the jacket (the star-rover)-第4章

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dungeons；　shouted　out　its　quota　to　the　roll…call。　　Thus；　every

dungeon　was　accounted　for　as　occupied　by　trusted　convicts；　so　that

there　was　no　opportunity　for　a　stool　to　be　hidden　away　and

listening。



Of　me；　only；　were　the　convicts　dubious；　for　I　was　the　one　man　who

had　not　been　in　the　plot。　　They　put　me　through　a　searching

examination。　　I　could　but　tell　them　how　I　had　just　emerged　from

dungeon　and　jacket　in　the　morning；　and　without　rhyme　or　reason；　so

far　as　I　could　discover；　had　been　put　back　in　the　dungeon　after

being　out　only　several　hours。　　My　record　as　an　incorrigible　was　in

my　favour；　and　soon　they　began　to　talk。



As　I　lay　there　and　listened；　for　the　first　time　I　learned　of　the

break　that　had　been　a…hatching。　　〃Who　had　squealed？〃　was　their　one

quest；　and　throughout　the　night　the　quest　was　pursued。　　The　quest

for　Cecil　Winwood　was　vain；　and　the　suspicion　against　him　was

general。



〃There's　only　one　thing；　lads；〃　Skysail　Jack　finally　said。　　〃It'll

soon　be　morning；　and　then　they'll　take　us　out　and　give　us　bloody

hell。　　We　were　caught　dead　to　rights　with　our　clothes　on。　　Winwood

crossed　us　and　squealed。　　They're　going　to　get　us　out　one　by　one　and

mess　us　up。　　There's　forty　of　us。　　Any　lyin's　bound　to　be　found　out。

So　each　lad；　when　they　sweat　him；　just　tells　the　truth；　the　whole

truth；　so　help　him　God。〃



And　there；　in　that　dark　hole　of　man's　inhumanity；　from　dungeon　cell

to　dungeon　cell；　their　mouths　against　the　gratings；　the　two…score

lifers　solemnly　pledged　themselves　before　God　to　tell　the　truth。



Little　good　did　their　truth…telling　do　them。　　At　nine　o'clock　the

guards；　paid　bravoes　of　the　smug　citizens　who　constitute　the　state；

full　of　meat　and　sleep；　were　upon　us。　　Not　only　had　we　had　no

breakfast；　but　we　had　had　no　water。　　And　beaten　men　are　prone　to

feverishness。　　I　wonder；　my　reader；　if　you　can　glimpse　or　guess　the

faintest　connotation　of　a　man　beaten〃beat　up；〃　we　prisoners　call

it。　　But　no；　I　shall　not　tell　you。　　Let　it　suffice　to　know　that

these　beaten；　feverish　men　lay　seven　hours　without　water。



At　nine　the　guards　arrived。　　There　were　not　many　of　them。　　There　was

no　need　for　many；　because　they　unlocked　only　one　dungeon　at　a　time。

They　were　equipped　with　pick…handlesa　handy　tool　for　the

〃disciplining〃　of　a　helpless　man。　　One　dungeon　at　a　time；　and

dungeon　by　dungeon；　they　messed　and　pulped　the　lifers。　　They　were

impartial。　　I　received　the　same　pulping　as　the　rest。　　And　this　was

merely　the　beginning；　the　preliminary　to　the　examination　each　man

was　to　undergo　alone　in　the　presence　of　the　paid　brutes　of　the

state。　　It　was　the　forecast　to　each　man　of　what　each　man　might

expect　in　inquisition　hall。



I　have　been　through　most　of　the　red　hells　of　prison　life；　but；　worst

of　all；　far　worse　than　what　they　intend　to　do　with　me　in　a　short

while；　was　the　particular　hell　of　the　dungeons　in　the　days　that

followed。



Long　Bill　Hodge；　the　hard…bitten　mountaineer；　was　the　first　man

interrogated。　　He　came　back　two　hours　lateror；　rather；　they

conveyed　him　back；　and　threw　him　on　the　stone　of　his　dungeon　floor。

They　then　took　away　Luigi　Polazzo；　a　San　Francisco　hoodlum；　the

first　native　generation　of　Italian　parentage；　who　jeered　and　sneered

at　them　and　challenged　them　to　wreak　their　worst　upon　him。



It　was　some　time　before　Long　Bill　Hodge　mastered　his　pain

sufficiently　to　be　coherent。



〃What　about　this　dynamite？〃　he　demanded。　　〃Who　knows　anything　about

dynamite？〃



And　of　course　nobody　knew；　although　it　had　been　the　burden　of　the

interrogation　put　to　him。



