St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 394 pages of information about St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England.

St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 394 pages of information about St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England.

I could not restrain my laughter.  ’Well, then, do you think it likely I would tell you?’ I cried.

‘Not a bit.’ said he.  ‘But come, to our lesson!’

CHAPTER VI—­THE ESCAPE

The time for our escape drew near, and the nearer it came the less we seemed to enjoy the prospect.  There is but one side on which this castle can be left either with dignity or safety; but as there is the main gate and guard, and the chief street of the upper city, it is not to be thought of by escaping prisoners.  In all other directions an abominable precipice surrounds it, down the face of which (if anywhere at all) we must regain our liberty.  By our concurrent labours in many a dark night, working with the most anxious precautions against noise, we had made out to pierce below the curtain about the south-west corner, in a place they call the Devil’s Elbow.  I have never met that celebrity; nor (if the rest of him at all comes up to what they called his elbow) have I the least desire of his acquaintance.  From the heel of the masonry, the rascally, breakneck precipice descended sheer among waste lands, scattered suburbs of the city, and houses in the building.  I had never the heart to look for any length of time—­the thought that I must make the descent in person some dark night robbing me of breath; and, indeed, on anybody not a seaman or a steeple-jack, the mere sight of the Devil’s Elbow wrought like an emetic.

I don’t know where the rope was got, and doubt if I much cared.  It was not that which gravelled me, but whether, now that we had it, it would serve our turn.  Its length, indeed, we made a shift to fathom out; but who was to tell us how that length compared with the way we had to go?  Day after day, there would be always some of us stolen out to the Devil’s Elbow and making estimates of the descent, whether by a bare guess or the dropping of stones.  A private of pioneers remembered the formula for that—­or else remembered part of it and obligingly invented the remainder.  I had never any real confidence in that formula; and even had we got it from a book, there were difficulties in the way of the application that might have daunted Archimedes.  We durst not drop any considerable pebble lest the sentinels should hear, and those that we dropped we could not hear ourselves.  We had never a watch—­or none that had a second-hand; and though every one of us could guess a second to a nicety, all somehow guessed it differently.  In short, if any two set forth upon this enterprise, they invariably returned with two opinions, and often with a black eye in the bargain.  I looked on upon these proceedings, although not without laughter, yet with impatience and disgust.  I am one that cannot bear to see things botched or gone upon with ignorance; and the thought that some poor devil was to hazard his bones upon such premises, revolted me.  Had I guessed the name of that unhappy first adventurer, my sentiments might have been livelier still.

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St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.