R. Lafferty: The 7th Ghost Story Megapack

“In Haiti revolutions start in the mountains and wind up in Cap Haitien or Port au Prince when the rebels cool off. Nine-tenths of them never get into the press dispatches. On every national holiday the president witnesses the amusing spectacle of two or three dozen ruffians in yellow sashes shouting each other down and shooting into store windows. The president usually ties their hands by denying them official recognition.

“But the president refused to ignore me. I didn’t hurt a soul but I may have made more noise than the others. Or I may have walked under a ladder or broken a mirror. Anyhow, the president took advantage of my idiocy, and I was arrested and put where I couldn’t make a fool of myself.”

It gave Talbot exquisite pleasure to contemplate his degradation. A mischievous smile played about his lips, and his eager eyes sparkled.

“The jail was a ramshackle and disgusting affair, and I shared my cell with two revolutionary generals. A revolutionary general in the Black Republic has absolutely nothing to commend him. He is a low creature and his philosophy of life is terrible. He is a fatalist and he wouldn’t cross the street to avoid being shot at. And he is unthinkably dirty.

“My companions never washed. Their beards were six inches long, and there was no difference in their appearance. They were so ridiculously alike that I frequently got them mixed up.

“At first I naturally despised them, and thought only of getting out. I pounded on the bars, stamped my feet and shouted until I was red in the face.

“Never in my life had I been so angry. When the jailer came I glared at him and I could see that he knew I had something on my mind and that that something meant trouble.

“‘How long do you think you can keep an American citizen in jail?’ I asked.

“The jailer was a small, round-shouldered man between forty and fifty, with puckered, evil eyes and white eyebrows that met above the arch of his nose. His thick lips writhed hack from his dirty yellow teeth in a cynical smile.

“‘You are such a brown American!’ he sneered. ‘Who would believe that you are merely sunburned? You are essentially one of our enemies. The color of your face and uniform combine to make you a rebel.’

“I forgot that bars separated us. I reached for his throat, but he jumped back and grinned. In my disappointment I nearly bit my tongue through without feeling it. ‘You’re too vile to kill,’ I raved, ‘but if I could get my hands on your superiors—’

“The jailer assured me that my wish could not be granted. ‘My superiors are very busy men,’ He said. ‘But I do not blame you for getting angry. It isn’t pleasant to be shot at. But we are obliged to obey orders, and the president hates rebels.’

“He departed, grotesquely sneering.

“I sat on the edge of my cot and rolled a cigarette with white, nervous fingers. I was horribly upset. One of the generals grunted and swore that the jailer was a pig. He expressed no other emotion, but he added a few words of advice in a curiously colorless voice.

“‘Look in the soles of your shoes,’ he suggested. ‘I wouldn’t want to see you crying and begging for mercy. It would make the president too indecently happy.’

“I locked up and for an instant he smiled into my astonished eyes. Then he moved slowly to the other side of the wall. ‘Sometimes yon don’t find the metal,’ his companion volunteered. ‘But if you are wearing a regulation army shoe you are in luck.’

“I wanted very much to believe them. I looked down at my shoes. They were not army shoes, but I didn’t let that discourage me. I wanted to pay the jailer out for his insults. I laughed when I thought how angry and disappointed he would be to find the bars sawed through and the bird flown. The. American bird! I was thinking: ‘Now he’ll laugh out the other side of his face. Did he really think that he could keep an American in his filthy old jail?’

“The generals watched me with tolerant and cynical eyes. They winked at each other and ran their fingers through their brittle black boards. But I knew that there was no use bothering about them. I held the key to my own salvation and it was up to me to make good.

“A sense of something like exultation stole over me. I unlaced my shoes and examined them. There were unquestionably pieces of metal in the soles. I was ready to shout. I worked at the stiff leather, tearing it apart with my fingers and teeth, until the blood pounded in my ears and I very nearly keeled over.

“‘It’s better than being shot,’ one of the generals said, but I scarcely heard him. When I got the metal out I did a voodoo dance on the cell floor.

“One of the generals scowled. It was perfectly apparent that he didn’t like my enthusiasm. He stood there endeavoring to be civil, but there was an expression in his small blue eyes that told me clearer than words how he despised that sort of thing. I brought myself up with a jerk.

“I didn’t intend to go on so,’ I explained. ‘But this thing means a lot to me. I‘m only twenty-two and it isn’t pleasant to be taken out and shot. Leastwise, it’s not pleasant to be shot by mistake. I wouldn’t mind ordinarily—’

“I saw that I had taken the wrong tack. The general’s scowl grew in volume. ‘You shouldn’t anticipate, my friend,’ he said. ‘You have first to saw through the bars, and there’s a guard stationed outside.’

“I saw then what I had let myself in for. My spirits dropped. It would take at least two days to saw the bars through, and I didn’t see how I could conceal my progress from the jailer. I was in a tight place and said so. I’ll never forget the decent way in which the general met my objection.

“‘You mustn’t eat your bread,’ he said. ‘Rub it on the floor when the pig isn’t looking and use it on the bars.’

“But after that he got pretty silent, and I couldn’t persuade him to escape with me. ‘It is very easy to die when ten men shoot at you at the same time,’ he said, and his companion added that life was a very stupid affair.

“Naturally their logic repelled me, but what could I do? I didn’t like the idea of leaving them there to shoulder the blame, but it was no good arguing with them. When a Haitian’s mind is made lip it is made up. I told them to think of their wives, but when they swore at me I gave it up.

“The jailer seemed to suspect something when he brought the bread, but I didn’t give him half a chance to talk to the generals. I hung on to the bars and insulted him until I was blue in the face. He put the bread on the floor and looked inquiringly at the generals. I think that he was amused and a little frightened.

“As soon as he left I seized my portion of bread and rubbed it on the floor until it was blacker than the president’s beard. Then I kneaded it between my fingers. The generals watched me indifferently and I knew that they grimly appreciated the silent comedy of an American endeavoring to escape from a Haitian pig-sty. I made a violent effort to control myself, and went to work on the bars without so much as a groan to let them know what I was suffering. My heart kept coming up in my throat and flopping over. I couldn’t forget the risk I was running, and I began to fear I’d funk the job sure.

“There were five bars, and the window was two feet broad and eighteen inches high. It would be necessary to work against time, but I figured it wouldn’t take me more than two days to get out. I’d forgotten that a man has to eat and sleep. Sawing through bars is the hardest kind of work and no man can stand it more than eight hours on a stretch.

“I worked steadily for six hours, and all the time the generals were snickering and comparing notes behind my back. However, I tried to keep thinking of what I would say to the consul when I got out. I didn’t even stop to drink. My right arm got so devilishly stiff that it almost killed me to move it. But I wasn’t going to weaken before those generals.