether, of a tavern of the
lowest order. It had originally been square,
but various additions to its length on either
wing had given it a rambling over-laden look;
and as these additions were in every possible
variety as suited the purse or taste of the
owner of the tenement, they added much to
its picturesque aspect, as well as increased his
income; for the apartments, some under
ground, some above ground, and some stuck
upon the roof like one cage placed a-top of
another, being let out to various tenants, added
not a little to the income of the economical
landlord.
The renter of this rambling row of tenements
was the hostes of `Saracen's Head,'
who not only kept on the corner a famous tap-room,
which she styled a `Coffee House,' in
red letters on a pinkground, placed over the
principal door, but let `furnished lodgings' at
eleven York shilling's a week, or `a single
bed' for ninepence. Dame Dilley, or as she
was better known, `Dirk Dilley,' from her
habit of carrying a dirk sheathed in her girdle,
did not only let rooms to lodgers, but she
rented by the week and month, apartments in
the more remote quarters of her habitation attached
to the Saracen's Head. Thus she had
under her miscellaneous union of roofs no
less than nine families who rented rooms of
her independent of the `Coffee House,' poor
people who furnished their own quarters, such
furnishing as it was, and lived as they could,
whether by theft or honest industry, Dirk
Dilley never made it her business to inquire
so that she got her weekly dues for rent.—
Some of these families got to their apartments
by a door on the street in a line with the `Coffee
a narrow passage a few steps and clambering
up a damp, miserable flight of steps, here and
there one of the decayed boards missing;
while others passed from the side walk through
a cellar door, and traversing a sort of underground
passage, dark at noon-day, emerged in
the rear of the tavern into the yard of the
house. This yard or court was narrow, and
closely built round by wooden sheds two stories
high, the lower portion being used for
wood and washroom, while the upper story
was let out to her tenants; a narrow platform
which was reached by a flight of steps at one
end running around beneath the second row
of windows, with half a dozen doors opening
from it into the rooms occupied by them.
Such was the character of the externals of
the Saracens Head.
As Herman approached this rendezvous of
vice, poverty and crime, he instinctively slackened
his pace; for he did not know but he
might the next moment meet his father, and
the thought made his blood flow quicker while
it produced a certain emotion of reluctance
and awe. Around the door were four or five
persons smoking cigars and talking together.
Two men muffled about the chin and mouth,
and wearing hats pushed down over their
brows, evidently for disguise, stood beneath
the dull lamp which hung above the door of
the `tap,' conversing apart secretly. As Herman
came up they lowered their voices and
turned their faces away, shaded as the spot
was where they were standing. He knew one
of them, nevertheless, disguised as he was,
and approaching him he laid his hand suddenly
upon his arm. The man started back,
and throwing himself into an attitude of defence,
half unsheathed a knife, the steel of
which flashed on the eyes of De Ruyter. His
companion at the same moment drew from
beneath his jacket a short, loaded cudgel and
held it above his head.
`Wilkins, is this the way to welcome an
old acquantance,' said Herman in a lively
tene and a pleasant laugh, without betraying
the least fear at their menacing demeanor.
`Who the deuce are you?' demanded the
man he addressed, slowly shoving back his
knife into its sheath and eyeing him closely.
`If you know me, you ought to know it is
dangerous for a man to come up and lay a
hand upon me in that way by surprise. I might
take his life before I knew whether he was
friend or foe! Who are you?'
`Herman de Ruyter,' he answered, firmly.
`Herman!' cried the burglar captain with
a recognition of surprise and pleasure. And
seizing him by the extended hand he warmly
shook it. `You are the last man I expected
to see here! No wonder I didn't know you
You were but seventeen when we last met and
now you are full three and twenty! But
your way of carrying yourself is just the
same, and you have an eye no man could mistake
who had once seen it! You knew me
readily. If I have been so easily detected I
am not safe here!'
`I heard your voice first, and then looking
at you closely I recognised you. Perhaps I
houldn't have noticed you if I had not heard
you speak!'
`Softly,' said the burglar captain, lowering
his voice.
`Come into the tap, Herman, my boy, and let
us know where you've been! You are the
very man I would rather see than all others!
By the by, this is my particular friend Napes!'
