Chapter 23

"Whilst vengeance, in the lurid air,
Lifts her red arm, exposed and bare--
Who, Fear, this ghastly train can see;
And look not madly wild, like thee!"
_Collins_.

It is certain that Tom Coffin had devised no settled plan of
operations, when he issued from the apartment of Borroughcliffe, if we
except a most resolute determination to make the best of his way to the
Ariel, and to share her fate, let it be either to sink or swim. But this
was a resolution much easier formed by the honest seaman than executed,
in his present situation. He would have found it less difficult to
extricate a vessel from the dangerous shoals of the "Devil's Grip," than
to thread the mazes of the labyrinth of passages, galleries, and
apartments, in which he found himself involved. He remembered, as he
expressed it to himself, in a low soliloquy, "to have run into a narrow
passage from the main channel, but whether he had sheered to the
starboard or larboard hand" was a material fact that had entirely
escaped his memory. Tom was in that part of the building that Colonel
Howard had designated as the "cloisters," and in which, luckily for him,
he was but little liable to encounter any foe, the room occupied by
Borroughcliffe being the only one in the entire wing that was not
exclusively devoted to the service of the ladies. The circumstance of
the soldier's being permitted to invade this sanctuary was owing to the
necessity, on the part of Colonel Howard, of placing either Griffith,
Manual, or the recruiting officer, in the vicinity of his wards, or of
subjecting his prisoners to a treatment that the veteran would have
thought unworthy of his name and character. This recent change in the
quarters of Borroughcliffe operated doubly to the advantage of Tom, by
lessening the chance of the speedy release of his uneasy captive, as
well as by diminishing his own danger. Of the former circumstance he
was, however, not aware: and the consideration of the latter was a sort
of reflection to which the cockswain was, in no degree, addicted.

Following, necessarily, the line of the wall, he soon emerged from the
dark and narrow passage in which he had first found himself, and entered
the principal gallery, that communicated with all the lower apartments
of that wing, as well as with the main body of the edifice. An open
door, through which a strong light was glaring, at a distant end of this
gallery, instantly caught his eye, and the old seaman had not advanced
many steps towards it, before he discovered that he was approaching the
very room which had so much excited his curiosity, and by the identical
passage through which he had entered the abbey. To turn, and retrace his
steps, was the most