Try, if you can, to imagine with what feelings we greeted the dawn of
the day that was to mean so much for us. Who knew what the end of it
would be? The mere idea was quite bad enough, but the uncertainty as to
when the event we dreaded would take place was much worse. It might not
be until towards evening, or it might be at any moment. I was well aware
that to carry out the plan I had proposed to myself--namely, the boring
holes with the gimlet round the lock and the hasp and staple that
secured the padlock, would take a long time, and, if left until the last
moment, would be useless. On the other hand, for all our sakes, I dared
not begin the work while there was even the remotest chance of our
enemies discovering it. I was not afraid of their looking behind the
door, for the simple reason that when I was out of the cabin, it was
invariably hitched back, by means of a brass catch, to the end of the
bunk--and there would be no reason for them to examine it. Yet if the
point of the gimlet should chance to penetrate the smooth surface round
the lock on the other side, detection would be certain, and the plot
would fail by reason of it. Therefore, when we returned from our morning
spell on deck, I embraced a momentary opportunity that presented itself,
and measured the exact thickness of the door. Then when the latter was
closed upon me and I was alone, I was able to mark the gimlet to
correspond. Having allowed a sufficient margin to ensure the point not
going quite through the door, I mapped out my plan of operations, and
set to work. The gimlet was not a large one, nor was its point
particularly sharp. The labour was therefore prodigious; the tiny
box-handle cut and blistered my hand, my face streamed with
perspiration, but still I worked on and on, remembering always that not
only my own life, but the lives of my companions, depended upon my
exertions. By mid-day more than three-parts of the work was
accomplished. As a memento of the occasion, large blisters covered the
palm of my hand, while every muscle of my arm ached as if I had been
placed upon the rack. That no suspicions should be aroused, I removed
every particle of sawdust from the floor, and dropped it out of the
port-hole, to be carried away by the breeze. By the time I was summoned
to the luncheon only some twenty holes remained, and these I resolved to
complete as soon as we returned from our airing on deck.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account