“Yes.  In the first place, it would have been too dangerous to attempt to free all.  In the second, the galleys would not carry them; we shall be closely packed as it is, for there are over a thousand here.  I hear that there was a talk of freeing all, and that we, instead of embarking at first, should make for the other prisons, burst open the doors, and rescue the others; but by the time we could do so the knights would be all in arms, and our enterprise would fail altogether, for as but a small proportion of us can obtain weapons, we could not hope to overcome them.  Were it not for the strong wall that separates their quarter from the town, we might make straight for their houses and slay them before the alarm could be given.  As it is, that would be impossible, and therefore the plan will be carried out as I have told you.  The loss of all their galleys and of over one thousand slaves will be a heavy blow for them.  Great pains have been taken to prevent confusion when we reach the port.  The men in each room have been instructed as to the galleys on which they are to embark.  As for you, you know precisely what is to be done; you will simply take your places, and then wait until all are on board.  No galley is to push out from the wharf until the last man of those employed in burning the ships has returned, with the provisions found in them.  Then the order will be given by the man who has arranged all this, and the six galleys will put out together.

One is to row to each of the forts to carry off the party that will have been engaged in silencing its cannon.  Our galley is to row to St. Nicholas, and take off the twenty men I shall lead there.  There is no possibility of failure.  Everything has, you see, been arranged.  One of the overseers who is in the plot walked by my side as we returned from the port, and gave me the instructions, and all the others will have been told in the same way, or else by the guards in charge of them.”  The gang now broke up into little groups, talking excitedly over the unlooked for news, and exulting over the speedy advent of liberty.  Gervaise strolled carelessly to the window, and dropped out the white strip of stuff.  It was now quite dark, and there was no fear of any one observing the movement.  Then he joined the others.  After an hour and a half had passed he heard footsteps approaching the door.  There was a pause; then the outside bars were taken down, and a key turned in the lock.  A deep silence fell on the slaves.  Then a voice called, “Number 36!”

“What is it?” replied Gervaise, without raising himself from his seat on the bedding.  “I have done my share of work today, and earned my night’s sleep.”

“It is a knight from the English auberge; he has come to fetch you.  It seems that you are to go there as a servitor.”

“What a cursed fortune,” Gervaise muttered, in Turkish, “just when a road to freedom is open!  I have a good mind to say I am ill, and cannot go till the morning.”