Kilgorman: A Story of Ireland in 1798Reed, Talbot Baines
History
Kilgorman: A Story of Ireland in 1798
Reed, Talbot Baines
France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Juvenile fiction; Ireland -- Juvenile fiction
The Frenchman, I believe, had been quite correct in saying that the
company at present being entertained in the place was inconveniently
large; and if so, the guard set over them was probably dangerously
small. And if the executions were to begin at once, it was conceivable
they might be still smaller as the afternoon wore on. So, though I knew
that my precious half-hour was slipping by, I waited patiently for a
good part of it, till presently I heard a word of command, and a
confused tramp of footsteps down the passage.
This was the first batch of my luckless comrades being marched to their
death, and I shuddered as I thought how near I stood to their fate.
But cost what it would I would make a dash for freedom first. I sprang
to the window and hauled myself up on to the ledge. The loose bar gave
way after a very little coaxing, and next minute I was out of the
casement and in the little courtyard. One or two windows overlooked it,
but either these were too high for any one to look from, or there was no
one to look, or if there was, the attraction of the ghastly scene going
on at the other side took them the other way. And to this same
attraction, no doubt, was due the fact that no sentry was patrolling the
back of the prison.
I succeeded by means of the rubbish heap in scaling the wall. But
before leaping down on the other side, the thought occurred to me that
if I could hide somewhere near till night, I should have a better chance
of escaping with my pursuers ahead of me than behind me.
By following the line of the wall I found I could reach a corner of the
prison where there was a blank wall, up which a gutter pipe ran to the
rambling, gabled roof, where, if I could only reach it, I should hardly
be looked for.
The clamber was a perilous one, especially as the heavy rain rendered
the iron pipe more than usually slippery. But I was sailor enough to
understand how to grip with hands and feet, and succeeded with no great
difficulty in reaching the top and hiding myself away in a deep angle of
the roof--not safe, indeed, but with time at least to breathe and
consider what next.
Nor was I too soon; for I had not lain there two minutes before I heard
a sudden shout and rush of feet in the yard below, and knew that my
escape had been discovered and that a price was upon my head.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
THE WOOD NEAR MORLAIX.
As I expected, the hiding-place I had chosen was about the safest I
could have had. For my jailers, taking note of the trampled dust-heap
in the corner, and finding, moreover, my half-written letter (which I
had taken the precaution to drop on the far side of the wall before I
doubled on my steps), had no doubt that I had fled either towards the
open country or to the harbour, where possibly I might succeed in
smuggling myself on board a ship.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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