Once we had a great scare.  In the dead time of night we heard footsteps, and voices in the room below our dormitory, and gave all up for lost.  We stole into our beds, and lay in that painful state of shortened breath and quickened pulse which the expectation of ill induces.  But by and by the voices ceased; we heard the closing of the door below; whatever their errand had been (and we never knew it) the men of the guard had returned to their quarters, and after a few minutes’ pause we were again out of bed and at our work.

At the end of a week it happened as I had feared.  The men’s patience gave out.  The bosun was the first to yield.  After his two hours’ spell of labor he rose from the cramped position it entailed and swore he would do no more.  The men whose turn it was to follow refused to get out of bed, and Joe and I, who, having worked our spell were fast asleep, knew nothing of the mutiny until the morning.  Then, though I was nigh despairing, I affected cheerfulness, said that we had all been working too hard, and declared for a couple of nights’ holiday.

I did not blame or expostulate, and the wisdom of my course was vindicated on the third night, when, without a word being said, the bosun and Runnles took up their tools and set to work again.  I learned afterwards that Runnles had employed himself during the two days in quietly encouraging the others, and I think it was the persistence of the little man that shamed them into perseverance.

Night by night for three weeks we toiled on, and then were bountifully rewarded.  We had scraped away the cement between the stone we had selected and those around it, and by prying it with our chisel and one or two other tools we had now procured, we gradually forced it inwards and at length lifted it out and laid it on the floor.  It was the middle of the night, but all the men were awake, and in the excitement of the occasion the bosun uttered a shout of triumph, cursing himself immediately afterwards for his folly.  The sentry above stopped, and by and by a soldier came into the room below and up the ladder and demanded what was the matter.  Luckily I had the presence of mind (and by this time sufficiency of French) to make answer pat.

“’Tis the big man in a nightmare,” I said with a laugh, “dreaming he heads a boarding party.”

“Mad dream!” says the Frenchman with a chuckle, and went down again without entering the room.

We longed for daylight to reveal the full extent of our success, yet dared not wait for it, for the stone was heavy, and it would take some time to replace it, and since we were always visited soon after daybreak we feared to be intruded on before we had put it back and removed the traces of our work.  So we set it again in its place and for the rest of the night slept the sound sleep of contentment.