HER SUFFERINGS IN THE HOLD
I lay thinking just as one would in bed through the blackness of a long
night: and in this way three or four hours went by.
It was then I heard a noise overhead, a very great hurry of feet,
and sounds as of drunken shouts and singing dulled to the ear by the
thickness of the plank. I knew by this that the crew were come, and I
felt mighty grateful, for now I could be sure that we should soon be
under way for the Channel. I supposed that the ship had brought up at
a mooring buoy; certainly I should have heard the thunder of her cable
roaring just over my head had she let go her anchor.
I got some biscuit and meat, and whilst I was eating in my sail the
hatch was lifted. I immediately whipped under the canvas and lay like
a mouse, watching in my fashion, that is, with one eye at the edge
of the bolt-rope of the sail. Three men came down, and a minute later
a fourth followed. I lay motionless and terribly frightened, for they
stood under the hatch looking round as though considering where to seek
for what they came for. The open hatch yawned in a square of pale gray
light; I was able to see the men, but the forward part of the place
where I lay was sunk in gloom. The biggest of the men, a great burly
fellow of a seaman, advancing two or three steps, stopped and began to
count. I understood he was counting the casks.
‘Eight,’ said he.
‘I told you that, sir,’ said the voice of Will. ‘I saw them stowed.’
‘So much the better,’ answered one whom I reckoned to be a mate,
perhaps the second or third mate. ‘I’ve allowed for six. There can’t be
too much spare water for such a company as we’re carrying.’
‘Right you are there, sir,’ exclaimed the burly man in a deep voice.
‘Sails, here’s twine for ye.’
‘I see it,’ said the third man, stooping and seeming to feel. They
continued for a short time to talk about the contents of this
store-room. I heard Will say the chief mate had ordered him to count
the spare buckets.
‘Do so,’ said the man whom I supposed to be the second or third mate.
‘Bo’sun, hand us down a light. I can’t strike fire with my eyes,’ said
Will.
The three men went up through the hatch, leaving Will standing alone
under it. I now distinctly heard the sound of many voices; most of the
newly-arrived crew seemed intoxicated if I might judge from their tipsy
laughter and maudlin songs and calls. A light was handed down; Will
screened the lantern by setting it beside a cask; he then came over to
me. I lifted my head.
‘There you are,’ said he softly. ‘How are you getting on, old girl?’
‘Very well, Will. I have slept right through the night, and very
comfortably. Give me all the news.’
‘You may hear it,’ said he, laughing. ‘The crew are aboard, drunk as
casks. A sweet and noble lot of hearts. You never saw such a crew. The
most ruffian-looking convicts are gentlemen beside some of them. The
crimp who brought them down fished every gutter ’twixt Houndsditch and
Limehouse Hole, and rejected half he hooked as not bad enough.’
‘Then we’re off Gravesend?’
‘Ay.’
‘When do we start?’
‘The tug will be catching hold of us before dark. Any rats here,
Marian?’
‘None, so far. Have you seen anything of Tom, dear?’
‘Nothing.’
He stepped to the lantern and held it to my face to look at me.
‘It’s a good job,’ said he, ‘that you’ve got no hair to dress. But how
jolly bright your eyes are! Perhaps I may have you out of this sooner
than you expect. Pray for a fresh north-easter, Marian.’
‘Take your light away and count your buckets. Somebody may come below.’
‘I’m not going to count any buckets,’ said he. ‘I invented that yarn as
an excuse to see you.’
He carried the lantern to where my provisions lay, and was looking at
them and softly speaking, when a man fell right through the hatch. He
fell with a mighty thud, and I screamed out. You would have supposed
him killed or stunned, but he had not lain quiet one or two minutes,
not long enough indeed for Will to get to him, when he began to
laugh and mutter drunkenly. He then sat up, and, looking about him,
exclaimed: ‘Rum casks, be gob! Whist, ye drunken teef, and they’ll lock
ye up down here!’ So saying, he got upon all-fours and crawled toward
the casks stowed in the left wing of this store-room.
‘What are you doing here?’ cried Will, stepping up to him.
‘Is it you, honey? Bedad, then, that makes two. Quick, sweetheart, with
your gimlet and pannikin, for supposin’ it should be threacle!’ said
the man, sinking into a sitting posture.
My terror was extreme. I feared that others of the drunken crew would
follow this fellow and come tumbling down after him to rummage for
drink, and discover me before enough sober men could be got together to
turn them out.
‘Now, up you go!’ cried Will. ‘Out you get!’ And he put his lantern
down to lay hold of the man.
‘Why, what divvle are you?’ answered the brute, in a voice suddenly
savage and dangerous as the growl of a fierce dog. ‘What’s this?’
he roared. ‘A stowaway? Hooroo! A stowaway, bullies! Hooroo!’ and,
staggering on to his legs, he lurched towards the lad, with his fist
raised.
Will was as stout a young fellow as ever buttoned a pea-jacket over
his chest. He struck, and the man dropped like a shot from the hand.
Excitement and fright had carried me out of the sail. I grasped the
broom-handle and was in the very act of rushing to help Will, when the
fellow was dropped by my cousin’s fist.
‘What’s going on down there?’ roared a hurricane voice through the
hatch.
I sprang back upon the sail and covered myself.
‘Here’s a drunken scoundrel, bo’sun, pitched headlong down here and
refuses to turn out!’ cried Will.
The burly figure of the boatswain came in a sprawl down the ladder.
