for the next couple of days, bill and osceola sweated in their hot-box of a cell. what with the heat, the lack of proper ventilation, and the uncertainty of their fate, both lads sank into a state of mind that bordered on despondency.

the monotony of their existence was broken but three times a day, when meals were brought to the prisoners’ cells by a steward. the man was invariably accompanied by the armed sentry, who acted as turnkey.

229

there appeared to be no possible means of escape. day and night the electric lights in the passage beyond the steel bars burned brightly. the sentry outside the gate was relieved by another seaman every four hours, with the change of watch. with nothing to read, nothing to do, the lads spent most of their time lying in the bunks or taking turns pacing the narrow confines of their cell.

sunday night, shortly after ten o’clock the tremble of the ship’s engines stopped. the lads guessed that the amtonia had reached her destination at last. half an hour later they heard the sentry speaking to someone in the passage just beyond the gate. although the conversation was carried on in german, bill was able to get the gist of it.

“what’s the matter, hans?” inquired the sentry. “aren’t you going ashore with the rest of the boys?”

“not me,” replied hans. “i’ve got to start swabbing out bathrooms at four o’clock.”

“well, i’m going,” the sentry declared, “just as soon as otto relieves me at midnight. it isn’t often we have the chance to stretch our legs ashore and have a good time.”

230

“if your idea of a good time is to swill american homebrew in a speakeasy, it’s not mine,” the other retorted. “i’m from munich, i am. good brown lionsbrew for me. i can’t stomach the stuff they sell you on this side. anyway, i’ve been on my feet all day long. my legs get all the stretching they want aboard this ship. i’m tired—good night!”

the lads heard the door of the cabin next to them slam shut as hans went to his well-earned rest.

“that,” laughed bill, “is the first bit of comedy i’ve heard since we landed aboard this blooming pirate. that heinie’s a sensible man. we might as well turn in, too. tomorrow, i suppose, they’ll take us ashore and stand us up against a stone fence. i for one don’t want to think any more about it than i have to.”

“keep on talking—don’t stop!” said osceola in a low voice. “either hans or someone else next door is scraping on his side of the wall. i’ll try to find out what it’s all about.”

231

bill nodded and immediately launched into a long account of the army and navy football game in which he had played the previous fall. meanwhile osceola climbed into the lower bunk, and lying flat, pressed his ear against the wooden partition which separated their cell from the bath-steward’s cabin.

the slight scraping continued and presently the sharp-eyed seminole saw the point of a knife appear through a board. the slit slowly widened, and a folded piece of paper was pushed halfway through. osceola grabbed it and scanned the writing that covered both sides. he passed it to bill, who accomplished the difficult feat of reading it while continuing his story of the football game. the handwriting, though tiny, was unformed and he guessed at once that the message was from charlie. it ran:

232

“dear bill—hans is my bath stewward. he is o.k. have promissed dad will make him rich for life if he helps you and the cheif. he will cut through the boards to your cell. hang your blankits down over the edge of your upper bearth so as to deden sound. he will push through another knife so you can do some cuting. i think the other one better talk or sing or something so the centry can’t here you cuting. if you get away take hans to. his name will be mud after this on board the amtonia.

“yours truley,

“charles evans.”

bill smiled broadly as he pocketed the boyish, misspelled note. then, still keeping up his endless monologue anent football, he hung the blankets, forming a curtain which completely shut in the lower bunk. osceola was already at work with a knife that hans had passed through the opening.

bill continued to talk for the next twenty minutes, but then he pulled aside one corner of the blanket. the bunk was like a bake oven. osceola was sweating from every pore.

“my turn now. come out, and don’t forget to talk.”

