The hold--My provisions become exhausted--A fresh attempt at escape--
Pressed by hunger, I persevere--The spar-deck--Not out yet--A ray of
light--My prostrate condition--My mind gives way--A curious trio--The
main hatchway--Fresh difficulties arise--A last effort--I am rescued--
Ghost of a ghost--I make a new friend and meet with an old one--The
crew of the ship--My new quarters--I receive a piece of advice from my
new friend--Mark's adventures, and how he came aboard the "Emu"--Poor
Jack Drage--Mark gets into trouble.
The recollection of Toney Lawson's adventure didn't tend to make me feel
any more comfortable than before. I could scarcely hope to be as well
off as he was, or to have so fortunate an escape. My provisions being
exhausted, I was aware that I must soon get out of the hold or perish,
yet I didn't anticipate much satisfaction from obtaining my liberty. No
time was, however, to be lost, and I therefore nerved myself up for a
fresh struggle. Feeling that I had my knife about me, and having put on
my shoes, I prepared to make a desperate attempt to effect my escape. I
crawled on through the crate, and once more attempted to climb up over
the packages into the main hold.
I tried to do this in several directions, but I found no opening so
promising as the one which I had before explored. My weakness prevented
me from making the exertions that were required to force my way between
the bales. I was in momentary fear of falling down a crevice, and being
jammed to death. My situation in some respects was infinitely worse
than that of Toney Lawson, who was bolted in, but then people knew where
he was. No one on deck was aware of my deplorable condition. Still I
crawled on, resolved to succeed. While feeling about, I discovered a
space between three or four bales. I crept in very much as a rat does
into his hole, only he knows where he is going. I could not tell
whether I should get through or have to force my way out again legs
first. Still the cravings of hunger induced me to venture. On I crept,
when on putting up my hand I found that there was nothing above me which
I could touch, so that I was able to stand upright, though there might
be some depth in front down which I might fall.
I moved with the greatest caution. It turned out, however, that they
were only bales piled one upon another, and that I was standing in a
sort of well. Still there were stepping-places, and with the ropes
which bound the bales I was able to work my way upwards. Higher and
higher I got. I could now distinctly hear the footsteps of the men on
the deck, which I guessed, therefore, could be no great distance above
me. The ship must have been moving calmly along, and I was thus
preserved from being jerked off from the place to which I was clinging.
I still moved on till I reached a part of the hold filled chiefly, it
appeared to me, with large packing-cases and casks. I was almost on a
level floor. It might have been the spar-deck. Wearied with the
fatigue I had undergone, I sat down on a box to rest. I could now
distinctly hear not only the tread of the men's feet, but their voices.
They were the first human voices which had reached my ears for days, or
rather weeks. I tried to shout to attract their attention, but my voice
had completely failed me. Not a sound could I utter. I felt that I had
not strength to move an inch further.
Twice I made the attempt, and had to sink back again on my seat. I was
gazing upward, the only direction from which help could come, when a ray
of light streamed right upon me. Forgetting my weakness, I started up.
It must come, I knew, from the partly open hatchway, or from a fracture
in the hatch itself. This I afterwards found to have been the case, the
fracture being covered up with a tarpaulin, which had at that instant
been removed. Again I endeavoured to shout out, but my voice was not
under the control of my will. No sounds issued from my mouth. I
stretched out my hands in an imploring attitude, fancying that I should
be seen. I attempted to make my way directly under the opening, but ere
I could reach it I sank down utterly exhausted.
I had never before been so completely prostrated. I didn't lose my
senses, but all physical power had deserted me. I could scarcely move
my hands or feet; still I thought that the hatch must be again opened
before long, and that I could not fail to be discovered. I earnestly
prayed that help might be sent me. How it was to come I could not tell.
Notwithstanding what was before me, I still desired to be set free.
Although I was not sleeping, strange fancies filled my brain. I saw
people flit about in the darkness, suddenly coming into the light, and
then disappearing. Some were people I knew, and others were strangers.
