Having disposed of the bonnets, my next step was to climb up into the
empty box; and, if possible, get the lid, or part of it, removed. But,
first, I endeavoured to ascertain what was on the top of it, and for
this purpose I adopted a plan that had already served me more than
once--of feeling through the slits with the blade of my knife.
Unfortunately, this was now shorter, and not so suitable for such a
service, but it was still long enough to reach through a piece of inch
plank, and two inches beyond, and this would no doubt enable me to
determine whether the next obstacle to be encountered was a hard or a
soft one.
Once within the bonnet-box, I stuck my blade up through the lid. The
package above was composed of something soft and yielding. I remembered
that there was a canvas cover, but I drove the blade in to its hilt, and
still it encountered nothing like wood--nothing that resembled the
boarding of a box.
But I was equally certain that it was not linen, for the blade
penetrated as freely as it would have done into a mass of butter, and
this would not have been the case had it been a bale of linen. Knowing
it could not be this, my mind was easy. I would rather have had to deal
with anything else.
I tried in several places--in fact, all over the top--and at every point
I could bury my blade as far as the haft would let it go, with a very
slight effort used to push it in. Certainly the package consisted of
some substance I had not before encountered, but as to what it was I
could form no idea.
However, it did not feel as though it would present a serious obstacle
to my progress; and under this pleasant impression, I went to work to
undermine it, by taking a board out of the lid upon which it lay.
This, of course, required me to go through the tedious and painful
process of making a cross-section with my knife--a kind of work that
absorbed more of my time, and caused me more labour, than all the rest
put together. But it was absolutely necessary, for there was no other
plan by which I could tunnel through the tops of the boxes. On each
rested the heavy weight of the packages above, and to start one of the
planks, with this weight pressing down upon it, was impossible. It was
only by cutting them across that they could be removed.
The lid of the bonnet-box did not prove so difficult to cut through. It
was of thin deal, and in about a half or three quarters of an hour I had
the middle piece of the three--for there were just three boards in it--
cut into twain. The sections were easily bent downwards, and removed.
A patch of the canvas covering was then hacked off, and I could now get
my hand upon the unknown package that was resting on the top. I
recognised the object at once. I had been enough about my uncle's barn
to know the feel of a sack. This, then, was a _sack_.
It was full of something: of what?--wheat, or barley, or oats? No, it
was not grain--something softer and finer: was it a sack of meal?
I should soon ascertain that. My blade entered the sack, and a slit was
cut large enough to admit my fist. I had no need to thrust my hand
inside, for as I held it under the vent thus opened, I felt a soft,
powdery substance streaming downward, with which my palm was instantly
filled; and as my fingers closed upon it, I felt satisfied that I had
got hold of a fistful of flour. My hand went straight to my lips, and a
single taste of the precious dust confirmed my conjecture. It was a
sack of flour.
This was a joyous discovery. Here was food, and enough to last me for
months! No more danger of starvation--no more rat diet. No. On flour
and water I could live like a prince. What matter if it was raw? it was
sweet, and palatable, and wholesome.
"Heaven be praised! I am no longer in danger!"
Some such exclamation escaped me, as I arrived at a full appreciation of
the importance of my new discovery.
I had now been at work for many hours, and once more needed rest. I was
hungry, too, and could not resist the desire to make a grand meal on the
new article of diet; and, filling my pockets with the flour, I prepared
to return to my old lair behind the water-butt. I took the precaution
to stanch the wound I had made in the flour-sack, by sticking a piece of
loose canvas into the vent, and then I commenced my descent. The rats,
bag and all, were chucked into the first convenient corner that offered,
with the hope that no necessity would ever require me to draw them out
again; and, then, having mixed me a large quantity of flour paste, I
made as hearty a meal upon it as if it had been the nicest hasty
_pudding_ that ever was cooked.
A few hours of good sleep again refreshed me; and, on awaking, I ate
another hasty meal of the paste, and after that commenced ascending my
now greatly-extended gallery.
As I climbed through the second tier of boxes, I was surprised to feel
on all sides of me a soft, powdery substance, resembling dust scattered
over the boards wherever they lay horizontally; but on passing into the
triangular space by the piano-case, I found the lower half of this
cavity filled with the same dust, so that, as I stepped upon it, I sank
up to the ankles. I perceived, moreover, that a shower of this soft
substance was falling down upon my head and shoulders; and, as I
inadvertently turned my face upwards, it came rushing into my mouth and
eyes, causing me to sneeze and cough in the most violent manner.
I felt for a moment as if I was in danger of being suffocated, and my
first impulse was to beat a speedy retreat, and get back to the rear of
the water-butt. But I had no need to go quite so far; for on getting
out to the old biscuit-box, I perceived that there the dust no longer
reached me.
I was not long in arriving at an explanation of this singular
phenomenon. It was the flour that was causing such a "stoor." The
movement of the ship had shaken out the canvas rag with which I had
stopped the vent, and the flour was escaping. No doubt this was the
cause of the wastage.
The idea that all the flour would be lost rushed into my mind, and, as a
consequence, that I should once more be forced to return to the rat
diet. It would be necessary, therefore, to ascend to the sack, and stop
the wastage at once.
Notwithstanding some apprehensions I had on the score of suffocation, I
perceived the necessity of action; and closing both mouth and eyes, I
scrambled as fast as I could towards the empty bonnet-box.
I felt flour lodged on all sides as I went up, but I fancied it was no
longer showering downwards. This was in reality the fact; for on
reaching the bonnet-box, I found that it had ceased to run out of the
sack, and for the best of reasons--it was now all out of it. The sack
was empty!
Perhaps I should have regarded this as a greater misfortune, but I saw
that the flour was not all lost. A good deal, no doubt, had filtered
through the crevices, and got down to the bottom of the hold; but a
large quantity--as much as I would be likely to need--had lodged upon
the pieces of cloth that I had placed in the bottom of the triangular
cavity, and also in other places where I could get at it whenever I
wanted.
It mattered little, however; for in another moment I had made a
discovery that drove all thoughts of the flour out of my head, and
rendered any calculation about my future provision--either of food or
water--a subject of the most trifling importance.
I had stretched up my hand to ascertain if the sack was quite empty. It
appeared so. Why, then, should I not pull it through the aperture, and
get it out of the way? No reason why I should not; and I at once
dragged it down, and flung it behind me.
I then raised my head through the end of the box into the space where
the sack had lain.
Merciful heavens! What did I behold? _Light! light! light_!