Chapter 14

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_ CHAPTER FOURTEEN

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?"

I briefly told him while I was discussing the food he brought me.

"It's a bad business for you, Master Dick," he said; "but the only thing now to be done is to make the best of it. They're a precious bad lot, and the captain and officers are no better. I've made up my mind to run as soon as I can, and I'd advise you to do the same."

"That I certainly will when I have somewhere to run to, but at present it seems we should have to run overboard," I answered.

"We must wait until we get into harbour. We shall have to touch at a good many places, and if we keep our wits about us we shall manage it one way or another."

"We'll talk about that by-and-by, but tell me how you happened to be here. I heard that you had been sent on board a man-of-war," I said.

"So I was, and I wish I had remained aboard her, too; but as I had been sent against my will, I cut and run on the first chance I got. She was the 'Beagle' sloop of war. We were ordered to cruise on the Irish coast. We were not far off the town of Belfast, when a boat's crew to which I belonged pulled ashore under charge of a mid-shipmite. While he went into a house to deliver a message, I ran off as fast as my legs could carry me. I at last reached a cottage in which there was a whiteheaded old fellow, a girl, and two young men. I told them that I had been pressed and ill-treated, and was trying to make my escape from the cruelty of the English. The young men said at once that they would protect me, and would answer that I should not be retaken. The old man warned them that they were playing a dangerous game, and said that he would have nothing to do with the business, advising them to take me back to the boat. The girl, however, pleaded for me, and observed that now I had run, my punishment would be ten times greater, and that it would be cruel and inhospitable to refuse me shelter. She prevailed on her old grandfather. That evening the young men took me down aboard a little 'hooker,' which they said was just going to sail for Liverpool, and that if I liked I could go in her. Her cargo, they said, was timber and fruit, but turned out to be faggots and potatoes. I knew that at Liverpool there was no chance of being discovered, and I at once agreed. We reached the Mersey in a couple of days. As ill-luck would have it, I landed close to where the 'Emu' was getting ready for sea. Knowing that I could not venture to return home, I went on board and asked if a boy was wanted. The first mate at once said yes, as one of the apprentices had cut and run and could not be found. I thought I was in good luck, but we hadn't been to sea many days before I found that I had fallen out of the frying-pan into the fire. The other apprentice, poor Jack Drage, told me that he had been kicked and cuffed from the first moment that he had stepped on board, and that if he had had any friends on shore, he'd have taken French leave as the other had done. Things had grown worse instead of better, and he was already weary of his life. I advised him not to give in; that in time things must mend; but he was a poor-hearted fellow and only wrung his hands and cried, declaring that he was utterly miserable. I did my best to keep up his spirits, but it was all of no use. One night during a gale we had soon after sailing, he disappeared. Whether he had thrown himself overboard into the sea, or been knocked overboard no one could tell. Of course it was entered in the log that he had been knocked overboard. In my opinion he sacrificed his life rather than endure his miseries. I told the first mate so, and he knocked me down. The next time he called me a sulky rascal, but I answered that I was not going to do away with myself like Jack Drage, and that I would make a complaint of him to the British Consul whenever we touched at a port. On this he knocked me down again. I know that I was taken with the sulks, and for days afterwards didn't speak to him or any one else; but as I had no wish to be killed, I did what I was ordered to do, and got on somewhat better. Ever since that not a day passes that I don't get a kick or have a marline-spike hove at my head by either the officers or men forward. They're all very much alike for that matter, except Tom Trivett, and he's as good a fellow as ever lived. He has a hard life of it, for the men are always playing him tricks; and the officers spite him, and are constantly making him do dirty jobs which no able seaman should be called on to perform. But, I say, I mustn't stand talking here any longer, or I shall be suspected of being your friend. Don't let any one find out that we know each other, and we shall get on all the better. I'll tell Tom Trivett, and he'll bring you the coffee if I can't manage it; meanwhile you stay quiet in the bunk, even if you feel well enough to get up."

"There is no chance of my being able to do that for some days," I answered, "for I don't think I could stand if I were to try."

Mark now left me, and I fell back nearly exhausted from having talked so long to him.

After some time Tom appeared with a basin of hot black coffee, with some biscuit floating in it.

"Can't I have a little milk?" I asked.

"We've not any cows on board here," he answered with a laugh; "and there are no dairies in the Atlantic, unless Daddy Neptune happens to keep sea-cows."

"You must have thought me very silly to ask for milk," I said, as I ate up the sopped biscuit, and drank the hot coffee, which was well sweetened with sugar.

"It shows you are something of a greenhorn, lad," he answered, laughing, "but no wonder your wits aren't of the brightest after having been shut up in the dark so long; you shall have something else by-and-by. Remember what I told you; don't be getting well too soon, that's all." _

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