The Life and Adventures of Baron Trenck, vol 2 | Page 8

found it, however, impossible to force out my right hand while it continued swelled.
I therefore remained quiet till the day fixed, and on the determined fourth of July, immediately as my visitors had closed the doors upon me, I disencumbered myself of my irons, took my knife, and began my Herculean labour on the door. The first of the double doors that opened inwards was conquered in less than an hour; the other was a very different task. The lock was soon cut round, but it opened outwards; there was therefore no other means left but to cut the whole door away above the bar.
Incessant and incredible labour made this possible, though it was the more difficult as everything was to be done by feeling, I being totally in the dark; the sweat dropped, or rather flowed, from my body; my fingers were clotted in my own blood, and my lacerated hands were one continued wound.
Daylight appeared: I clambered over the door that was half cut away, and got up to the window in the space or cell that was between the double doors, as before described. Here I saw my dungeon was in the ditch of the first rampart: before me I beheld the road from the rampart, the guard but fifty paces distant, and the high palisades that were in the ditch, and must be scaled before I could reach the rampart. Hope grew stronger; my efforts were redoubled. The first of the next double doors was attacked, which likewise opened inward, and was soon conquered. The sun set before I had ended this, and the fourth was to be cut away as the second had been. My strength failed; both my hands were raw; I rested awhile, began again, and had made a cut of a foot long, when my knife snapped, and the broken blade dropped to the ground!
God of Omnipotence! what was I at this moment? Was there, God of Mercies! was there ever creature of Thine more justified than I in despair? The moon shone very clear; I cast a wild and distracted look up to heaven, fell on my knees, and in the agony of my soul sought comfort: but no comfort could be found; nor religion nor philosophy had any to give. I cursed not Providence, I feared not annihilation, I dared not Almighty vengeance; God the Creator was the disposer of my fate; and if He heaped afflictions upon me He had not given me strength to support, His justice would not therefore punish me. To Him, the Judge of the quick and dead, I committed my soul, seized the broken knife, gashed through the veins of my left arm and foot, sat myself tranquilly down, and saw the blood flow. Nature, overpowered fainted, and I know not how long I remained, slumbering, in this state. Suddenly I heard my own name, awoke, and again heard the words, "Baron Trenck!" My answer was, "Who calls?" And who indeed was it--who but my honest grenadier Gelfhardt--my former faithful friend in the citadel! The good, the kind fellow had got upon the rampart, that he might comfort me.
"How do you do?" said Gelfhardt. "Weltering in my blood," answered I; "to-morrow you will find me dead."--"Why should you die?" replied he. "It is much easier for you to escape here than from the citadel! Here is no sentinel, and I shall soon find means to provide you with tools; if you can only break out, leave the rest to me. As often as I am on guard, I will seek opportunity to speak to you. In the whole Star-Fort, there are but two sentinels: the one at the entrance, and the other at the guard-house. Do not despair; God will succour you; trust to me." The good man's kindness and discourse revived my hopes: I saw the possibility of an escape. A secret joy diffused itself through my soul. I immediately tore my shirt, bound up my wounds, and waited the approach of day; and the sun soon after shone through the window, to me, with unaccustomed brightness.
Let the reader judge how far it was chance, or the effect of Divine providence, that in this dreadful hour my heart again received hope. Who was it sent the honest Gelfhardt, at such a moment, to my prison? For, had it not been for him, I had certainly, when I awoke from my slumbers, cut more effectually through my arteries.
Till noon I had time to consider what might further be done: yet what could be done, what expected, but that I should now be much more cruelly treated, and even more insupportably ironed than before--finding, as they must, the doors cut through and my fetters shaken off?
After mature consideration, I therefore made the following resolution, which