face with great surprise. She seemed to speak the truth; her
countenance was white and agitated; and she trembled with very
earnestness.
“I have saved you from being ill-used once, and I will again, and
I do now,” continued the girl aloud; “for those who would have
fetched you, if I had not, would have been far more rough than me.
I have promised for your being quiet and silent; if you are not, you
will only do harm to yourself and me too, and perhaps be my
death. See here! I have borne all this for you already, as true as
God sees me show it.”
She pointed, hastily, to some livid bruises on her neck and
arms; and continued, with great rapidity:
“Remember this! And don’t let me suffer more for you, just
now. If I could help you, I would; but I have not the power. They
don’t mean to harm you; whatever they make you do, is no fault of
yours. Hush! Every word from you is a blow for me. Give me your
hand. Make haste! Your hand!”
She caught the hand which Oliver instinctively placed in hers,
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and, blowing out the light, drew him after her up the stairs. The
door was opened, quickly, by some one shrouded in the darkness,
and was as quickly closed, when they had passed out. A hackney-
cabriolet was in waiting; with the same vehemence which she had
exhibited in addressing Oliver, the girl pulled him in with her, and
drew the curtains close. The driver wanted no directions, but
lashed his horse into full speed, without the delay of an instant.
The girl still held Oliver fast by the hand, and continued to pour
into his ear, the warnings and assurances she had already
imparted. All was so quick and hurried, that he had scarcely time
to recollect where he was, or how he came there, when the
carriage stopped at the house to which the Jew’s steps had been
directed on the previous evening.
For one brief moment, Oliver cast a hurried glance along the
empty street, and a cry for help hung upon his lips. But the girl’s
voice was in his ear, beseeching him in such tones of agony to
remember her, that he had not the heart to utter it. While he
hesitated, the opportunity was gone; for he was already in the
house, and the door was shut.
“This way,” said the girl, releasing her hold for the first time.
“Bill!”
“Hallo!” replied Sikes, appearing at the head of the stairs, with
a candle. “Oh! That’s the time of day. Come on!”
This was a very strong expression of approbation, an
uncommonly hearty welcome, from a person of Mr. Sikes’s
temperament. Nancy, appearing much gratified thereby, saluted
him cordially.
“Bull’s-eye’s gone home with Tom,” observed Sikes, as he
lighted them up. “He’d have been in the way.”
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“That’s right,” rejoined Nancy.
“So you’ve got the kid,” said Sikes, when they had all reached
the room, closing the door as he spoke.
“Yes, here he is,” replied Nancy.
“Did he come quiet?” inquired Sikes.
“Like a lamb,” rejoined Nancy.
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Sikes, looking grimly at Oliver; “for
the sake of his young carcass, as would otherways have suffered
for it. Come here, young ’un, and let me read you a lecture, which
is as well got over at once.”
Thus addressing his new pupil, Mr. Sikes pulled off Oliver’s cap
and threw it into a corner; and then taking him by the shoulder,
sat himself down by the table, and stood the boy in front of him.
“Now, first, do you know wot this is?” inquired Sikes, taking up
a pocket-pistol which lay on the table.
Oliver replied in the affirmative.
“Well, then, look here,” continued Sikes. “This is powder; that
’ere’s a bullet; and this is a little bit of a old hat for waddin’.”
Oliver murmured his comprehension of the different bodies
referred to; and Mr. Sikes proceeded to load the pistol, with great
nicety and deliberation.
“Now it’s loaded,” said Mr Sikes, when he had finished.
“Yes, I see it is, sir,” replied Oliver.
“Well,” said the robber, grasping Oliver’s wrist tightly, and
putting the barrel so close to his temple that they touched; at
which moment the boy could not repress a start; “if you speak a
word when you’re out o’ doors with me, except when I speak to
you, that loading will be in your head without notice. So, if you do
make up your mind to speak without leave, say your prayers first.”
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Having bestowed a scowl upon the object of this warning, to
increase its effect, Mr. Sikes continued:
“As near as I know, there isn’t anybody as would be asking very
partickler arter you, if you was disposed of; so I needn’t take this
devil-and-all of trouble to explain matters to you, if it warn’t for
your own good. D’ye hear me?”
“The short and the long of what you mean,” said Nancy,
speaking very emphatically, and slightly frowning at Oliver as if to
bespeak his serious attention to her words, “is, that if you’re
crossed by him in this job you have on hand, you’ll prevent his
ever telling tales afterwards, by shooting him through the head,
and will take your chance of swinging for it, as you do for a great
many other things in the way of business, every month of your
life.”
“That’s it!” observed Mr. Sikes approvingly; “women can
always put things in fewest words.—Except when it’s blowing up;
and then they lengthens it out. And now that he’s thoroughly up to
it, let’s have some supper, and get a snooze before starting.”
