Tom Newcombe; Or, the Boy of Bad Habits

by Harry Castlemon

Tom’s plan for escape was by making use of the rope—a clothes’-line—which, with the assistance of some of his friends, he had doubled and twisted; but it was still long enough to reach from the third story of the building to the ground. After the rope had been procured, it was a long time before any of the conspirators, except Rich and Miller, would consent to use it. The thought of lowering themselves down, from a second or third story window, with a clothes’-line, even though it was doubled and twisted, was enough to make them shudder. One of the new members had proposed to file a key to fit one of the outside doors, which were locked by the teachers, every night at nine o’clock; but this plan was at once voted down by the others, who argued that, even if they possessed a key that would open the door, they could not pass the sentries in the hall. Another desperate fellow, who had been reading a story of a mutiny at sea, proposed that they should knock the sentinels down, and tie them hand and foot. A third suggested that the Night-hawks be instructed to conceal themselves in different parts of the building, until the other students and the teachers had all gone to bed, when they would make their escape through the school-room windows. These and many other plans had been proposed and discussed; but, at last, the conspirators were compelled to acknowledge that Tom’s idea was the best. True, it was rather dangerous and even Tom himself hardly expected that it would be successful; but still, it promised better than any that had been proposed, and the grand commander was determined to attempt it.

The dormitory to which Miller and Rich belonged was in the third story of the academy, and directly over that occupied by Tom, Martin, and three or four other members of the society. Miller was to take possession of the rope, and, at midnight, open the third window from the front of the building, fasten one end of the rope securely to his bedstead, and throw the other to the ground. The boys in the upper dormitory were to make their descent first, and then those who belonged to dormitory H. Just as these plans had been determined upon, the ringing of the supper-bell broke up the council.

“Now, boys,” said Tom, “be very careful. Don’t go to sleep to-night; and, whatever you do, don’t make noise enough to disturb any outsiders.”

The Night-hawks separated, and, although many of them felt like criminals, no one who met them, as they entered the academy, had reason for supposing that any thing unusual was going on. Of course they were intensely excited, and more than one held his breath when he thought of hanging by a clothes’-line from a third story window. Tom, Rich, and Miller were the only ones who appeared to be unconcerned. They did not stop to think of the risk they were about to run; they thought only of the fine time they expected to have during the cruise, and how astonished the principal and all the teachers would be when they discovered that fourteen students had “taken French.”

At nine o’clock the conspirators marched, with the others, from the school-room to their dormitories, and, half an hour later, were all in bed, and, apparently, fast asleep. At eleven o’clock Mr. Hudson passed through dormitory H, and saw the grand commander lying with his head covered up in the quilts; but he did not notice that he snored louder than usual. Tom’s snoring, however, was not genuine. He was wide-awake, and, when Mr. Hudson entered his room and closed his door, the chief conspirator cautiously raised the quilts from his head and looked about. The lights in the dormitory burned dimly, and nothing disturbed the stillness save the gentle breathing of the sleepers, and the measured tread of the sentinels in the hall. After satisfying himself that all “outsiders” were sound asleep, Tom arose from the bed and pulled on his trowsers. He then wrapped his boots up in his coat, and, after casting a suspicious glance about the room, he cautiously raised the window at the head of his bed, and threw the bundle to the ground. After carefully closing the window, he again got into bed, no one but the wide-awake Night-hawks having witnessed his movements. Tom was greatly encouraged. If he could raise the window once without awaking any of his forty-eight sleeping room-mates, he could certainly do it again. From that moment he looked upon his escape as a settled thing, and he began to be impatient for Rich and Miller to begin operations. The latter, however, remembering their instructions, made no move until midnight, and the grand commander began to fear that they had disgracefully “backed out.” But presently he heard a noise that caused him to chuckle to himself, and to look toward the beds of the apparently sleeping Night-hawks, who, in fact, were as wide-awake as himself, and listening with all their ears. It was a grating, hissing sound, as if some heavy body was being lowered slowly, cautiously, down the side of the building. The Night-hawks in the upper dormitory were beginning to make their escape. There could be no mistake about it, and Tom began to be really excited now, his heart thumping against his ribs with a noise that frightened him. Slowly and steadily the body descended, and, in a few moments, Tom heard the rope tapping against the wall, showing that the boy, whoever he was, had reached the ground in safety. For five minutes all was silent, and then the same grating noise told the grand commander that a second boy was descending the rope. During the half hour that followed, the operation was repeated eight times, and Tom, who knew just how many boys there were in the dormitory above him who belonged to the Night-hawks, prepared to take his turn. After glancing cautiously about the room, in order to make sure that no “outsiders” in his dormitory had been alarmed, he arose from his bed, and, with trembling hands, arranged the quilts so that a careless observer would not have noticed that it was empty; then he stepped to the window, which he raised without making noise enough to disturb a cricket. Thrusting his arm out into the darkness, he clutched the rope, which was still suspended from the room above, and crawled carefully out of the window. The next moment he found himself dangling in the air thirty feet from the ground. His position was now a trying one. The clothes’-line cut into his hands, every thing below him was concealed by Egyptian darkness, and it is natural to suppose that the boy who was afraid to ascend the mast of a schooner felt his courage giving away when he found himself hanging from a second-story window. But Tom, remembering that ten boys had already made the descent in safety, and knowing that there were three more Night-hawks in the building waiting to make their escape, and that the least awkwardness on his part might alarm the sentries, clung to the rope with a death-gripe, and manfully choked back the cry for help that involuntarily arose to his lips. Slowly, cautiously, he worked his way downward, and presently an encouraging whisper came up through the darkness—“That’s the way to do it, Newcombe. You’re a brick. Go easy!” and the next moment the grand commander slid down the rope into the arms of his friends, receiving their congratulations apparently as unconcerned as if he had never in his life experienced the sentiment of fear.

The Escape from the Academy.—Page 286

Tom’s first care, upon finding himself safe on the ground, was to hunt up his coat and boots. By the time this was done, another boy had made his escape, and, in a quarter of an hour more, the last member of the society had been seized and embraced by his exultant friends.

“Who would have thought it, boys?” whispered Rich. “I tell you we have done something now worth bragging about. Won’t the old colonel open his eyes?”