The cricket match was over early, so that there was plenty of time before dark for a visit to the fort. An English soldier was supposed to be in charge, but Friday afternoon was a half holiday, the soldier was merry-making like the rest of the Nassau people, and his small son, who was black as the ace of spades and who said that his name was Philip Charles Augustus Smith was acting as guard and guide in his father's stead. First he took the party up in the lookout tower, which commanded a fine view of the town, the island, and the harbor, and then, getting a light-wood torch, he showed them through the great range of underground chambers, cut in years gone by by convict labor out of the solid coral rock, which cuts almost as easily as putty when it is first exposed to the air. There was the governor's chamber with its one grated window, the prisoners' quarters with no air at all, save what could come through a long winding shaft, barrack rooms for several thousand soldiers, a vault for storing powder, and, most interesting of all, a well to supply the garrison with water. Philip Charles Augustus Smith felt in his pockets and produced several pebbles, which he threw down this well; and the visitors were amazed at the interval that elapsed between the tossing of the stone and its splash in the water far below.