Herman shook Mr. Napes by the hand and
then followed his two friends into the coffee
house, by descending four well-worn steps,
the tap being three feet lower than the level
of the street. The door was carefully closed
by Wild, and being half glass was habitually
guarded by a faded red curtain drawn across
the panes. The door on the other street
was arranged with an under curtain in the
same manner; thus the orgies going on
within, could not be overlooked, or rather
looked down upon by those passing on the
walk. The apartment into which Herman
descended was a large sized room, remarkable
for its time-worn and smoky aspect, and
for the lowness of its blackened ceiling. Its
floor had been sanded, the time when being
doubtful, but the sand had now united with
the dirt brought in by the feet of Dirk Dilley's
guests and covered the boards with a hard
cement not unlike a macadamised surface.
Over this was strewn bits of half-smoked cigars,
fragments of refreshments, and around
the bar at the opposite end it was damp with
water and other liquids spilled or dashed upon
it. There were little blue tables ranged around
the sides of the room, and every one of them
was occupied by hard looking characters,
at short pipes or detestable cigars, others
with their heads bent close together conversing
in low, cautious tones. A steady buzz,
mingled with oaths of the most horrible character
and language singularly vile, filled the
room, alternated with loud calls for glasses of
wine or tumblers of spirits.
Dame Dilley stood behind her bar the presiding
genius of this bacchanalian scene. Her
appearance presented a striking contrast to
all around her. She was a young woman
not more than five or six and twenty, and still
remarkably handsome, with a clear hazel eye,
dark shining hair, and a superb figure. She
was dressed in a tight-fitting black velvet
spencer, with a green silk skirt, and a necklace
of sparkling stones encircled her well-turned
neck. She was at once beautiful and
wicked; for the seal of vice was impressed
upon her fine face in lines that could not be
mistaken. In a word the hostess of the Saracen's
Head was Isabel Wild, once the wife of
the burglar captain. After his sentence to seven
years in the States Prison**, her marriage
with him was, by the law, annulled. She passed
through various vicissitudes the past two or
three years of her separation, but in all her
circumstance was remarkable for her bold,
daring and independent spirit, and a propensity
to defy the law by engaging in lawless enterprizes.
Indeed, she took for a time the position
Wilkins Wild had held and was virtually
the head of a band of burglars for whom
she planned enterprizes, being artful, bold and
most accomplished in the management of conspiracies
against the property of honest citizens.
One of these, by the name of Dilley,
she married; but he was shot not long
afterwards in breaking into a Doctor's house
in Washington square. Avarice grew with
her acquisitions and her depredations through
the skilful persons she had in her employ at
length rendering her discovery and arrest an
object of great importance to the police, she
resolved to abandon her career as a successful
female burglar, and invest her money,
while she could do it safely in a way that
would enable her to enrich herself. At first
she opened a boarding house for the friends of
`the art,' as she termed burglary, charging
them a high price for the advantages she could
afford them by her protection, as well as by her
advice; and ultimately she got to eharging a
fee for consultation upon nice points touching
any contemplated `descent.' But she carefully
kept herself from all participation in the
acts themselves. By degrees her boarding
house assumed the character of a tavern, and
finding the Saracen's Head to rent, she removed
there about three years after Wilkins
had been sentenced to Sing-Sing, and gradually
increasing the number of her rooms, she
had at length got under her domestic government
quite a colony to which she was a most
exacting and uncompromising governor. In
the collection of her rents, or bills for lodging
or board, Isabel Dilley knew no pity. The
last loaf of bread or the last blanket that appertained
to her poor tenants she would seize
without mercy if the hour of her dues came
and there was not money enough to pay.
As she stood now in her bar, not serving
herself so much as overseeing the movements
of a young girl who was in the bar with her,
her hard cold, yet handsome eye, betrayed to
a close observer all the iron-coldness of her
nature. Yet it was not her nature. Isabel
Wild was not always such as she now was;
and under other circumstances might have
made a noble woman. But early temptation
and fall had reversed her character, and from
a high-spirited girl, made a dangerous and
guilty woman!
As Herman followed Wild up to the bar,
she fixed upon him her quick glance, and a
look of surprise and searching scrutiny of his
features followed. He at once recognized her
and turned to Wilkins, exclaimed,
`There is your wife—Isabel?'
