Jack Harkaway and His Son's Escape from the Brigands of Greece Part 93

Where were they?

By what jugglery had they contrived to get out of such a formidable fortress as that place?

This the present chapter is to relate.

To give it clearly, however briefly, we must go back to the day of their entrance into their gloomy prison home.

Jack and Harry were alone.

"This is a rum go, Jack," said Harry Girdwood. "What do you think of it?"

"Precious dull, old boy," grumbled young Harkaway.

"Better than a grave on the mountain side."

"It is just that," said young Jack. "But it wouldn't be quite so good if this sort of thing was meant to be permanent."

"Growler, growler," said Harry Girdwood. "Why, I call these famous diggings, after that hole they meant us to rest in while the worms made meat of us. Besides, we must get away."

"How?"

"Escape."

Young Jack looked up at the word, and his heart beat a little quicker.

But he said nothing.

Frowning walls on every side.

The cell was fully eighteen feet high, and the window was close up by the ceiling.

"If we want to get out of this," said young Jack, "we must begin operations from this moment."

"Good."

"Do you know, Harry, what is to be the first step?"

"No."

"To get at that window."

"But it is about eighteen feet high."

"Well, we must reach it," said young Jack.

Both boys were expert gymnasts.

The greasiest of greasy poles were vanquished by either with the greatest of ease.

In the stormiest weather they could mount into the topmost parts of the rigging on board ship.

And the consequence was that the morning after their entrance into their prison found young Jack perched up at the window, looking down at his comrade and fellow-prisoner, and giving graphic descriptions of all he saw there.

"What's on the other side, Jack?"

"The sea, the open sea, old fellow," cried Jack.

"And below?"

"The sea, again, old fellow."

"To the right?"

"The sea, the sea--the open sea, old fellow. Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink. At least it would be an awful _drop_ to get at it."

"Can you see any thing to the right?"

"Water only."

"Is that all?"

"Yes--hallo!"

Some thing fell.

A roll of some thing white and soft dropped at Harry Girdwood's feet, and he hastened to pick it up.

Some thing white, we said.

Well, it had once been white, but now it had got very considerably discoloured with age and dust, which seemed to indicate that it had been a long while up on the shelf in its hiding place.

Yes, its hiding place.

They opened the bundle, and found it to be composed of three slips of cotton, upon which were written, in red ink, curious things which they could not make much of.

Upon one of these pieces of cotton were certain cabalistic signs, such as figures, algebraical marks, and geometrical figures.

Upon another was traced a plan of some building.

A third was a sectional view, drawn roughly, but upon architectural principles, and marked with initial letters of reference.

"This is a rum go," said Harry Girdwood, laughing.

Young Jack had dropped from his perch and joined his fellow-prisoner on _terra firma,_ and together they poured over these singular rags.

Now young Harkaway soon lost patience, and speaking contemptuously of their find, he proposed pitching it through the grated window into the sea.

"Not I," said Harry; "there's some thing here which it will amuse me to puzzle out."