“They made a search for you at once,” he continued, “and happened to question one of our men who was too dull to realize that the inquiry meant any special danger to you, and so he told them you were wounded in the last battle, and had been taken to one of the hospitals. It was then easy for them to find you, and they have put the building here under double guards until you recover, when they are going to send you to New York.”
I merely nodded an assent, for the revelation, while not unexpected, nevertheless took all the talk out of me for the moment.
“I have tried my best to arrange an exchange for you, but they will not listen to it. So there is but one thing for us to do—it is to get you out of here in some way before they know you are able to be moved.”
“Can it be done?” I asked eagerly.
“Dr. Burns, Lieutenant Haines, and I have been in consultation several times,” he explained, “but we have not yet hit upon a way that seems practicable. The Doctor, however, is making them believe you are much worse off than you really are, and if he can keep them in ignorance of your actual condition until you are able to walk, we still hope to do it. Be of good courage, therefore, and get strong as fast as possible. You have escaped them every time so far, and I believe you will now,” and he left me.
I tried to be of good heart for I knew my three friends were all ingenious and resourceful and would find a way of escape for me were it possible. But, after all, it was not they, but the old sailor, Richard Jones—whom I had rescued from the sea and who had declared he would make good all I had done for him—who devised not only a way for my escape, but also for putting an end to all further search on the part of the British authorities for me. It came about in this way:
He saw me fall on the day of the battle, and turned at once to see if he could do anything for me, but before he reached my side was himself smitten by a bullet which laid him low. Taken to the same hospital as myself, and put on a cot in the same ward, almost his first inquiry when he came to consciousness was about me. From day to day as he grew weaker he rejoiced to know that I was growing stronger. Then there came a time when Dr. Burns had to tell him that he could live but a few hours.
“I’ve ben waitin’ for that word, Doctor,” he replied. “Do ye think I can hold out till night?”
“Yes,” the surgeon answered, “and perhaps until morning.”
“Then I’ve a favor to ax of ye,” the sailor continued.