`Not my wife now,' answered Wild laughing,
yet looking confused and displeased.
`The state's prison gave us a bill of divorce!
She has recognized you, and beckons to me
to bring you there!'
Wild led Herman by the side of the bar into
a small setting room, into which Isabel
instantly came.
`Is it possible,' she exclaimed with a smiling
countenance, as she stopped a moment to
survey Herman, `is it possible Wild, you have
brought little Herman here! It is he! That
smile and glance no body can mistake! How
handsome and tall you've grown! she added
as she approached him, and laid her hand upon
his shoulder. `Where have you been?'
`At sea!'
`Under the free flag, hey?' she said laughing.
`No,' replied Herman. `I have been part
the time in a merchantman, and a part of the
time in a man-of-war. I only got back from
my last cruise to-night, and I want you to tell
me, Isabel, where I can find my mother?'
`Isabel! I like that! You remind me of old
times, Herman;' she said as if pleased. `How
very fine looking you are! Your seaman's
dress is truly becoming, and you wear it with
such an air! Come, we must be good friends
again, now you have got back. So you were
kind to come and see me first! Have you
been to supper?'
`Yes, before I came ashore!' answered Herman,
gratified at the warm reception by her.
`I cannot stop a moment either, as I am anxious
to see my mother!'
`Your mother! Bless me, you are too old
to ask after your mother, Herman, she said
laughing. `She is n't living is she?'
`Yes, and is in the city!'
`Well, I did not know it! Besides I never
saw her in my life! Where are you going to
stop while you are here? You must remain at
the Saracen! I have a neat room for you, and
you will feel perfectly at home!'
`Well, I will accept your kind offer,' said
Herman, `until I ascertain where my mother
is!'
`Bel,' said Wild in an imperious tone, `bring
us in three glasses of your best. We will
drink together in here, where it is private!'
`Who do you order in that manner, sir?'
asked the hostess of the Saracer, her large
eyes flashing, and her fine lip curling with
contempt. `Your old tones wont do with me
now, Wilkins? If you wish me to be your
friend, you will be less haughty. We are two
now! If I suffer you to lodge here for old acquaintance
sake till you can do better, it is
not for you to think that I am your wife!'
`Dont be angry, Isabel,' said Wild trying
to laugh, though his brow darkened. `We
will keep friends! Come, my dear, get us
the three glasses, and a fourth too, for yourself!'
`No, I will take a glass, with a cup of tea,
by and by alone with Herman!'
`Alone with Herman, eh!' repeated Wild
in a sarcastic tone, and with a look that showed,
that notwithstanding his present relative
position with regard to her, he was jealous of
her very apparent regard for Herman.
She smiled with wicked triumph in her eye,
and entering the bar, in a few moments returned
with the glasses and placed them upon
the table before them. As she retired from
the room, Wild rose up and followed her to
the door of the bar.
`Isabel!'
`Well, Wild?'
`I see how the wards lay, and have a key
in my eye that unlocks all your thoughts! I
understand what you mean to be at!'
`Well, what is it?'
`You know Herman is rich, and will soon
have his money. You see he is devilish good
looking. So you mean to play a double game;
getting him fascinated with you to gratify
your vanity, and then work him out of his
money!'
`If I thought it would make you jealous,
nothing would please me more, Wild, than to
fall in love with him. The truth is I am almost
in love with him; and I tell you plainly
if I can catch him I will marry him!'
`Do as you please, only beware!' said Wild,
his fine, yet vice-hardened face glowing with
anger. `But look you, woman! About his
money, there are two to play at that game!'
`How do you mean?'
`If you make me jealous of him, I will so
manage my cards, that you shall not touch a
dollar of his money. I know your avarice is
stronger than your love, and so take heed! I
do not, you well know, threaten lightly! If
you wish to profit by his return, you must
make me your friend!'
`Well, Wilkins, I will not do any thing to
vex you! The truth is I do love you still;
but then my hatred of you for deceiving and
degrading me in the first, is so much stronger
than love, that sometimes it will come to the
surface; and then I feel as I could do any
thing to make you suffer in soul and body!'
