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Reading books fiction Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself.



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Read books online » Fiction » True to the Old Flag: A Tale of the American War of Independence by G. A. Henty (motivational books to read .txt) 📖

Book online «True to the Old Flag: A Tale of the American War of Independence by G. A. Henty (motivational books to read .txt) 📖». Author G. A. Henty



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yams, which he was carrying, upon the table, and, with an unmoved face, left the room. A fortnight passed without a word being exchanged between them. Several times each day Harold saw the negro, but the guards were always present, and although, when he had his back to the latter, Jake sometimes indulged in a momentary grin or a portentous wink, no further communication passed between them.

One night at the end of that time Harold, when on the point of going to sleep, thought he heard a noise as of his door gently opening. It was perfectly dark, and, after listening for a moment he laid his head down again, thinking that he had been mistaken, when he heard close to the bed the words in a low voice:

"Am you asleep, Massa Harold?"

"No, Jake," he exclaimed directly. "Ah, my good fellow! how have you got here?"

"Dat were a bery easy affair," Jake said. "Me tell you all about it."

"Have you shut the door again, Jake? There is a sentry coming along the passage every five minutes."

"Me shut him, massa, but dere aint no fastening on dis side, so Jake will sit down wid him back against him."

Harold got up and partly dressed himself and then sat down by the side of his follower.

"No need to whisper," Jake said. "De walls and de doors bery thick; no one hear. But de sentries on de walls hear if we talk too loud."

The windows were without glass, which was in those days an expensive article in America, and the mildness of the climate of Virginia rendered glass a luxury rather than a necessity. Confident that even the murmur of their voices would not be overheard if they spoke in their usual way, Jake and Harold were enabled to converse comfortably.

"Well, massa," Jake said, "my story am not a long one. Dat man dat bought me he rode in two days someting like one hundred miles. It wor a lucky ting dat Jake had tramp on his feet de last four years, else soon enough he tumble down, and den de rope round him neck hang him. Jake awful footsore and tired when he git to de end ob dat journey. De Kentucky man he lib in a clearing not far from a village. He had two oder slaves; dey hoe de ground and work for him. He got grown-up son, who look after dem while him fader away fighting. Dey not afraid ob de niggers running away, because dere plenty redskin not far away, and nigger scalp jest as good as white man's. De oder way dere wor plenty ob villages, and dey tink nigger git caught for sure if he try to run away. Jake make up his mind he not stop dere bery long. De Kentuckian was a bery big, strong man, but not so strong as he was ten years ago, and Jake tink he more dan a match for him. Jake pretty strong himself, massa?"

"I should think you were, Jake," Harold said. "There are not many men, white or black, who can lift as great a weight as you can."

"For a week Jake work bery hard. Dat Kentuckian hab a way ob always carrying his rifle about on his arm, and as long as he do dat dere no chance ob a fair fight. De son he always hab a stick, and he mighty free wid it. He hit Jake seberal times, and me say to him once, 'Young man, you better mind what you do.' Me suppose dat he not like de look dat I gib him. He speak to his fader, and he curse and swear awful, and stand wid de rifle close by and tell dat son ob his to larrup Jake. Dat he do, massa, for some time. Jake not say noting, but he make a note ob de affair in his mind. De bery next day de son go away to de village to buy some tings he want. De fader he come out and watch me at work; he curse and swear as usual; he call me lazy hound and swear he cut de flesh from my back; presently he come quite close and shake him fist in Jake's face. Dat was a foolish ting to do. So long as he keep bofe him hands on de gun he could say what he like quite safe, but when he got one hand up lebel wid Jake's nose, dat different ting altogether. Jake throw up his hand and close wid him. De gun tumble down and we wrastle and fight. He strong man for sure, but Jake jest a little stronger. We roll ober and ober on de ground for some minutes; at last Jake git de upper hand and seize de white man by de t'roat, and he pretty quick choke him life out. Den he pick up de gun and wait for de son; when he come back he put a bullet t'rough him. Den he go to de hut and git food and powder and ball and start into de woods. De oder niggers dey take no part in de affair. Dey look on while the skirmish lasts, but not interfere one way or oder. When it ober me ask dem if dey like to go wid me, but dey too afraid ob de redskins; so Jake start by himse'f. Me hab plenty ob practice in de woods and no fear ob meeting redskins, except when dey on de warpath. De woods stretch a bery long way all ober de country, and Jake trabel in dem for nigh t'ree weeks. He shoot deer and manage bery well; see no redskin from the first day to de last; den he come out into de open country again, hundreds ob miles from de place where he kill dat Kentuckian. He leab his gun behind now and trabel for Richmond, where he hear dat de white prisoners was kept. He walk all night and at day sleep in de woods or de plantations, and eat ears ob corn. At last he git to Richmond. Den he gib out dat him massa wanted him to fight on de side ob de English and dat he run away. He go to de prison and offer to work dere. Dey tink him story true, and as he had no massa to claim him dey say he State property, and work widout wages like de oder niggers here; dey all forfeited slaves whose massas had jined de English. Dese people so pore dey can't afford to pay white man, so dey take Jake as warden, and by good luck dey put him in to carry de dinner to de bery room where Massa Harold was."

