Prisoners of Chance. Randall Parrish

thought he gave a gesture of dissent, yet so dense was the night I could barely note the movement.

      "I am not certain, my son, yet to my remembrance it leadeth up near the centre upon the river side. The building is doubtless empty of all its cotton at this time of year, and we should be able to feel our way across if only once within. How do you purpose gaining entrance?"

      "Pah! that is the simplest portion of the whole venture," I said confidently. "I am not likely to overlook such a point. The third window from here has a loosened shutter; I brought this stick to pry it apart. Then the interior will be ours, unless they keep a watchman stationed within."

      "Thou needst have small fear of that at this late season, and the building empty."

      We crept cautiously forward, myself in the lead, and feeling blindly in the darkness for the loosened shutter previously located. At last my groping hand touched it, and drawing the bottom outward as far as possible by mere grip of the fingers, I inserted the stout oaken bar within the aperture, and, after listening intently to detect any presence close at hand, exerted my strength upon the rude lever. There followed a slight rasping, as if a wire dragged along a nail—a penetrating shrillness there was to it which sent a tingle to the nerves—then the heavy shutter swung outward, leaving ample space for the passage of a man's body. I lifted myself by my hands and peered cautiously within. Everywhere was impenetrable blackness, while the silence was so profound as to give a sudden strange throb to my heart. Waiting no longer, I drew myself up on to the narrow ledge; then hung downward until my groping feet touched the floor. Once safely landed I leaned forth again, and in another moment the priest stood beside me, the shutter tightly drawn behind us. With a feeling of relief I faced that black interior. Now, at least, we were beyond chance of discovery by any prowling Spanish guard, and could advance more freely.

      "Lead on," I commanded shortly, resting my hand upon his shoulder to make sure of his presence. "I will keep hold upon your robe, so we shall not part company in the darkness."

      Very slowly we felt uncertain passage across the uneven floor. It appeared littered with innumerable articles of the box and barrel order, with here and there a pile of loose lumber, altogether making such a jumble of obstruction that keeping our direction became simply impossible in that intense darkness which seemed to fairly swallow us. We did well to proceed at all, and escape creating a racket by stumbling over some of the many unseen obstacles in our path. As to myself, I became so thoroughly confused by constant turning and climbing as to grow completely lost, but fortunately the priest kept a somewhat clearer brain, and, after groping blindly for some time, pausing occasionally as though he would smell his way like a dog, managed to put hand at last upon the object of his patient search.

      "'T is here," he whispered. "Shall I go up?"

      "Ay!" I returned hopefully, glad I had restrained the impatience of my tongue. "But try each rung before you venture stepping on it; they may prove rotten and give way beneath your weight."

      He swung himself up, after carefully tucking in his robe about the waist, but the ladder creaked so alarmingly beneath his tread I durst not venture my heavier weight upon it until he had safely reached the top. Finally the noise of his climbing ceased, and I could hear a board move high above me.

      "Are you up safe?" I questioned in a low voice.

      "All safe, praise be to God," came the cautious response; "but thou wilt do well, friend, to exercise grave care, as the way is bad."

      It required brief exploration to convince us that this second story possessed a strong, firm floor, although there remained some danger of there being traps in it for the hoisting of cotton, while the boards might not extend over the entire surface. By this time, however, our eyes had grown somewhat accustomed to the intense blackness enveloping us, so the slightest change in the prevailing gloom became quickly apparent. The air was so fresh and pure, with such a taste of the night in it, I became convinced there must be an opening somewhere close at hand, and whispered the suggestion to my companion. He proved keener of vision than I, for even as we thus spoke he plucked my sleeve and pointed upward.

      "Then surely it will be yonder," he exclaimed, with more eagerness of voice than I had before marked in him. "There is certainly a lightness to the atmosphere overhead, as if it came from a direct opening to the sky."

      It appeared true even to me, now that he had pointed out the spot.

      "It must be the roof hatch uplifted. Now if we discover a ladder leading thereto I shall accept it as proof that God guideth us this night, and feel new courage."

      "Our work is of God," said the père solemnly, "or I should never be here with you, and engaged upon it."

      "Nor have I ever doubted it, father," I made haste to answer, creeping cautiously forward across the ill-matched flooring. "Yet you have been a luckier man than I if never you found yourself in the wrong when you believed it to be right."

      There was a ladder there spliced with bits of rope, as we discovered, yet proving of sufficient strength to up-bear us one at a time. Thus we were soon out upon the great flat roof, lying prone at the edge, whither we had crept silently, peering cautiously forth upon the black river. That is, we gazed into the silent mystery where we knew the river must be, yet it was like peering into an impenetrable bank of cloud. There was something awesome about it, for out yonder, within a few yards of us, swung twenty great vessels of war, manned by thousands of fighting men, while not a sound reached us, except the slight creaking of strained cables, or the occasional dash of a wave against some obstruction in the stream; nor could anything be seen, if I except flitting sparks of light glimmering here and there like lost stars, serving to locate the positions of the various ships in their night anchorage.

      I felt, rather than saw, the devout priest at my side piously cross himself, and there was a mumbling of his lips in prayer, but I contented myself with searching through the gloom for a glimpse of the towering masts of the "Santa Maria," which must be close at hand. They remained invisible, shrouded behind the mist cloud. For one moment I cursed the intense blackness of the night, losing confidence in our venture. Yet, even as hope failed me, the dull creaking of a nearby cable sounded farther up stream. Guided by this I crept cautiously along the edge of the roof, aware as I proceeded that Father Petreni, imitating my example, pressed closely behind.

      Near the northern extremity of the long building we came to a halt, and, leaning well over the roof edge, I peered anxiously into the enveloping fog. A deeper density of shadow showed directly in front, which I felt convinced could be caused only by one of those vast spars around which canvas had been rolled, as noted that afternoon from the ship's deck. Vainly endeavoring to pierce the thick mist, I distinguished the steady tramping of some one pacing far beneath us. The sound came from farther out in the stream, where I might reasonably suppose the stern of the vessel to lie. I drew back, and placed my lips close to the priest's ear.

      "Can you distinguish any outline yonder?" I queried eagerly, pointing as I spoke, and feeling fearful lest my eyes had been deceived by fleeting night shadows.

      Resting upon his breast, one hand shading his eyes, he peered long in the direction indicated before venturing to reply.

      "There is a shade of something yonder," he admitted at last. "It rises a trifle above us, and almost directly out from this edge. 'T is hard to say of what it consists, yet 'tis of a peculiar shape, causing me to think of the foreyard of a big ship."

      "Exactly what I name it," I replied, set at ease by his prompt decision. "How far would you suppose the thing to lie from where we are?"

      He studied the barely visible object long and carefully, shading his eyes again with his hands the better to concentrate his gaze upon that misty blot.

      "It is like a jump in the dark, my son, to attempt guessing at so visionary a thing. At times it seemeth to fade away altogether, yet back it cometh once more into the same spot; from where I lie it might be twenty, or it might be forty, feet."

      "Saint Giles! not so bad a guess either. I figured it at thirty this afternoon from the bank below, nor am I apt to prove far wrong in such judgment. Truss up this confounded skirt of mine,