Noon was the hour of visitation, and necessity and danger again
obliged me to attempt forcing my hand in, which at length, after
excruciating torture, I effected. My visitors came, and everything
had the appearance of order. I found it, however, impossible to
force out my right hand while it continued swelled.

I therefore remained quiet till the day fixed, and on the determined
fourth of July, immediately as my visitors had closed the doors upon
me, I disencumbered myself of my irons, took my knife, and began my
Herculean labour on the door. The first of the double doors that
opened inwards was conquered in less than an hour; the other was a
very different task. The lock was soon cut round, but it opened
outwards; there was therefore no other means left but to cut the
whole door away above the bar.

Incessant and incredible labour made this possible, though it was
the more difficult as everything was to be done by feeling, I being
totally in the dark; the sweat dropped, or rather flowed, from my
body; my fingers were clotted in my own blood, and my lacerated
hands were one continued wound.

Daylight appeared: I clambered over the door that was half cut
away, and got up to the window in the space or cell that was between
the double doors, as before described. Here I saw my dungeon was in
the ditch of the first rampart: before me I beheld the road from
the rampart, the guard but fifty paces distant, and the high
palisades that were in the ditch, and must be scaled before I could
reach the rampart. Hope grew stronger; my efforts were redoubled.
The first of the next double doors was attacked, which likewise