The iron bars of the prison yielded like wood to the fine-tempered instruments which Collins employed.

In an hour and a half three of the bars were removed without noise, and the aperture was wide enough for their escape.

The singing of Thompson, whose voice was tolerably good, and ear very correct, had not only the effect of preventing their working being heard, but amused the sentinel, who remained with his back to the wall listening to the melody.
Their work was so far accomplished.

Thompson ceased, and all was silence and anxiety; in a few minutes the sentinel was again heard in conversation, and the voices receded, as if he had removed to a greater distance.
"Now, brother," said the low voice under the aperture.
In a minute the whole of the prisoners were clear of the walls, and followed their guide in silence, until they reached the landing-place.
"There is the boat, and provisions sufficient," said the freemason, in a low tone; "you will have to pass the sentries on the rocks: but we can do no more for you.

Farewell, brother; and may you and your companions be fortunate!" So saying, their friendly assistant disappeared.
The night was so dark, that although close to the boat, it was with difficulty that its outlines could be discerned.