THE STOWAWAYS.
WITHOUT stopping for an answer, Tom stepped across to the vessel, and
lowered himself down into the hold, and Davey, with his brain in a
whirl, followed. The lads felt their way about till they found a nook
between two rows of great bags and barrels. Here they crouched down,
and waited breathlessly, in terror lest they should be discovered.
After what seemed to them a terribly long time, the ringing voice of
the captain was heard, the sailors came on board, and presently the
boys heard the captain say, "Just look round the hold, and see that
all's right and in order."
"Ay, sir," replied a voice.
And then hearing heavy steps advancing along the deck, the lads
squeezed themselves still further back among the cargo, crouching low
and compressing into as little space as possible. Down came the man
with his light, and looked about, moving one or two of the smaller
things.
"We're nothing like so full as usual, skipper," he called up to the
captain, "but there'll be no squalls for the next twenty-four hours, so
the things won't take no harm from not being packed solid."
"Are you sure?" asked the captain.
"Ay, sir, pretty sure."
"All right, then. Close the main hatchway, and see that all's ready for
sailing. The tide has turned, and we must be off."
The hatchway was closed, and the boys were now in perfect darkness, but
they could hear distinctly all that was going on over their heads on
deck; the shouted orders, the rapid footsteps of the men, the coiling
of rope, the first slow cautious turning of the paddles of the clumsy
tug-boat which had come to help the schooner out to sea.
But after a while, the fussy little steamer—puffing and blowing as
though terribly out of breath with its exertions—cast off the sailing
vessel and steamed back into port. For a minute or two, the schooner
rocked idly on the waves. Then the wind caught the sails, and strange
and sweet in the ears of the young stowaways sounded the wash of the
water as the vessel sailed out to sea.
Indeed, everything was so strange, and the marvel of their escape was
so wonderful to them, that for some time the boys were quite silent,
deep in thought.
But at last Davey whispered, "Oh, Tom, I'm awfully hungry."
"Are you?" jeered Tom. "Now I think of it, so am I. We've had nothing
to eat since dinner. Did you bring any grub with you this morning?"
"Not a scrap," replied Davey, mournfully.
"Then we're in a bad way," said Tom, "for it'll be long enough before
we stop anywhere and can get ashore to buy anything to eat."
"It seems to me it would have been better to let ourselves be caught
by the constable than to come here to starve to death," said Davey,
dolefully.
"Hold your tongue, you milk-sop, if you can't speak more chirpy than
that!" exclaimed Tom. "'I' don't mean to starve if I can help it, so
here goes for a hunt for something to eat! There ought to be some grub
about here."
So saying, Tom crept out of his nook, and began to grope his way about
the hold, poking and punching every bag, box, or basket, and even
putting his nose down to smell anything that seemed likely to contain
food.
At last, Davey heard him give a joyous exclamation.
"What is it, Tom?" he asked.
"I've found a bag of ship biscuits," said Tom, "and I've slit a hole in
it with my knife, and here's a biscuit to stop your grumbling."
Davey thankfully accepted the stolen food, and began to munch steadily,
while Tom, whose curiosity and covetousness were sharpened by hunger,
resumed his voyage of discovery among the barrels, bags, and hampers of
the cargo.
Another ten minutes of silence, and then a chuckle of delight and
triumph.
"What is it now, Tom?" inquired Davey, with his mouth full of biscuit.
"Reach out your hand and I'll show you! Bless me, how dark it is! Where
are you?"
Another minute of groping, and Tom thrust into Davey's hand a thick
wedge of something that smelt very good to a hungry lad.
"What—cheese?" cried Davey.
"Ay, cheese. I found a whole one, and as my knife hadn't been left at
the pawnshop, I was able to cut these pieces out, one for each of us."
"It does taste good!" said Davey. "I never knew before how nice hard
biscuits and cheese could be."
