A TOUR OF EXPLORATION.
"Hullo, the motion of the tug seems to have stopped."
The thought filtered dully through Sandy's benumbed mind. For some
minutes, indeed, the speed had been sensibly slackening, but in the
lads' deplorable circumstances, they were neither of them in a
condition to be speedily aware of the fact.
"Jack! Jack!" hailed Sandy, eager to announce his news. But no
answer came out of the darkness. Poor Jack lay unconscious on the
floor of the hold. He had given way under the strain and stifling
heat.
Sandy guessed as much, when he got no reply. The realization of
Jack's condition acted as a tonic to him. Summoning up every one of
his dormant faculties, the lad resolved on a last effort.
Reckless of the consequences, if there were any trap-doors or holes
in the floors of the hold, he plunged forward into the velvety
darkness. He could hear the patter-patter of myriads of tiny rat
feet as he did so, but the Scotch lad was long past caring for that.
The fighting instinct of a race of fighting ancestors was fully
aroused in him. He felt that it would have taken half a dozen men to
stop him.
Bump! Without warning, Sandy had suddenly blundered up against what
seemed to be a solid wall.
"Well, here's something, at any rate," he mused to himself. "Now, if
I can only find a door in it, I'll fling myself against it and make
such a racket that they'll be bound to come down, unless they are
made of steel and iron instead of flesh and blood."
Then began what seemed an eternity of groping. Raising his
handcuffed wrists, Sandy felt for a chink in the smooth bulkhead.
Quite as suddenly as he had collided with the wall, his fingers
encountered a crack.
"Eureka!" exclaimed the boy. "I guess this is what I want."
As well as he could judge, after a brief examination, the crack
extended clear to the floor of the hold.
"It must be a door," thought Sandy. And then:
"Now for it," he murmured.
With a blood-curdling yell, he flung his form against the bulkhead.
The next instant he was lying flat on his face.
The door against which he had flung himself had opened smoothly and
noiselessly, and the strenuous force of Sandy's shove had carried
him, with a crash, into what seemed to be a cabin.
For a few seconds he was past caring what the place was. He just lay
there in the light, pumping his lungs full of blessed fresh air.
"Phew! If my lungs aren't saying 'thank you, kind master,' this very
instant, they're an ungrateful pair of organs," said the whimsical
Scotch lad, half aloud.
The cabin was empty and sparsely furnished. But on deck could be
heard the trampling of feet. Sunshine streamed through the skylight
above, and Sandy judged it must be very early morning. They had lain
in the stifling heat of that black hole for an afternoon and a night
then.
After a few minutes, Sandy struggled to his feet and looked about
him. The fresh air had hugely strengthened and revived him. He felt
a new courage coursing through his veins.
In the center of the cabin was a swinging table, bearing the remains
of a rough meal. But never had food looked so good to the boy as did
those remnants of corned beef and cabbage, and some sort of soggy
pudding, and--a most welcome sight of all--a big glass pitcher full
of sparkling, clear water.
Sandy determined to free Jack somehow, and then, together, they would
enjoy a long drink and something of a meal, come what might. But how
to accomplish this? That was the problem.
All at once, from the hold behind him, came a cry.
"It's Jack! The fresh air must have revived him. Thank goodness for
that," breathed Sandy fervently. Then uttering a loud "Hush," he
made his way back into the hold.
Even in the short time the door had been open, the air had noticeably
freshened. The place was filled with a dull, half light too. The
semi-twilight revealed a big pile of boxes and bales in one corner of
the place, but Sandy had no eyes for that. All he could see just
then was the gaunt, hollow-eyed figure of Jack Dacre, staggering
toward him.
"Courage, old chap," he exclaimed. "We've gained one step already."
"How on earth did that door get open?" gasped Jack, breathing the
fresher air in great gulping sobs.
"Aweell now," grinned Sandy, "I guess that, unbeknownst to mysel', I
must have whispered 'Open Sesame,' for the thing just swung open when
I bumped against it."
The two lads were soon in the cabin, their minds busily at work as to
how to free their hands. Suddenly Jack spied a bunch of keys hanging
on the wall.
"Maybe some of those would fit," he suggested hopefully.
"Perhaps. We can try, anyhow. But how can we get them?"
"Easy enough. Like this."
Jack stood on tiptoe and seized the bunch in his teeth like a terrier
seizing a rat. He dropped them on the table. Then came the problem
of selecting one that would fit.
"This looks as if it might do," said Jack, literally "nosing" at a
small, rusty key among the bunch.
"We can try it, anyhow," said Sandy; "take it in your teeth, and see
if it does belong to these bits of iron jewelry."
It was a difficult and tedious task, but Jack at last accomplished
it, and had the key inserted in the lock of Sandy's handcuffs. It
fitted perfectly. Sandy laid his hands out flat on the table, so as
to hold the handcuffs rigid, and then Jack gave a twist.
There was a sharp click, and Sandy was free.
"Now for you," he exclaimed, and, taking the key from Jack, with his
now-free hands, he soon had that lad disburdened of his incumbrances.
The lads really had some difficulty in keeping from cheering when
this was accomplished. But, of course, they didn't. In fact,
although they were now a little better off than they had been before,
they were by no means "out of the woods" as yet. Like the young
bears in the fable, they had still most of their troubles before
them. But, nevertheless, it was a great relief to have air and the
freedom of their hands.
"I guess the tug must have anchored," observed Sandy. "Wonder if we
are lying at any city? If so, we could make a dash for it, and
chance to there being somebody around who would help us out of our
difficulties."
"I wish we had some sort of weapons," said Jack. "At any rate, we
could make a fight for it. I feel as if I'd do anything rather than
go back to that hold again."
"So do I. But let's get that water and then tackle some grub. I
never felt so hungry in my life."
No more time was wasted on mere words. The boys fell to on the table
scraps, as if they were starved--as indeed they were.
And how good that water tasted! Never had the most delicious soda
either of them had ever sampled one-quarter of the cool delight of
that pitcher full of "aqua pura."
"Ah-h-h-h!" breathed Jack, with a sigh of repletion, "that was
something like."
"It was all of that," agreed Sandy, "and then some. But speaking of
weapons, what do you know about those?"
He indicated a brace of pistols, which had been hitherto unnoticed by
the lads. The weapons lay on a locker, and appeared to have been
hastily deposited there by some one who had been engaged in cleaning
them, for a small can of oil and some rags lay by them. The lads
lost no time in pouncing on their finds.
Both proved to be loaded, and were of heavy caliber and of
business-like looking blued steel.
"Look wicked enough for anything," grinned Sandy, examining his. "I
don't know about the law-and-order aspect of this, but--'necessity
knows no law.'"
"We would really be justified in doing anything to those ruffians,"
spoke Jack indignantly, "for all they cared, we might have died of
hunger and thirst and suffocation in that miserable hole yonder,
without a soul coming near us. I feel like facing the whole crew of
the ruffianly wretches."
"Yes, let 'em come on," quoth Sandy defiantly, brandishing his pistol.
As if in answer to his words, a door at the head of a short flight of
stairs was suddenly flung open, and the figure of a man appeared
framed in the portal.
"Now for it," whispered Sandy. He was glad to note that in the hand
which Jack impulsively thrust out to meet his, there was no sign of
tremor.
Both lads flung themselves into attitudes of defense. Come what
might, they felt prepared to face it, nerved by a sense of their
wrongs, and of what a return to that pestilential hold would mean.