“I do not know, sir. I am quite sure that it moved, and I did not see anyone near, and that is why I stopped when I heard the moaning—to see what was wrong, and I saw my guard lying on the floor.”
“You tell a very plain story, but can we believe it? I can not, and will try you out again on the same work.”
To the other guard he said: “You may take him back and see if what he has been telling is true.”
“Oh! I beg you not to try my strength on what would require three times the amount of strength I have, and perhaps cause another circumstantial evidence of murder, if the guard should be found dead, after reaching the hospital.”
“I shall not expect you to do so much. I want you to substantiate the story you are telling us. And now you may go back to the shipping quarters.”
I was taken, this time accompanied by the officer to whom I was talking and who was giving orders to place me where I should be given the work.
I thought, on the way back, that I should fall with fear and weakness. I could not see how I could have courage to try to move the unreasonable load again.
We are shown no mercy in prison—at least, I was not. Instead, I was bidden to do work which it was impossible for me to do, outside of prison walls. We accomplish a great many feats through fear. I am sure that I could not accomplish many which I did except through fear.
“Now, sir,” said the officer, “you say that you moved that iron that distance?”
“I did, sir.”