So the voyage of the _Aucher_ had come to a tragic ending. But after a time the news of this incident evidently reached England, for both the master and the owner were ransomed by their friends from their prison. The rest had to bear their ill-treatment and semi-starvation as best they would. But he who bore it all with wonderful endurance was the gunner John Foxe and “being somewhat skilfull in the craft of a Barbour, by reason thereof made great shift in helping his fare now and then with a good meale.” In the course of time the keeper of the prison became rather fond of him and allowed him special privileges, so that he could walk as far as the sea and back when he liked, but he was warned always to return by night, and he was never allowed to go about without his shackles on his legs. Later on, six more of the prisoners were allowed a like privilege. The life sped wearily on, and now, for fourteen sorry years, this durance vile had continued. It was the year 1577, and the winter season had come round again and the galleys drawn up the beach. The masts and sails thereof were brought ashore and properly housed till once more the spring should return, and the Turkish masters and mariners were now “nested in their own homes,” as the narrative quaintly words it. The galley-slaves had again resumed their long bondage ashore, and now there were no fewer than 268 wretched Christians there, languishing in captivity, having been captured from sixteen different nations. It was then that John Foxe, man of resource that he was, resolved that escape must be made and his fellow-prisoners also released. If you consider such a project as the release of nearly 300 prisoners from the hands of these Turkish pirates, the idea seems entirely impracticable and utterly visionary. To John Foxe, however, it seemed otherwise, and this is how he set to work. After pondering over a method for a very long time and saying many prayers that his scheme might be successful, he betook himself to a fellow-prisoner—a Spanish Christian—named Peter Unticaro, who had been in captivity no less than thirty years. This man was lodged in “a certaine victualling house” near the roadstead. He had never attempted escape during all those years, so was treated with less suspicion and trusted. Foxe and Unticaro had often discussed their bondage, however, and at last the Englishman took the risk of making him his confidant, and also one other fellow-prisoner. These three men put their heads together, and Foxe unfolded a method of escape. Their chances of meeting were but few and short, but at the end of seven weeks they had been able to agree on a definite plan. Five more prisoners were now taken into their confidence whom they thought they could safely trust.