Aunt Deb and Mr Butterfield came by, tripping it lightly, holding each
other's hands, he in a bob wig with a sword by his side, she in
high-heeled red shoes and a cap decked with flowers and ribbons. She
smiled and ogled, as if about to dance a minuet. I almost laughed as I
saw them, they appeared so vivid and real. Then Captain Longfleet came
upon the scene as I fancied him, dressed in a cocked-hat and feathers, a
long sword buckled to his side, high boots, a red coat, and a waistcoat
braided with gold.
I fancy that I must have seen some picture of the sort of a pirate
captain to cause him thus to be presented to my imagination. He walked
about flourishing his sword till he met Aunt Deb, to whom, instead of
cutting her head off, as I thought he was about to do, he made a
profound bow, and then vanished. Many other figures quite as bizarre
and unnatural appeared before me. I mention these trivial circumstances
to show the state of my mind. I had been so long by myself that I must
be pardoned if I appear egotistical. Again all was quiet. I lay for
some time, if not unconscious, with very little power of thought. I was
afraid that another night would come on, and that I should have to
endure my sufferings for some hours longer, if death did not put an end
to them. I could still hear the tread of the men's feet, and even the
voices of the officers, shouting their orders. How I wished that I
could shout also, for then I knew I should be heard. I tried once more
to move, and managed to drag myself on till I got directly under the
hatchway. Although I could not shout, to my surprise I heard myself
groaning.
There being light sufficient to enable me to observe objects, my eye
fell upon a loose piece of wood. I grasped it with all my remaining
strength, and began beating away on the top of a cask, which proved to
be empty from the sound which emanated from it. I beat on and on, but
no notice appeared to be taken of the noise I was making. I was too ill
and weak to reason on the subject, but I remembered hearing a loud voice
shouting out some orders. Presently there came a tramp of feet
overhead, backwards and forwards and from side to side they seemed to
run. The crew were evidently engaged in shortening or making sail,
which it was I was unable to tell. I had sense enough remaining to know
that whilst this was going forward on deck it was not likely that notice
would be taken of my feeble knocking, for feeble it was, though it
sounded loud to me.
Presently I felt a greater movement than I had experienced for some
time, and the ship heeled over on one side. My fear was that the cases
on which I lay might be again shifted, and that I might be thrown down
to some lower depth of the hold, with bales and casks above me. Of
course I am describing what I fancied might happen, not what was likely
to occur. I now guessed that a number of the crew must have gone aloft
to shorten sail, and that even if they had heard the noise they would
not have had time to ascertain what had caused it. I now more than ever
feared that, before I could be liberated, I should become utterly
exhausted, and should fall into a swoon from which I might never
recover.
I was too weak to pray, or any longer exert myself. Still my senses did
not altogether desert me. I lay on my back, looking up towards the
hatchway. The ship heeled over more and more. To me, who had been
accustomed to live so long down near the keel, it appeared at a
frightful angle, and I though, she would go over altogether. Again I
heard voices shouting out orders, and the crew, I supposed, went aloft
to take in more sail. I was afraid that another storm was coming on.
Fearful would be the consequences to me if such should be the case.
Presently I heard something dragged over the hatchway. The ray of light
which had hitherto tended to keep up my waning spirits was obscured.
A tarpaulin had been placed over the hatchway. Perhaps the crew were
about to batten down the hatches. In vain I tried, while this was going
forward, to strike the cask. I had not sufficient strength to do it. A
fearful faintness was coming over me. Perhaps the movement of the ship
contributed to this. I think I must have fainted, for I cannot
recollect what happened. I had no strength to hold on or to grasp the
stick, and might have been thrown helplessly about like a shuttlecock
till life was extinct.
I fancy that some time must have passed. When I recovered my senses, my
first impulse was to feel for the stick. It was close to me. I had
power to grasp it. The top of the chest on which I lay was perfectly
level, but I expected to find it heeling over as before. Instead of
that, no movement took place. The ship was apparently gliding forward
on an even keel. The storm had ceased, or probably the ship had only
been struck by a sudden squall, which had passed over.
