it is no easy trick to keep the brain in such
serenerepose that it
is quite oblivious to the throbbing,
exquisitecomplaint of some
tortured nerve.
And it was this very
mastery of the flesh by the spirit which I so
acquired that enabled me easily to
practise the secret Ed Morrell
told to me.
"Think it is curtains?" Ed Morrell rapped to me one night.
I had just been released from one hundred hours, and I was weaker
than I had ever been before. So weak was I that though my whole
body was one mass of
bruise and
misery,
nevertheless I scarcely was
aware that I had a body.
"It looks like curtains," I rapped back. "They will get me if they
keep it up much longer."
"Don't let them," he advised. "There is a way. I
learned it
myself, down in the dungeons, when Massie and I got ours good and
plenty. I pulled through. But Massie croaked. If I hadn't
learnedthe trick, I'd have croaked along with him. You've got to be pretty
weak first, before you try it. If you try it when you are strong,
you make a
failure of it, and then that queers you for ever after.
I made the mistake of telling Jake the trick when he was strong. Of
course, he could not pull it off, and in the times since when he did
need it, it was too late, for his first
failure had queered it. He
won't even believe it now. He thinks I am kidding him. Ain't that
right, Jake?"
And from cell thirteen Jake rapped back, "Don't
swallow it, Darrell.
It's a sure fairy story."
"Go on and tell me," I rapped to Morrell.
"That is why I waited for you to get real weak," he continued. "Now
you need it, and I am going to tell you. It's up to you. If you
have got the will you can do it. I've done it three times, and I
know."
"Well, what is it?" I rapped eagerly.
"The trick is to die in the
jacket, to will yourself to die. I know
you don't get me yet, but wait. You know how you get numb in the
jacket--how your arm or your leg goes to sleep. Now you can't help
that, but you can take it for the idea and improve on it. Don't
wait for your legs or anything to go to sleep. You lie on your back
as comfortable as you can get, and you begin to use your will.
"And this is the idea you must think to yourself, and that you must
believe all the time you're thinking it. If you don't believe, then
there's nothing to it. The thing you must think and believe is that
your body is one thing and your spirit is another thing. You are
you, and your body is something else that don't
amount to shucks.
Your body don't count. You're the boss. You don't need any body.
And thinking and believing all this you proceed to prove it by using
your will. You make your body die.
"You begin with the toes, one at a time. You make your toes die.
You will them to die. And if you've got the
belief and the will
your toes will die. That is the big job--to start the dying. Once
you've got the first toe dead, the rest is easy, for you don't have
to do any more believing. You know. Then you put all your will
into making the rest of the body die. I tell you, Darrell, I know.
I've done it three times.
"Once you get the dying started, it goes right along. And the funny
thing is that you are all there all the time. Because your toes are
dead don't make you in the least bit dead. By-and-by your legs are
dead to the knees, and then to the thighs, and you are just the same
as you always were. It is your body that is dropping out of the
game a chunk at a time. And you are just you, the same you were
before you began."
"And then what happens?" I queried.
"Well, when your body is all dead, and you are all there yet, you
just skin out and leave your body. And when you leave your body you
leave the cell. Stone walls and iron doors are to hold bodies in.
They can't hold the spirit in. You see, you have proved it. You
are spirit outside of your body. You can look at your body from
outside of it. I tell you I know because I have done it three
times--looked at my body lying there with me outside of it."
"Ha! ha! ha!" Jake Oppenheimer rapped his
laughter thirteen cells
away.
"You see, that's Jake's trouble," Morrell went on. "He can't
believe. That one time he tried it he was too strong and failed.
And now he thinks I am kidding."
"When you die you are dead, and dead men stay dead," Oppenheimer
retorted.
"I tell you I've been dead three times," Morrell argued.
"And lived to tell us about it," Oppenheimer jeered.
"But don't forget one thing, Darrell," Morrell rapped to me. "The
thing is ticklish. You have a feeling all the time that you are
taking liberties. I can't explain it, but I always had a feeling if
I was away when they came and let my body out of the
jacket that I
couldn't get back into my body again. I mean that my body would be
dead for keeps. And I didn't want it to be dead. I didn't want to
give Captain Jamie and the rest that
satisfaction. But I tell you,
Darrell, if you can turn the trick you can laugh at the Warden.
Once you make your body die that way it don't matter whether they
keep you in the
jacket a month on end. You don't suffer none, and
your body don't suffer. You know there are cases of people who have
slept a whole year at a time. That's the way it will be with your
body. It just stays there in the
jacket, not hurting or anything,
just
waiting for you to come back.
"You try it. I am giving you the straight steer."
"And if he don't come back?" Oppenheimer, asked.
"Then the laugh will be on him, I guess, Jake," Morrell answered.
"Unless, maybe, it will be on us for sticking round this old dump
when we could get away that easy."
And here the conversation ended, for Pie-Face Jones, waking crustily
from
stolenslumber,
threatened Morrell and Oppenheimer with a
report next morning that would mean the
jacket for them. Me he did
not
threaten, for he knew I was doomed for the
jacket anyway.