Tom sat down in his old corner and began to eat his supper, pluming
himself the while upon his cleverness in providing himself and his
companion with a meal.
"You'd never have thought of looking about for provisions, Davey, I'll
be bound," said he. "You'd have just sat down in a corner and done a
cry and starved all night."
"Yes—I daresay," replied Davey, shortly.
"Well, now, I shouldn't wonder if you're thankful I'm with you,"
pursued Tom. "What could you have done without me?"
"Nothing, and I shouldn't have wanted to do anything either, for if
I'd gone alone to Bristol this wouldn't have happened," said Davey. "I
shouldn't have pawned Uncle Zach's compass, nor driven off with the
farmer's cob and got a constable after me."
"It's just like your mean way, Davey, to lay all the blame on me,"
remarked Tom, throwing his cheese rind away. "But, after all, you sweet
boy, 'twasn't I that made you disobey your people and go to the fair,
was it? And, likewise, if only you'd returned the compass to old Zach
when you should, I couldn't have pawned it, now, could I? It seems to
me that it's a case of pot and kettle."
This was plain speaking, and Davey did not enjoy it, but there was
truth in it, and this he could not deny. For a long while he sat in
sullen silence, paying little attention to Tom, until the voice of the
latter roused him suddenly.
"I say, Davey, it seems to me there's a smell of burning down here.
There's certainly smoke somewhere near."
"Yes, I can smell it," answered Davey. "How could it have come?"
"That fellow who came down here to see that all was right was smoking,"
said Tom. "Maybe some of the red ashes out of his pipe have set fire to
something. I must have a hunt round and see where it is, for a fire in
this hole means a great deal to everybody on board, but to none so much
as us, since we can't get out."
"Oh, Tom!" said Davey, shaking all over with this new dread. "Do you
think we're going to be burnt up or smothered in this awful place?"
"If you was alone here, you baby, I should say that's what was sure to
happen to you," replied Tom, in a voice of hard contempt; for he had
no patience with anyone who was physically a coward and helpless in an
emergency. "But as you've got 'me' here," he added, vain-gloriously,
"there's a chance for you. Don't sit snivelling in the corner, but get
up and poke about, and smell round as I'm doing, for the quicker we
find out where this fire is, the better for you and me and the whole
ship's company."
So Davey got up and began to grope about, feeling his way among the
cargo, until he came to a place where the smoke was very thick and
pungent, and the air quite hot.
"It's here, Tom," said Davey; "come and help me move this wooden box.
There's the fire behind it, I'm sure."
Tom came over at once, stumbling along in the dark in the direction
from which Davey's voice proceeded.
Together the boys managed to move the box, and as they did so, they
started back with a cry of horror, for a flame shot up into the dark
like a red danger signal, and made a horrible crackling noise.
"We can't put that out without water nor nothing," said Tom. "It's got
well alight, and stamping on it or trying to smother it is no good now."
"Then what's to be done?" questioned Davey, receding from the fire,
which was creeping on slowly but surely.
"Well," said Tom, "you can take your choice of two things. Either you
can stay here quiet and choke or burn, or you can let the crew overhead
know what's going on down here, and take our chance with them."
"It's like you to talk about choice, Tom," said Davey, coughing as the
smoke caught him by the throat for an instant. "There's no choice at
all, for it's certain death to stay here."
"All right," said Tom, coolly; "your mind's made up, I suppose. Here
goes, then!"
And making his way to the open space just under the main hatchway, he
caught up a pole with a hook at the end, used probably for dragging the
cases and baskets from the remote corners of the hold, and with the
wooden end, he began to bang with all his might against the covering of
the hatchway.
"Help!" he cried, his voice sounding strangely hoarse and muffled in
the heavy air of that close place. "Help! Fire! The ship's afire! Help!
Help!"
And Davey's shriller tones rang out as the boy joined his companion—
"Fire! Fire in the hold! Help! Help!"
[Illustration]