I insisted that we wait ten minutes longer, to make it more certain the scoundrel had left the building, and then we began the task which I confidently expected would result in our release.
The rope was made fast as before, and we two laid hold of it with a will; but haul and pull as we would, the bars remained firmly in place. That one which we had started during the afternoon was immovable, and the perspiration was running down our faces in tiny streams before we were ready to admit that the plan was a failure.
"He'll work his will with us," Phil said with a sob as we ceased our efforts and stood facing each other in the darkness. "We can't get out!"
"Don't lose your courage so soon. We can work at the mortar all day to-morrow, and then I'm certain the bars will yield."
"By that time the Essex will have left port."
"Other American vessels put in here, and surely we can work our way home without being forced to serve on board a whaler. Besides, the Essex is likely to visit this port more than once before her work in the Pacific is concluded."
Phil would not be soothed, and he turned from me impatiently just as I fancied a low whistle sounded outside, near the garden wall.
In an instant I was at the window, pressing my face against the bars until the iron made great ridges on my cheeks; but the silence was profound, and I believed that which I heard was nothing more than the wind.
Turning from the window in disappointment, I was about to speak to Phil, when the whistle sounded again, low and soft, but so distinctly that there could be no mistake.