"

Then the tramp, tramp again. As the outside gangs passed through the
gate, each officer in charge received his rifle, bayonet, belt, and
cartridge-box from the armorer at the lodge. The stone-dressing gang
passed close under the window, and Hugh Ritson reeled back as one of the
men--a stalwart fellow in a blue cap, who was walking abreast of a
misshapen creature with a face full of ferocity--lifted his eyes upward
from the file.

At eight o'clock the governor appeared at his receiving-office. He was a
slight man with the face and figure of a greyhound. His military
frock-coat was embossed with Crimean medals, and he was redolent of the
odor of Whitehall. He received Hugh Ritson's papers with a curious
mixture of easy courtesy and cold dignity--a sort of combination of the
different manners in which he was wont to bow to a secretary of state
and condemn a convict to the chain and bread and water.

"The men are back to breakfast at nine," he said. "Watkins," to the
chief warder, "have B 2001 brought round to the office immediately 34
gang returns."

Hugh Ritson had left the receiving-office and was crossing the
parade-ground when a loud hubbub arose near the lodge.

"The boat!" shouted twenty voices, and a covey of convicts ran in the
direction of a shed where an eight-oar boat was kept on the chocks. "A
man has mizzled--run a wagon into the sea and is drifting down the
race."

How the demons laughed, how they cursed in jest, how they worked, how
luminous were their eyes and haggard faces at the prospect of
recapturing one of their fellow-prisoners who had tried to make his
escape! Every convict who helped to catch a fugitive was entitled to a
remission of six days. The doctor took Hugh Ritson up on to the lead
flat that covered his quarters. From that altitude they could see over
the prison wall to the rocky coast beyond. Near the ruins of the old
church a gang of convicts were running to and fro, waving their hands,
and shouting in wild excitement.

"It's gang 34," said the doctor, "Jim-the-ladder's gang."

The sun had risen, the sea was glistening in its million facets, and
into many a rolling wave a sea-bird dipped its corded throat. In the
silvery water-way there was something floating that looked as if it
might have been a tub. It was the wagon that the convict had driven into
the water for a boat.

"It will sink--it's shod with thick hoops of iron," said the doctor.

The convict could be seen standi