HORACE COBB’S NEW army, now many hundred strong, was having to be very patient. They had rolled from Six a few minutes before three o’clock, jostling, play-fighting, singing. Balls were hurled and kicked between the men, most of them sailing over the retaining wall and into the market square. They watched from afar as the Agent, his redcoats and King Dick seemed to be involved in a stand-off on the steps of Four. When that seemed to have been resolved and the Agent had gone inside, his troop marched back to the market square gates. There, they waited.
Frustrated lines of inmates buzzed around. Escape was now in their blood and the inactivity was driving them crazy.
‘Sweet Mary and Jesus,’ said Cobb, sitting on the steps. ‘We can hardly break out if half the British army are watching.’
‘What are they waitin’ for?’ said Lane. ‘The play’s two hours long, at least. They can’t be waitin’ there all that time.’
‘We could start the game, but there don’t seem much point if we can’t … finish it.’ Cobb stroked and separated his beard as he watched the British soldiers. ‘I’d thought about getting caught, thought about getting shot, too, but I never thought of this – this … waiting.’ He kicked at the ground in frustration. ‘We’re all greased up, Mr Lane, ready for battle, but we got nowhere to run.’
A roar of laughter and applause erupted from Block Four and both men glanced along the courtyard.
‘An idea, Mr Cobb,’ said Lane, still staring at Four.
‘Go on.’
‘The play sounds like it’s goin’ well.’
‘It does,’ conceded Cobb.
‘Must be quite a pull if you’re inside Four.’
‘What’s your point, Mr Lane?’
‘You see a guard outside their block? Or in the doorway? Anywhere?’
‘No.’ Cobb drew the word out as he began to realize what Lane was thinking.
‘If they got a tunnel, now might be a good time to find out. My bet is, ain’t no blackjacks downstairs at all.’
‘Unless they’re escapin’.’
‘And if they are, shouldn’t we know ’bout it?’
They sat in silence. The would-be escapers from Six and Seven were still play-fighting, singing shanties or insulting the British. Across the yard, the men of One were cooking on an old stove; others were throwing balls off the roof and catching them.
‘We should know,’ decided Cobb. ‘Of course we should know.’