Sea-Dogs All!

by Tom Bevan

  Chapter XLIII.

  IN PANAMA.

  Panama sweltered in a blaze of summer sunshine. The place reeked withheat like a furnace. The smooth sea reflected the glare like a mirror;the white houses dazzled the eyes, and sent fiery darts of pain throughthem to the brain. The harbour showed no sign of life, the sentinel atthe castle nodded at his post, and his excellency the governor laystretched on a couch at an open window, whilst two slaves fanned himwith palm leaves. The streets were empty even of natives. These,emulating their white masters, had crawled into the shade of wall ortree, and curled up in slumber.

  The jail was a long, low building in the southern angle of the castlecourtyard. Its walls were of mud baked in the tropical sun, and itsroof was of palm-thatch. The windows were mere slits in the thick,hard walls, and gave little light or air. The doors were stout, andtightly barred. Of all the hot corners in the Pacific inferno, thejail corner was the hottest. The place was full; either the long spellof heat or the caprices of the sweltered governor had stirred up anunruly spirit. Several soldiers had mutinied; the natives had beentroublesome and restive; a party of sailors had run amuck--doubtlessaffected by the torrid heat--and so the prison population was athigh-water mark. The commandant had much ado to find room for theseven Englishmen. On behalf of the Inquisitors, Basil had offered torelieve him of their company, but the governor had said "No" to theproposal. The seven were confined in one room of fair size, and,except for the heat, were no more comfortless than they would have beenin the average English jail. But the heat was fearful! The wretchedmen sat and stewed in it. Water was not too plentiful in the city, andthe native water-carriers had grown lazy; thirst racked the prisonersone and all. They had been shut in for the better part of two weeks,and wondered why they had not been brought to trial. They had expecteda short shrift and a speedy execution. Usually these expectationswould have been realized, but the governor would not be bothered withany extra work whilst the heat spell lasted, and he had been warnedthat the "Holy Office" would claim the Englishmen as heretics andblasphemers. This would mean a lengthy wrangle between the militaryand ecclesiastical authorities, and his sun-dried excellency was not inthe mood or condition to preside over heated arguments. The fellowswere safe, he said, and would have time to think over their sins,political and religious. Let them alone for a while.

  It was the turn of Nick Johnson and Johnnie Morgan to be at the window.A rough bench was drawn up near the opening, and the two knelt thereonand let the hot air--cool compared with the general atmosphere of theprison--blow softly on their faces. They were not allowed to put theirheads too near the blessed inlet, for that would shut out the lightfrom their comrades. Their joint occupation of the room had beenlengthy enough to give rise to a set of rules for their mutual good andguidance. The law against blocking up the window too closely was avery strict one. From the angle at which he looked out Nick could seethe drowsy sentinel.

  "'Twill be such a day as this that will give us our chance of freedom,"he said. "Could we but get out now, we might parade the streetsunchallenged for an hour. The Dons are in no hurry either to hang orburn us, and we cannot wait their convenience. If the Indian will onlybring us the arrowhead that he promised, we will try our legs aboutnoon tomorrow. We ought to take a block out of this wall intwenty-four hours."

  Johnnie nodded; his mouth was too parched for speaking. Nick's voicewas very like a raven's croak, and he licked his dry lips and relapsedinto silence. Their spell at the window came to an end. They steppeddown, and went to a corner. Two sailors took their places.

  The stifling afternoon passed, and left the captives limp, panting, andexhausted. As the shadows lengthened, the stir of life arose anew inthe castle. Towards evening the jailer visited his charges, and anIndian came with him bearing a pitcher of water and some cakes ofnative corn. The soldier stood whilst the man deposited his burden;then both turned and went out without speaking a word. The cakes werepassed round, and each man quickly broke his open. Nothing wassecreted in them, and eager looks were changed to those ofdisappointment. Morgan took up the pitcher, drank, and passed toJeffreys, who handed it to Nick; and so it went round, each drinking alittle, curbing his desires in order that some of the precious liquidmight remain for the wakeful watches of the night. Darkness came, butit brought little or no rest. Swarms of mosquitoes came in and bittheir hapless victims mercilessly as they tossed and turned on the bareearthen floor. The nights of captivity were worse than the days. Atintervals the pitcher went round; but the water had got lukewarm, andrefreshed them little enough.