My first impulse was again to try and strike the cask and to shout out,
but I could only utter a few low groans. I managed, however, to give
some blows on the cask, which resounded through the hold. The noise was
loud enough, I fancy, to be heard on deck, or indeed in every part of
the ship. I beat on and on. Presently the tarpaulin was drawn off, and
I heard some feet moving directly above me. A voice said distinctly,
"Below! What's that?"
Almost immediately the hatch was removed, and as I looked up a flood of
light burst down upon me. For some seconds I could see nothing.
Gradually I made out a number of human faces peering down through the
hatchway.
"Why, what can that be?" exclaimed one of the men.
"Ghost of a ghost," cried another.
"It can't be a live thing," said a third.
"Why, Jack, I do believe it's a boy," exclaimed a fourth; "we must get
him up whatever he is, but how could he have come there?"
Presently a ladder was let down. None of the men seemed inclined to
descend, evidently having some doubts as to my character, till the last
speaker, calling the others cowards, came down. Instead of at first
reviving me, the effect of the fresh air was to make me faint away.
When I recovered I found myself lying on the deck, surrounded by a
number of strange faces. A seaman--the one who, I suppose, had brought
me up--was supporting me and applying a wet cloth to my head and
shoulders, while another, kneeling down, was examining my countenance.
"Why, youngster, how did you come aboard here? Where have you been ever
since we sailed from the Mersey?" he asked.
Too weak to answer, I could only stretch out my hand and then point to
my lips, to show that I wanted food and water.
"If you've been down in the hold all these weeks, no wonder that you
want something to eat," he remarked.
Still he didn't move, or propose to obtain any refreshment for me. As
my lack-lustre eyes looked up at him, I recognised Gregory Growles, the
old seaman to whom I had at first spoken with my cutter under my arm.
No wonder that he didn't recollect me in my present forlorn and
dirt-begrimed condition. At last the seaman against whom I leant told
one of his messmates to get me some water. With indifference, if not
unwillingness, the man did as requested, and going to the water-butt on
deck brought me a mugful, which I greedily drank.
"By the feel of his ribs he wants something more substantial than
water," observed my friend. "We must get the poor young chap into a
berth, and feed him up, or he'll be slipping his cable. There doesn't
seem to be much life in him now."
"That will be seen."
"What business had he to stow himself away, and make us all fancy that a
ghost was haunting the ship?" cried Growles, in a surly way. "We shall
hear what the captain has to say to him. To my notion, as he's made his
bed, so he'll have to lie on it."
"Come, come, mate, it would be hard lines for the poor young chap if he
were left to die, without any of us trying to bring him through. I, for
one, can't stand by doing nothing, so just one of you lend a hand here,
and we'll put him into my berth, and get the cook to make some broth for
him," said the kind-hearted seaman.
While he was speaking, a person, who was evidently one of the officers,
came forward and expressed his surprise at seeing me, and inquired why
he hadn't been informed of my having been discovered?
The men replied, that I had only just been found and brought on deck,
and that they thought I was dying.
"It would have saved trouble to have hove him overboard before he came
to himself," said the mate, with a careless laugh. "The captain doesn't
allow of stowaways, and we don't want any aboard here."
He said this, I suppose, to frighten me, indifferent to the
consequences.
"He's very bad, sir," said my friend, touching his hat, "and, maybe, it
won't much matter what is done with him; but if you'll give me leave,
I'll take him below to my berth, after we've washed off the dirt that
sticks to him. He wants food more than anything else to bring him
round, and when he's himself we can make some use of him at all events.
We want a boy forward very badly, and he'll be worth his salt, I've a
notion."
"You may do what you like with him, Tom Trivett," answered the officer,
"only don't let us be bothered with him. We've trouble enough with
young Riddle, the mutinous young rascal. He'll have to look out for
himself, if he don't mind."
