In the Hold
Mindful of 'Enery's warning, I gave the two massive hempen ropes a
wide berth, and, leaning against a stout rib, resumed my vigil, till
the heat of the confined space caused me to doff the oilskins and
sea boots.
Presently the brig gave a distinct heel, which gradually increased
till my position was turned into a standing one. Sail had been made,
and the vessel was lying over to the breeze, though, owing to being
still within a landlocked expanse of water, she scarce lifted as she
cut through the waves. I could distinctly hear the lapping of the
water against her sides as she moved with increasing pace in
response to the pressure on the additional canvas.
Presently, in apparent obedience to a hoarse order, the _Golden
Hope_ recovered her upright position, then gradually settled down in
the other direction, till, unable to keep my feet, I found myself
flung bodily against the opposite side, the lantern being overset
and extinguished at the same time.
Frantic with the fall, I struggled violently to regain my feet, my
head coming into contact with one of the coils of cable. For a
moment I imagined that the vessel had capsized, till, finding that
she rolled no farther, I came to the conclusion that she had turned
on her course.
Such, in truth, was the case. The brig had tacked, or, to use a
nautical expression, had "gone about", the direction of the wind and
the narrowness of the channel making the operation necessary. But I
knew nothing of this at the time.
Groping with my hand, I managed to find the lantern, but being
without flint and steel I was unable to relight it; so in the almost
pitch darkness I remained, my eyes fixed longingly on a faint white
light that filtered through a badly-fitting hatch cover.
Fearing another flight across the hold when the vessel again tacked,
I lay almost at full length on the rough floor, my shoeless feet
wedged firmly against a stout ringbolt in the fore side of the
bulkhead.
The effects of the excitement of the last twelve hours, combined
with the want of a good meal and the close, unwholesome atmosphere
of the hold, caused me to feel greatly distressed, and at length I
fell into a kind of stupor.
I had a rude awakening. A sniffing sensation round my fingers was
followed by a sharp bite. With a shriek I withdrew my hand, and
immediately a loathsome, active creature fled across my prostrate
body. It was a rat, and a huge one, judging by its weight.
Regardless of my instructions, I sprang to my feet, leaped over the
bulkhead, and crawled across the neatly stowed cargo, bumping my
crown more than once against the low deck beams. I was on the point
of hammering against the hatch, when the thought occurred to me that
it was yet too early to announce my presence.
My new position was also more bearable, for the light that came
through the ill-fitting hatch was sufficient for me to see within a
yard of where I crouched.
Meanwhile, the brig had tacked several times, so that by now the
manoeuvre did not cause me any misgivings; but what did trouble me
was the appearance of a regular swarm of rodents--not of the brown
variety such as one meets in the country, but long, skinny, black
rats, ferocious and daring in the extreme.
I looked about for a weapon, for although I carried about me the
knife I had had fashioned from the fatal dagger, it did not seem
sufficiently handy to tackle these loathsome creatures. To my great
joy I espied a stout crowbar, left, no doubt, by the men who had
stowed the cargo. With this I killed several of the brutes, though
not before I was bitten more than once, for as I struck one another
would fly straight at my throat, and only by warding it off with my
arm was I able to finish it off with the iron rod.
At length the rodents drew away and left me in comparative peace,
although I could hear them scuffling and squealing as the disturbed
bilge-water drove them from their accustomed haunts.
Compared with the rats, the cockroaches could be endured without
much effort. These verminous creatures swarmed everywhere--on the
deck beams, over the cargo, and even on my person--so that I could
scarce change my posture without feeling and hearing the sickening
crunch as they were crushed beneath my body.
All at once a violent commotion, accompanied by a medley of sounds,
came from the fore part of the hold. The hempen cable was rushing
through the hawse pipe.
Then the brig trembled slightly and ceased to list, and when the
clamour died away I heard a man shout:
"'Tis no use, Cap'n. I couldn't get another foot out of her."
"How long does the flood make?" asked a voice which I recognized as
Captain Jeremy's.
"First high water is about five hours from now," replied the first
speaker. "If the wind doesn't change we'll have to wait till then.
That'll give you an hour and a half to clear the bar afore the
second flood makes."
I heard Captain Miles rattle out a round oath, but further
conversation was inaudible through the sounds on deck. Nevertheless,
I had heard enough to fill my cup of misery to the brim: unless the
wind changed sufficiently to enable her to stem the tide, the
_Golden Hope_ would be compelled to remain at anchor for five
hours--five hours more of bodily and mental torture for me.
Yet I had to bear it, or own myself beaten, for I felt convinced
that so long as the brig remained within the limits of Poole
Harbour, Captain Jeremy would put me ashore in a longboat, or else
send me back with the pilot.
Another hour or so passed, yet there were no signs of 'Enery. The
heat began to be intense, for the sun was now as high in the heavens
as it could possibly be, and its rays, pouring down upon the decks,
caused the atmosphere of the hold to become stifling.
The wind, too, had dropped, for the ropes and sails no longer
rattled and flapped. But Captain Jeremy was not the kind of man to
allow his crew to remain idle, for I could hear water being poured
on the deck to clean away the dirt brought aboard from the quay.
This, to a certain extent, cooled the hold, and I felt all the
better for it.
"A breeze! A breeze from the nor'east!" I heard a voice exclaim, and
almost immediately after came the sounds of men rushing hither and
thither, and the creaking of blocks and tackle. Then, with the
measured tramp of feet as the capstan revolved, the cable descended
slowly into its tier, adding to the odours of the hold the pungent
smells of seaweed and mud.
The regular heel of the brig gave place to a confused pitching and
tossing, signs that I hailed with delight, in spite of a qualmish
sensation which the motion seemed to encourage.
The _Golden Hope_ had crossed the bar, and was curtsying to the
waves of the English Channel.
I waited a little longer, then began pounding on the hatch with the
butt of the iron rod.
At first no notice was taken of my efforts; then, without apparent
warning, the hatch was whipped off. A flash of dazzling sunshine
temporarily blinded me, and before I could realize my surroundings
rough hands seized me by the shoulders and dragged me on deck, while
a man shouted:
"Cap'n, here's a blessed stowaway!"