CHAPTER VIII
A LEAP IN THE DARK
"What does it mean?" thought Frank, once more alone.
The German's orderly, it was clear, had signalled to him. Who was theman? What message had he intended to convey? From whom was the message?
Frank had at first hardly noticed the man. Even when his attention wasattracted, he had observed the man's actions rather than the manhimself. He did not recognise him. The man was young; he wore theordinary uniform of the Turkish soldier; whether he was a pure Turk, oran Armenian, or an Anatolian, or a member of any other of the races thatare represented in the Turkish army, Frank could not tell. Whoever hewas, the one plain fact was that he was a friend, and it was remarkableenough that a friend should have appeared in company with Wonckhaus.
What did he mean by his stealthy manoeuvres with the watch? Frankremembered how the man had glanced from the watch to the window. Did hesuggest a connection between them? Almost unconsciously Frank took outhis own watch and noted the time; then he replaced it in his pocket,looking absent-mindedly at the window. And then an explanation flashedupon him. The messenger, or his employer, knew English. He knew it wellenough to play upon words. "Watch the window!" That must be themessage.
Frank got up and paced the room.
"There's somebody working for me outside," he thought. "Very likelyJoseph. Though I never knew Joseph to make a pun. Still, he does know alittle English. But why should I watch the window?"
He stood beneath it, and looked at the small square frame, scarcelylarger than a ship's porthole. It might be just possible to squeezethrough it. Did his friend, whoever he was, intend that he shouldescape that way? Would he find a ladder placed against the wall? Suchan escape would be possible only on some dark night, and what was thegood of watching the window in the dark? Besides, with soldiers in thelower rooms, was it possible to place a ladder so silently as not toarouse their attention? If it were possible, would not his movements beseen at least by some prowling dog, whose barks would give the alarm?
Frank was puzzled. As he walked up and down, his head was constantlyturned towards the window; it seemed as though he dared not take hiseyes from it for a moment, lest in that moment he should miss the chanceof release. When night came, he threw himself on his bed, and lay forhours wakeful, gazing in the one direction. No light was allowed him.He looked up at the stars until they appeared to dance, and his eyesached with following their fantastic movements. That night he scarcelyslept. If he found himself dozing, he would rouse himself with a start,and stare again at that spot in the wall which was only distinguishablefrom the blank spaces about it by the winking stars.
Next day it was the same. Worn and nervous, whether he sat or walked,even when Hussein brought him his meals, he stared at the window. TheArab noticed the fixity of his gaze, and told the soldiers downstairsthat the Ingliz would soon go out of his mind. And indeed, when twodays and a night had passed, and nothing had appeared at the blank pane,Frank himself felt that suspense and the strain of watching would drivehim mad.
On the night of the second day, just after dark, when Frank for the sakeof warmth was lying beneath the bedclothes, wakeful and hopeless, he wassuddenly startled by an unusual sound--a slight tapping, like theflapping of a blind-cord against glass. His heart was thumping as hesprang out of bed and ran to the window. It was too dark to seeanything, but there was unmistakably an object of some kind lightlystriking the glass at irregular intervals. Excited with expectation, hemounted on the stool and reaching up for the fastening of the casement,slowly and cautiously, to avoid noise, he undid the rusty latch, anddrew the casement inwards. The blast of inrushing air was bitterlycold. He thrust out his hand, moving it from side to side, but feltnothing.
At this moment he heard heavy footsteps clumping up the stairs that ledpast his room to the roof. He closed the window, though the sound hadnot surprised him: it was only the men going up to fetch the sheep whichwere taken up every morning to graze on the turf-covered roof, andbrought down every night. He heard the footsteps coming down: then allwas silent again.
Shivering with cold, Frank had remained at the window. Would the signalbe repeated? It seemed hours before he again heard the flapping. Oncemore he opened the window, and now his groping fingers touched a thincord hanging from above. He caught it and pulled it in eagerly.Presently he grasped a stout rope attached to the cord. He drew in a fewfeet of it, and then could draw no more. The rope was taut. On theroof some ten feet above some one held or had fastened this rope for hisdeliverance.
It was clear that the next move was with him. He was expected to emergethrough the window and climb up the rope to the roof. The window was sohigh in the wall that he could only reach it by standing on the table.Swiftly he moved this to the spot, wondering whether after all thewindow was wide enough for his body. And when he stood on the table,preparing to make the attempt, he paused with a sudden dread. Who werethese people outside? Were they indeed friends? Was it a trick on thepart of Wonckhaus, who had laid this trap for him, so that he might havean excuse for removing an insecure prisoner to the common jail? But onsecond thoughts he dismissed the suspicion. Wonckhaus had no need oftrickery if he wished to increase the rigour of Frank's imprisonment."I'll risk it," he murmured.
And now his difficulties began. Inside, the window had only a narrowledge; outside, it was flush with the wall: there was no sill. Whenonce he had got through, there was no possibility of returning; but toget through--that was the problem. There was no secure foothold afterhe left the table; the window was too low for him to stand upright onthe ledge, or even to sit on it. He would have to haul himself out bymain strength.
He placed his chair on the table, and standing on that, found that hishead was now higher than the top of the window. Then he stooped, put hishead out, braced himself for the effort, and taking a grip on the ropeas high above his head as he could, he lifted his feet and threw hiswhole weight on it. For a moment it yielded slightly, but then becametaut again. Then he got his knees on the ledge, rested a few seconds,grasped the rope a little higher, and managed to drag his legs out sothat he swung clear.
At this critical moment his energy was almost paralysed by the fear offalling. The roof was only ten or twelve feet above him, and a fewmonths before he would have made light of swarming up a rope of doublethat length. It was only now, when he was committed to the enterprisebeyond recall, that he realised how his strength had been reduced byprivation and want of exercise. But exerting his will to the utmost, hebegan to haul himself up hand over hand. Bits of earth struck him, andthudded on the ground below. The fear that the sound would bring thesoldiers out made him try to climb faster; but finding his strengthfailing, he twisted his leg round the rope and steadied himself for afurther effort. More material fell from above, and struck the groundwith a heavier thud. Sounds from the lower floor warned him that themen's attention had been aroused, and he climbed on, ascending by slowand painful inches. In spite of himself he was forced to rest again,but the support his legs gained from the rope was not sufficient torelieve the strain on his arms, and he had almost given himself up forlost when he felt the rope being slowly drawn up. Too weak to climbfurther, he could only grip the rope and ascend passively, bumpingagainst the wall and scoring his knuckles.
Below him there were voices, of which he was hardly conscious, sointense was the strain. Then there was a flash upward from an electrictorch, and a shout. He felt that his grip was loosening; he was at thepoint of despair when his wrist was grasped from above. The touchbraced him for a final effort; his other wrist was gripped, and nextmoment he was dragged by main force over the low parapet on to the roof,just as a shot rang out.
AT THE POINT OF DESPAIR]
Half fainting, he was hauled to his feet, and half carried, half draggedacross the turf towards the hillside sloping behind. Up this hisrescuers stumbled with him until they reached a narrow t
rack beyondWonckhaus's house. They heard shouts on the roof they had just left,from the ground below, dogs barking, sounds of growing commotion. Thedarkness concealed them; their flight was favoured by the clamour. Onand on they stumbled, the two rescuers finding their way like cats inthe darkness. The shouts became fainter. They moderated their pace, andin a few minutes came to an open doorway. Into this they dived. Thedoor closed silently behind them, and Frank sank in the swoon ofexhaustion.
Frank Forester: A Story of the Dardanelles Page 8