233

osceola handed the knife to bill, grabbed his clothes and slipped out of the bunk.

immediately bill climbed in and divested himself of the underclothes he wore. because of the heat, neither of the lads had been clothed in more than their undershirts and shorts since their incarceration. as the blanket dropped back into place, he heard osceola begin a recital of some hunting trip he had taken down in the florida everglades. he was surprised to find how the double blankets deadened the sound of his friend’s voice.

it was pitch dark in the bunk. he was just beginning to wonder exactly where he should get to work when a light appeared through two parallel slits in the wall-boards. these, he saw, were about three feet long and perhaps a foot and a half apart. from the cabin beyond the voice of hans came in a sibilant whisper.

234

“if the herr lieutenant will be good enough to start cutting across the boards from the bottom of one slit to the bottom of the other? i shall work on the top end. it is not necessary to tell the lieutenant not to press too hard with his knife. the sound of splintering wood can be heard in the passage. there is no need to disturb the sentry—just yet.”

bill heard the steward chuckle. then, except for the very slight sound of the knives as they cut across the grain of the wood, no other came to his ears save the low mumble of osceola’s voice beyond the blankets.

it was hard work and tedious, slicing across the grain of the boards. the heat made bill dizzy, and he stopped frequently to wipe away the sweat that streamed down into his eyes. after what seemed an endless age, hans spoke again.

“i have cut through to the farther slit, sir. will the herr lieutenant be good enough now to place the palm of his hand against the piece that is to come out? there must be no cracking of the wood when we remove it.”

“okay,” whispered bill.

235

less than five minutes later, he completed his job. hans took the panel they had cut from the wall and switched off the light in his cabin.

“stand by,” said bill. “we’ll be with you just as soon as i can get a drink and put on my clothes.”

“very good, sir,” returned the man, and bill climbed out of the bunk.

he went at once to the washbasin where he rinsed out his mouth and drank a few swallows of the tepid water. a quick sluice and a rubdown followed. then he got quickly into his white linen uniform. osceola, who was already dressed, spent the time in taking down the blankets, folding them and tossing them onto the upper berth. far down the passageway they heard a bell tinkle eight times.

“midnight,” said bill, in a low tone. “yes, there’s otto, relieving our weary sentry at last. we’ll give him five minutes to vamoose, then we’ll get out of here.”

236

that seemed the longest five minutes of their lives. they kept their eyes glued on the luminous dials of their wrist-watches.

“time’s up!” said bill at last.

“to the second,” was the seminole’s sole comment. one after the other they got into the lower berth and squeezed through the opening in the wall.

“what’s the plan now, hans?” bill whispered in the darkness.

“with permission, sir, i will go into the passage and talk to otto, who is on watch now. i will leave the cabin door ajar, sir, and as soon as his back is turned, it will be well if the gentlemen come out and—”

“scrag him,” bill supplied.

“that’s it, sir. here are four pieces of rope and a gag. that ought to be enough to keep otto quiet. will the gentlemen please take me with them,” he asked somewhat diffidently, “when they leave the ship?”

237

“you bet we will!” said osceola. “only don’t be so darned polite. you make me nervous. cut along now, we’ll attend to otto just as soon as you get him facing the right way.”

“very good, sir. thank you, sir.”

hans opened the door and went out, leaving it slightly ajar. from the shadows beside it, the lads saw him approach the sentry, who lounged on a stool by the gate.

“too hot in there to sleep,” remarked hans. “i’m going above to catch a breath of air.”

“wish i could!” the sentry placed his rifle against the wall. “this ship is an oven below-decks. practically the whole port watch has gone ashore. just my bad luck to be stuck down here.”

“look at the size of that rat!” exclaimed the steward, pointing down the prison corridor.

“where?” otto swung round toward the barred gate.

hans immediately caught up the rifle and pressed the muzzle against the man’s side. “one peep out of you,” he muttered, “and i’ll give you a bellyful!”

238

otto stared at him dazedly. before he could decide whether or not to make a move, bill thrust the gag in his mouth, while osceola caught his wrists and lashed them fast behind his back.

it took only a moment longer to tie up his ankles. otto was laid on the floor, and with hans in the lead and carrying the rifle, the three hurried down the passage away from the gate.