ANXIOUS DAYS
The discovery of the tunnel overwhelms me with the violence of an
avalanche. The plan of continuing the work, the trembling hope of
escape, of liberty, life--all is suddenly terminated. My nerves, tense
with the months of suspense and anxiety, relax abruptly. With torpid
brain I wonder, "Is it possible, is it really possible?"
* * * * *
An air of uneasiness, as of lurking danger, fills the prison. Vague
rumors are afloat: a wholesale jail delivery had been planned, the walls
were to be dynamited, the guards killed. An escape has actually taken
place, it is whispered about. The Warden wears a look of bewilderment
and fear; the officers are alert with suspicion. The inmates manifest
disappointment and nervous impatience. The routine is violently
disturbed: the shops are closed, the men locked in the cells.
The discovery of the tunnel mystifies the prison and the city
authorities. Some children, at play on the street, had accidentally
wandered into the yard of the deserted house opposite the prison gates.
The piles of freshly dug soil attracted their attention; a boy,
stumbling into the cellar, was frightened by the sight of the deep
cavern; his mother notified the agent of the house, who, by a peculiar
coincidence, proved to be an officer of the penitentiary. But in vain
are the efforts of the prison authorities to discover any sign of the
tunnel within the walls. Days pass in the fruitless investigation of the
yard--the outlet of the tunnel within the prison cannot be found.
Perhaps the underground passage does not extend to the penitentiary? The
Warden voices his firm conviction that the walls have not been
penetrated. Evidently it was not the prison, he argues, which was the
objective point of the diggers. The authorities of the City of Allegheny
decide to investigate the passage from the house on Sterling Street. But
the men that essay to crawl through the narrow tunnel are forced to
abandon their mission, driven back by the fumes of escaping gas. It is
suggested that the unknown diggers, whatever their purpose, have been
trapped in the abandoned gas well and perished before the arrival of
aid. The fearful stench no doubt indicates the decomposition of human
bodies; the terrible accident has forced the inmates of 28 Sterling
Street to suspend their efforts before completing the work. The
condition of the house--the half-eaten meal on the table, the clothing
scattered about the rooms, the general disorder--all seem to point to
precipitate flight.
The persistence of the assertion of a fatal accident disquiets me, in
spite of my knowledge to the contrary. Yet, perhaps the reckless Tony,
in his endeavor to force the wire signal through the upper crust,
perished in the well. The thought unnerves me with horror, till it is
announced that a negro, whom the police had induced to crawl the length
of the tunnel, brought positive assurance that no life was sacrificed in
the underground work. Still the prison authorities are unable to find
the objective point, and it is finally decided to tear up the streets
beneath which the tunnel winds its mysterious way.
* * * * *
The undermined place inside the walls at last being discovered after a
week of digging at various points in the yard, the Warden reluctantly
admits the apparent purpose of the tunnel, at the same time informing
the press that the evident design was the liberation of the Anarchist
prisoner. He corroborates his view by the circumstance that I had been
reported for unpermitted presence at the east wall, pretending to
collect gravel for my birds. Assistant Deputy Warden Hopkins further
asserts having seen and talked with Carl Nold near the "criminal" house,
a short time before the discovery of the tunnel. The developments,
fraught with danger to my friends, greatly alarm me. Fortunately, no
clew can be found in the house, save a note in cipher which apparently
defies the skill of experts. The Warden, on his Sunday rounds, passes my
cell, then turns as if suddenly recollecting something. "Here, Berkman,"
he says blandly, producing a paper, "the press is offering a
considerable reward to any one who will decipher the note found in the
Sterling Street house. It's reproduced here. See if you can't make it
out." I scan the paper carefully, quickly reading Tony's directions for
my movements after the escape. Then, returning the paper, I remark
indifferently, "I can read several languages, Captain, but this is
beyond me."
The police and detective bureaus of the twin cities make the
announcement that a thorough investigation conclusively demonstrates
that the tunnel was intended for William Boyd, a prisoner serving twelve
years for a series of daring forgeries. His "pals" had succeeded in
clearing fifty thousand dollars on forged bonds, and it is they who did
the wonderful feat underground, to secure the liberty of the valuable
penman. The controversy between the authorities of Allegheny and the
management of the prison is full of animosity and bitterness. Wardens of
prisons, chiefs of police, and detective departments of various cities
are consulted upon the mystery of the ingenious diggers, and the
discussion in the press waxes warm and antagonistic. Presently the chief
of police of Allegheny suffers a change of heart, and sides with the
Warden, as against his personal enemy, the head of the Pittsburgh
detective bureau. The confusion of published views, and my persistent
denial of complicity in the tunnel, cause the much-worried Warden to
fluctuate. A number of men are made the victims of his mental
uncertainty. Following my exile into solitary, Pat McGraw is locked up
as a possible beneficiary of the planned escape. In 1890 he had slipped
through the roof of the prison, the Warden argues, and it is therefore
reasonable to assume that the man is meditating another delivery. Jack
Robinson, Cronin, "Nan," and a score of others, are in turn suspected by
Captain Wright, and ordered locked up during the preliminary
investigation. But because of absolute lack of clews the prisoners are
presently returned to work, and the number of "suspects" is reduced to
myself and Boyd, the Warden having discovered that the latter had
recently made an attempt to escape by forcing an entry into the cupola
of the shop he was employed in, only to find the place useless for his
purpose.
