It lay apart from humanity, in a district of fens and marshes, across
which, in the winter time, the east wind swept furiously in from the North
Sea, some thirty miles away. It cut like a knife--to the very bone. I hear
it still of a night in my dreams, and wake up and thank God that after all
it is only our own gallant south-wester, which, if somewhat unreasonably
boisterous at times, and over fond of showing what it can do, is still an
honest wind, and devoid of treachery. For we were but ill-clad at best, and
were always lacking in the matter of fuel, and many other things that make
for comfort. Whatever we might be at other times, when the east wind blew
in from the sea we were, every man of us, _âmes perdues_ in very truth,
and I marvel sometimes that any of us saw the winter through.

The prison was a huge enclosure surrounded by a high wooden stockade.
Inside this was another stockade, and between the two armed guards paced
day and night. In the inner ring were a number of long wooden houses in
which we lived, if that could be called living which for most was but a
weary dragging on of existence bare of hope and love, and sorely trying at
times to one's faith in one's fellows and almost in God Himself. For the
misery and suffering enclosed within that sharp-toothed circle of unbarked
posts were enough to crush a man's spirit and sicken his heart.

In the summer pestilential fevers and agues crept out of the marshes and
wasted us. In the winter the east winds wrung our bones and our hearts. And
summer and winter alike, the Government contractors, or those employed by
them, waxed fat on their contracts, which, if honestly carried out, would
have kept us in reasonable content.

How some among my fellow-prisoners managed to keep up their hearts, and to
maintain even fairly cheerful faces, was a source of constant amazement to