- end_line
- 726
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:05.590Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 655
- text
- his own state of perspiration prevents it from producing any
intoxicating effect upon him.
Late at night the company break up. Furnished with a pair of handcuffs,
the prisoner is laid on a blanket spread upon the floor at the side of
the bed in which his two keepers are to repose. Expressing much
gratitude for the blanket, with apparent unconcern, Israel stretches
his legs. An hour or two passes. All is quiet without.
The important moment had now arrived. Certain it was, that if this
chance were suffered to pass unimproved, a second would hardly present
itself. For early, doubtless, on the following morning, if not some way
prevented, the two soldiers would convey Israel back to his floating
prison, where he would thenceforth remain confined until the close of
the war; years and years, perhaps. When he thought of that horrible old
hulk, his nerves were restrung for flight. But intrepid as he must be
to compass it, wariness too was needed. His keepers had gone to bed
pretty well under the influence of the liquor. This was favorable. But
still, they were full-grown, strong men; and Israel was handcuffed. So
Israel resolved upon strategy first; and if that failed, force
afterwards. He eagerly listened. One of the drunken soldiers muttered
in his sleep, at first lowly, then louder and louder,—“Catch ’em!
Grapple ’em! Have at ’em! Ha—long cutlasses! Take that, runaway!”
“What’s the matter with ye, Phil?” hiccoughed the other, who was not
yet asleep. “Keep quiet, will ye? Ye ain’t at Fontenoy now.”
“He’s a runaway prisoner, I say. Catch him, catch him!”
“Oh, stush with your drunken dreaming,” again hiccoughed his comrade,
violently nudging him. “This comes o’ carousing.”
Shortly after, the dreamer with loud snores fell back into dead sleep.
But by something in the sound of the breathing of the other soldier,
Israel knew that this man remained uneasily awake. He deliberated a
moment what was best to do. At length he determined upon trying his old
plea. Calling upon the two soldiers, he informed them that urgent
necessity required his immediate presence somewhere in the rear of the
house.
“Come, wake up here, Phil,” roared the soldier who was awake; “the
fellow here says he must step out; cuss these Yankees; no better
edication than to be gettin’ up on nateral necessities at this time
o’night. It ain’t nateral; its unnateral. D—-n ye, Yankee, don’t ye
know no better?”
With many more denunciations, the two now staggered to their feet, and
clutching hold of Israel, escorted him down stairs, and through a long,
narrow, dark entry; rearward, till they came to a door. No sooner was
this unbolted by the foremost guard, than, quick as a flash, manacled
Israel, shaking off the grasp of the one behind him, butts him
sprawling back into the entry; when, dashing in the opposite direction,
he bounces the other head over heels into the garden, never using a
hand; and then, leaping over the latter’s head, darts blindly out into
the midnight. Next moment he was at the garden wall. No outlet was
discoverable in the gloom. But a fruit-tree grew close to the wall.
Springing into it desperately, handcuffed as he was, Israel leaps atop
of the barrier, and without pausing to see where he is, drops himself
to the ground on the other side, and once more lets grow all his wings.
Meantime, with loud outcries, the two baffled drunkards grope
deliriously about in the garden.
After running two or three miles, and hearing no sound of pursuit,
Israel reins up to rid himself of the handcuffs, which impede him.
After much painful labor he succeeds in the attempt. Pressing on again
with all speed, day broke, revealing a trim-looking, hedged, and
beautiful country, soft, neat, and serene, all colored with the fresh
early tints of the spring of 1776.
Bless me, thought Israel, all of a tremble, I shall certainly be caught
now; I have broken into some nobleman’s park.
- title
- Chunk 5