The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 20Stevenson, Robert Louis
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The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 20
Stevenson, Robert Louis
French -- England -- Fiction; Prisoners of war -- Fiction
"Be so obliging as to let me be!" said I. "I am neither a coward nor a
fool. What do _you_ know of whether the rope be long enough? But I shall
know it in ten minutes!"
The good old fellow laughed in his moustache, and patted me.
It was all very well to show the disposition of my temper before a
friend alone; before my assembled comrades the thing had to go
handsomely. It was then my time to come on the stage; and I hope I took
it handsomely.
"Now, gentlemen," said I, "if the rope is ready, here is the criminal!"
The tunnel was cleared, the stake driven, the rope extended. As I moved
forward to the place, many of my comrades caught me by the hand and
wrung it, an attention I could well have done without.
"Keep an eye on Clausel!" I whispered to Laclas; and with that, got down
on my elbows and knees, took the rope in both hands, and worked myself,
feet foremost, through the tunnel. When the earth failed under my feet,
I thought my heart would have stopped; and a moment after I was
demeaning myself in mid-air like a drunken jumping-jack. I have never
been a model of piety, but at this juncture prayers and a cold sweat
burst from me simultaneously.
The line was knotted at intervals of eighteen inches; and to the
inexpert it may seem as if it should have been even easy to descend. The
trouble was, this devil of a piece of rope appeared to be inspired, not
with life alone, but with a personal malignity against myself. It turned
to the one side, paused for a moment, and then spun me like a
toasting-jack to the other; slipped like an eel from the clasp of my
feet; kept me all the time in the most outrageous fury of exertion; and
dashed me at intervals against the face of the rock. I had no eyes to
see with; and I doubt if there was anything to see but darkness. I must
occasionally have caught a gasp of breath, but it was quite unconscious.
And the whole forces of my mind were so consumed with losing hold and
getting it again, that I could scarce have told whether I was going up
or coming down.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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