Across the Spanish Main by Harry Collingwood (best e reader for android TXT) 📕

round for a final look at us, and would doubtless be removed again before it had had a chance of setting.”

Darkness soon fell, and then the two silently and carefully pushed in the already nearly solid plug of earth. They had sufficient to fill the little opening completely, for they heard some of it patter down on to the stone floor outside.

“There,” said Harry, when they had finished, “if they do not find that before morning, it should be hard, and then I doubt whether they will trouble to bore it out again after it has set; but we shall see.”

It was now perfectly dark in the cell, for even on the most brilliant moonlight nights the light could not reach the cell, because of the high walls all round the quadrangle outside, which prevented the rays from streaming in.

Being exceedingly tired, and rather sleepy, the two friends spread their jerkins on the block of stone forming the table, as it was far too damp to lie on the floor, and were soon fast asleep in one another’s arms.

They were awakened the next morning by the sound of the trap shutting after the morning’s supply of food had been put in; and their first thought, before even glancing at the meal, was to see if the plug had been disturbed. To their great joy, so far as they could tell, it had not been touched; and, upon testing it, it proved to be perfectly hard and quite immovable.

“It will take them a little time to get that out, even if they try to do so,” said Roger; “but I trust that they will not attempt it. If they do not, we are at least safe from observation, if not from being overheard. But, to be on the safe side, I think it would be wisdom on our part to converse only in whispers.”

“I quite agree with you there,” replied Harry; “one never knows who may be listening. And now let us turn our attention to breakfast, and see whether we have anything different this morning from that miserable and tasteless meal porridge and black bread.”

They examined the food and found that, this time, instead of the porridge, a bunch of bananas had been provided; but, for the rest, the black bread and water were there as before, and nothing beside.

However, they ate heartily of what they found, and finished it all, feeling much refreshed after it. But ever hanging over them was the black cloud, which they could not forget; the remembrance of the tortures through which they had already passed, and the anticipation of others to follow.

They made a further careful examination of the cell; and this time, by dint of patient search, they located the aperture through which their food was thrust every day. It was constructed with much skill, and only by very close inspection could they make out the small joints indicating the position of the trap. Before they found it, some vague idea had formed itself in their minds of watching for the time when it should be opened to pass in their meals, and endeavouring to scramble through before it was closed again. It was a hare-brained scheme, and would never have suggested itself were it not for the fact that their minds had been persistently dwelling upon the chances of escape, and had become so dulled by long confinement that they were not now so clear as they had been in happier times. A second glance served to prove to them the utter futility of any attempt at escape by that means, as the size of the opening was insufficient to permit the passage of their bodies.

This discovery came as a severe disappointment to them, and they remained for some considerable time sitting on their respective stone stools, a prey to black despair and utter hopelessness.

They were aroused from their dismal reverie by hearing a stealthy footstep approaching the door.

It stopped outside, and, by leaning their heads against the wood-work, and listening intently, they heard a slight creaking sound, as of wood against wood, which, to their now alert senses, indicated that the watcher was gently pushing back the slide which concealed the spy-hole. There was then a pause, and the lads looked across at one another and could not forbear a smile, even in their state of misery and suspense, at the idea of the spy’s astonishment and disappointment at finding all dark when he expected to be able to see into the cell.

Presently there ensued a slight scratching, and they knew that the spy was attempting to remove the obstruction.

Their plug, however, answered its purpose well, and showed no signs of budging.

Then the scratching noise began afresh, and somewhat more loudly, as the man became impatient of the delay, and dispensed with caution. After several ineffectual efforts on the spy’s part the noise ceased, and the stealthy footsteps were heard receding in the distance.

“Well, Roger,” said Harry, when the sound of the spy’s footsteps had ceased, “we got the better of him that time; did we not?”

“Ay,” responded Roger gloomily; “but we must not expect that the matter will rest there. They will be certain to return and drill that hole out again, or make a fresh one, and we are sure to be punished in some way for what we have done—either by starvation or torture. I am by no means sure that we were wise in stopping up that spy-hole, or that by doing so we have served any good purpose.”

“Oh, come now, Roger, old fellow, you must not think like that!” answered Harry. “Now that they have seen that we know they watch us, they may not attempt it again; and they would surely not do very much to us for a little thing like that. Besides, it is intolerable to think that we are being spied upon all day long, and that whatever we do or say is known. There would be absolutely no chance whatever of our making a successful attempt to escape at any time if we had not closed the hole. At any rate, it is done now, and it is no good our worrying over it; we must just wait and see what happens. If they are going to make a fresh place of observation, or punish us for what we have done, they will not defer it long; so to-day will, in my opinion, decide the matter. Meanwhile we must wait; and, while we are unobserved, we had better make the most of our time.”

“You are right, Harry, old friend,” said Roger; “but for my part I do not feel much like talking, or anything else. If we had something really useful to occupy us to pass the time it would be different; but as it is, well—what can we do?”

“Well, I’ll tell you,” answered Harry. “We will wait for a little while, in order to ascertain whether they mean to do anything about this matter of closing up the spy-hole; and, if no one comes, I think we could not do better than make another attempt to translate that cryptogram of ours. We have made many attempts already, it is true, and it has always got the better of us. But then, we have never, until now, really had the time to spare to attend to it properly. Now would be a very good opportunity; we have plenty of time—which drags heavily enough, God knows. This would serve to make it pass; and if we succeed—and should be able also to effect our escape—we should then be ready to secure that treasure without delay. For although, so far as we are aware, we are the only ones who know anything whatever about the affair, delay is dangerous; someone might easily even get there before us and discover the treasure by accident. One never knows. What think you, Roger?”

“Why, Harry, lad,” said Roger, brightening up considerably, “I think that it’s a very good idea. I am surprised that I never thought of it myself. We had better wait a little, however, and see what happens, before we extract the paper from my jacket; we do not want to be taken by surprise.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth when, from somewhere in the building, evidently some distance away, came a long wailing cry, low at first, then rising gradually higher and higher, until it became a piercing scream—the scream of a man in mortal agony.

The long-drawn shriek continued for some moments, and then died down again to a low, moaning sound; then it rose again, and changed into a series of short yapping cries of anguish, almost like the barking of a dog; then it ceased.

“What on earth is that, Harry?” ejaculated Roger, looking at his friend, on whose forehead the cold perspiration was now standing in beads. “What an awful sound!”

“I am afraid, my friend,” replied Harry, “that it means that some poor mortal is undergoing torture almost greater than he can bear. What devils these inquisitors are! If I could but be at the head of a few hundred English seamen at this moment, would I not pull this place of torture about their ears; and would I not put a few of them to the torture themselves, just to teach them by experience what it feels like, and as a warning to the rest! God help that poor wretch, whoever he may be! What a fearful, awful sound it is! This is getting dreadful,” he went on, as another shrill and blood-curdling scream broke on their ears, quavering as it was with the extremity of fearful agony, yet not quite so loud as before, as though the unfortunate individual were losing his strength.

“To be imprisoned here, and not to be able to do anything to help the poor fellow! Oh, they are fiends in human shape!” cried Roger, stamping his foot on the ground in impotent fury.

Then came a sound which made the lads start and look apprehensively at each other. It was the noise of footsteps approaching down the long passage at the end of which their own cell was situated.