The officer was the third mate of the ship, who happened just then to
have charge of the deck. He made further inquiries about how I had been
found, and asked the men whether they had before known of my being on
board?
Trivett replied that they were entirely ignorant as to how I had come
into the ship, but that hearing peculiar noises, they lifted the hatch,
and that he had gone down and discovered me.
"We shall hear by-and-by what he has to say for himself. In the
meantime, Trivett, take care of him, and I'll let the captain know he's
been found. He's the ghost you fellows have been frightened about,"
said the mate.
"We were no more frightened than he was," I heard some of the men utter,
"but who could tell where all those strange noises we heard came from
when any of us went down into the hold. He's precious ready to call us
cowards, but he was more frightened than we were. Why, he would never
go down unless he had a couple of hands with him." While this was going
on, Tom Trivett continued swabbing my head and neck. When the mate
walked aft he called to the cook to bring him a bucket of warm water
from the caboose, as well as a lump of soap, a scrubbing-brush, and a
piece of canvas.
The sun was shining brightly, and the air was warm, so that I did not
feel the exposure so much as it might have been felt. Tom forthwith set
about to scrape me clean, taking his own pocket-comb to disentangle my
matted hair after he had washed it. The operation, though somewhat
hazardous, greatly refreshed me. Before it was concluded, Julius
Caesar, the black cook, who had some tender spot in his heart, brought
out a basin of soup, from which Trivett fed me as tenderly as a nurse
would a young child. This still further revived me.
"You shall have some more, boy, when I have done a-cleaning you," said
Tom.
The rest of the crew sat round making remarks, but not even offering to
assist their shipmate, evidently perfectly indifferent as to what
happened to me, though perhaps curious to see whether I should revive
under the treatment to which I was being subjected. Judging by the
colour of the water after I had been washed in it, I must have been as
black as a coal. I rather think Julius Caesar must have fancied that I
was one of his own race, and must have been greatly astonished at seeing
a blackamoor washed white. When the operation was concluded, Growles
again came and had a look at me.
"Why, I do believe it's none other than the young chap who came aboard
us at Liverpool," he exclaimed. "I thought as when I saw him so often
that he was up to something, but never fancied that he was going to stow
himself away, or I should have been on the watch for him. Well, he'll
have to pay pretty smartly for the trick he has played us."
My friend Tom took no notice of this and similar remarks made by others
of the crew; but after having again fed me, he called to a stout-looking
lad who was coming forward from the companion-hatchway to assist in
carrying me to his berth under the topgallant forecastle. The lad,
without hesitation, did as he was directed, and took up my legs, while
Tom lifted me by the arms. As I was being carried along, my eyes turned
towards the lad who was stepping backwards, when I at once recognised
him as Mark Riddle, though he looked very different to the smart young
chap he was when I last saw him, and he evidently did not know me.
"Can't you find a shirt and a pair of trousers for the poor fellow?"
cried Tom; "his own want washing terribly."
Mark ran aft, and in a short time returned with the garments, in which
Tom clothed me.
Notwithstanding the food which had been given me, I was still too weak
to speak. He and Tom lifted me into an upper bunk on the starboard
side. As he did so, I stretched out my hand and seized his, which I
pressed between my bony fingers. I could just say, "Thank you, Mark."
He looked at me very hard, but still did not seem to have a suspicion
who I was. This was not surprising, as he did not even know that I had
gone to Liverpool. I was so altered, that even my mother would scarcely
have recognised me. He, however, asked Tom Trivett who I was. Tom
replied that I was a young stowaway, but that he knew no more about me
than did the man in the moon.
"Go and fetch the remainder of the broth," I heard Tom say. "A little
more will do him good, and then if he gets a sound sleep he'll come
round, I have a notion."
"If he does, it will only be to lead a dog's life," murmured Mark, as he
left to get the broth.
