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In an incredibly short space of time — for her anxiety lent wings to her feet — Mrs. Sheppard reached the debtor’s garrison. From a scout stationed at the northern entrance, whom she addressed in the jargon of the place, with which long usage had formerly rendered her familiar, she ascertained that Blueskin, accompanied by a youth, whom she knew by the description must be her son, had arrived there about three hours before, and had proceeded to the Cross Shovels. This was enough for the poor widow. She felt she was now near her boy, and, nothing doubting her ability to rescue him from his perilous situation, she breathed a fervent prayer for his deliverance; and bending her steps towards the tavern in question, revolved within her mind as she walked along the best means of accomplishing her purpose. Aware of the cunning and desperate characters of the persons with whom she would have to deal — aware, also, that she was in a quarter where no laws could be appealed to, nor assistance obtained, she felt the absolute necessity of caution. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. The drawers at the moment were too busy to attend to her, and she would have seized the opportunity of examining, unperceived, the assemblage within, through a little curtained window that overlooked the adjoining chamber, if an impediment had not existed in the shape of Baptist Kettleby, whose portly person entirely obscured the view. The Master of the Mint, in the exercise of his two-fold office of governor and publican, was mounted upon a chair, and holding forth to his guests in a speech, to which Mrs. Sheppard was unwillingly compelled to listen.

“Gentlemen of the Mint,” said the orator, “when I was first called, some fifty years ago, to the important office I hold, there existed across the water three places of refuge for the oppressed and persecuted debtor.”

“We know it,” cried several voices.

“It happened, gentlemen,” pursued the Master, “on a particular occasion, about the time I’ve mentioned, that the Archduke of Alsatia, the Sovereign of the Savoy, and the Satrap of Salisbury Court, met by accident at the Cross Shovels. A jolly night we made of it, as you may suppose; for four such monarchs don’t often come together. Well, while we were smoking our pipes, and quaffing our punch, Alsatia turns to me and says, ‘Mint,’ says he, ‘you’re well off here.’—‘Pretty well,’ says I; ‘you’re not badly off at the Friars, for that matter.’—‘Oh! yes we are,’ says he. —‘How so?’ says I. —‘It’s all up with us,’ says he; ‘they’ve taken away our charter.’—‘They can’t,’ says I. —‘They have,’ says he. —‘They can’t, I tell you,’ says I, in a bit of a passion; ‘it’s unconstitutional.’—‘Unconstitutional or not,’ says Salisbury Court and Savoy, speaking together, ‘it’s true. We shall become a prey to the Philistines, and must turn honest in self-defence.’—‘No fear o’ that,’ thought I. —‘I see how it’ll be,’ observed Alsatia, ‘everybody’ll pay his debts, and only think of such a state of things as that.’—‘It’s not to be thought of,’ says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled; ‘and I know a way as’ll prevent it.’—‘What is it, Mint?’ asked all three. —‘Why, hang every bailiff that sets a foot in your territories, and you’re safe,’ says I. —‘We’ll do it,’ said they, filling their glasses, and looking as fierce as King George’s grenadier guards; ‘here’s your health, Mint.’ But, gentlemen, though they talked so largely, and looked so fiercely, they did not do it; they did not hang the bailiffs; and where are they?”

“Ay, where are they?” echoed the company with indignant derision.

