on recovering from the stunning effects of the blow that had felled me, i found myself lying on a hard earthen floor, surrounded by deep impenetrable darkness.
“are you there, jack?” i sighed faintly.
“ay, bob, i’m here—at least, all o’ me that’s left. i confess to you that i do feel a queer sensation, as if the one half of my head were absent and the other half a-wanting, while the brain lies exposed to the atmosphere. but i suppose that’s impossible.”
“where are we, jack?”
“we’re in an outhouse, in the hands of planters; so i made out by what i heard them say when i got my senses back; but i’ve no notion of what part o’ the world we’re in. moreover, i don’t care. a man with only one leg, no head, and an exposed brain, isn’t worth caring about. i don’t care for him—not a button.”
“oh, jack, dear, don’t speak like that—i can’t stand it.”
“you’re lying down, ain’t you?” inquired jack.
“yes.”
“then how d’you know whether you can stand it or not?”
i was so overcome, and, to say the truth, surprised, at my companion’s recklessness, that i could not reply. i lay motionless on the hard ground, meditating on our forlorn situation, when my thoughts were interrupted by the grating sound of a key turning in a lock. the door of the hut opened, and four men entered, each bearing a torch, which cast a brilliant glare over the hovel in which we were confined. there was almost nothing to be seen in the place. it was quite empty. the only peculiar thing that i observed about it was a thick post, with iron hooks fixed in it, which rose from the centre of the floor to the rafters, against which it was nailed. there were also a few strange-looking implements hanging round the walls, but i could not at first make out what these were intended for. i now perceived that jack and i were chained to the wall.
going to the four corners of the apartment, the four men placed their four torches in four stands that seemed made for the purpose, and then, approaching us, ranged themselves in a row before us. two of them i recognised as being the men we had first seen in the swamp; the other two were strangers.
“so, my bucks,” began one of the former,—a hideous-looking man, whose personal appearance was by no means improved by a closed eye, a flattened nose, and a swelled cheek, the result of jack’s first flourish of his wooden leg,—“so, we’ve got you, have we? the hounds have got you, eh?”
“so it appears,” replied jack, in a tone of quiet contempt, as he sat on the ground with his back leaning against the wall, his hands clasped above his solitary knee, and his thumbs revolving round each other slowly. “i say,” continued jack, an expression of concern crossed his handsome countenance, “i’m afraid you’re damaged, rather, about your head-piece. your eye seems a little out of order, and, pardon me, but your nose is a little too flat—just a little. my poor fellow, i’m quite sorry for you; i really am, though you are a dog.”
the man opened his solitary eye and stared with amazement at jack, who smiled, and, putting his head a little to the other side, returned the stare with interest.
“you’re a bold fellow,” said the man, on recovering a little from his surprise.
“i’m sorry,” retorted jack, “that i cannot return you the compliment.”
i was horrified. i saw that my poor friend, probably under the influence of madness, had made up his mind to insult and defy our captors to their teeth, regardless of consequences. i tried to speak, but my lips refused their office. the man grinned horribly and gnashed his teeth, while the others made as though they would rush upon us and tear us limb from limb. but their chief, for such the spokesman seemed to be, restrained them.
“hah!” he gasped, looking fiercely at jack, and at the same time pointing to the implements on the wall, “d’ye see these things?”
“not being quite so blind as you are, i do.”
“d’ye know what they’re for?”
“not being a demon, which you seem to be, i don’t.”
“hah! these—are,” (he spoke very slowly, and hissed the words out between his teeth),—“torterers!”
“what?” inquired jack, putting his head a little more to one side and revolving his thumbs in a contrary direction, by way of variety.
“torterers—man-torterers! what d’ye twirl your thumbs like that for, eh?”
“because it reminds me how easily, if i were unchained and had on my wooden leg, i could twirl you round your own neck, and cram your heels into your own mouth, and ram you down your own throat, until there was nothing of you left but the extreme ends of your shirt-collar sticking out of your eyes.”
the mention of this peculiarly complicated operation seemed to be too much for the men: setting up a loud yell, they rushed upon jack and seized him.
“quick—the screws!” cried the man with the flattened nose.
a small iron instrument was brought, jack’s thumbs inserted therein, and the handle turned. i heard a harsh, grating sound, and observed my poor companion’s face grow deadly pale and his lips turn blue. but he uttered no cry, and, to my surprise, he did not even struggle.
“stop!” i shouted in a voice of thunder.
the men looked round in surprise. at that moment a great idea seemed to fill my soul. i cannot explain what it was. to this day i do not know what it was. it was a mystery—an indescribable mystery. i felt as one might be supposed to feel whose spirit were capable of eating material food, and had eaten too much. it was awful! under the impulse of this sensation, i again shouted—
“stop!”
“why?”
