Дванадцять років рабства

           HowlongIremainedinthatcondition—whetheronlythatnight,ormanydaysandnights—Idonotknow;butwhenconsciousnessreturned,Ifoundmyselfalone,inutterdarkness,andinchains. 

           Thepaininmyheadhadsubsidedinameasure,butIwasveryfaintandweak. Iwassittinguponalowbench,madeofroughboards,andwithoutcoatorhat. Iwashand-cuffed. Aroundmyanklesalsowereapairofheavyfetters. Oneendofachainwasfastenedtoalargeringinthefloor,theothertothefettersonmyankles. Itriedinvaintostanduponmyfeet. Wakingfromsuchapainfultrance,itwassometimebeforeIcouldcollectmythoughts. WherewasI? Whatwasthemeaningofthesechains? WherewereBrownandHamilton? WhathadIdonetodeserveimprisonmentinsuchadungeon? Icouldnotcomprehend. Therewasablankofsomeindefiniteperiod,precedingmyawakeninginthatlonelyplace,theeventsofwhichtheutmoststretchofmemorywasunabletorecall. Ilistenedintentlyforsomesignorsoundoflife,butnothingbroketheoppressivesilence,savetheclinkingofmychains,wheneverIchancedtomove. Ispokealoud,butthesoundofmyvoicestartledme. Ifeltofmypockets,sofarasthefetterswouldallow—farenough,indeed,toascertainthatIhadnotonlybeenrobbedofliberty,butthatmymoneyandfreepaperswerealsogone! Thendidtheideabegintobreakuponmymind,atfirstdimandconfused,thatIhadbeenkidnapped. ButthatIthoughtwasincredible. Theremusthavebeensomemisapprehension—someunfortunatemistake.