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- Джек Лондон
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- Стр. 31/210
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The
man
lies
face-downward
.
The
edges
of
the
jacket
are
brought
as
nearly
together
as
possible
along
the
centre
of
the
man
's
back
.
Then
a
rope
,
on
the
principle
of
a
shoe-lace
,
is
run
through
the
eyelets
,
and
on
the
principle
of
a
shoe-lacing
the
man
is
laced
in
the
canvas
.
Only
he
is
laced
more
severely
than
any
person
ever
laces
his
shoe
.
They
call
it
"
cinching
"
in
prison
lingo
.
On
occasion
,
when
the
guards
are
cruel
and
vindictive
,
or
when
the
command
has
come
down
from
above
,
in
order
to
insure
the
severity
of
the
lacing
the
guards
press
with
their
feet
into
the
man
's
back
as
they
draw
the
lacing
tight
.
Have
you
ever
laced
your
shoe
too
tightly
,
and
,
after
half
an
hour
,
experienced
that
excruciating
pain
across
the
instep
of
the
obstructed
circulation
?
And
do
you
remember
that
after
a
few
minutes
of
such
pain
you
simply
could
not
walk
another
step
and
had
to
untie
the
shoe-lace
and
ease
the
pressure
?
Very
well
.
Then
try
to
imagine
your
whole
body
so
laced
,
only
much
more
tightly
,
and
that
the
squeeze
,
instead
of
being
merely
on
the
instep
of
one
foot
,
is
on
your
entire
trunk
,
compressing
to
the
seeming
of
death
your
heart
,
your
lungs
,
and
all
the
rest
of
your
vital
and
essential
organs
.
I
remember
the
first
time
they
gave
me
the
jacket
down
in
the
dungeons
.
It
was
at
the
beginning
of
my
incorrigibility
,
shortly
after
my
entrance
to
prison
,
when
I
was
weaving
my
loom-task
of
a
hundred
yards
a
day
in
the
jute-mill
and
finishing
two
hours
ahead
of
the
average
day
.
Yes
,
and
my
jute-sacking
was
far
above
the
average
demanded
.
I
was
sent
to
the
jacket
that
first
time
,
according
to
the
prison
books
,
because
of
"
skips
"
and
"
breaks
"
in
the
cloth
,
in
short
,
because
my
work
was
defective
.
Of
course
this
was
ridiculous
.
In
truth
,
I
was
sent
to
the
jacket
because
I
,
a
new
convict
,
a
master
of
efficiency
,
a
trained
expert
in
the
elimination
of
waste
motion
,
had
elected
to
tell
the
stupid
head
weaver
a
few
things
he
did
not
know
about
his
business
.
And
the
head
weaver
,
with
Captain
Jamie
present
,
had
me
called
to
the
table
where
atrocious
weaving
,
such
as
could
never
have
gone
through
my
loom
,
was
exhibited
against
me
.
Three
times
was
I
thus
called
to
the
table
.
The
third
calling
meant
punishment
according
to
the
loom-room
rules
.
My
punishment
was
twenty-four
hours
in
the
jacket
.
They
took
me
down
into
the
dungeons
.
I
was
ordered
to
lie
face-downward
on
the
canvas
spread
flat
upon
the
floor
.
I
refused
.
One
of
the
guards
,
Morrison
,
gulletted
me
with
his
thumbs
.
Mobins
,
the
dungeon
trusty
,
a
convict
himself
,
struck
me
repeatedly
with
his
fists
.
In
the
end
I
lay
down
as
directed
.
And
,
because
of
the
struggle
I
had
vexed
them
with
,
they
laced
me
extra
tight
.
Then
they
rolled
me
over
like
a
log
upon
my
back
.
It
did
not
seem
so
bad
at
first
.
When
they
closed
my
door
,
with
clang
and
clash
of
levered
boltage
,
and
left
me
in
the
utter
dark
,
it
was
eleven
o'clock
in
the
morning
.
For
a
few
minutes
I
was
aware
merely
of
an
uncomfortable
constriction
which
I
fondly
believed
would
ease
as
I
grew
accustomed
to
it
.
On
the
contrary
,
my
heart
began
to
thump
and
my
lungs
seemed
unable
to
draw
sufficient
air
for
my
blood
.
This
sense
of
suffocation
was
terrorizing
,
and
every
thump
of
the
heart
threatened
to
burst
my
already
bursting
lungs
.
After
what
seemed
hours
,
and
after
what
,
out
of
my
countless
succeeding
experiences
in
the
jacket
I
can
now
fairly
conclude
to
have
been
not
more
than
half-an-hour
,
I
began
to
cry
out
,
to
yell
,
to
scream
,
to
howl
,
in
a
very
madness
of
dying
.
The
trouble
was
the
pain
that
had
arisen
in
my
heart
.
It
was
a
sharp
,
definite
pain
,
similar
to
that
of
pleurisy
,
except
that
it
stabbed
hotly
through
the
heart
itself
.
To
die
is
not
a
difficult
thing
,
but
to
die
in
such
slow
and
horrible
fashion
was
maddening
.
Like
a
trapped
beast
of
the
wild
,
I
experienced
ecstasies
of
fear
,
and
yelled
and
howled
until
I
realized
that
such
vocal
exercise
merely
stabbed
my
heart
more
hotly
and
at
the
same
time
consumed
much
of
the
little
air
in
my
lungs
.
I
gave
over
and
lay
quiet
for
a
long
time
--
an
eternity
it
seemed
then
,
though
now
I
am
confident
that
it
could
have
been
no
longer
than
a
quarter
of
an
hour
.
I
grew
dizzy
with
semi-asphyxiation
,
and
my
heart
thumped
until
it
seemed
surely
it
would
burst
the
canvas
that
bound
me
.
Again
I
lost
control
of
myself
and
set
up
a
mad
howling
for
help
.
In
the
midst
of
this
I
heard
a
voice
from
the
next
dungeon
.