Tom stood by me arranging the blankets, and trying to make me
comfortable till Mark returned with some soup, with some biscuits and
rice floating in it. Though I could drink the liquid, it was with
difficulty that I could masticate the latter, but I managed to get down
a few pieces.
"He has eaten enough now," said Tom; "but, I say, Mark," he whispered,
"you keep an eye on him whenever you can, so that none of the fellows
play him any tricks. They'd do so, though they knew he was dying, out
of devilry."
"Aye, aye," answered Mark. "They shan't hurt the poor young chap if I
can help it, though I've enough to do to keep clear of them myself."
"Well, we shall be three now, and shall be better able to stand up
against them," said Tom.
I heard no more; for after taking the food a drowsiness crept over me,
and I fell into a sound sleep. When I awoke I was in the dark, and felt
very much more comfortable than I had for a long time. At first I
fancied that I was down in the hold, but the loud snoring and groaning
of the men in the neighbouring bunks made me remember what had happened.
I felt about, and was soon convinced that I was in Tom Trivett's bunk,
in a clean shirt and trousers, and a blanket over me. I heard the watch
below turn out, the others shortly afterwards came in, but no one took
any notice of me.
When the latter were fast asleep I heard some one come into the berth
and stop near my bunk.
"Who's that?" I asked.
"Glad to see you can speak again, my lad," said the person whom by his
voice I knew to be Tom Trivett. "Do you feel better?"
"Yes, thank you," I answered. "You've saved my life, and I'm very
grateful to you."
"Don't talk o' that, lad," he said, "it's not much good I can do in the
world, but I couldn't bear to see you allowed to die from neglect,
though I'm afraid there are hard times coming for you. You're among as
rough a lot as ever sailed on the salt ocean, and that's saying a good
deal. I want to give you a piece of advice; I mayn't have another
chance of giving it. Don't be in a great hurry to get well, for though
the fellows, bad as they are, won't have the cruelty to ill-treat you
while you're sick, as soon as you come round they'll be down upon you,
and you'll find that they'll give you more kicks than ha'pence.
However, you must not mind them. Don't attempt to retaliate, for
they're too many for you. Above all things don't grow sulky as poor
Mark did, and has ever since well-nigh had his life knocked out of him.
Now I must go on deck as it's my watch, but remember what I have said."
I again thanked Tom, and just as he was going I asked him if he could
get me any more food.
"I'll try and get you something as soon as the cook turns out; but he's
asleep in his bunk, and at this hour it would be a difficult job to find
any. I'll tell Mark, however, to ask him when he wakes, though I'd
advise you to go off to sleep again."
Saying this, Tom left the berth, and I once more closed my eyes. I was
awakened by the men turning out.
The light streamed in at the door, showing me that it was morning. In
consequence of the advice I received from Tom, I kept quiet and
pretended to be asleep. Soon afterwards I saw Mark Riddle standing by
my side.
"Tom told me you're hungry, boy," he said; "so I managed to get
something for you from the pantry. I hope it won't be discovered, or
the third mate will be giving me a rope's-ending."
He had brought me a captain's biscuit and a slice of ham, with a tin mug
of water.
"I'll bring you a cup of hot coffee," he said, handing me the food.
Hungry as I was I could not help exclaiming, "What, don't you know me,
Mark?"
He looked at me very hard, still not remembering me.
"No, I don't think I ever saw you before," he answered; "but how do you
happen to know my name?"
"I didn't think I was so changed," I said. "I'm Dick Cheveley."
"Dick Cheveley!" he cried out, looking at me still harder; "Dick
Cheveley on board this ship! And yet it must be; and are you really
Dick Cheveley?"
"I don't believe I'm anybody else, though I have sometimes fancied I
must be."
"Yes, yes, I see you're Master Cheveley," cried Mark, "though I can't
say I feel much happier to see you for your own sake, though I'm right
glad for mine to have you with me," taking my hand and grasping it.
"Oh, Master Cheveley, what did bring you aboard?"