"And have you the keys to lock us up?"

"No, massa, de niggers only cook de dinners and sweep de prison and de yard, and do dat kind ob job; de white wardens—dere's six ob dem—dey hab de keys."

"Then how did you manage to get here, Jake?"

"Dat not bery easy matter, Massa Harold. Most ob de wardens drink like fish; but de head man, him dat keep de keys, he not drink. For some time Jake not see him way, but one night when he lock up de prisoners he take Jake round wid him, and Jake carried de big bunch ob keys—one key to each passage. When he lock up de doors here and hand de key to Jake to put on de bunch agin, Jake pull out a hair ob him head and twist it round de ward ob de key so as to know him agin. Dat night me git a piece ob bread and work him up wid some oil till he quite like putty, den me steal to de chief warden's room, and dere de keys hang up close to him bed. Jake got no shoes on, and he stole up bery silent. He take down de bunch ob keys and carry dem off. He git to quiet place and strike a light, and search t'rough de keys till he find de one wid de hair round it; den he take a deep impression ob him wid de bread; den he carry back the keys and hang 'em up. Jake not allowed to leabe de prison. We jest as much prisoners as de white men, so he not able to go out to git a key made; but in de storeroom dere's all sorts ob tools, and he git hold ob a fine file; den he look about among de keys in de doors ob all de storerooms and places which wor not kept locked up. At last he find a key jest de right size, and dough de wards were a little different dey was ob de right shape. Jake set to work and filled off de knobs and p'ints which didn't agree wid de shape in de bread. Dis morning, when you was all out in de yard, me come up quietly and tried de key and found dat it turned de lock quite easy. Wid a fedder and some oil me oil de lock and de key till it turned widout making de least, noise. Den to-night me waited till de sentry come along de corridor, and den Jake slip along and here he is."

"Capital, Jake!" Harold said. "And now what is the next thing to do? Will it be possible to escape through the prison?"

"No, Massa Harold, dere am t'ree doors from de prison into de yard and dere's a sentry outside ob each, and de main guard ob twenty men are down dere, too. No possible to git out ob doors widout de alarm being given."

"With the file, Jake, we might cut through the bars."

"We might cut t'rough de bars and git down into de courtyard; dat easy enough, massa. Jake could git plenty ob rope from de storeroom, but we hab de oder wall to climb."

"You must make a rope-ladder for that, Jake."

"What sort ob a ladder dat, massa?"

Harold explained to him how it should be made.

"When you have finished it, Jake, you should twist strips of any sort of stuff, cotton or woolen, round and round each of the wooden steps, so that it will make no noise touching the wall as we climb it. Then we want a grapnel."

"Me no able to make dat, massa."

"Not a regular grapnel, Jake, but you might manage something which would do."

"What sort ob ting?" Jake asked.

Harold sat for some time in thought.

"If the wall were not so high it would be easy enough, Jake, for we could do it by fastening the rope within about three inches of the end of a pole six feet long and three inches thick. That would never pull over the wall, but it is too high to throw the pole over."

"Jake could t'row such a stick as dat ober easy enough, massa—no difficulty about dat; but me no see how a stick like dat balance massa's weight."

"It would not balance it, Jake, but the pull would be a side pull and would not bring the stick over the wall. If it were only bamboo it would be heavy enough."

"Bery well, Massa Harold; if you say so, dat's all right. Jake can git de wood easy enough; dere's plenty ob pieces among de firewood dat would do for us."

"Roll it with strips of stuff the same way as the ladder steps, so as to prevent it making a noise when it strikes the wall. In addition to the ladder we shall want a length of rope long enough to go from this window to the ground, and another length of thin rope more than twice the height of the wall."

"Bery well, Massa Harold, me understand exactly what's wanted; but it'll take two or t'ree days to make de ladder, and me can only work ob a night."

"There is no hurry, Jake; do not run any risk of being caught. We must choose a dark and windy night. Bring two files with you, so that we can work together, and some oil."

"All right, massa. Now me go."

"Shut the door quietly, Jake, and do not forget to lock it behind you," Harold said, as Jake stole noiselessly from the cell.

A week passed without Jake's again visiting Harold's cell. On the seventh night the wind had got up and whistled around the jail, and Harold, expecting that Jake would take advantage of the opportunity, sat down on his bed without undressing, and awaited his coming. It was but half an hour after the door had been locked for the night that it quietly opened again.

"Here me am, sar, wid eberyting dat's wanted; two files and some oil, de rope-ladder, de short rope for us to slide down, and de long thin rope and de

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