I lay long there in the silence, forgetting the
misery of my body
while I considered this
proposition Morrell had
advanced. Already,
as I have explained, by
mechanical self-hypnosis I had sought to
penetrate back through time to my
previous selves. That I had
partly succeeded I knew; but all that I had
experienced was a
fluttering of apparitions that merged erratically and were without
continuity.
But Morrell's method was so patently the
reverse of my method of
self-hypnosis that I was fascinated. By my method, my
consciousnesswent first of all. By his method,
consciousness persisted last of
all, and, when the body was quite gone, passed into stages so
sublimated that it left the body, left the prison of San Quentin,
and journeyed afar, and was still
consciousness.
It was worth a trial, anyway, I concluded. And,
despite the
sceptical attitude of the
scientist that was mine, I believed. I
had no doubt I could do what Morrell said he had done three times.
Perhaps this faith that so easily possessed me was due to my extreme
debility. Perhaps I was not strong enough to be sceptical. This
was the hypothesis already suggested by Morrell. It was a
conclusion of pure empiricism, and I, too, as you shall see,
demonstrated it empirically.
CHAPTER X
And above all things, next morning Warden Atherton came into my cell
on murder
intent. With him were Captain Jamie, Doctor Jackson, Pie-
Face Jones, and Al Hutchins. Al Hutchins was serving a forty-years'
sentence, and was in hopes of being
pardoned out. For four years he
had been head
trusty of San Quentin. That this was a position of
great power you will realize when I tell you that the graft alone of
the head
trusty was estimated at three thousand dollars a year.
Wherefore Al Hutchins, in possession of ten or twelve thousand
dollars and of the promise of a
pardon, could be depended upon to do
the Warden's bidding blind.
I have just said that Warden Atherton came into my cell
intent on
murder. His face showed it. His actions proved it.
"Examine him," he ordered Doctor Jackson.
That
wretchedapology of a creature stripped from me my dirt-
encrusted shirt that I had worn since my entrance to
solitary, and
exposed my poor wasted body, the skin ridged like brown parchment
over the ribs and sore-infested from the many bouts with the
jacket.
The
examination was shamelessly perfunctory.
"Will he stand it?" the Warden demanded.
"Yes," Doctor Jackson answered.
"How's the heart?"
"Splendid."
"You think he'll stand ten days of it, Doc.?"
"Sure."
"I don't believe it," the Warden announced
savagely. "But we'll try
it just the same.--Lie down, Standing."
I obeyed, stretching myself face-downward on the flat-spread
jacket.
The Warden seemed to
debate with himself for a moment.
"Roll over," he commanded.
I made several efforts, but was too weak to succeed, and could only
sprawl and squirm in my helplessness.
"Putting it on," was Jackson's comment.
"Well, he won't have to put it on when I'm done with him," said the
Warden. "Lend him a hand. I can't waste any more time on him."
So they rolled me over on my back, where I stared up into Warden
Atherton's face.
"Standing," he said slowly, "I've given you all the rope I am going
to. I am sick and tired of your stubbornness. My
patience is
exhausted. Doctor Jackson says you are in condition to stand ten
days in the
jacket. You can figure your chances. But I am going to
give you your last chance now. Come across with the
dynamite. The
moment it is in my hands I'll take you out of here. You can bathe
and shave and get clean clothes. I'll let you loaf for six months
on hospital grub, and then I'll put you
trusty in the library. You
can't ask me to be fairer with you than that. Besides, you're not
squealing on anybody. You are the only person in San Quentin who
knows where the
dynamite is. You won't hurt anybody's feelings by
giving in, and you'll be all to the good from the moment you do give
in. And if you don't--"
He paused and shrugged his shoulders significantly.
"Well, if you don't, you start in the ten days right now."
The
prospect was terrifying. So weak was I that I was as certain as
the Warden was that it meant death in the
jacket. And then I
remembered Morrell's trick. Now, if ever, was the need of it; and
now, if ever, was the time to
practise the faith of it. I smiled up
in the face of Warden Atherton. And I put faith in that smile, and
faith in the
proposition I made to him.
"Warden," I said, "do you see the way I am smiling? Well, if, at
the end of the ten days, when you unlace me, I smile up at you in
the same way, will you give a sack of Bull Durham and a
package of
brown papers to Morrell and Oppenheimer?"
"Ain't they the crazy ginks, these college guys," Captain Jamie
snorted.
Warden Atherton was a choleric man, and he took my request for
insulting braggadocio.
"Just for that you get an extra cinching," he informed me.
"I made you a sporting
proposition, Warden," I said quietly. "You
can cinch me as tight as you please, but if I smile ten days from
now will you give the Bull Durham to Morrell and Oppenheimer?"
"You are
mighty sure of yourself," he retorted.
"That's why I made the
proposition," I replied.
"Getting religion, eh?" he sneered.
"No," was my answer. "It merely happens that I possess more life
than you can ever reach the end of. Make it a hundred days if you
want, and I'll smile at you when it's over."
"I guess ten days will more than do you, Standing."
"That's your opinion," I said. "Have you got faith in it? If you
have you won't even lose the price of the two five-cents sacks of
tobacco. Anyway, what have you got to be afraid of?"