“It may be a hard job to do that,” said Jack; “and I should say it would be easier to run off with a boat or some small craft which we two could handle, and make our way in her across Channel. I know where to find the polar star. I have often been out at night when father steered by it, and we should be sure, some time or other, to make the English coast.”
“I should not like to run away with a poor man’s vessel. What would he say in the morning when he found his craft gone?” observed Bill. “It would be taking what is not ours to take. I never did and never would do that.”
Jack argued the point.
“The French are enemies of the English,” he said, “and therefore Englishmen have a perfect right to best them either afloat or on shore.”
Bill said he would consider the subject, and in the meantime they made a further survey of their prison. It could not be called luxuriantly furnished, considering that there was only a bench of no great width running along the side of one of the walls, and the remains of a table. One of the legs had gone, and part of the top, and it was propped up by a couple of empty casks.
There were neither bedsteads nor bedding of any description, but the bench was of sufficient length to allow both the boys to lie down on it.
The sun was on the point of setting when they reached the tower, and darkness soon stole on them.
“I wonder whether they intend to give us any supper,” said Jack, “or do they expect us to live on air?”
“I can hold out till to-morrow morning, but I should be thankful if they would bring us up something to-night; and we should be the better able to make our escape, if we have the opportunity,” observed Bill.
“Then I propose that we make a tremendous row, and that will bring some one up to sea what’s the matter. We can then point to our mouths to show that we are hungry, and perhaps they will take compassion on us,” said Jack.