The day dragged slowly, oh, so slowly! The only thing in the cell beside the Bo's'n and myself was the knife. I had some slight thought of getting the knife down and playing a game by throwing the point at the cracks in the wall, but, after a scrutinizing look at the surly Bo's'n, I decided to let well enough alone. I was his superior as to strength, but, should he once succeed in obtaining that weapon, I was not at all sure what would follow. The prospect of wealth, or else the loss of it, had changed the Bo's'n's nature, and where once I had considered this man strange and queer, I had now come to the belief that he was really mad.
I raised my eyes to the small opening in the wall, and began to wonder how I could reach it. As it was, I could see only the deep blue, and the trade-wind clouds drifting, drifting, drifting across my vision. One sees that which he longs for in the clouds brought by the trade wind, and as I watched there passed before my eyes a long procession of ships, full-rigged ships, with swelling sails; ships, high up on whose stern and prow stood, marked against the background of blue, guns of enormous calibre. The bows of these vessels were all pointed toward the north. They meant life and freedom.
"Bo's'n," said I, "you will see that there is no furniture of any kind in this cell. I should like very much to look from that little window up there. I can reach it very well with my hands, but I can't see out. Would you mind letting me have the use of your back for a few minutes, Bo's'n?"
"Certainly not, sir," said the Bo's'n with the greatest politeness.
Whereupon he crouched down upon the floor and I stood upon his back. From the open port I had a splendid and extensive view. It was quite large enough for me to put my head out and look all about me, but I found, with regret, that my shoulders would not go through the opening. Of course, my jailers knew this before I was placed in the casemate. I looked abroad, I looked to right, to left, and then I looked downward. I found that we were in a sort of square tower or bastion, and that we were, so to speak, in the second story. And as I gazed beneath me I saw a hand protrude from another port, perhaps, or some other opening. It was a woman's hand, and on the wedding finger I saw the ring that I had given to Cynthia. The hand grasped a handkerchief, which it waved as if to attract attention. The hand, I saw, was Cynthia's own. So she was incarcerated below me! I called softly, "Cynthia! Cynthia!" and then getting no response, I called louder. There was no one near. Indeed, there was no esplanade or terrace surrounding our side of the fortress; only a sheer wall, which fell away to the depth of a hundred feet or more, until it reached the slope of the mountain where its foundation had been built. The fortress had been begun by the French upon the mountain-top called the "Bishop's Hat," and for the erection of the citadel they had selected the very crown and apex of the summit, where the land slopes steeply away on every side.
"Cynthia!" again I called. "Do speak to me. It is I—Hiram."
Whereupon the hand was withdrawn and Cynthia's head emerged from the opening below. She turned her face to me as well as she could, and looked upward.
"Oh, is that you? How glad I am!" she exclaimed. "How strange that we should be so near each other!"
"Are you alone?" I asked anxiously.
"Yes, and likely to be. It seems that we were overheard last evening, and when I went back to speak to you for a moment I was seized upon. I did not dream that you were here. I thought that I was alone. Your presence gives me hope, Hiram."