Soon I feel a fresher air--the salt, vivifying air of the sea, that I have not breathed for five months.

I inspire it with avidity, with all the power of my lungs.
The outer extremity of the passage appears against the star-studded sky.

There is not even a shadow in the way.

Perhaps I shall be able to get outside.
I lay down, and crawl along noiselessly to the orifice and peer out.
Not a soul is in sight! By skirting the rocks towards the east, to the side which cannot be approached from the sea on account of the reefs and which is not likely to be watched, I reach a narrow excavation about two hundred and twenty-five yards from where the point of the coast extends towards the northwest.
At last I am out of the cavern.

I am not free, but it is the beginning of freedom.
On the point the forms of a few sentries stand out against the clear sky, so motionless that they might be mistaken for pieces of the rock.
On the horizon to the west the position lights of the warship show in a luminous line.
From a few gray patches discernable in the east, I calculate that it must be about five o'clock in the morning.
_November 18_ .-- It is now light enough for me to be able to complete my notes relating the details of my visit to Thomas Roch's laboratory--the last lines my hand will trace, perhaps.
I have begun to write, and shall dot down the incidents of the attack as they occur.
The light damp mist that hangs over the water soon lifts under the influence of the breeze, and at last I can distinguish the warships.
There are five of them, and they are lying in a line about six miles off, and consequently beyond the range of Roch's engines.
My fear that after passing in sight of the Bermudas the squadron would continue on its way to the Antilles or Mexico was therefore unfounded.
No, there it is, awaiting broad daylight in order to attack Back Cup.
There is a movement on the coast.