My search has been futile4. In my present condition, a prey5 to indefinable hallucinations it seems to me that these walls are thicker than ever, that they are gradually closing in upon and will crush me.
How long this mental trouble lasts I cannot say. But I afterwards find myself on the Beehive side, opposite the cell in which I cannot hope for either repose6 or sleep. Sleep, when my brain is in a whirl of excitement? Sleep, when I am near the end of a situation that threatened to be prolonged for years and years?
What will the end be as far as I am personally concerned? What am I to expect from the attack upon Back Cup, the success of which I have been unable to assure by placing Thomas Roch beyond the possibility of doing harm? His engines are ready to be launched, and as soon as the vessels7 have reached the dangerous zone they will be blown to atoms.
However this may be, I am condemned9 to pass the remaining hours of the night in my cell. The time has come for me to go in. At daybreak I shall see what is best for me to do. Meanwhile, for aught I know I may hear the thunder of Roch’s fulgurator as it destroys the ships approaching to make a night attack.
I take a last look round. On the opposite side a light, a single light, is burning. It is the lamp in Roch’s laboratory and it casts its reflection upon the waters of the lake.
No one is about, and it occurs to me that the pirates must have taken up their lighting10 positions outside and that the Beehive is empty.
Then, impelled11 by an irresistible12 instinct, instead of returning to my cell, I creep along the wall, listening, spying, ready to hide if I hear voices or footsteps.
I at length reach the passage.
God in heaven! No one is on guard there—the passage is free!
Without giving myself time to reflect I dart13 into the dark hole, and grope my way along it. Soon I feel a fresher air—the salt, vivifying air of the sea, that I have not breathed for five months. I inspire it with avidity, with all the power of my lungs.
The outer extremity14 of the passage appears against the star-studded sky. There is not even a shadow in the way. Perhaps I shall be able to get outside.
I lay down, and crawl along noiselessly to the orifice and peer out.
Not a soul is in sight!
By skirting the rocks towards the east, to the side which cannot be approached from the sea on account of the reefs and which is not likely to be watched, I reach a narrow excavation15 about two hundred and twenty-five yards from where the point of the coast extends towards the northwest.
At last I am out of the cavern. I am not free, but it is the beginning of freedom.
On the point the forms of a few sentries16 stand out against the clear sky, so motionless that they might be mistaken for pieces of the rock.
On the horizon to the west the position lights of the warship17 show in a luminous18 line.
From a few gray patches discernable in the east, I calculate that it must be about five o’clock in the morning.
November 18.—It is now light enough for me to be able to complete my notes relating the details of my visit to Thomas Roch’s laboratory—the last lines my hand will trace, perhaps.
I have begun to write, and shall dot down the incidents of the attack as they occur.
The light damp mist that hangs over the water soon lifts under the influence of the breeze, and at last I can distinguish the warships19.
There are five of them, and they are lying in a line about six miles off, and consequently beyond the range of Roch’s engines.
My fear that after passing in sight of the Bermudas the squadron would continue on its way to the Antilles or Mexico was therefore unfounded. No, there it is, awaiting broad daylight in order to attack Back Cup.
There is a movement on the coast. Three or four pirates emerge from the rocks, the sentries are recalled and draw in, and the entire band is soon assembled. They do not seek shelter inside the cavern, knowing full well that the ships can never get near enough for the shells of the big guns to reach, the island.
I run no risk of being discovered, for only my head protrudes20 above the hole in the rock and no one is likely to come this way. The only thing that worries me is that Serko, or somebody else may take it into his head to see if I am in my cell, and if necessary to lock me in, though what they have to fear from me I cannot conceive.
At twenty-five minutes past seven: Ker Karraje, Engineer Serko and Captain Spade advance to the extremity of the point, where they sweep the north-western horizon with their telescopes. Behind them the six trestles are installed, in the grooves21 of which are Roch’s autopropulsive engines.
Thirty-five minutes past seven: Smoke arises from the stacks of the warships, which are getting under way and will soon be within range of the engines.
Horrible cries of joy, salvos of hurrahs—howls of wild beasts I might more appropriately say—arise from the pirate horde22.
At this moment Engineer Serko quits Ker Karraje, whom he leaves with Captain Spade, and enters the cavern, no doubt to fetch Thomas Roch.
When Ker Karraje orders the latter to launch his engines against the ships will he remember what I told him? Will not his crime appear to him in all its horror? Will he refuse to obey? No, I am only too convinced of the contrary. It is useless to entertain any illusion on the subject. The inventor believes he is on his own property. They are going to attack it. He will defend it.
The five warships slowly advance, making for the point. Perhaps they imagine on board that Thomas Roch has not given up his last and greatest secret to the pirates—and, as a matter of fact, he had not done so when I threw the keg into the lagoon23. If the commanders propose to land storming parties and the ships advance into the zone of danger there will soon be nothing left of them but bits of shapeless floating wreckage24.
Here comes Thomas Roch accompanied by Engineer Serko. On issuing from the passage both go to the trestle that is pointing towards the leading warship.
Ker Karraje and Captain Spade are awaiting them.
As far as I am able to judge, Roch is calm. He knows what he is going to do. No hesitation25 troubles the soul of the hapless man whom hatred26 has led astray.
Between his fingers shines the glass phial containing the deflagrator liquid.
He then gazes towards the nearest ship, which is about five miles’ distant.
She is a cruiser of about two thousand five hundred tons—not more.
She flies no flag, but from her build I take her to belong to a nation for which no Frenchman can entertain any particular regard.
The four other warships remain behind.
It is this cruiser which is to begin the attack.
Let her use her guns, then, since the pirates allow her to approach, and may the first of her projectiles
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