the jacket (the star-rover)- 第3部分

not　above　earning　an　honest　dollar　by　smuggling　in　tobacco　for　the

convicts。　　On　that　night；　returning　from　a　trip　to　San　Francisco；　he

brought　in　with　him　fifteen　pounds　of　prime　cigarette　tobacco。　　He

had　done　this　before；　and　delivered　the　stuff　to　Cecil　Winwood。　　So；

on　that　particular　night；　he；　all　unwitting；　turned　the　stuff　over

to　Winwood　in　the　bakery。　　It　was　a　big；　solid；　paper…wrapped　bundle

of　innocent　tobacco。　　The　stool　baker；　from　concealment；　saw　the

package　delivered　to　Winwood　and　so　reported　to　the　Captain　of　the

Yard　next　morning。



But　in　the　meantime　the　poet…forger's　too…lively　imagination　ran

away　with　him。　　He　was　guilty　of　a　slip　that　gave　me　five　years　of

solitary　confinement　and　that　placed　me　in　this　condemned　cell　in

which　I　now　write。　　And　all　the　time　I　knew　nothing　about　it。　　I　did

not　even　know　of　the　break　he　had　inveigled　the　forty　lifers　into

planning。　　I　knew　nothing；　absolutely　nothing。　　And　the　rest　knew

little。　　The　lifers　did　not　know　he　was　giving　them　the　cross。　　The

Captain　of　the　Yard　did　not　know　that　the　cross　know　was　being

worked　on　him。　　Summerface　was　the　most　innocent　of　all。　　At　the

worst；　his　conscience　could　have　accused　him　only　of　smuggling　in

some　harmless　tobacco。



And　now　to　the　stupid；　silly；　melodramatic　slip　of　Cecil　Winwood。

Next　morning；　when　he　encountered　the　Captain　of　the　Yard；　he　was

triumphant。　　His　imagination　took　the　bit　in　its　teeth。



〃Well；　the　stuff　came　in　all　right　as　you　said；〃　the　captain　of　the

Yard　remarked。



〃And　enough　of　it　to　blow　half　the　prison　sky…high；〃　Winwood

corroborated。



〃Enough　of　what？〃　the　Captain　demanded。



〃Dynamite　and　detonators；〃　the　fool　rattled　on。　　〃Thirty…five　pounds

of　it。　　Your　stool　saw　Summerface　pass　it　over　to　me。〃



And　right　there　the　Captain　of　the　Yard　must　have　nearly　died。　　I

can　actually　sympathize　with　himthirty…five　pounds　of　dynamite

loose　in　the　prison。



They　say　that　Captain　Jamiethat　was　his　nicknamesat　down　and

held　his　head　in　his　hands。



〃Where　is　it　now？〃　he　cried。　　〃I　want　it。　　Take　me　to　it　at　once。〃



And　right　there　Cecil　Winwood　saw　his　mistake。



〃I　planted　it；〃　he　liedfor　he　was　compelled　to　lie　because；　being

merely　tobacco　in　small　packages；　it　was　long　since　distributed

among　the　convicts　along　the　customary　channels。



〃Very　well；〃　said　Captain　Jamie；　getting　himself　in　hand。　　〃Lead　me

to　it　at　once。〃



But　there　was　no　plant　of　high　explosives　to　lead　him　to。　　The　thing

did　not　exist；　had　never　existed　save　in　the　imagination　of　the

wretched　Winwood。



In　a　large　prison　like　San　Quentin　there　are　always　hiding…places

for　things。　　And　as　Cecil　Winwood　led　Captain　Jamie　he　must　have

done　some　rapid　thinking。



As　Captain　Jamie　testified　before　the　Board　of　Directors；　and　as

Winwood　also　so　testified；　on　the　way　to　the　hiding…place　Winwood

said　that　he　and　I　had　planted　the　powder　together。



And　I；　just　released　from　five　days　in　the　dungeons　and　eighty　hours

in　the　jacket；　I；　whom　even　the　stupid　guards　could　see　was　too　weak

to　work　in　the　loom…room；　I；　who　had　been　given　the　day　off　to

recuperatefrom　too　terrible　punishmentI　was　named　as　the　one　who

had　helped　hide　the　non…existent　thirty…five　pounds　of　high

explosive！



