"My Uncle John, who is married, and has already two daughters."
"Blessings on him! Peter, my boy, you shall be a lord before you die."
"Nonsense, O'Brien; I have no chance."
"What chance had I of being lieutenant, and am I not one? And now, my boy, prepare yourself to quit this cursed hole in a week, wind and weather permitting. But, Peter, do me one favour. As I am really a lieutenant, just touch your hat to me, only once, that's all; but I wish the compliment, just to see how it looks."
"Lieutenant O'Brien," said I, touching my hat, "have you any further orders?"
"Yes, sir," replied he; "that you never presume to touch your hat to me again, unless we sail together, and then that's a different sort of thing."
A week later, O'Brien's preparations were complete. I had bought a new umbrella on his advice, and this he had painted with a preparation of oil and beeswax. He had also managed to procure a considerable amount of twine, which he had turned into a sort of strong cord, or square plait.
At twelve o'clock on a dark November night we left our room and went down into the yard. By means of pieces of iron, which he drove into the interstices of the stone, we scaled a high wall, and dropped down on the other side by a drawbridge. Here the sentry was asleep, but O'Brien gagged him, and I threw open the pan of his musket to prevent him from firing.
Then I followed O'Brien into the river. The umbrella was opened and turned upwards, and I had only to hold on to it at arm's-length. O'Brien had a tow line, and taking this in his teeth, he towed me down with the stream to about a hundred yards clear of the fortress, where we landed. O'Brien was so exhausted that for a few minutes he remained quite motionless. I also was benumbed with the cold.
"Peter," said he, "thank God we have succeeded so far. Now we must push on as far as we can, for we shall have daylight in two hours."