The Lost Middy Part 51

"Well, you could now. Go to sleep, and I'll wake you when Eben Megg comes back."

"No," said the middy; "I couldn't sleep now. Suppose I awoke at last and found that you had gone!"

"Ah, you're going to imagine all sorts of things," said Aleck, who felt that he must do something to keep his companion from brooding over his position.

"Look here; suppose I go up the pa.s.sage and see if I can make out anything about Eben!"

Before he had finished speaking he became aware of how terribly the poor fellow had been shaken by his confinement. For the lad caught him spasmodically by the arm with both hands.

"No, no," he panted. "Don't leave me--pray don't leave me."

"Very well, then, I'll stay," said Aleck; "but I do hope the poor fellow will not be caught by the cutter's men."

Aleck felt sorry as soon as he had said these words, for his companion gave another start.

"You feel that he won't come back?"

"I feel," said Aleck, quietly, "that we seem to be wasting time. Have you got a knife?"

"Yes, of course."

"So have I. Well, mine has a small blade; has yours?"

"Yes. Why?"

"One small blade would not be strong enough, but if two were thrust into the back of those irons together we might be able to open them. I believe all these fetters are opened by a square key, and I'm going to try."

"Ah, yes; do."

"Once get you free, we could pa.s.s the time climbing up the natural staircase, and get a look out from the top at the fresh green trees and clear sky."

Aleck's attempt to take his companion's attention was successful, inasmuch as after the production of the knives, and the changing the position of the opened lanthorn so that the dim light should do its best in illuminating the rusty anklet and chain, the midshipman began to take some feeble interest in the proceedings.

Aleck knew as much about handcuffs and fetters as he did about the binomial theorem, but he was one of those lads who are always ready to "have a try" at anything, and, after examining the square deeply-set holes which secured the anklets, he placed the two pen-blades of the knives together, forced them in as far as they would go, and tried to turn them.

The first effort resulted in a sharp clicking sound.

"There goes the edge of one blade," said the lad, coolly. "I hope it's your knife, and not mine. Hullo! Hooray! It turns!"

For the blades held fast, jammed as they were into the angles of the orifice, and the operator was able to turn the knives half way, and then all the way round.

"Now try," said the midshipman, beginning to take deep interest in the attempt.

"I have," said Aleck, gloomily; "the blades turn the inside, but the thing's as fast as ever."

"But you are not doing it right," said the middy.

"I suppose not; you try."

"No, no; go on. But you haven't turned enough."

"It wants the proper key," said Aleck.

"No, I think those knives will do, after all. I saw a sailor put in irons once for striking his superior officer, and I think that part wants not only turning like a key in a lock, but turning round and round, as if you were taking out a screw."

"Oh, I see," cried Aleck, with renewed eagerness, and he turned and turned till, to his great delight, the anklet fell open like an unclasped bracelet, and then dropped on to the folded sail-cloth which formed the prisoner's couch.

"Hooray!" shouted Aleck again.

"Hurrah! Hurrah!" cried the young officer, with a decision in his voice that brought up their first meeting in the harbour.

"There, it's all right," cried Aleck, as the young officer caught him by the hands; "nothing like patience and a good try."

"I--I can't thank you enough," said the middy, in a half suffocated voice.

"Well, who wants thanks, sailor?" cried Aleck. "Don't go on like that.

It's all right. I'm as glad as you are. Now, then--oh, I say, your being shut up here has pulled you down!"

"Yes, more than I knew, old fellow," said the middy. "There, I'm better now. You can't tell what an effect it had upon one. There were times in the night when, after dragging and dragging at that miserable iron, I grew half wild and ready to gnaw at my leg to get it free. Why, if you know the way out we can escape now."

"Yes, but let's play fair by Eben Megg. He has gone to try and get the key to open this thing, and I promised that I would wait till he came back."

"But he will not come back, I feel sure. He's only a smuggler, and ready to promise anything."

"Oh, no," said Aleck, "I don't think that. If he is not taken by the men from the boat he'll come back, I feel sure. So let's wait till the morning."

"I can't--I tell you I can't," cried the midshipman, half wild with hysterical excitement. "I must get out now at any cost. I couldn't bear another night in this place."

"Nonsense," cried Aleck, good-humouredly. "You bore it when you felt almost hopeless as a prisoner; surely now that you are as good as free you can manage to bear one more night!"

"No, I cannot and I will not," cried the young officer. "See to that lanthorn at once, and let's get out of this living tomb."

Aleck lit a fresh candle and secured it in the sconce, watching the midshipman the while as he sat up rubbing the freshly-freed leg, and then stood up and stamped his foot as if the leg were stiff. Then, as if satisfied that he could get along pretty well, he turned to his companion.

"It's rather bad," he said, excitedly; "but--I can manage now. Jump up and come along."

Aleck remained silent.

"Do you hear?" cried the middy.

"Yes. It's time now that we had something more to eat," said the lad, quietly.

"Eat? Eat? Who's going to think of eating now? I want to get out and breathe the cool, soft air. I feel just as if I were coming to life after having been buried. Here, pick up the lanthorn and let's start."

"If Eben Megg does not come back by the morning," said Aleck, coldly.

"What! Do you mean to tell me that you are going to stay here all night when the way's open?"

"The way is not open," said Aleck, coldly.