In pursuance of this request, Nancy quickly laid the cloth; and,
disappearing for a few minutes, presently returned with a pot of
porter and a dish of sheep’s heads; which gave occasion to several
pleasant witticisms on the part of Mr. Sikes, founded upon the
singular coincidence of “jemmies” being a cant name, common to
them. and also to an ingenious implement much used in his
profession. Indeed, the worthy gentleman, stimulated perhaps by
the immediate prospect of being on active service, was in great
spirits and good-humour; in proof whereof, it may be here
remarked, that he humorously drank all the beer at a draught, and
did not utter, on a rough calculation, more than fourscore oaths
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during the whole progress of the meal.
Supper being ended—it may be easily conceived that Oliver
had no great appetite for it—Mr. Sikes disposed of a couple of
glasses of spirits and water, and threw himself on the bed;
ordering Nancy, with many imprecations in case of failure, to call
him at five precisely. Oliver stretched himself in his clothes, by
command of the same authority, on a mattress upon the floor; and
the girl, mending the fire, sat before it, in readiness to rouse them
at the appointed time.
For a long time Oliver lay awake, thinking it not impossible that
Nancy might seek that opportunity of whispering some further
advice; but the girl sat brooding over the fire, without moving,
save now and then to trim the light. Weary with watching and
anxiety, he at length fell asleep.
When he awoke, the table was covered with tea-things, and
Sikes was thrusting various articles into the pockets of his
greatcoat, which hung over the back of a chair; while Nancy was
busily engaged in preparing breakfast. It was not yet daylight; for
the candle was still burning, and it was quite dark outside. A sharp
rain, too, was beating against the window-panes; and the sky
looked black and cloudy.
“Now, then!” growled Sikes, as Oliver started up; “half-past
five! Look sharp, or you’ll get no breakfast; for it’s late as it is.”
Oliver was not long in making his toilet; and having taken some
breakfast, he replied to a surly inquiry from Sikes, by saying that
he was quite ready.
Nancy, scarcely looked at the boy, threw him a handkerchief to
tie round his throat, and Sikes gave him a large, rough cape to
button over his shoulders. Thus attired, he gave his hand to the
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robber, who, merely pausing to show him with a menacing gesture
that he had that same pistol in a side-pocket of his greatcoat,
clasped it firmly in his, and, exchanging a farewell with Nancy, led
him away.
Oliver turned, for an instant, when they reached the door, in
the hope of meeting a look from the girl. But she had resumed her
old seat in front of the fire, and sat, perfectly motionless, before it.
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Chapter 21
The Expedition.
It was a cheerless morning when they got into the street;
blowing and raining hard; and the clouds looking dull and
stormy. The night had been very wet; for large pools of
water had collected in the road; and the kennels were overflowing.
There was a faint glimmering of the coming day in the sky; but it
rather aggravated than relieved the gloom of the scene: the
sombre light only serving to pale that which the street lamps
afforded, without shedding any warmer or brighter tints upon the
wet housetops, and dreary streets. There appeared to be nobody
stirring in that quarter of the town; for the windows of the houses
were all closely shut; and the streets through which they passed,
were noiseless and empty.
By the time they had turned into Bethnal Green Road, the day
had fairly begun to break. Many of the lamps were already
extinguished; a few country waggons were slowly toiling on,
towards London; and now and then, a stagecoach, covered with
mud, rattled briskly by; the driver bestowing, as he passed, an
admonitory lash upon the heavy waggoner who, by keeping on the
wrong side of the road, had endangered his arriving at the office, a
quarter of a minute after his time. The public-houses, with gaslights burning inside, were already open. By degrees, other shops
began to be unclosed, and a few scattered people were met with.
Then, came straggling groups of labourers going to their work;
then, men and women with fish-baskets on their heads; donkey
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carts laden with vegetables; chaise-carts filled with live stock or
whole carcasses of meat; milk-women with pails: an unbroken
concourse of people, trudging out with various supplies to the
eastern suburbs of the town. As they approached the city, the
noise and traffic gradually increased: when they threaded the
streets between Shoreditch and Smithfield, it had swelled into a
roar of sound and bustle. It was as light as it was likely to be, till
night came on again; and the busy morning of half the London
population had begun.
Turning down Sun Street and Crown Street, and crossing
Finsbury Square, Mr. Sikes struck, by way of Chiswell Street, into
Barbican; thence into Long Lane, and so into Smithfield; from
which latter place are a tumult of discordant sounds that filled
Oliver Twist with amazement.