Luigi　Polazzo　came　back　in　a　little　less　than　two　hours；　and　he　came

back　a　wreck　that　babbled　in　delirium　and　could　give　no　answer　to

the　questions　showered　upon　him　along　the　echoing　corridor　of

dungeons　by　the　men　who　were　yet　to　get　what　he　had　got；　and　who

desired　greatly　to　know　what　things　had　been　done　to　him　and　what

interrogations　had　been　put　to　him。



Twice　again　in　the　next　forty…eight　hours　Luigi　was　taken　out　and

interrogated。　　After　that；　a　gibbering　imbecile；　he　went　to　live　in

Bughouse　Alley。　　He　has　a　strong　constitution。　　His　shoulders　are

broad；　his　nostrils　wide；　his　chest　is　deep；　his　blood　is　pure；　he

will　continue　to　gibber　in　Bughouse　Alley　long　after　I　have　swung

off　and　escaped　the　torment　of　the　penitentiaries　of　California。



Man　after　man　was　taken　away；　one　at　a　time；　and　the　wrecks　of　men

were　brought　back；　one　by　one；　to　rave　and　howl　in　the　darkness。

And　as　I　lay　there　and　listened　to　the　moaning　and　the　groaning；　and

all　the　idle　chattering　of　pain…addled　wits；　somehow；　vaguely

reminiscent；　it　seemed　to　me　that　somewhere；　some　time；　I　had　sat　in

a　high　place；　callous　and　proud；　and　listened　to　a　similar　chorus　of

moaning　and　groaning。　　Afterwards；　as　you　shall　learn；　I　identified

this　reminiscence　and　knew　that　the　moaning　and　the　groaning　was　of

the　sweep…slaves　manacled　to　their　benches；　which　I　heard　from

above；　on　the　poop；　a　soldier　passenger　on　a　galley　of　old　Rome。

That　was　when　I　sailed　for　Alexandria；　a　captain　of　men；　on　my　way

to　Jerusalem　。　。　。　but　that　is　a　story　I　shall　tell　you　later。　　In

the　meanwhile　。　。　。　。







CHAPTER　IV







In　the　meanwhile　obtained　the　horror　of　the　dungeons；　after　the

discovery　of　the　plot　to　break　prison。　　And　never；　during　those

eternal　hours　of　waiting；　was　it　absent　from　my　consciousness　that　I

should　follow　these　other　convicts　out；　endure　the　hells　of

inquisition　they　endured；　and　be　brought　back　a　wreck　and　flung　on

the　stone　floor　of　my　stone…walled；　iron…doored　dungeon。



They　came　for　me。　　Ungraciously　and　ungently；　with　blow　and　curse；

they　haled　me　forth；　and　I　faced　Captain　Jamie　and　Warden　Atherton；

themselves　arrayed　with　the　strength　of　half　a　dozen　state…bought；

tax…paid　brutes　of　guards　who　lingered　in　the　room　to　do　any

bidding。　　But　they　were　not　needed。



〃Sit　down；〃　said　Warden　Atherton；　indicating　a　stout　arm…chair。



I；　beaten　and　sore；　without　water　for　a　night　long　and　a　day　long；

faint　with　hunger；　weak　from　a　beating　that　had　been　added　to　five

days　in　the　dungeon　and　eighty　hours　in　the　jacket；　oppressed　by　the

calamity　of　human　fate；　apprehensive　of　what　was　to　happen　to　me

from　what　I　had　seen　happen　to　the　othersI；　a　wavering　waif　of　a

human　man　and　an　erstwhile　professor　of　agronomy　in　a　quiet　college

town；　I　hesitated　to　accept　the　invitation　to　sit　down。



Warden　Atherton　was　a　large　man　and　a　very　powerful　man。　　His　hands

flashed　out　to　a　grip　on　my　shoulders。　　I　was　a　straw　in　his

strength。　　He　lifted　me　clear　of　the　floor　and　crashed　me　down　in

the　chair。



〃　Now；〃　he　said；　while　I　gasped　and　swallowed　my　pain；　〃tell　me　all

about　it；　Standing。　　Spit　it　outall　of　it；　if　you　know　what's

healthy　for　you。〃



〃I　don't　know　anything　about　what　has　happened　。　。　。〃；　I　began。



That　was　as　far　as　I　got。　　With　a　growl　and　a　leap　he　was　upon　me。

Again　he　lifted　me　in　the　air　and　crashed　me　down　into　the　chair。



〃No　nonsense；　Standing；〃　he　warned。　　〃Make　a　clean　breast　of　it。

Where　is　the　dynamite？〃



〃I　don't　know　anything　of　any　dynamite；〃　I　protested。



Once　again　I　was　lifted　and　smashed　back　into　the　chair。



I　have　endured　tortures　of　various　sorts；　but　when　I　reflect　upon

