No one would have
recognized the two captives as the midshipmen of the Perseus; their
clothes were in rags--torn to pieces by the thrusts of the sharp
pointed bamboos, to which they had daily been subjected--the
bad food, the cramped position, and the misery which they suffered
had worn both lads to skeletons; their hair was matted with filth,
their faces begrimed with dirt. Percy was so weak that he felt
he could not stand. Fothergill, being three years older, was less
exhausted, but he knew that he, too, could not support his sufferings
for many days longer. Their bodies were covered with sores, and try
as they would they were able to catch only a few minutes' sleep at
a time so much did the bamboo bars hurt their wasted limbs.
They seldom exchanged a word during the daytime, suffering in
silence the persecutions to which they were exposed, but at night
they talked over their homes and friends in England, and their
comrades on board ship, seldom saying a word as to their present
position. They were now in a hilly country, but had not the least
idea of the direction in which it lay from Canton or its distance
from the coast.
One evening Jack said to his companion, "I think it's nearly all
over now, Percy. The last two days we have made longer journeys, and
have not stopped at any of the smaller villages we passed through.
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