Winwood　led　Captain　Jamie　to　the　alleged　hiding…place。　　Of　course

they　found　no　dynamite　in　it。



〃My　God！〃　Winwood　lied。　　〃Standing　has　given　me　the　cross。　　He's

lifted　the　plant　and　stowed　it　somewhere　else。〃



The　Captain　of　the　Yard　said　more　emphatic　things　than　〃My　God！〃

Also；　on　the　spur　of　the　moment　but　cold…bloodedly；　he　took　Winwood

into　his　own　private　office；　looked　the　doors；　and　beat　him　up

frightfullyall　of　which　came　out　before　the　Board　of　Directors。

But　that　was　afterward。　　In　the　meantime；　even　while　he　took　his

beating；　Winwood　swore　by　the　truth　of　what　he　had　told。



What　was　Captain　Jamie　to　do？　　He　was　convinced　that　thirty…five

pounds　of　dynamite　were　loose　in　the　prison　and　that　forty　desperate

lifers　were　ready　for　a　break。　　Oh；　he　had　Summerface　in　on　the

carpet；　and；　although　Summerface　insisted　the　package　contained

tobacco；　Winwood　swore　it　was　dynamite　and　was　believed。



At　this　stage　I　enter　or；　rather；　I　depart；　for　they　took　me　away

out　of　the　sunshine　and　the　light　of　day　to　the　dungeons；　and　in　the

dungeons　and　in　the　solitary　cells；　out　of　the　sunshine　and　the

light　of　day；　I　rotted　for　five　years。



I　was　puzzled。　　I　had　only　just　been　released　from　the　dungeons；　and

was　lying　pain…racked　in　my　customary　cell；　when　they　took　me　back

to　the　dungeon。



〃Now；〃　said　Winwood　to　Captain　Jamie；　〃though　we　don't　know　where　it

is；　the　dynamite　is　safe。　　Standing　is　the　only　man　who　does　know；

and　he　can't　pass　the　word　out　from　the　dungeon。　　The　men　are　ready

to　make　the　break。　　We　can　catch　them　red…handed。　　It　is　up　to　me　to

set　the　time。　　I'll　tell　them　two　o'clock　to…night　and　tell　them

that；　with　the　guards　doped；　I'll　unlock　their　cells　and　give　them

their　automatics。　　If；　at　two　o'clock　to…night；　you　don't　catch　the

forty　I　shall　name　with　their　clothes　on　and　wide　awake；　then；

Captain；　you　can　give　me　solitary　for　the　rest　of　my　sentence。　　And

with　Standing　and　the　forty　tight　in　the　dungeons；　we'll　have　all

the　time　in　the　world　to　locate　the　dynamite。〃



〃If　we　have　to　tear　the　prison　down　stone　by　stone；〃　Captain　Jamie

added　valiantly。



That　was　six　years　ago。　　In　all　the　intervening　time　they　have　never

found　that　non…existent　explosive；　and　they　have　turned　the　prison

upside…down　a　thousand　times　in　searching　for　it。　　Nevertheless；　to

his　last　day　in　office　Warden　Atherton　believed　in　the　existence　of

that　dynamite。　　Captain　Jamie；　who　is　still　Captain　of　the　Yard；

believes　to　this　day　that　the　dynamite　is　somewhere　in　the　prison。

Only　yesterday；　he　came　all　the　way　up　from　San　Quentin　to　Folsom　to

make　one　more　effort　to　get　me　to　reveal　the　hiding…place。　　I　know

he　will　never　breathe　easy　until　they　swing　me　off。







CHAPTER　III







All　that　day　I　lay　in　the　dungeon　cudgelling　my　brains　for　the

reason　of　this　new　and　inexplicable　punishment。　　All　I　could

conclude　was　that　some　stool　had　lied　an　infraction　of　the　rules　on

me　in　order　to　curry　favour　with　the　guards。



Meanwhile　Captain　Jamie　fretted　his　head　off　and　prepared　for　the

night；　while　Winwood　passed　the　word　along　to　the　forty　lifers　to　be

ready　for　the　break。　　And　two　hours　after　midnight　every　guard　in

the　prison　was　under　orders。　　This　included　the　day…shift　which

should　have　been　asleep。　　When　two　o'clock　came；　they　rushed　the