It was market morning. The ground was covered, nearly ankle-
deep, with filth and mire; a thick steam perpetually rising from the
reeking bodies of the cattle, and mingling with the fog, which
seemed to rest upon the chimney-tops, hung heavily above. All the
pens in the centre of the large area, and as many temporary pens
as could be crowded into the vacant space, were filled with sheep;
tied up to posts by the gutter side were long lines of beasts and
oxen, three or four deep. Countrymen, butchers, drovers, hawkers,
boys, thieves, idlers, and vagabonds of every low grade, were
mingled together in a mass; the whistling of drovers, the barking
of dogs, the bellowing and plunging of oxen, the bleating of sheep,
the grunting and squeaking of pigs; the cries of hawkers, the
shouts, oaths, and quarrelling on all sides; the ringing of bells and
roar of voices, that issued from every public-house; the crowding,
pushing, driving, beating, whooping and yelling; the hideous and
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discordant din that resounded from every corner of the market;
and the unwashed, unshaven, squalid, and dirty figures constantly
running to and fro, and bursting in and out of the throng,
rendered it a stunning and bewildering scene, which quite
confounded the senses.
Mr. Sikes, dragging Oliver after him, elbowed his way through
the thickest of the crowd, and bestowed very little attention on the
numerous sights and sounds, which so astonished the boy. He
nodded, twice or thrice, to a passing friend; and, resisting as many
invitations to take a morning dram, pressed steadily onward, until
they were clear of the turmoil, and had made their way through
Hosier Lane into Holborn.
“No, young ’un!” said Sikes, looking up at the clock of St.
Andrew’s Church, “hard upon seven! you must step out. Come,
don’t lag beyind already, Lazylegs!”
Mr. Sikes accompanied this speech with a jerk at his little
companion’s wrist; Oliver, quickening his pace into a kind of trot,
between a fast walk and a run, kept up with the rapid strides of
the housebreaker as well as he could.
They held their course at this rate, until they had passed Hyde
Park corner, and were on their way to Kensington, when Sikes
relaxed his pace, until an empty cart, which was at some little
distance behind, came up. Seeing “Hounslow” written on it, he
asked the driver, with as much civility as he could assume. if he
would give them a lift as far as Isleworth.
“Jump up,” said the man. “Is that your boy?”
“Yes; he’s my boy,” replied Sikes, looking hard at Oliver, and
putting his hand abstractedly into the pocket where the pistol was.
“Your father walks rather too quick for you, don’t he, my man?”
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inquired the driver, seeing that Oliver was out of breath.
“Not a bit of it,” replied Sikes, interposing. “He’s used to it.
Here, take hold of my hand, Ned. In with you!”
Thus addressing Oliver, he helped him into the cart; and the
driver, pointing to a heap of sacks, told him to lie down there, and
rest himself.
As they passed the different mile-stones. Oliver wondered,
more and more, where his companion meant to take him.
Kensington, Hammersmith, Chiswick, Kew Bridge, Brentford,
were all passed; and yet they went on as steadily as if they had
only just begun their journey. At length they came to a public-
house called the Coach and Horses: a little way beyond which
another road appeared to turn off. And here, the cart stopped.
Sikes dismounted with great precipitation, holding Oliver by
the hand all the while; and lifting him down directly, bestowed a
furious look upon him, and rapped the side-pocket with his fist, in
a significant manner.
“Good-bye, boy,” said the man.
“He’s sulky,” replied Sikes, giving him a shake; “he’s sulky. A
young dog! Don’t mind him.”
“Not I!” rejoined the other, getting into his cart. “It’s a fine day
after all.” And he drove away.
Sikes waited until he had fairly gone; and then, telling Oliver he
might look about him if he wanted, once again led him onward on
his journey.
They turned round to the left, a short way past the public-
house; and then, taking a right-hand road, walked on for a long
time; passing many large gardens and gentlemen’s houses on both
sides of the way, and stopping for nothing but a little beer, until
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they reached a town. Here against the wall of a house, Oliver saw
written up in pretty large letters “Hampton.” They lingered about,
in the fields, for some hours. At length, they came back into the
town; and, turning into an old public-house with a defaced
signboard, ordered some dinner by the kitchen fire.
The kitchen was an old, low-roofed room, with a great beam
across the middle of the ceiling, and benches, with high backs to
them, by the fire; on which were seated several rough men in
smock-frocks, drinking and smoking. They took no notice of
Oliver, and very little of Sikes; and, as Sikes took very little notice
of them, he and his young comrade sat in a corner by themselves,
without being much troubled by their company.
They had some cold meat for dinner, and sat so long after it,
while Mr. Sikes indulged himself with three or four pipes, that
Oliver began to feel quite certain they were not going any farther.
Being much tired with the walk, and getting up so early, he dozed
a little at first; then, quite overpowered by fatigue and the fumes of
the tobacco, fell asleep.
It was quite dark when he was awakened by a push from Sikes.
Rousing himself sufficiently to sit up and look about him, he found
that worthy in close fellowship and communication with a
labouring man, over a pint of ale.
“So, you’re going on to Lower Halliford, are you?” inquired
Sikes.
“Yes, I am,” replied the man, who seemed a little the worse—or
better, as the case might be—for drinking; “and not slow about it
neither. My horse hasn’t got a load behind him going back, as he
