The Man in the Cage by Jack Vance

The Man in the Cage by Jack Vance

Author:Jack Vance [Vance, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781619470248
Publisher: Spatterlight Press, Oakland, California


Chapter IX

Darrell shifted his position several times. For the twentieth time he looked at his watch. Seventeen minutes had passed. Fury rose up in him, choking in his throat, like vomit. He gave a faint hoarse cry of passion, then, instantly ashamed, crouched back against the bars. Was there no way he could free himself from this damnable cage?

He pulled at one of the bars. It was soft wrought iron, about three-quarters of an inch in diameter, and gave a fraction of an inch under the strain. He pulled with every ounce he could muster, but the bar, fixed at top and bottom in the timber frame, only quivered. Darrell relaxed. Nineteen minutes had passed.

Perhaps el Kazim would sleep in Fez tonight, and not make the journey to Tangier until tomorrow, which meant an additional twelve hours in the cage. Darrell’s detestation for Abd Allah el Kazim surpassed any emotion he had previously felt. He took hold of a bar once more, tugged till his throat corded. He doubled himself up, pushed with his feet. The bar gave slightly, until its tensile strength resisted further bending.

He examined the timber above and below. It was weathered and old and possibly a little rotten, but proof against any exertion of his muscles. He thought of the tools accessible at home: hydraulic jacks, air chisels, bolt cutters, oxyacetylene torches. Even with a hacksaw, a keyhole saw, any variety of saw, he could work himself free. In the dusty light seeping through the windows he searched the room. Since el Kazim and Jilali were not fools, they would leave no useful implement within his reach. As he expected, the stable offered him no assistance. A heap of firewood occupied one corner; rotting straps, blankets and donkey harness hung from pegs. A few odds and ends were visible — bottles, boxes, a threadbare automobile tire, the coil of rope with which el Kazim had offered to tie him, a stack of cracked dishes. Darrell’s eyes fixed on the rope. A resourceful man could accomplish marvels with a length of rope. But he could not reach across the twenty feet intervening.

Darrell considered. He could tear his shirt into strips, knot the strips together, tie his shoe to the end, cast and drag the rope to him. Feasible, but perhaps there was another method which would spare him his shirt. He tried to rock the cage. It was very heavy; with his utmost exertion he could do little more than jar it. He rearranged himself within the cage, worked his foot through the hole in the floor. He put his back under the top of the cage. Heave, thrust. The cage raised, slid an inch; the edge of the hole banged against his ankle. Heave, thrust. Two inches … Ten minutes later Darrell obtained possession of the rope. The light was fading fast, and Darrell worked with all haste. He made a loop, cast it at the pile of firewood, and after several attempts managed to drag over a stout stick something over a foot long.



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