However this may be, I am condemned to pass the remaining hours of the night in my cell. The time has come for me to go in. At daybreak I shall see what is best for me to do. Meanwhile, for aught I know I may hear the thunder of Roch’s fulgurator as it destroys the ships approaching to make a night attack.
I take a last look round. On the opposite side a light, a single light, is burning. It is the lamp in Roch’s laboratory and it casts its reflection upon the waters of the lake.
No one is about, and it occurs to me that the pirates must have taken up their lighting positions outside and that the Beehive is empty.
Then, impelled by an irresistible instinct, instead of returning to my cell, I creep along the wall, listening, spying, ready to hide if I hear voices or footsteps.
I at length reach the passage.
God in heaven! No one is on guard there—the passage is free!
Without giving myself time to reflect I dart into the dark hole, and grope my way along it. Soon I feel a fresher air—the salt, vivifying air of the sea, that I have not breathed for five months. I inspire it with avidity, with all the power of my lungs.
The outer extremity of the passage appears against the star-studded sky. There is not even a shadow in the way. Perhaps I shall be able to get outside.
I lay down, and crawl along noiselessly to the orifice and peer out.
Not a soul is in sight!