  Day broke, and the pitcher circulated for a last time. The tilting ofthe vessel brought a happy discovery: the Indian had been true to hispromise. A small spearhead was wedged across the bottom.

  Here was hope, and also employment during the dreary hours. Nickseized the welcome implement with a cry of joy, and he could not bepersuaded to refrain from using it at once. He measured Morgan'sshoulders on the wall.

  "This," said he, "must be the width of the hole. Let me trace it."

  In the corner, from the floor upwards, he marked off a rectangularspace.

  "We shall have to loosen a block of wall this size, push it out at theright moment, crawl through, put it back again to avert suspicion, andthen make the best of our way into the forest. That was how we escapedfrom Vera Cruz; the trick should serve us a second time."

  "Three hide better than seven," suggested Jeffreys.

  "And seven can fight better than three," added the sailor. "We shalldo no good in the forest without weapons. The game will not walk toour fire to be cooked. Either Dons or Indians must furnish us. We liehere, sheep in a pen, awaiting the butcher. If I am to die in Panama,let it be no sheep's death."

  Each heart echoed these sentiments, and all resolved to risk thedesperate chances for life and liberty. Operations were commenced atonce. It was no great undertaking to remove, with proper tools, ablock of baked clay, some three feet or so by two feet, from a typicalPanama wall. The prison wall was about three feet thick, and almost ashard as an English brick. The spearhead was of the small sort, andreally little better than a large arrowhead; fortunately it was almostnew, and well sharpened. Nick began working at the floor level, andthe first part of the process was to work the three feet odd along thebase of the wall and back into it until only a thin shell was left onthe outer side. The work could only progress slowly, for there must belittle sound of scraping or ringing of iron on the stone-like clay, andall dust from the working must be dispersed about the floor. Twowatched at the window all the time. Interruptions were many andsometimes lengthy, and after three hours of broken labour the workershad only got some two inches back into the wall along the floor line.But noon and the death-like stillness of "siesta" gave them a betteropportunity. A shaft that had been procured some days previously wasfished out from its hiding-place, and fitted to the spearhead. Workingin short shifts, by the space of an hour the floor line was workedthrough so that daylight was visible in one or two places, and theupright line in the angle of the wall was worked full depth back to aheight of half a foot. In the late afternoon, after the visit of thejailer, a groove sufficiently deep to guide them in the darkness wasmade all round. The work was to be finished when castle and town sankto silence after nightfall.

  The oppressive heat of the past weeks was broken just after sunset by aterrific thunderstorm, and the fury of the elemental outburst coveredall noises and allowed the toilers to work without any precaution.But, alas! their very haste was their undoing. The head, blunted andworn, broke off short in the depth of the wall. Attempts to extricateit in the darkness only wedged it in more tightly. With a groan ofdespair, the wearied men gave up their task, and sought slumber.

  The first gleams of stormy daylight found some of them awake,feverishly at work stuffing the tell-tale grooves with dust moistenedby the last drains of the water in their pitcher. As yet the greatblock was quite immovable, and another implement mu
st be obtained tocomplete the task. The flood waters from the courtyard had trickled inthrough the apertures made near the floor, and under-garments weretaken off, and the betraying waters swabbed up. Some of the littleband huddled in the corner when the jailer came in with breakfast, andhe went out, having seen and suspected nothing. The Indian lookedinquiringly at the Englishmen, but they were unable to give him anyhint of their wants.

  The day passed. The sky cleared; then the clouds gathered again, andthere was another deluge. Panama was flooded out. The sun went downbehind a black veil, but towards midnight the stars came out, and adelightfully cool breeze swept in at the window to soothe the feveredbodies within prison walls. What a chance of escape they had missedduring the noisy hours of the storm, when not a soul was abroad in theplace! Knowing the opportunity was there, they tried desperately toforce the door. But the feat was far beyond all the strength at theircommand.

  And the morning, delicious in its cool and fragrant freshness, broughtdespair. The governor, who like the trees had drooped in the heat,revived with the rain, and set about the duties of his position withsome vigour. The Englishmen were informed that when "siesta" was overthey would be brought into the castle hall for trial and judgment. Theflood had washed away their chances of escape. They solemnly and insilence shook hands as men saying a long farewell.