IN WHICH ERNEST STRIKES A HEAVY BLOW FOR LIBERTY.
"DEAR me! Good gracious! Why!" screamed Betsey, when Tom Thornton threw
me upon the floor. "I thought you'd gone off with Mr. Thornton. What in
the world are you going to do? Let the poor boy alone!"
Betsey did not think I was having fair play, and old and stiff as she
was, she rushed up to Tom, apparently with the intention of interfering.
"Out of the way, old woman!" growled Tom. "Go and get me a rope."
"A rope! I won't get you any rope! And if you don't let the poor boy
alone, I'll go out and call the neighbors," replied Betsey, bustling
about the room as though she intended to do some desperate thing.
For my own part, I felt that it would be useless for me to resist. Tom
was strong, and I was wholly in his power--taken by surprise, and at a
disadvantage which I could not overcome. I lay still, therefore, and
thus saved some hard knocks.
"What are you going to do with the poor boy? He shan't be treated so!"
persisted Betsey, who had not talked so much before for ten years.
"Be still, old woman! He's a bad boy. He stole my horse, and ran away
with a little girl. I shall not hurt him if he behaves himself," replied
Tom, who appeared to be afraid she would call in some person to take my
part.
"You act like a brute. You treat him worse than an ox," continued
Betsey.
"Now get up, sir," said Tom to me, still retaining his hold upon my coat
collar.
He helped me to my feet. Being vanquished, I had nothing to say, and I
uttered no complaint. When I rose, he tied my hands behind me with his
handkerchief. I submitted because it would have been folly for me to
resist; but I intended to watch my opportunity, and submit no longer
than necessity compelled me to do so. My brutal conqueror took me by
the collar, led me into the hall, and thence into the cellar. In one
corner there was a kind of closet partitioned off with brick walls,
which had been built for a milk-room; but as my uncle kept but one cow,
it was seldom used. There was no window in it, and a more damp, dark,
and disagreeable dungeon it would be difficult for a boy of sixteen to
imagine. It had a heavy wooden door, and altogether the place looked as
hopeless as it was gloomy.
Tom led me up to the door and thrust me in, with my hands still tied
behind me. The only ray of hope I could obtain was derived from the fact
that there was no lock on the door.
"Now, Mr. Ernest Thornton, it is my turn," said Tom, as he partially
closed the door of my cell, and gazed in upon me. "You are a smart boy,
but you have rather overdone it this time. I told you in the beginning
that I was not to be trifled with. You begin to believe what I said by
this time. Have you anything to say before I close the door?"
"No," I replied.
"A couple of days in this place will bring you to your senses," added
Tom, malignantly.
I made no reply. I did not feel like talking. I was busy thinking how I
should recover the ground I had lost. I saw that the cellar wall was not
laid in mortar, except two or three feet at the top and above the
ground. I had already made up my mind that this wall would begin to come
down as soon as I was left alone.
While I was looking at the situation, old Betsey--whom I had never
suspected of having the least interest in me--tottered down the cellar
stairs, and protested that I should not be confined in such a place. Tom
told her it was her employer's orders, and drove her out of the cellar.
I was satisfied that the old housekeeper was not a party to the deceit
by which I had been lured into the trap. My uncle told her that he and
Tom were going to Parkville after the horse, as Betsey explained to me
afterwards, bidding her call me to breakfast, that I might not be late
to school. This was Tom's plan to insnare me, and during this time he
was in the cellar, preparing the dungeon for my reception. My uncle and
old Jerry had gone in the buggy after Tom's horse and chaise.
"Ernest, I am willing to make terms with you now," said Tom, after he
had got rid of Betsey. "I came over here after that girl. You say you
know where she is. If you will tell me where I can find her, I will not
shut you up. Will you do it?"
"No!" I answered, as decidedly as I could speak the word.
"Think well of it. If I can't find her with your help, I shall find her
without it."
"Perhaps you will."
"The Hale boy was with you. I shall have him arrested at once by the
sheriff."
"Bob Hale don't know where the girl is. If he did, he wouldn't tell.
When you arrest him, he can tell a good story about Mrs. Loraine's
motherly care of Kate."
Tom bit his lips; he had no more idea of arresting Bob than he had of
arresting me.
"Once more, before I shut you up, will you tell me where the girl is, or
not?"
"I will not! I will rot in this hole before I will tell a word about the
girl."
He slammed the door upon me, and I was in utter darkness. I heard him
putting props against the door, and pounding them down so as to make it
secure. Then all was still outside, and I concluded that he had gone up
stairs. I had a faint hope that old Betsey would come down and release
me; but I immediately went to work upon the handkerchief which confined
my hands.
My captor had crossed my wrists and tied them together in this position.
