On recovering from the stunning effects of the blow that had felled me,
I found myself lying on a hard earthen floor, surrounded by deep
impenetrable darkness.
"Are you there, Jack?" I sighed faintly.
"Ay, Bob, I'm here--at least, all o' me that's left. I confess to you
that I do feel a queer sensation, as if the one half of my head were
absent and the other half a-wanting, while the brain lies exposed to the
atmosphere. But I suppose that's impossible."
"Where are we, Jack?"
"We're in an outhouse, in the hands of planters; so I made out by what I
heard them say when I got my senses back; but I've no notion of what
part o' the world we're in. Moreover, I don't care. A man with only
one leg, no head, and an exposed brain, isn't worth caring about. _I_
don't care for him--not a button."
"Oh, Jack, dear, don't speak like that--I can't stand it."
"You're lying down, ain't you?" inquired Jack.
"Yes."
"Then how d'you know whether you can stand it or not?"
I was so overcome, and, to say the truth, surprised, at my companion's
recklessness, that I could not reply. I lay motionless on the hard
ground, meditating on our forlorn situation, when my thoughts were
interrupted by the grating sound of a key turning in a lock. The door
of the hut opened, and four men entered, each bearing a torch, which
cast a brilliant glare over the hovel in which we were confined. There
was almost nothing to be seen in the place. It was quite empty. The
only peculiar thing that I observed about it was a thick post, with iron
hooks fixed in it, which rose from the centre of the floor to the
rafters, against which it was nailed. There were also a few
strange-looking implements hanging round the walls, but I could not at
first make out what these were intended for. I now perceived that Jack
and I were chained to the wall.
Going to the four corners of the apartment, the four men placed their
four torches in four stands that seemed made for the purpose, and then,
approaching us, ranged themselves in a row before us. Two of them I
recognised as being the men we had first seen in the swamp; the other
two were strangers.
"So, my bucks," began one of the former,--a hideous-looking man, whose
personal appearance was by no means improved by a closed eye, a
flattened nose, and a swelled cheek, the result of Jack's first flourish
of his wooden leg,--"so, we've got you, have we? The hounds have got
you, eh?"
"So it appears," replied Jack, in a tone of quiet contempt, as he sat on
the ground with his back leaning against the wall, his hands clasped
above his solitary knee, and his thumbs revolving round each other
slowly. "I say," continued Jack, an expression of concern crossed his
handsome countenance, "I'm afraid you're damaged, rather, about your
head-piece. Your eye seems a little out of order, and, pardon me, but
your nose is a little too flat--just a little. My poor fellow, I'm
quite sorry for you; I really am, though you _are_ a dog."
The man opened his solitary eye and stared with amazement at Jack, who
smiled, and, putting his head a little to the other side, returned the
stare with interest.
"You're a bold fellow," said the man, on recovering a little from his
surprise.
"I'm sorry," retorted Jack, "that I cannot return you the compliment."
I was horrified. I saw that my poor friend, probably under the
influence of madness, had made up his mind to insult and defy our
captors to their teeth, regardless of consequences. I tried to speak,
but my lips refused their office. The man grinned horribly and gnashed
his teeth, while the others made as though they would rush upon us and
tear us limb from limb. But their chief, for such the spokesman seemed
to be, restrained them.
"Hah!" he gasped, looking fiercely at Jack, and at the same time
pointing to the implements on the wall, "d'ye see these things?"
"Not being quite so blind as you are, I do."
"D'ye know what they're for?"
"Not being a demon, which you seem to be, I don't."
"Hah! these--are," (he spoke very slowly, and hissed the words out
between his teeth),--"torterers!"
"What?" inquired Jack, putting his head a little more to one side and
revolving his thumbs in a contrary direction, by way of variety.
"Torterers--man-torterers! What d'ye twirl your thumbs like that for,
eh?"
"Because it reminds me how easily, if I were unchained and had on my
wooden leg, I could twirl you round your own neck, and cram your heels
into your own mouth, and ram you down your own throat, until there was
nothing of you left but the extreme ends of your shirt-collar sticking
out of your eyes."
The mention of this peculiarly complicated operation seemed to be too
much for the men: setting up a loud yell, they rushed upon Jack and
seized him.
"Quick--the screws!" cried the man with the flattened nose.
A small iron instrument was brought, Jack's thumbs inserted therein, and
the handle turned. I heard a harsh, grating sound, and observed my poor
companion's face grow deadly pale and his lips turn blue. But he
uttered no cry, and, to my surprise, he did not even struggle.
"Stop!" I shouted in a voice of thunder.
The men looked round in surprise. At that moment a great idea seemed to
fill my soul. I cannot explain what it was. To this day I do not know
what it was. It was a mystery--an indescribable mystery. I felt as one
might be supposed to feel whose spirit were capable of eating material
food, and had eaten too much. It was awful! Under the impulse of this
sensation, I again shouted--
"_Stop_!"
"Why?"
"I cannot tell you why, until you unscrew that machine. Quick! it is of
the deepest, the most vital importance to yourselves."
The extreme earnestness of my voice and manner induced the men to comply
almost, I might say, in spite of themselves.
"Now, lad, what is it? Mind, _your_ turn is coming; so don't trifle
with us."
"_Trifle_ with you!" I said, in a voice so deep, and slow, and
solemn,--with a look so preternaturally awful,--that the four men were
visibly impressed.
"Listen! I have a secret to tell you,--a secret that intimately
concerns yourselves. It is a fearful one. You would give all you
possess--your wealth, your very lives--rather than not know it. I can
tell it to you; _but not now_. All the tortures of the Inquisition
could not drag it out of me. Nay, you need not smile. If you did
torture me _before_ I told you this secret, that would have the effect
of rendering my information useless to you. Nothing could then save
you. I must be left alone with my friend for an hour. Go! You may
leave us chained; you may lock and bar your door; you may watch and
guard the house; but go, leave us. Much--too much--valuable time has
been already lost. Come back in one hour," (here I pulled out my
watch),--"in one hour and three minutes and five seconds, exactly; not
sooner. Go! quick! as you value your lives, your families, your
property. And hark, in your ear," (here I glared at them like a maniac,
and sank my voice to a deep hoarse whisper), "as you value the very
existence of your slaves, go, leave us instantly, and return at the hour
named!"
The men were evidently overawed by the vehemence of my manner and the
mysterious nature of my remarks. Without uttering a word they withdrew,
and locked the door behind them. Happily they left the torches.
As soon as they were gone I threw my arms round my comrade's neck, and,
resting my head on his shoulder, bemoaned our sad lot.
"Dear, dear Jack, have they hurt you?"
"Oh! nothing to speak of. But I say, Bob, my boy, what on earth can
this monstrous secret be? It must be something very tremendous?"
"My poor Jack," said I, regardless of his question, "your thumbs are
bruised and bleeding. Oh that I should have lived to bring you to
this!"
"Come, come, Bob, enough of that. They _are_ a little soreish, but
nothing to what they would have been had you not stopped them. But, I
say, what _is_ this secret? I'm dying to know. My dear boy, you've no
idea how you looked when you were spouting like that. You made my flesh
creep, I assure you. Come, out with it; what's the secret?"