“Gentlemen,” returned the Master, solemnly, “it is a question easily answered — they are NOWHERE! Had they hanged the bailiffs, the bailiffs would not have hanged them. We ourselves have been similarly circumstanced. Attacked by an infamous and unconstitutional statute, passed in the reign of the late usurper, William of Orange, (for I may remark that, if the right king had been upon the throne, that illegal enactment would never have received the royal assent — the Stuarts — Heaven preserve ’em! — always siding with the debtors); attacked in this outrageous manner, I repeat, it has been all but ’up‘ with US! But the vigorous resistance offered on that memorable occasion by the patriotic inhabitants of Bermuda to the aggressions of arbitrary power, secured and established their privileges on a firmer basis than heretofore; and, while their pusillanimous allies were crushed and annihilated, they became more prosperous than ever. Gentlemen, I am proud to say that I originated — that I directed those measures. I hope to see the day, when not Southwark alone, but London itself shall become one Mint — when all men shall be debtors, and none creditors — when imprisonment for debt shall be utterly abolished — - when highway-robbery shall be accounted a pleasant pastime, and forgery an accomplishment — when Tyburn and its gibbets shall be overthrown — capital punishments discontinued — Newgate, Ludgate, the Gatehouse, and the Compters razed to the ground — Bridewell and Clerkenwell destroyed — the Fleet, the King’s Bench, and the Marshalsea remembered only by name! But, in the mean time, as that day may possibly be farther off than I anticipate, we are bound to make the most of the present. Take care of yourselves, gentlemen, and your governor will take care of you. Before I sit down, I have a toast to propose, which I am sure will be received, as it deserves to be, with enthusiasm. It is the health of a stranger — of Mr. John Sheppard. His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps. He couldn’t be in better hands than those in which he has placed himself. Gentlemen — Mr. Sheppard’s good health, and success to him!”

Baptist’s toast was received with loud applause, and, as he sat down amid the cheers of the company, and a universal clatter of mugs and glasses, the widow’s view was no longer obstructed. Her eye wandered quickly over that riotous and disorderly assemblage, until it settled upon one group more riotous and disorderly than the rest, of which her son formed the principal figure. The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a half-emptied rummer before him — there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return — for he was almost past consciousness — the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear.

Both these ladies possessed considerable personal attractions. The younger of the two, who was seated next to Jack, and seemed to monopolize his attention, could not be more than seventeen, though her person had all the maturity of twenty. She had delicate oval features, light, laughing blue eyes, a pretty nez retroussé, (why have we not the term, since we have the best specimens of the feature?) teeth of pearly whiteness, and a brilliant complexion, set off by rich auburn hair, a very white neck and shoulders — the latter, perhaps, a trifle too much exposed. The name of this damsel was Edgeworth Bess; and, as her fascinations will not, perhaps, be found to be without some influence upon the future fortunes of her boyish admirer, we have thought it worth while to be thus particular in describing them. The other bona roba, known amongst her companions as Mistress Poll Maggot, was a beauty on a much larger scale — in fact, a perfect Amazon. Nevertheless though nearly six feet high, and correspondingly proportioned, she was a model of symmetry, and boasted, with the frame of a Thalestris or a Trulla, the regular lineaments of the Medicean Venus. A man’s laced hat — whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state — cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. Mrs. Maggot, as well as her companion Edgeworth Bess, was showily dressed; nor did either of them disdain the aid supposed to be lent to a fair skin by the contents of the patchbox. On an empty cask, which served him for a chair, and opposite Jack Sheppard, whose rapid progress in depravity afforded him the highest satisfaction, sat Blueskin, encouraging the two women in their odious task, and plying his victim with the glass as often as he deemed it expedient to do so. By this time, he had apparently accomplished all he desired; for moving the bottle out of Jack’s reach, he appropriated it entirely to his own use, leaving the devoted lad to the care of the females. Some few of the individuals seated at the other tables seemed to take an interest in the proceedings of Blueskin and his party, just as a bystander watches any other game; but, generally speaking, the company were too much occupied with their own concerns to pay attention to anything else. The assemblage was for the most part, if not altogether, composed of persons to whom vice in all its aspects was too familiar to present much of novelty, in whatever form it was exhibited. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. Near to these hopeful youths sat a fence, or receiver, bargaining with a clouter, or pickpocket, for a suit — or, to speak in more intelligible language, a watch and seals, two cloaks, commonly called watch-cases, and a wedge-lobb, otherwise known as a silver snuff-box. Next to the receiver was a gang of housebreakers, laughing over their exploits, and planning fresh depredations; and next to the housebreakers came two gallant-looking gentlemen in long periwigs and riding-dresses, and equipped in all other respects for the road, with a roast fowl and a bottle of wine before them. Amid this varied throng — varied in appearance, but alike in character — one object alone, we have said, rivetted Mrs. Sheppard’s attention; and no sooner did she in some degree recover from the shock occasioned by the sight of her son’s debased condition, than, regardless of any other consideration except his instant removal from the contaminating society by which he was surrounded, and utterly forgetting the more cautious plan she meant to have adopted, she rushed into the room, and summoned him to follow her.

