Commodore Junk — page 87: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

80 COMMODORE JUNK. of a chain, as if some prisoner had turned in his unquiet rest, and then all was silent again, till he started, for a rough hand was laid upon his mouth. His first instinct was to seize the owner of that hand, to engage in a struggle for his life; but a mouth was placed directly at his ear, and a well-known voice whispered— ‘“Don’t make a sound. Tie these bits of rag about your irons so as they don’t rattle.” Abel caught at the pieces of cloth and canvas thrust into his hand, and, sitting up in the darkness, he softly bound the links and rings of his fetters together, hardly daring to breathe, and yet with his heart beating tumultuously in his anxiety to know his companion’s plans. For an attempt it must be, Abel felt, though up to the time of their going to rest after the day’s work Bart had said nothing to him. He must have made a sudden discovery, and there was nothing for it but to obey in every way and trust to what was to come. Abel felt this as he rapidly knotted the rag round his chains, and as he was tying the last knot he felt Bart’s hand upon his shoulder, and his lips at his ear. “ Quiet, and creep after me. Keep touching my foot so’s not to miss me in the dark.” Abel’s heart thumped against his ribs as he obeyed, taking Bart’s hand first in a firm grip, and then feeling a short iron bar thrust between his fingers. Then he became conscious from his companion’s movements that he had gone down upon his hands and knees, and was crawling toward the end of the long, low, stone-walled building that served as a dormitory for the white slaves whose task was to cultivate the rough plantation till they, as a rule, lay down and died from fever or some of the ills that haunted the tropic land. Gomichbooksneo