Timothy Crump's Ward: A Story of American Life Read online

  TO give an idea of the difficulties of Jack's situation, let it berepeated that there was but one door to the room, and this was boltedon the outside. The room was in the second story. The only two windowslooked out upon a court. These windows were securely fastened. Still away might have been devised to break through them, if this would at allhave improved his condition. Of this, however, there seemed but littlechance. Even if he had succeeded in getting safely into the court, therewould have been difficulty and danger in getting into the street.

  All these considerations passed through Jack's mind, and occasionedhim no little perplexity. He began to think that the redoubtableBaron Trenck himself might have been puzzled, if placed under similarcircumstances.

  At length this suggestion occurred to him: Why might he not cut a holethrough the door, just above or below the bolt, sufficiently large forhim to thrust his hand through, and slip it back? Should he succeed inthis, he would steal down stairs, and as, in all probability, the keywould be in the outside door, he could open it, and then he would befree.

  With hope springing up anew in his heart, he hastened to the door andexamined it. It was of common strength. He might, perhaps, have beenable to kick it open, but of course this was not to be thought of, asthe noise would at once attract the attention of those interested infrustrating his plans.

  Fortunately, Jack was provided with a large, sharp jack-knife. He didnot propose, however, to commence operations at present. In the daytimehe would be too subject to a surprise. With evening, he resolvedto commence his work. He might be unsuccessful, and subjected, inconsequence, to a more rigorous confinement; but of this he must run therisk. "Nothing venture, nothing have."

  Jack awaited the coming of evening with impatience. The afternoon hadnever seemed so long.

  It came at last--a fine moonlight night. This was fortunate, for hisaccommodating host, from motives of economy possibly, was not in thehabit of providing him with a candle.

  Jack thought it prudent to wait till he heard the city clocks pealingthe hour of twelve. By this time, as far as he could see from hiswindows, there were no lights burning, and all who occupied the buildingwere probably asleep.

  He selected that part of the door which he judged to be directly underthe bolt, and began to cut away with his knife. The wood was soft, andeasy of excavation. In the course of half an hour Jack had cut a holesufficiently large to pass his hand through, but found that, in orderto reach the bolt, he must enlarge it a little. This took him fifteenminutes longer.

  His efforts were crowned with success. As the city clock struck oneJack softly drew back the bolt, and, with a wild throb of joy, felt thatfreedom was half regained. But his (sic) embarassments were not quiteat an end. Opening the door, he found himself in the entry, but in thedarkness. On entering the house he had not noticed the location of thestairs, and was afraid that some noise or stumbling might reveal toFoley the attempted escape of his prisoner. He took off his boots, andcrept down-stairs in his stocking feet. Unfortunately he had not keptthe proper bearing in his mind, and the result was, that he opened thedoor of a room on one side of the front door. It was used as a bedroom.At the sound of the door opening, the occupant of the bed, Mr. Foleyhimself, called out, drowsily, "Who's there?"

  Jack, aware of his mistake, precipitately retired, and concealed himselfunder the front stairs, a refuge which his good fortune led him to, forhe could see absolutely nothing.

  The sleeper, just awakened, was naturally a little confused in hisideas. He had not seen Jack. He had merely heard the noise, and thoughthe saw the door moving. But of this he was not certain. To make sure,however, he got out of bed, and opening wide the door of his room,called out, "Is anybody there?"

  Jack had excellent reasons for not wishing to volunteer an answer tothis question. One advantage of the opened door (for there was a smalloil lamp burning in the room) was to reveal to him the nature of themistake he had made, and to show him the front door in which, by raregood fortune, he could discover the key in the lock.

  Meanwhile the old man, to make sure that all was right, went up-stairs,far enough to see that the door of the apartment in which Jack had beenconfined was closed. Had he gone up to the landing he would have seenthe aperture in the door, and discovered the hole, but he was sleepy,and anxious to get back to bed, which rendered him less watchful.

  "All seems right," he muttered to himself, and re-entered thebed-chamber, from which Jack could soon hear the deep, regular breathingwhich indicated sound slumber. Not till then did he creep cautiouslyfrom his place of concealment, and advancing stealthily to the frontdoor, turn the key, and step out into the faintly-lighted street. Adelightful sensation thrilled our hero, as he felt the pure air fanninghis cheek.

  "Nobody can tell," thought he, "what a blessed thing freedom is till hehas been cooped up, as I have been, for the last week. Won't the old manbe a little surprised to find, in the morning, that the bird has flown?I've a great mind to serve him a little trick."

  So saying, Jack drew the key from its place inside, and locking the doorafter him, went off with the key in his pocket. First, however, he tookcare to scratch a little mark on the outside of the door, as he couldnot see the number, to serve as a means of identification.

  This done Jack made his way as well as he could guess to the house ofhis uncle, the baker. Not having noticed the way by which Peg had ledhim to the house, he wandered at first from the straight course. Atlength, however, he came to Chestnut Street. He now knew where he was,and, fifteen minutes later, he was standing before his uncle's door.

  Meanwhile, Abel Crump had been suffering great anxiety on account ofJack's protracted absence. Several days had now elapsed, and still hewas missing. He had been unable to find the slightest trace of him.

  "I am afraid of the worst," he said to his wife, on the afternoon of theday on which Jack made his escape. "I think Jack was probably rash andimprudent, and I fear, poor boy, they may have proved the death of him."

  "Don't you think there is any hope? He may be confined."

  "It is possible; but, at all events, I don't think it right to keep itfrom Timothy any longer. I've put off writing as long as I could, hopingJack would come back, but I don't feel as if I ought to hold it back anylonger. I shall write in the morning, and tell Timothy to come right on.It'll be a dreadful blow to him."

  "Yes, better wait till morning, Abel. Who knows but we may hear fromJack before that time?"

  The baker shook his head.

  "If we'd been going to hear, we'd have heard before this time," he said.

  He did not sleep very soundly that night. Anxiety for Jack, and thethought of his brother's affliction, kept him awake.

  About half-past two, he heard a noise at the front door, followed by aknocking. Throwing open the window, he exclaimed, "Who's there?"

  "A friend," was the answer.

  "What friend?" asked the baker, suspiciously. "Friends are not very aptto come at this time of night."

  "Don't you know me, Uncle Abel?" asked a cheery voice.

  "Why, it's Jack, I verily believe," said Abel Crump, joyfully, as hehurried down stairs to admit his late visitor.

  "Where in the name of wonder have you been, Jack?" he asked, surveyinghis nephew by the light of the candle.

  "I've been shut up, uncle,--boarded and lodged for nothing,--by somepeople who liked my company better than I liked theirs. But to-nightI made out to escape, and hero I am. I'll tell you all about it in themorning. Just now I'm confoundedly hungry, and if there's anything inthe pantry, I'll ask permission to go in there a few minutes."

  "I guess you'll find something, Jack. Take the candle with you. ThankGod, you're back alive. We've been very anxious about you."

  CHAPTER XXII. MR. JOHN SOMERVILLE.