But the attempt failed.

He answered surlily, that a dark room was quite good enough for a damned rebel, and left me to myself.
When it became too dark to walk about, I lay down in the hammock and was soon in the land of dreams; for I was young and sanguine, and though I could not help feeling somewhat anxious, it was not the sort of anxiety which kills sleep.

Only once in my life have I tasted the agony of despair.

That time was not yet.
When I awoke the clock of a neighboring church was striking three, and the rays of a brilliant tropical moon were streaming through the barred window of my room, making it hardly less light than day.
As the echo of the last stroke dies away, I fancy that I hear something strike against the grating.
I rise up in my hammock, listening intently, and at the same instant a small shower of pebbles, flung by an unseen hand, falls into the room.
A signal! Yes, and a signal that demands an answer.

In less time than it takes to tell I slip from my hammock, gather up the pebbles, climb up to the window, and drop them into the street.