them　in　the　quietness　of　these　my　last　days；　I　am　confident　that　no

other　torture　was　quite　the　equal　of　that　chair　torture。　　By　my　body

that　stout　chair　was　battered　out　of　any　semblance　of　a　chair。

Another　chair　was　brought；　and　in　time　that　chair　was　demolished。

But　more　chairs　were　brought；　and　the　eternal　questioning　about　the

dynamite　went　on。



When　Warden　Atherton　grew　tired；　Captain　Jamie　relieved　him；　and

then　the　guard　Monohan　took　Captain　Jamie's　place　in　smashing　me

down　into　the　chair。　　And　always　it　was　dynamite；　dynamite；　〃Where

is　the　dynamite？〃　and　there　was　no　dynamite。　　Why；　toward　the　last　I

would　have　given　a　large　portion　of　my　immortal　soul　for　a　few

pounds　of　dynamite　to　which　I　could　confess。



I　do　not　know　how　many　chairs　were　broken　by　my　body。　　I　fainted

times　without　number；　and　toward　the　last　the　whole　thing　became

nightmarish。　　I　was　half…carried；　half…shoved　and　dragged　back　to

the　dark。　　There；　when　I　became　conscious；　I　found　a　stool　in　my

dungeon。　　He　was　a　pallid…faced；　little　dope…fiend　of　a　short…timer

who　would　do　anything　to　obtain　the　drug。　　As　soon　as　I　recognized

him　I　crawled　to　the　grating　and　shouted　out　along　the　corridor：



〃There　is　a　stool　in　with　me；　fellows！　　He's　Ignatius　Irvine！　　Watch

out　what　you　say！〃



The　outburst　of　imprecations　that　went　up　would　have　shaken　the

fortitude　of　a　braver　man　than　Ignatius　Irvine。　　He　was　pitiful　in

his　terror；　while　all　about　him；　roaring　like　beasts；　the　pain…

racked　lifers　told　him　what　awful　things　they　would　do　to　him　in　the

years　that　were　to　come。



Had　there　been　secrets；　the　presence　of　a　stool　in　the　dungeons

would　have　kept　the　men　quiet；　As　it　was；　having　all　sworn　to　tell

the　truth；　they　talked　openly　before　Ignatius　Irvine。　　The　one　great

puzzle　was　the　dynamite；　of　which　they　were　as　much　in　the　dark　as

was　I。　　They　appealed　to　me。　　If　I　knew　anything　about　the　dynamite

they　begged　me　to　confess　it　and　save　them　all　from　further　misery。

And　I　could　tell　them　only　the　truth；　that　I　knew　of　no　dynamite。



One　thing　the　stool　told　me；　before　the　guards　removed　him；　showed

how　serious　was　this　matter　of　the　dynamite。　　Of　course；　I　passed

the　word　along；　which　was　that　not　a　wheel　had　turned　in　the　prison

all　day。　　The　thousands　of　convict…workers　had　remained　locked　in

their　cells；　and　the　outlook　was　that　not　one　of　the　various　prison…

factories　would　be　operated　again　until　after　the　discovery　of　some

dynamite　that　somebody　had　hidden　somewhere　in　the　prison。



And　ever　the　examination　went　on。　　Ever；　one　at　a　time；　convicts

were　dragged　away　and　dragged　or　carried　back　again。　　They　reported

that　Warden　Atherton　and　Captain　Jamie；　exhausted　by　their　efforts；

relieved　each　other　every　two　hours。　　While　one　slept；　the　other

examined。　　And　they　slept　in　their　clothes　in　the　very　room　in　which

strong　man　after　strong　man　was　being　broken。



And　hour　by　hour；　in　the　dark　dungeons；　our　madness　of　torment　grew。

Oh；　trust　me　as　one　who　knows；　hanging　is　an　easy　thing　compared

with　the　way　live　men　may　be　hurt　in　all　the　life　of　them　and　still

live。　　I；　too；　suffered　equally　with　them　from　pain　and　thirst；　but

added　to　my　suffering　was　the　fact　that　I　remained　conscious　to　the

sufferings　of　the　others。　　I　had　been　an　incorrigible　for　two　years；

and　my　nerves　and　brain　were　hardened　to　suffering。　　It　is　a

frightful　thing　to　see　a　strong　man　broken。　　About　me；　at　the　one

time；　were　forty　strong　men　being　broken。　　Ever　the　cry　for　water

went　up；　and　the　place　became　lunatic　with　the　crying；　sobbing；

babbling　and　raving　of　men　in