“Halloa!” cried Jack, looking round, and trying to fix his inebriate gaze upon the speaker — “who’s that?”

“Your mother,” replied Mrs. Sheppard. “Come home directly, Sir.”

“Mother be ——!” returned Jack. “Who is it, Bess?”

“How should I know?” replied Edgeworth Bess. “But if it is your mother, send her about her business.”

“That I will,” replied Jack, “in the twinkling of a bedpost.”

“Glad to see you once more in the Mint, Mrs. Sheppard,” roared Blueskin, who anticipated some fun. “Come and sit down by me.”

“Take a glass of gin, Ma’am,” cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; “it used to be your favourite liquor, I’ve heard.”

“Jack, my love,” cried Mrs. Sheppard, disregarding the taunt, “come away.”

“Not I,” replied Jack; “I’m too comfortable where I am. Be off!”

Jack Sheppard gets drunk and orders his Mother off

“Jack!” exclaimed his unhappy parent.

“Mr. Sheppard, if you please, Ma’am,” interrupted the lad; “I allow nobody to call me Jack. Do I, Bess, eh?”

“Nobody whatever, love,” replied Edgeworth Bess; “nobody but me, dear.”

“And me,” insinuated Mrs. Maggot. “My little fancy man’s quite as fond of me as of you, Bess. Ain’t you, Jacky darling?”

“Not quite, Poll,” returned Mr. Sheppard; “but I love you next to her, and both of you better than Her,” pointing with the pipe to his mother.

“Oh, Heavens!” cried Mrs. Sheppard.

“Bravo!” shouted Blueskin. “Tom Sheppard never said a better thing than that — ho! ho!”

“Jack,” cried his mother, wringing her hands in distraction, “you’ll break my heart!”

“Poh! poh!” returned her son; “women don’t so easily break their hearts. Do they, Bess?”

“Certainly not,” replied the young lady appealed to, “especially about their sons.”

“Wretch!” cried Mrs. Sheppard, bitterly.

“I say,” retorted Edgeworth Bess, with a very unfeminine imprecation, “I shan’t stand any more of that nonsense. What do you mean by calling me wretch, Madam!” she added marching up to Mrs. Sheppard, and regarding her with an insolent and threatening glance.

“Yes — what do you mean, Ma’am?” added Jack, staggering after her.

“Come with me, my love, come — come,” cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away.

“He shan’t go,” cried Edgeworth Bess, holding him by the other hand. “Here, Poll, help me!”

Thus exhorted, Mrs. Maggot lent her powerful aid, and, between the two, Jack was speedily relieved from all fears of being carried off against his will. Not content with this exhibition of her prowess, the Amazon lifted him up as easily as if he had been an infant, and placed him upon her shoulders, to the infinite delight of the company, and the increased distress of his mother.

“Now, let’s see who’ll dare to take him down,” she cried.

“Nobody shall,” cried Mr. Sheppard from his elevated position. “I’m my own master now, and I’ll do as I please. I’ll turn cracksman, like my father — rob old Wood — he has chests full of money, and I know where they’re kept — I’ll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll — I’ll —”

Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. In this state, he was laid upon a bench, to sleep off his drunken fit, while his wretched mother, in spite of her passionate supplications and resistance, was, by Blueskin’s command, forcibly ejected from the house, and driven out of the Mint.