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 the floorand found that he could touch the end of the string that tied the paperto the pebble. He took it between his teeth and slowly drew it towardshim, then, rising to his knees, he strained with all his might at thecords that bound his arms. They were tightly drawn, but when at lengthhe desisted, panting, he had so loosened them that he could move onehand a very little way. With it and with his teeth he disengaged thepaper from the pebble and spread it upon his knee. There was just lightenough to read the sprawling schoolboy hand with which it was covered.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 me there,but I ran, and he did not catch me until I was almost to the quarters.He will kill me though in a little while, I know; he has a knife and heis sitting on the doorstep, and the Turk is with him, and I can notpass them. He held his hand over my mouth and the knife to my heart whenWoodson went the rounds, and I couldn't make no sound--Lord have mercyupon me! I write this with my blood, on a leaf from your Bible, while hesits there whispering to the Turk. He goes to his own cabin directly andhe will take me with him and kill me there, I know he will. He goes tothe stables first and I must go with him. If we pass close enough, andif I can do it without his seeing me I will throw this in at the windowof the room where I know you are, if not--the Lord help us all!...Landless, for God's sake! before moonrise to-night the Chickahominiesand the Ricahecrians from the Blue Mountains will come down on theplantation. With them are leagued Luiz Sebastian, the Turk, Trail,Roach, and most of the slaves.... When all is over, the Indians willtake the scalps and Grey Wolf and will make for the Blue Mountains; LuizSebastian and the others will seize the boats and put off for the shipat the Point. Her crew will give her up and they will all turn piratetogether. The women go with them if they can keep them from the Indians;the men are all to be killed.... I have told you all I heard. For God'ssake, save them if you can,--and remember poor Dick Whittington."
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. He shouteduntil he was hoarse--it was crying aloud in a desert. With a groan heleaned against the wall, gathering strength for another effort. It wasdark now and the moon rose at eleven.... There was a piece of glass uponthe floor, one of the splinters from the shattered window. He rememberednoticing it--a long narrow piece like the blade of a knife. Sinking tohis knees he felt for it, and after a long time found it. He now had aknife, but he could not move the hand that held it six inches from hisside. Stooping, he took the splinter between his teeth, and making therope taut, drew the sharp edge of the glass across it. Again and againhe drew it across, and at length he perceived that a strand wassevered. With a thrill of joy he settled to the slow, laborious andpainful task. Time passed, a long, long time, and yet the rope was buthalf severed. As he worked he counted the moments with feverish dread,his heart throbbed one passionate prayer: "Lord, let me save her!" Nowand then he glanced at the blackness of the night outside with aterrible fear--though he knew it could not be yet--that he should see itwaver into moonlight. Another interval of toil, and he stood erect,gathered his forces, made one supreme effort--and was free! There wasnot time for the cords about his arms, but he must get rid of thosewhich fettered his ankles. An endless task it seemed, but hand andfriendly splinter accomplished it at last; and he sprang to the door. Itwas locked. He dashed himself against it, once, twice, thrice, and itcrashed outwards, precipitating him into a large, bare room. He crossedthis, managed to open its unlocked door with his free hand, descended awinding stair and came into the upper hall. It was in darkness, but upthe wide staircase streamed the perfumed light of many myrtle candles,and with it laughter, and the sound of a man's voice singing to a lute.
Prisoners of Hope: A Tale of Colonial Virginia Page 24