cells　occupied　by　the　forty。　　The　rush　was　simultaneous。　　The　cells

were　opened　at　the　same　moment；　and　without　exception　the　men　named

by　Winwood　were　found　out　of　their　bunks；　fully　dressed；　and

crouching　just　inside　their　doors。　　Of　course；　this　was　verification

absolute　of　all　the　fabric　of　lies　that　the　poet…forger　had　spun　for

Captain　Jamie。　　The　forty　lifers　were　caught　in　red…handed　readiness

for　the　break。　　What　if　they　did　unite；　afterward；　in　averring　that

the　break　had　been　planned　by　Winwood？　　The　Prison　Board　of

Directors　believed；　to　a　man；　that　the　forty　lied　in　an　effort　to

save　themselves。　　The　Board　of　Pardons　likewise　believed；　for；　ere

three　months　were　up；　Cecil　Winwood；　forger　and　poet；　most

despicable　of　men；　was　pardoned　out。



Oh；　well；　the　stir；　or　the　pen；　as　they　call　it　in　convict　argot；　is

a　training　school　for　philosophy。　　No　inmate　can　survive　years　of　it

without　having　had　burst　for　him　his　fondest　illusions　and　fairest

metaphysical　bubbles。　　Truth　lives；　we　are　taught；　murder　will　out。

Well；　this　is　a　demonstration　that　murder　does　not　always　come　out。

The　Captain　of　the　Yard；　the　late　Warden　Atherton；　the　Prison　Board

of　Directors　to　a　manall　believe；　right　now；　in　the　existence　of

that　dynamite　that　never　existed　save　in　the　slippery…geared　and　all

too…accelerated　brain　of　the　degenerate　forger　and　poet；　Cecil

Winwood。　　And　Cecil　Winwood　still　lives；　while　I；　of　all　men

concerned；　the　utterest；　absolutist；　innocentest；　go　to　the　scaffold

in　a　few　short　weeks。





And　now　I　must　tell　how　entered　the　forty　lifers　upon　my　dungeon

stillness。　　I　was　asleep　when　the　outer　door　to　the　corridor　of

dungeons　clanged　open　and　aroused　me。　　〃Some　poor　devil；〃　was　my

thought；　and　my　next　thought　was　that　he　was　surely　getting　his；　as

I　listened　to　the　scuffling　of　feet；　the　dull　impact　of　blows　on

flesh；　the　sudden　cries　of　pain；　the　filth　of　curses；　and　the　sounds

of　dragging　bodies。　　For；　you　see；　every　man　was　man…handled　all　the

length　of　the　way。



Dungeon…door　after　dungeon…door　clanged　open；　and　body　after　body

was　thrust　in；　flung　in；　or　dragged　in。　　And　continually　more　groups

of　guards　arrived　with　more　beaten　convicts　who　still　were　being

beaten；　and　more　dungeon…doors　were　opened　to　receive　the　bleeding

frames　of　men　who　were　guilty　of　yearning　after　freedom。



Yes；　as　I　look　back　upon　it；　a　man　must　be　greatly　a　philosopher　to

survive　the　continual　impact　of　such　brutish　experiences　through　the

years　and　years。　　I　am　such　a　philosopher。　　I　have　endured　eight

years　of　their　torment；　and　now；　in　the　end；　failing　to　get　rid　of

me　in　all　other　ways；　they　have　invoked　the　machinery　of　state　to

put　a　rope　around　my　neck　and　shut　off　my　breath　by　the　weight　of　my

body。　　Oh；　I　know　how　the　experts　give　expert　judgment　that　the　fall

through　the　trap　breaks　the　victim's　neck。　　And　the　victims；　like

Shakespeare's　traveller；　never　return　to　testify　to　the　contrary。

But　we　who　have　lived　in　the　stir　know　of　the　cases　that　are　hushed

in　the　prison　crypts；　where　the　victim's　necks　are　not　broken。



It　is　a　funny　thing；　this　hanging　of　a　man。　　I　have　never　seen　a

hanging；　but　I　have　been　told　by　eye…witnesses　the　details　of　a

dozen　hangings　so　that　I　know　what　will　ha