A process of elimination and the espionage of the trusties gradually
center exclusive suspicion upon myself. In surprise I learn that young
Russell has been cited before the Captain. The fear of indiscretion on
the part of the boy startles me from my torpor. I must employ every
device to confound the authorities and save my friends. Fortunately none
of the tunnelers have yet been arrested, the controversy between the
city officials and the prison management having favored inaction. My
comrades cannot be jeopardized by Russell. His information is limited
to the mere knowledge of the specific person for whom the tunnel was
intended; the names of my friends are entirely unfamiliar to him. My
heart goes out to the young prisoner, as I reflect that never once had
he manifested curiosity concerning the men at the secret work. Desperate
with confinement, and passionately yearning for liberty though he was,
he had yet offered to sacrifice his longings to aid my escape. How
transported with joy was the generous youth when I resolved to share my
opportunity with him! He had given faithful service in attempting to
locate the tunnel entrance; the poor boy had been quite distracted at
our failure to find the spot. I feel confident Russell will not betray
the secret in his keeping. Yet the persistent questioning by the Warden
and Inspectors is perceptibly working on the boy's mind. He is so young
and inexperienced--barely nineteen; a slip of the tongue, an inadvertent
remark, might convert suspicion into conviction.
Every day Russell is called to the office, causing me torments of
apprehension and dread, till a glance at the returning prisoner, smiling
encouragingly as he passes my cell, informs me that the danger is past
for the day. With a deep pang, I observe the increasing pallor of his
face, the growing restlessness in his eyes, the languid step. The
continuous inquisition is breaking him down. With quivering voice he
whispers as he passes, "Aleck, I'm afraid of them." The Warden has
threatened him, he informs me, if he persists in his pretended ignorance
of the tunnel. His friendship for me is well known, the Warden reasons;
we have often been seen together in the cell-house and yard; I must
surely have confided to Russell my plans of escape. The big, strapping
youth is dwindling to a shadow under the terrible strain. Dear,
faithful friend! How guilty I feel toward you, how torn in my inmost
heart to have suspected your devotion, even for that brief instant when,
in a panic of fear, you had denied to the Warden all knowledge of the
slip of paper found in your cell. It cast suspicion upon me as the
writer of the strange Jewish scrawl. The Warden scorned my explanation
that Russell's desire to learn Hebrew was the sole reason for my writing
the alphabet for him. The mutual denial seemed to point to some secret;
the scrawl was similar to the cipher note found in the Sterling Street
house, the Warden insisted. How strange that I should have so
successfully confounded the Inspectors with the contradictory testimony
regarding the tunnel, that they returned me to my position on the range.
And yet the insignificant incident of Russell's hieroglyphic imitation
of the Hebrew alphabet should have given the Warden a pretext to order
me into solitary! How distracted and bitter I must have felt to charge
the boy with treachery! His very reticence strengthened my suspicion,
and all the while the tears welled into his throat, choking the innocent
lad beyond speech. How little I suspected the terrible wound my hasty
imputation had caused my devoted friend! In silence he suffered for
months, without opportunity to explain, when at last, by mere accident,
I learned the fatal mistake.
In vain I strive to direct my thoughts into different channels. My
misunderstanding of Russell plagues me with recurring persistence; the
unjust accusation torments my sleepless nights. It was a moment of
intense joy that I experienced as I humbly begged his pardon to-day,
when I met him in the Captain's office. A deep sense of relief, almost
of peace, filled me at his unhesitating, "Oh, never mind, Aleck, it's
all right; we were both excited." I was overcome by thankfulness and
admiration of the noble boy, and the next instant the sight of his wan
face, his wasted form, pierced me as with a knife-thrust. With the
earnest conviction of strong faith I sought to explain to the Board of
Inspectors the unfortunate error regarding the Jewish writing. But they
smiled doubtfully. It was too late: their opinion of a prearranged
agreement with Russell was settled. But the testimony of Assistant
Deputy Hopkins that he had seen and conversed with Nold a few weeks
before the discovery of the tunnel, and that he saw him enter the
"criminal" house, afforded me an opportunity to divide the views among
the Inspectors. I experienced little difficulty in convincing two
members of the Board that Nold could not possibly have been connected
with the tunnel, because for almost a year previously, and since, he had
been in the employ of a St. Louis firm. They accepted my offer to prove
by the official time-tables of the company that Nold was in St. Louis on
the very day that Hopkins claimed to have spoken with him. The fortunate
and very natural error of Hopkins in mistaking the similar appearance of
Tony for that of Carl, enabled me to discredit the chief link connecting
my friends with the tunnel. The diverging views of the police officials
of the twin cities still further confounded the Inspectors, and I was
gravely informed by them that the charge of attempted escape against me
had not been conclusively substantiated. They ordered my reinstatement
as rangeman, but the Captain, on learning the verdict, at once charged
me before the Board with conducting a secret correspondence with
Russell. On the pretext of the alleged Hebrew note, the Inspectors
confirmed the Warden's judgment, and I was sentenced to the solitary and
immediately locked up in the South Wing.