`Never make me jealous, Isabel!' said Wild
in a stern tone, depressed so as not to be overheard
by Herman and Napes. `If I can be
nothing more to you again than another man,
no other shall share your affections. Dont
touch your dirk! It will not intimidate me! I
am as desperate and determined as hell itself
on that point. So if you would not make me
your enemy, beware!'
He then turned away from her, while with
a pale cheek yet flashing eyes she entered her
bar.
`You and Dirk Dilley seem to have been at
words,' said Napes, as Wild sat down by the
table and raised his glass.
`You seem to have been listening,' retorted
Wild ill-humoredly. `But let us drink,'
he said his brow clearing up. Come, Herman,
here is to your health!'
`Wilkins,' said Herman as he sat down his
glass, can you tell me if—' and here looking
doubtfully at Napes he lowered his tone and
and added—`if my father is in the city!'
`Bless me! I never thought of it before!
That is true sure enough! What a meeting
it would be! I should like to be present at
it!'
`He is here then?'
Yes. But talk freely; don't be afraid of
Napes. He knows all about you and the old
'un too! He's served his three years!.
`Have you seen him?'
`Not half an hour ago. I dare say he is
about now! I will see!'
`No—by no means!' cried Herman catching
him by the arm and detaining him. `I
have not seen my father since I was a lad. I
do not wish him to know me when we do
meet! Yet I would like to see him!'
`You shall see him. He lodges here. He
has a room with Napes in the court-yard right
over the arch. We will go up all three to
his room soon and see him. I will call you
Corney. He has heard me speak of such a
person and won't suspect!'
`Thank you, Wilkins,' said Herman with
an earnest voice. `I don't want him to know
me, at least, yet!'
`Well, now let us have a little talk together.
How are you as it regards the old trade?'
`I have done with all that, Wilkins! I had
enough when I was a boy in that way to serve
me!'
`Yes, you used to do service! By the by,
was Shears killed before or after you left the
city? Oh, I remember it was about the time;
for you were together a night or two before!
That was the strangest affair!'
`It was,' responded Napes with emphasis.
`I would give a hundred dollars to know how
the poor fellow came by his death!'
`Has the person never been suspected?'
asked Herman with as much composure as he
could assume at such a moment.
`Never! unless it was a little girl whom he
was known to take into the carriage with him.
It seems impossible it could have been this
child; and that afterwards she should cut her
way through the leather at the back of the
coach. Yet the child disappeared at the same
time as if guilty; and her father or uncle,
Mr. Carrol, used every means to ascertain
what had become of her. It is a confoundedly
mysterious affair!'
`So it is,' warmly answered Napes, who
was a young, slender, pale faced man of thirty,
in a gray jacket buttoned to his chin, with
black, straight hair, cut very short to his head,
and eyes large, green, and consumptive looking.
His countenance was expressive of the
most hardened villany, Every feature seemed
to be attenuated and sharpened by duplicity
and cunning. He spoke through his nose,
and had a habit of jirking the corner of his
mouth towards his left ear; and a look of
cautious watchfulness was so habitual to him
that one could not behold him without irresistably
thinking of a cat.
Herman kept his countenance with remarkably
coolness, and said quietly.
`It is very singular. I heard of the facts
before I left.'
`Shears was one in a thousand,' said Wild
with admiration in his tones, as he recalled
the many virtues of the skillful burglar. `I
would not have lost him for a good deal of
money. Well, Herman, I suppose you are
soon to be rich! I am not mistaken, hey?'
`I was to have about twenty thousand dollars
when I came of age, which was nearly
two years ago. I hope it is now safe; though
if I hear rightly my mother is in the city and
in poverty.'
`It can't be true! But you will find her tomorrow,
by dropping a line in the office. So
you will cut us all after you get your money,
I dare say.'
No, I shall not cut you,' he answered
smiling; `but there will be no need I should
take a hand with you.'
`Ah, the same old frank, bold spirit, I see!
You are Herman still! Going to sea hasn't
spoiled you.'
`It has made me reflect a good deal. I intend
to stay ashore quietly, marry and live as
happily as I can.'
`Here's to your good resolutions,' cried
Wells filling his glass.
At this moment a noise without and a loud
into the tap-room.
| CHAPTER II.
The Saracen's Head. Herman de Ruyter | |