Christians were bound with thongs, and these Heraklas cut also, but
the other five Christians were bound hand and foot with chains, and
for them Heraklas' knife could not avail. Timokles and the other two
had been considered weaker in body, or else the persons who secured
the Christians had been in haste to join the reveling of the
mariners, and had thought cords strong enough. Yet what availed it
that the feet of any of the Christians were free, if their bodies
were securely bound?

"Thou hast done all thou canst, Heraklas," whispered Timokles. "Go
now, my brother. O my Heraklas, I rejoice thou art a Christian! Go!
We shall meet again in the kingdom of our God!"

"I will never leave thee," answered Heraklas, firmly. "The men are
drinking themselves senseless. I will try what I can do."

He felt the wall till he found that Timokles' chain was held, not by
a hook, but a staple. It was only after long labor with his knife
around this staple that it shook a little in its hold on the wall.
Then Heraklas seized the staple, and swung his whole weight upon it,
and dug his knife into the wall like a madman. He worked with
perspiration standing on his forehead, his breath coming in pants.
Furiously, with all his strength, he dug and pulled till the staple
yielded, and he fell down among the prisoners. But the drunken men
on deck did not hear.

Heraklas labored on, till at last he threw his arms about his
brother.

"Stand up, my Timokles," he begged. "See if thou art not free!"