I twisted and wrenched till I stretched the linen of the handkerchief,
and strained the knot enough to permit me to pull my hands through my
bonds, and free them. The darkness was gloomy and oppressive, even after
I had been only half an hour in the dungeon. I felt that, for Kate's
sake, as well as my own, I must get out. For the present she was safe,
for Tom had destroyed the skiff, so that he could not go out to the
Splash; but the poor girl would suffer agonies of terror if I did not go
to her in the course of the day.
I was almost furious when I thought of my situation; of Kate in the
cuddy of the boat, and of the will and money in the closet. I was afraid
my uncle would discover his loss before I could escape. I could hardly
keep from weeping with vexation as I thought of my misfortune. But it
was not my style to groan long over my mishaps, when there was a chance,
however desperate, of retrieving them. I was determined either to break
my way out of my prison, or convince my jailer it was not strong enough
to hold me.
I felt of the stones that formed the wall, and pulled out as many of the
small ones as were loose enough to permit their removal. I then used my
strength on a dozen of the larger ones, till I found one which could be
taken out. How I wished then for an iron bar! With such an implement I
felt that I could soon let in the daylight. But I had no bar, and after
removing one stone about the size of my head, I was utterly unable to
start another around it.
I was perplexed. I felt in my pockets for something to help me. I don't
know but I had a faint hope of finding an iron bar; but certainly there
was none there, or anything else with which I could operate on the
obdurate stone wall. In my perplexity, I "fished my pockets" thoroughly.
In the usual assortment a boy carries with him, I had a quantity of
matches. I was not a smoker, but I always found it convenient to have a
match when I happened to be out after dark in the Splash, to light my
cabin lantern.
These matches were suggestive, for the door of my prison was made of
wood, and fire would consume and destroy it. There were several shelves
across the end of my dungeon, one of which I pulled down, and with my
knife proceeded to whittle off the shavings for a fire. While I was thus
engaged, I heard a vehicle drive up to the door. It was immediately
followed by another, and I concluded that my uncle had returned. I had
made a large pile of shavings. I then went to work on the lower part of
the door, cutting into it, and roughening the boards, so that the fire
could be readily communicated to it.
Having completed my preparations, I lighted a match, and set fire to the
shavings. They were rather damp, and it was some time before I could get
up a free fire. I moved the combustibles against the door; but the wood
was saturated with moisture, and I was almost suffocated by the smoke,
while the door appeared to be only charred by the heat of the fire.
While I was busily engaged in this effort, the props were removed, and
the door thrown open. My uncle rushed forward and stamped out the fire I
had kindled.
"What are you doing, Ernest?" gasped my uncle.
"Working my way out of this hole," I replied.
"There, Thomas, you can see what the boy is," groaned my uncle. "But he
shall not be kept in such a place as this."
"Very well, governor," said Tom, who had followed his father. "Put him
into his chamber."
My captor came forward, and taking me by the collar, led me out of my
dungeon. He had a club in his hand, and assured me if I made any
resistance, he would hit me on the head with it. Deeming it prudent to
be submissive, I permitted him to conduct me to my chamber. The blinds
were closed, and I saw that the room had been prepared for my reception.
It afterwards came to my knowledge that my uncle positively refused to
permit me to be confined in the cellar; and they had nailed up the
windows and the blinds before they removed me to my new prison. I was
locked in, after old Betsey had placed on the table food enough for my
breakfast and dinner.
My uncle was human. After all the wrongs he and his graceless son had
inflicted on me, he was not willing that I should be injured. I had
always thought he hated me, but compared with Tom, his feelings were
tender and fatherly. The first thing I did when I was left alone was to
assure myself that the valuables in the closet were safe. They were just
where I had left them, for my uncle had been too busy to open his strong
box.
I ate my breakfast, and then dressed myself in my best clothes, ready
for my final departure, for a window-sash and a pair of blinds could not
keep me. I marvelled that my jailers expected to confine me in my
chamber; but I concluded that they were on the watch below ready to
check any movement I might make. I examined the windows, and found they
were nailed down on the outside. My fowling-piece, fishing-rods, and
other articles which could be used as offensive weapons, were removed
from the room.
It was necessary that I should strike and run within the same moment. I
wanted a battering-ram, with which to smash the window and the blind.
With the bed-key, which was in the closet, I took down the bedstead as
quietly as I could. Reserving one side piece for use, I placed the rest
against the door, so that it could not be opened. I then put the will
and the money into my pocket, and filled a napkin with food for Kate. A
few quick and vigorous blows with the side piece of the bedstead reduced
the window and the blinds to a wreck, and I leaped out upon the roof of
the library, just as I heard my persecutors at the door of the chamber.