Click here to be alerted when Oliver & Jack: On The Isle Of Dogs is available, but in the meantime, here is an excerpt:
This is a scene where Oliver and Jack are on their way to the post office, which, back in the day, was located at St. Martin’s Le Grand. On the way, they pass Newgate Prison, which carries a lot of memories for both lads.
As they neared the corner where the stones of Newgate Prison rose tall and cinder-dark, Jack could smell the raw, sharp resin of new wood; even before he saw it, he knew that there was a scaffold going up just outside the Debtor’s Door. How many times he and Charlie and the rest of the lads had begged to go to hangings, which Fagin did allow, but only after a lecture on the importance of watching their backs, on account of the force of law that would be present at such an event. It had always been exciting to watch, to see how the men went to their deaths, bravely or not so much.
Jack eyed the scaffold that was now coming into view. It was a double-scaffold; there would be two men hanging in the morning, then, one after the other. The air rang with the sounds of hammers and saws, and shimmered with flakes of wood dust floating in the air that smelled a bit sweet. As the carpenters continued to erect the scaffold, with its newly hewn wood pale against the dark, sooty walls of Newgate rising behind it, already there were gawkers, rough men and boys of the lower orders, gathering on the shadow-damp cobbled street. They pointed at the scaffold, shouting out encouragement to the men working on it, bending down to grab a curl of pale, shaved wood as a souvenir. Just beyond that crowd were two more well-heeled and well-dressed gentlemen, somewhat apart from the spectacle, seemingly drawn to it in spite of themselves.
“Hey?” said Jack, to get Nolly’s attention. “What d’you reckon, that they’ll hang them both at once? Or will the second fellow piss himself while watchin’ the first one go?”
But Nolly was facing away, gazing at the other side of the street, where the taverns and shops crowded around the imposing and more sturdy, stone-built buildings that had to do with the business of law and with justice. Jack could see it in an instant, even as Nolly turned to look at the scaffold, that it was the wrong thing to say. And, as well, it might be that the polite sort of folk didn’t say things such as what Jack had just said. But he didn’t know for certain, so he would ask.
“D’you not like me talkin’ about it, Nolly?” asked Jack. “It happens, you know, men pissin’ themselves out of fear when death’s starin’ them in the face.”
“That’s true enough,” said Nolly. “I’m too sensitive about it, at least Mr. Grimwig always said I was.”
Jack tipped his head back; his mouth tightened at the thought of anyone, especially some old fart who probably never had a good laugh in his life, saying such things about Nolly. Who, though sensitive in some ways, was rugged and ready in others, and Jack should know.
Besides, for Nolly, the threat of the hangman’s noose had been real. That threat still crept about him at odd moments, and nothing Jack had said about it had made any difference. Noah had saved both Nolly and Jack from having to go on the run, but for Nolly, the echoes of that dark fate still existed. And, all of a sudden, Jack no longer wanted to linger and gawp.
“Let’s walk on, then,” said Jack. Now he did link his arm through Nolly’s, and for five or so matched steps, they walked thusly together. That is, until Nolly pulled away, but Jack didn’t mind, for he understood why.
Here is a picture of the post office on St. Martin’s Le Grand:
And here is a picture of Newgate Prison:
