None of the captives returned to the hut, and Francis now turned his whole thoughts to freeing himself from his chains.  He had already revolved in his mind every possible mode of escape.  He had tried the strong iron bars of the window, but found that they were so rigidly fixed and embedded in the stonework, that there was no hope of escape in this way; and even could he have got through the window, the weight of his shackles would have crippled him.

He was fastened with two chains, each about two feet six inches long, going from the wrist of the right hand to the left ankle, and from the left hand to the right ankle.  Thus he was unable to stand quite upright, and anything like rapid movement was almost impossible.  The bottom of the window came within four feet of the ground, and it was only by standing on one leg, and lifting the other as high as he could, that he was able to grasp one of the bars to try its strength.

The news he had heard from his fellow prisoner almost maddened him, and he thought far less of his own fate, than of that of the girls, who would be living in their quiet country retreat in ignorance of danger, until suddenly seized by Mocenigo and his band of pirates.

He had, on the first day, tried whether it was possible to draw his hand through the iron band round his wrist, but had concluded it could not be done, for it was riveted so tightly as to press upon the flesh.  Therefore there was no hope of freeing himself in that manner.  The only possible means, then, would be to cut through the rivet or chain, and for this a tool would be required.

Suddenly an idea struck him.  The guard who brought in his food was a Sicilian, and was evidently of a talkative disposition, for he had several times entered into conversation with the captives.  In addition to a long knife, he carried a small stiletto in his girdle, and Francis thought that, if he could obtain this, he might possibly free himself.  Accordingly, at the hour when he expected his guard to enter, Francis placed himself at his window, with his face against the bars.  When he heard the guard come in, and, as usual, close the door behind him, he turned round and said: 

“Who is that damsel there?  She is very beautiful, and she passes here frequently.  There she is, just going among those trees.”

The guard moved to the window and looked out.

“Do you see her just going round that corner there?  Ah!  She is gone.”

The guard was pressing his face against the bars, to look in the direction indicated, and Francis, who was already standing on his left leg, with the right raised so as to give freedom to the hand next to the man, had no difficulty in drawing the stiletto from its sheath, and slipping it into his trousers.

“You were just too late,” he said, “but no doubt you often see her.”

“I don’t see any beautiful damsels about in this wretched place,” the man replied.  “I suppose she is the daughter of the head man in the village.  They say he has some good-looking ones, but he takes pretty good care that they are not about when we are here.  I suppose she thought she wouldn’t be seen along that path.  I will keep a good lookout for her in future.”