"Quick, here! water! He's in a fit."
As Abel grasped his friend's thoughts he lay back, struggling faintly,
and then half-closed his eyes and was quite still.
"It's the sun, sir," said Bart, as the overseer thrust back his pistol
and came up. "Hadn't we better get him back to the lines?"
"Yes," said the overseer. "Poor devil! No, no! Back, back!" he
roared, signalling with his hands as a sergeant's guard came along at
the double. "Nothing wrong. Only a man sick, and Dinny Kelly here had
a shot at an alligator."
"An' I should have hit him, sor, if he hadn't shouted. But think o'
that, now! The sun lights gentleman's cigar one minute, and shtrikes a
man down the next. But it's better than the yaller fayver, anyhow."
Five days had passed, and the prisoners were not sent again to the
clearing, while, in spite of every effort, they found that their chances
of eluding the guard set over them by night were small indeed.
Fettered by day, they were doubly chained by night. The building where
they slept was strongly secured and guarded, and in spite of the newness
of the settlement it was well chosen for its purpose, and stronger even
than the prisoners thought.
"We shall never get away by night, Bart," said Abel, gloomily,
"unless--"
He stopped and gazed meaningly at his companion.
"The knife?" responded Bart. "No, lad, we won't do that. I shouldn't
like to go to Mary wet with blood."
Abel's countenance grew dark and deeply hard, for at that moment, in his
despair and disappointment, he felt ready to go to any extremity,
knowing, as he did, that his sister was waiting for him, holding out her
hands and saying, "Come!"
Only another day, and then she would give up expecting them by night,
and take to watching for them by day, when the attempt seemed hopeless.
And so it proved, for during the following week the prisoners were only
once in the coffee-plantation, and so strictly watched that they felt
that to attempt an evasion was only to bring destruction upon their
hopes, perhaps cause Mary's imprisonment for attempting to assist
prisoners to escape.
"It's of no use, Bart," said Abel at last, despondently. "Poor girl!
Why did she come?"
"Help us away," said Bart, gruffly.
"Yes, but all in vain."
"Tchah! Wait a bit."
"Do you think she will still come and wait?" said Abel, dolefully.
"Do I think th' sun 'll shine agen?" growled Bart. "Here's a fellow!
Born same time as that there lass, lived with her all his days, and then
he knows so little about her that he says, `Will she come agen?'"
"Enough to tire her out."
"Tchah!" cried Bart again, "when you know she'll keep on coming till
she's an old grey-headed woman, or she gets us away."
Abel shook his head, for he was low-spirited and not convinced; but that
night his heart leaped, for as he lay half asleep, listening to the thin
buzzing hum of the mosquitoes which haunted the prisoners' quarters, and
the slow, regular pace of the sentry on guard outside, there was the
faint rattle of a chain, as if some prisoner had turned in his unquiet
rest, and then all was silent again, till he started, for a rough hand
was laid upon his mouth.
His first instinct was to seize the owner of that hand, to engage in a
struggle for his life; but a mouth was placed directly at his ear, and a
well-known voice whispered--
"Don't make a sound. Tie these bits of rag about your irons so as they
don't rattle."
Abel caught at the pieces of cloth and canvas thrust into his hand, and,
sitting up in the darkness, he softly bound the links and rings of his
fetters together, hardly daring to breathe, and yet with his heart
beating tumultuously in his anxiety to know his companion's plans.
For an attempt it must be, Abel felt, though up to the time of their
going to rest after the day's work Bart had said nothing to him. He
must have made a sudden discovery, and there was nothing for it but to
obey in every way and trust to what was to come.
Abel felt this as he rapidly knotted the rag round his chains, and as he
was tying the last knot he felt Bart's hand upon his shoulder, and his
lips at his ear.
"Quiet, and creep after me. Keep touching my foot so's not to miss me
in the dark."
Abel's heart thumped against his ribs as he obeyed, taking Bart's hand
first in a firm grip, and then feeling a short iron bar thrust between
his fingers.
Then he became conscious from his companion's movements that he had gone
down upon his hands and knees, and was crawling toward the end of the
long, low, stone-walled building that served as a dormitory for the
white slaves whose task was to cultivate the rough plantation till they,
as a rule, lay down and died from fever or some of the ills that haunted
the tropic land.
Just then Bart stopped short, for there were steps outside, and a gleam
of light appeared beneath the heavy door. Voices were heard, and the
rattle of a soldier's musket.
"Changing guard," said Abel to himself; and he found himself wondering
whether the sergeant and his men would enter the prison.
To add to the risk of discovery, there was a shuffling sound on the
left, and a clink of chains, as one man seemed to rise upon his elbow;
and his movement roused another, who also clinked his chains in the
darkness and growled out an imprecation.
All this time Bart remained absolutely motionless, and Abel listened
with the perspiration streaming from him in the intense heat.
Then there was a hoarsely uttered command; the light faded away, the
steps died out upon the ear; there was a clink or two of chains, and a
heavy sigh from some restless sleeper, and once more in the black
silence and stilling heat there was nothing to be heard but the loud
trumpeting buzz of the mosquitoes.
Softly, as some large cat, Bart resumed his crawling movement, after
thrusting back his leg and touching Abel on the chest with his bare foot
as a signal.
The building was quite a hundred feet long by about eighteen wide, a
mere gallery in shape, which had been lengthened from time to time as
the number of convicts increased, and the men had about two-thirds of
the distance to traverse before they could reach the end, and at their
excessively slow rate of progress the time seemed interminable before,
after several painful halts, caused by movements of their
fellow-prisoners and dread of discovery, the final halt was made.
"Now, then, what is it?" whispered Abel.
The answer he received was a hand laid across his mouth, and his heart
began to beat more wildly than ever, for Bart caught his hand, drew it
toward him, and as it was yielded, directed the fingers downward to the
stone level with the floor.
Abel's heart gave another bound, for that stone was loose, and as he was
pressed aside he heard a faint gritting, his companion's breath seemed
to come more thickly, as if from exertion, and for the next hour--an
hour that seemed like twelve--Abel lay, unable to help, but panting with
anxiety, as the gritting noise went on, and he could mentally see that
Bart was slowly drawing out rough pieces of badly-cemented stone--rough
fragments really of coral and limestone from the nearest reef, of which
the prison barrack was built.
Three times over Abel had tried to help, but the firm pressure of his
companion's hand forcing him back spoke volume, and he subsided into his
position in the utter darkness, listening with his pulses throbbing and
subsiding, as the gritting sound was made or the reverse.
At last, after what seemed an age, a faint breath of comparatively cool
air began to play upon his cheek, as Bart seemed to work steadily on.
That breath grew broader and fuller, and there was a soft odour of the
sea mingled with the damp coolness of a breeze which had passed over the
dewy ground before it began to set steadily in at the opening at which
Bart had so patiently worked, for that there was an opening was plain
enough now, as Abel exultantly felt.
In his inaction the torture of the dread was intense, and he lay
wondering whether, if they did get out, Mary would still be waiting,
expecting them, or their efforts prove to have been in vain.
At last, just when he felt as if he could bear it no longer, Bart's hand
gripped him by the shoulder, and pressed him tightly. Then in the
darkness his hand was seized and guided where it hardly wanted guiding,
for the young man's imagination had painted all--to a rough opening
level with the floor, a hole little larger than might have been made for
fowls to pass in and out of a poultry-yard.
This done, Bart gave him a thrust which Abel interpreted to mean, "Go
on."