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Chapter 2
Thelifersdidnotknowhewasgivingthemthecross.TheCaptainoftheYarddidnotknowthatthecrossknowwasbeingworkedonhim.Summerfacewasthemostinnocentofall.Attheworst,hisconsciencecouldhaveaccusedhimonlyofsmugglinginsomeharmlesstobacco.
Andnowtothestupid,silly,melodramaticslipofCecilWinwood.Nextmorning,whenheencounteredtheCaptainoftheYard,hewastriumphant.Hisimaginationtookthebitinitsteeth.
“Well,thestuffcameinallrightasyousaid,”thecaptainoftheYardremarked.
“Andenoughofittoblowhalftheprisonsky-high,”Winwoodcorroborated.
“Enoughofwhat?”theCaptaindemanded.
“Dynamiteanddetonators,”thefoolrattledon.“Thirty-fivepoundsofit.YourstoolsawSummerfacepassitovertome.”
AndrighttheretheCaptainoftheYardmusthavenearlydied.Icanactuallysympathizewithhim—thirty-fivepoundsofdynamitelooseintheprison.
TheysaythatCaptainJamie—thatwashisnickname—satdownandheldhisheadinhishands.
“Whereisitnow?”hecried.“Iwantit.Takemetoitatonce.”
AndrightthereCecilWinwoodsawhismistake.