Then followed a real forecastle scuffle. The boatswain went to work
with legs and hands, kicking and hauling. The drunken Irishman
blasphemed most horribly. Heads collected at the hatch, and the fellows
up there roared to their wrestling, drunken, cursing shipmate to fight
it out and die game. But Will and the boatswain between them proved too
much for the ruffian, and, after a fierce struggle, they dragged him up
through the hatch, with his old coat in ribbons. Will then descended
for the lantern. He breathed very hard, and looked my way as though he
would speak. I sat up and passionately waved to him to depart. He saw
my gesture by the light he held, flourished his hand, and, climbing the
hatch, put the cover on.
This was a terribly narrow escape, and I felt all the weakness of my
sex’s nature as I sat in the blackness and realised that had the other
drunken sailors tumbled below I should have been discovered and my
hopes ruined.
After this I passed some wretched hours, for I never knew but that the
drunken Irish sailor had told the others there were casks under the
forecastle full of strong drink, for all he could guess, and I kept on
fearing that amongst them they’d lift the hatch and descend. However,
nothing of the kind happened; I got more heart as time went on and the
hatch remained untouched. I heard a great deal of thumping overhead,
and treading of feet as of men coming and going, and then I felt once
more the same straining sensation in the ship I had before taken notice
of; I supposed we were under way, in which case the _Childe Harold_ had
fairly begun her voyage.
Saving the occasional lifting of the hatch at long intervals when a
man went below into the fore-peak to shovel coals and send them up in
buckets, nothing broke the overwhelming monotony of that black and
silent time of concealment. But there came an hour, whether it was in
the day or night I cannot tell, when I was awakened out of a deep sleep
by many violent noises and a wild movement. The ship was at sea; she
was breasting the waters of the Channel; and seemingly a strong sea was
running, for she pitched deep and raised a most extraordinary roaring
noise of foaming brine all about her bows, in the very ‘eyes’ of which
I lay. For some minutes I was not sensible of the least inconvenience;
I sat up in my bed of sail wondering at the novelty of the motion and
the noises; but then I was visited by a most deadly nausea--I felt as
though I were swooning into death; indeed, the pitching motion was
outrageously heavy for one inexperienced as I was to waken up to. I
was just in that part of the ship where the pitching is most felt.
I sank back and suffered--oh, how I suffered! Think of me, alone in
that midnight blackness, without a sup of cordial to give me a little
life, as incapable of stirring as though I were dying, feeling to the
height of its anguish the sickness that is the worst of all sickness,
hearing nothing but the cataractal rushing of water against the bows,
the sudden shock and thunder of a great sea smiting quick and hard as
the blow of a rock, the crazy straining of timber and cargo and strong
fastenings.
In this wretched state I continued for two days. I afterwards
calculated this time, and found that it must have run into two days and
a night. I never ate nor drank; I may say I neither slept nor waked;
I lay in a sort of middle state. Will never came near me; but through
no fault of his; he later on told me his hands had been full whilst
on deck, he could not invent an excuse to visit the store-room, and
without a good excuse he durst not lift the hatch lest I should be
discovered and he be charged with hiding me.
However, whether it was that nature could suffer no more, or that the
movement of the ship even in this extreme fore part had fallen into
softness and rhythm, I slept and awoke, and, awaking, found myself free
from nausea and hungry. I sat up and lighted a candle; my hand shook
with weakness, and I could scarcely stand. I drank from a bottle of
water, took such food as I wanted, and made a meal. I kept the candle
burning, for I was now thinking that my term of imprisonment might
be drawing to an end, and that I could afford the luxury of a light.
Indeed, I had not as yet consumed a whole candle since I had been in
hiding.
I sat by the light of the candle till it was burnt out; the light
cheered and soothed me. It was something for the eye to rest upon, and
the flame was a sort of companion in its way. Once it put a horrid,
frightful fancy into my mind. I thought to myself, suppose I set fire
to the ship? The vessel has boats! besides, we are still in the English
Channel, and help is near and abundant. The convicts would scatter,
some going in one boat, some in another, or the ship might be run
ashore to save life, and Tom escape. I shuddered, and blew out the
light, which was now burnt to within half an inch of the candle.
I felt stronger and more comfortable. The ship plunged softly; I
heard no roaring of the brine outside, no blows as from the shock of
thunderbolts; I guessed that the weather was fair and gentle; but
was it night or day? I could not imagine. I had figured the high sun
pouring upon the white canvas and the sea blue and splendid under him,
and in that deep, vault-like blackness I’d pant for the sweetness of
the air above and yearn but for ten minutes of the glory of the day.
Then, in the same breath, I’d think ‘It may be midnight. The sun has
sunk, and a thousand stars tremble over the mastheads, and a corner of
moon is lifting out of a length of ragged, black cloud hanging low over
the blacker water.’
When would it be time for me to beat upon the hatch and take my chance
of what was then to follow? In any case, I dared not reveal myself till
Will gave me notice, for how should I be able to tell where the ship
was--whether she was not still close in with the English shore, so that
the captain could land me, end my scheme, and render all I have done
and suffered useless? I must be patient; better that Will should make
no sign for a month than that I should emerge one hour too soon.
The time crept on. I heard an occasional movement of feet overhead,
but all the noises were small and brief. Indeed, it was the ship’s
forecastle, the place where the sailors ate, drank, and slept; where,
unless all hands are on deck, there is always a watch below and
consequently sleepers; so that when the voyage has fairly begun and the
men have settled down to their work, there is no quieter place in a
ship than her forecastle.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME
PRINTED BY
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
LONDON
[Illustration]
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.