“i cannot tell you why, until you unscrew that machine. quick! it is of the deepest, the most vital importance to yourselves.”
the extreme earnestness of my voice and manner induced the men to comply almost, i might say, in spite of themselves.
“now, lad, what is it? mind, your turn is coming; so don’t trifle with us.”
“trifle with you!” i said, in a voice so deep, and slow, and solemn,—with a look so preternaturally awful,—that the four men were visibly impressed.
“listen! i have a secret to tell you,—a secret that intimately concerns yourselves. it is a fearful one. you would give all you possess—your wealth, your very lives—rather than not know it. i can tell it to you; but not now. all the tortures of the inquisition could not drag it out of me. nay, you need not smile. if you did torture me before i told you this secret, that would have the effect of rendering my information useless to you. nothing could then save you. i must be left alone with my friend for an hour. go! you may leave us chained; you may lock and bar your door; you may watch and guard the house; but go, leave us. much—too much—valuable time has been already lost. come back in one hour,” (here i pulled out my watch),—“in one hour and three minutes and five seconds, exactly; not sooner. go! quick! as you value your lives, your families, your property. and hark, in your ear,” (here i glared at them like a maniac, and sank my voice to a deep hoarse whisper), “as you value the very existence of your slaves, go, leave us instantly, and return at the hour named!”
the men were evidently overawed by the vehemence of my manner and the mysterious nature of my remarks. without uttering a word they withdrew, and locked the door behind them. happily they left the torches.
as soon as they were gone i threw my arms round my comrade’s neck, and, resting my head on his shoulder, bemoaned our sad lot.
“dear, dear jack, have they hurt you?”
“oh! nothing to speak of. but i say, bob, my boy, what on earth can this monstrous secret be? it must be something very tremendous?”
“my poor jack,” said i, regardless of his question, “your thumbs are bruised and bleeding. oh that i should have lived to bring you to this!”
“come, come, bob, enough of that. they are a little soreish, but nothing to what they would have been had you not stopped them. but, i say, what is this secret? i’m dying to know. my dear boy, you’ve no idea how you looked when you were spouting like that. you made my flesh creep, i assure you. come, out with it; what’s the secret?”
i felt, and no doubt looked, somewhat confused.
“do you know, jack,” said i, solemnly, “i have no secret whatever!”
jack gasped and stared—
“no secret, bob!”
“not the most distant shadow of one.”
jack pulled out his watch, and said in a low voice—
“bob, my boy, we have just got about three-quarters of an hour to live. when these villains come back, and find that you’ve been humbugging them, they’ll brain us on the spot, as sure as my name is john brown and yours is robert smith—romantic names, both of ’em; especially when associated with the little romance in which we are now involved. ha! ha! ha!”
i shrank back from my friend with the terrible dread, which had more than once crossed my mind, that he was going mad.
“oh, jack, don’t laugh, pray. could we not invent some secret to tell them?”
“not a bad idea,” returned my friend, gravely.
“well, let us think; what could we say?”
“ay, that’s the rub! suppose we tell them seriously that my wooden leg is a ghost, and that it haunts those who ill-treat its master, giving them perpetual bangs on the nose, and otherwise rendering their lives miserable?”
i shook my head.
“well, then, suppose we say we’ve been sent by the queen of england to treat with them about the liberation of the niggers at a thousand pounds a head; one hundred paid down in gold, the rest in american shin-plasters?”
“that would be a lie, you know, jack.”
“come, that’s good! you’re wonderfully particular about truth, for a man that has just told such tremendous falsehoods about a secret that doesn’t exist.”
“true, jack,” i replied, seriously, “i confess that i have lied; but i did not mean to. i assure you i had no notion of what i was saying. i think i was bewitched. all your nonsense rolled out, as it were, without my will. indeed, i did not mean to tell lies. yet i confess, to my shame, that i did. there is some mystery here, which i can by no means fathom.”
“fathom or not fathom,” rejoined my friend, looking at his watch again, “you got me into this scrape, so i request you to get me out of it. we have exactly twenty-five minutes and a half before us now.”
jack and i now set to work in real earnest to devise some plan of escape, or to invent some plausible secret. but we utterly failed. minute after minute passed; and, as the end of our time drew near, we felt less and less able to think of any scheme, until our brains became confused with the terror of approaching and inevitable death, aggravated by previous torture. i trembled violently, and jack became again uproarious and sarcastic. suddenly he grew quiet, and i observed that he began to collect a quantity of straw that was scattered about the place. making a large pile of it, he placed it before us, and then loosened one of the torches in its stand.
“there,” said he, with a sigh of satisfaction, when all was arranged, “we shall give our amiable friends a warm reception when they come.”
“but they will escape by the door,” said i, in much anxiety, “and we only shall perish.”
“never mind that, bob; we can only die once. besides, they sha’n’t escape; trust me for that.”
as he spoke we heard approaching footsteps. presently the key turned in the lock, and the door opened.
