*CHAPTER XXIV*
*A MESSAGE*
In an unused attic room of the great house lay Godfrey Landless, cordsabout his ankles, and his arms bound to his sides by cords and by athick rope, one end of which was fastened to a beam on the wall. He wasalone, for the Muggletonian, Havisham and Trail were confined in theoverseer's house. Opposite him was a small window framing a square ofsky. He had watched light clouds drift across it, and the sun passslowly and majestically down it, and the sunset turn the clouds intofloating blood-red plumes. He had been there since noon. Thick wallskept from him all sound in the house below--it might have been a houseof the dead. Through the closed window came the low, incessant hum ofthe summer world without, but no unusual noise. He had heard the sunsethorn, and the song of the slaves coming from the fields, and as duskbegan to fall, the cry of a whip-poor-will.
When the door had closed upon the retreating figures of the men whobrought him there, he had thrown himself upon the floor where he lay,faint from physical anguish, in a stupor of misery, conscious only of asick longing for death. This mood had passed and he was himself again.
As he lay with his eyes following the fiery, shifting feathers of cloud,he remembered that the gaol at Jamestown faced the south, and hethought, "This is the last sunset I shall ever see." He had the strongabiding faith of his time and party, and he looked beyond the cloudswith an awe and a light in his eyes. Verses learnt at his mother's kneecame back to him; he said them over to himself, and the tender, solemn,beneficent words fell like balm upon his troubled heart. He thought ofhis mother who had died young, and then of scenes and occurrences of hischildhood. All earthly hope was past, there could be no more struggling;in a little while he would be dead. Dying, his mind reverted, not to thesordid misery from which death would set him free, but to the long past,to the child at the mother's knee, to the boy who had climbed down greatcliffs in search of a smuggler's cave. The unearthly light that restsupon that time so far behind us shone strong for him--he saw every twigin the rooks' nests in the lofty elms, every ivy leaf about a ruinedoriel, black against a gold sky; the cool, dark smell of the box alleysfilled his nostrils: the sound of the sea came to him; he heard hismother singing on the terrace. He bowed his face with a sudden rain oftender, not sorrowful, tears.
Something crashed in at the window, splintering the coarse glass andfalling upon the floor at a little distance from him. It was a largepebble, to which was tied a piece of paper. He started up and made forit, to be brought up within two feet of it by the tug of the rope whichbound him to the wall. He thought a moment, then lay down upon thefloor and found that he could touch the end of the string that tied thepaper to the pebble. He took it between his teeth and slowly drew ittowards him, then, rising to his knees, he strained with all his mightat the cords that bound his arms. They were tightly drawn, but when atlength he desisted, panting, he had so loosened them that he could moveone hand a very little way. With it and with his teeth he disengagedthe paper from the pebble and spread it upon his knee. There was justlight enough to read the sprawling schoolboy hand with which it wascovered. It ran thus:--
"I don't know as this will ever reach you. I am doing all I can. LuizSebastian has not let me get at arm's length from him since I overheardhim and the Turk, and a sailor from Captain Laramore's ship and _Roach_at the hut on the marsh, two hours ago. They would have killed methere, but I ran, and he did not catch me until I was almost to thequarters. He will kill me though in a little while, I know; he has aknife and he is sitting on the door-step, and the Turk is with him, andI can not pass them. He held his hand over my mouth and the knife to myheart when Woodson went the rounds, and I could n't make no sound--Lordhave mercy upon me! I write this with my blood, on a leaf from yourBible, while he sits there whispering to the Turk. He goes to his owncabin directly and he will take me with him and kill me there, I know hewill. He goes to the stables first and I must go with him. If we passclose enough, and if I can do it without his seeing me I will throw thisin at the window of the room where I know you are, if not--the Lord helpus all! ... Landless, for God's sake! before moonrise to-night theChickahominies and the Ricahecrians from the Blue Mountains will comedown on the plantation. With them are leagued Luiz Sebastian, the Turk,Trail, Roach, and most of the slaves.... When all is over, the Indianswill take the scalps and Grey Wolf and will make for the Blue Mountains;Luiz Sebastian and the others will seize the boats and put off for theship at the Point. Her crew will give her up and they will all turnpirate together. The women go with them if they can keep them from theIndians; the men are all to be killed.... I have told you all I heard.For God's sake, save them if you can,--and remember poor DickWhittington."
Dropping the paper, Landless strained with all his might, first at thecords which bound his arms, and then at the rope which fastened him tothe wall. Again and again he put forth the strength of despair--hismuscles cracked, great beads stood upon his forehead--but the ropesheld. As well as he could with his shackled feet he stamped upon thefloor; he called aloud, but there came no answering voice or sound frombelow. He was at the end of the house over unused chambers, and thewalls and flooring were very thick. He clenched his teeth and beganagain the battle with the cords which held him. All in vain. Heshouted until he was hoarse--it was crying aloud in a desert. With agroan he leaned against the wall, gathering strength for another effort.It was dark now and the moon rose at eleven.... There was a piece ofglass upon the floor, one of the splinters from the shattered window.He remembered noticing it--a long narrow piece like the blade of aknife. Sinking to his knees he felt for it, and after a long time foundit. He now had a knife, but he could not move the hand that held it sixinches from his side. Stooping, he took the splinter between his teeth,and making the rope taut, drew the sharp edge of the glass across it.Again and again he drew it across, and at length he perceived that astrand was severed. With a thrill of joy he settled to the slow,laborious and painful task. Time passed, a long, long time, and yet therope was but half severed. As he worked he counted the moments withfeverish dread, his heart throbbed one passionate prayer: "Lord, let mesave her!" Now and then he glanced at the blackness of the nightoutside with a terrible fear--though he knew it could not be yet--thathe should see it waver into moonlight. Another interval of toil, and hestood erect, gathered his forces, made one supreme effort--and was free!There was not time for the cords about his arms, but he must get rid ofthose which fettered his ankles. An endless task it seemed, but handand friendly splinter accomplished it at last: and he sprang to thedoor. It was locked. He dashed himself against it, once, twice,thrice, and it crashed outwards, precipitating him into a large, bareroom. He crossed this, managed to open its unlocked door with his freehand, descended a winding stair and came into the upper hall. It was indarkness, but up the wide staircase streamed the perfumed light of manymyrtle candles, and with it laughter, and the sound of a man's voicesinging to a lute.
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