CHAPTER VI.

Our doubts are traitors,

And make us lose the good we oft might win,

By fearing to attempt.

SHAKSPEARE.

It is now time to give some account of Sam and his companions, who were imprisoned in one of the old French fortresses in the interior of the country. Private humanity here, as in England, did something to alleviate the condition of the vanquished; but, as in most other situations, their happiness was dependant upon their own individual exertions..

It is not surprising that persons used to all the excitation of encountering and overcoming dangers to continual conflicts with the elements and the enemy-should not, all at once, reconcile

themselves to their imprisoned existence, or seek consolation in those pigmy employments contrary to the nature of any thing they had ever been accustomed to. In this respect, sors labour under a greater disadvantage than soldiers, who, before they enlist, usually learn some trade; while the seaman is a seaman, and no more.

Necessity, however, soon showed the advantage of employment; and Jack's immense fists, which had only been accustomed to handle ropes and handspikes, were presently applied to carving little pieces of bone, and the vete an brought up amidst the turmoils of war, sat making 2ws for children.

Sam and his shipmates had been already Sour years in prison, when Tom Merton, the Apta of the frete, and a forecastle-man,

Jasting, Jaring fellows as ever graced the jues of a sap. jetermined to attempt an es‐ With these two boid spirits Sam had

eg brune to be locked up at night,

moat.

an angle of the fortress that looked into the From their casement they could see a forest in the distance, and for months they had observed the brickwork of the fosse in one part so dilapidated, as to render it not difficult for a sailor to ascend, if they could contrive to reach the moat itself, in which there was but little water. Their cell, however, was high, and near to the battlements; the iron bars were outside of the glass; and the only chance of removing one of them was, to take out the corner stone in which it was fixed.

No escape had yet been made from the prison, and no suspicion was therefore entertained. Preparation would have been hazardous; and they wisely considered that their liberation must be effected suddenly, or not at all.

Winter had already set in, and along with it the cold damp vapoury winds belonging to the season. The forest, which was but a few miles distant, showed all the symptoms of decaying

vegetation. Each blast rifled the foliage; and already the skirts of the wood, bereft of its leafy ornaments, began to show the strength and beauty of the stems and boughs of the crowded trees.

The gallant tars waited with the greatest anxiety for a night that would favour their project by darkness and storms; while Sam, during the day, was oftener than usual seen to jump, rub his hands, and cry, “King Garge is de boy for de war!"

They managed to lay up, scrap by scrap, bread enough to last them about two days, and had each saved several francs out of the product of their industry.

Their plan was, that their blankets, bedticks, and spare clothes, should be cut into strips of sufficient strength to bear their weight, knotted together so as to form a kind of rope, which, being fastened to the remaining bar of the casement, would enable them to descend into the most. This arrangement, together with clearing away the lime from the stone,

and displacing the bar, was to be carried into effect immediately on their being locked up for the night.

All was now ready-it was a most tempestuous evening, and, as the prisoners peeped out in the dusk, they saw that the wind and sleet blew directly in the face of the tall grenadier who leaned on his musket, looking towards their window. The sense of risk and danger awakens suspicion; and they thought, for a moment, he looked more earnestly than common, along the fosse, towards the spot they had fixed upon for escape.

Night arrived: the hollow blast roared among the turrets, and the sleet rattled in wild whirls against the casement. Their's was not the fear of goblins, or phantoms, or fiends, or ghosts of murderers with ghastly grins; but it was the agitation of secrecy, and a real dark and dismal dungeon in prospective, if they failed in the success of their daring project, that caused them to hesitate when the key and bolts of their cell-door were turned by the