The Adventures of Harry Rochester: A Tale of the Days of Marlborough and EugeneStrang, Herbert
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The Adventures of Harry Rochester: A Tale of the Days of Marlborough and Eugene
Strang, Herbert
Blenheim, Battle of, Blindheim, Bavaria, Germany, 1704 -- Juvenile fiction
For some time all his straining was of no avail. At last he felt the
rope about his wrists give a little. Taking advantage of the slackened
tension, he contrived, after what seemed an hour to him, to turn his
joined wrists outwards, and in a few more minutes they were free. They
ached intolerably; he felt as if all power was gone from them,—as if he
could never grip anything firmly again. He waited until the numbing pain
was abated, then set to work to free his elbows. These had been
separately tied, and after many unsuccessful efforts he almost
despaired. At length, however, he managed to shift his elbows down over
the edges of the plank, which he was then able to use as fulcrums.
Pressing as hard as possible, he forced the ropes slightly slack, then
jerked himself sideways and almost on to his face. In doing so he more
than once interrupted the snores of the man beneath him, and once
desisted in alarm as the fellow growled out an oath. At last his elbows
were free, and he lay panting with exertion and hope.
But now that the upper part of his body was unbound, he found himself
confronted by an unexpected difficulty. The board to which he was
strapped extended down to his heels, and the knot being tied at the far
end, he was unable to reach it. A man is never so agile with his ankles
as with his wrists, and the plank had effectually prevented Harry from
making use of Sherebiah’s trick in regard to his feet. It was
impossible to reach the knots with his hands, for the roof of the
foc’sle was so low that he could not rise to an upright posture in the
bunk. He worked away at the upper part of the rope, but it was so taut
that he could not ease it appreciably. He found himself making even
more noise than before, and dreaded lest one of the crew should awaken
too soon. Breathless with his exertions, he lay still to think. Was he
to be baffled after all? Some hours must have passed since the vessel
left her moorings, and though her progress had been interrupted and was
always slow, yet she was drawing nearer and nearer to the mouth of the
river, bringing him nearer and nearer to his doom.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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