Chapter 5. How Bruff Showed He Had A Nose

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_ CHAPTER FIVE. HOW BRUFF SHOWED HE HAD A NOSE

As Mark reached the great opening in the deck it was to find that the men who had been at work below were all clustered together listening and waiting for instructions from their officers.

"Hush! Don't speak!" cried the first-mate, bending over the opening. "Are you sure it isn't a cat?"

A low deep moaning sound that was smothered and strange came from below, and the mate gave a stamp with his foot on the deck.

"No mistake, Gregory," said the second-mate.

"Mistake! No. It's a man or a boy. He deserves to be left; he does, upon my honour."

"Yes, we all deserve more than we get," said the second-mate patiently. "Here, what do you make of it? The sound puzzles me, and I don't know where to begin."

The mate descended, the second-mate followed, and a big dark fellow with a silver whistle hanging from his neck was about to step down next, but he made way for Mark, who slipped down the steps, to the great dismay of Bruff, who sat on the top looking over the coamings, and whining in a low tone.

Mark found himself upon a lower deck, with a hole in it of similar dimensions to that through which he had passed. Mr Gregory was lowering himself down upon the cargo, the second-mate followed, and then gave orders for silence.

This stopped the buzzing conversation of the men, who all seemed to be scared, and now the moaning sound came from somewhere--a faint, dismal, despairing "Oh! Oh! Oh!" of some one in sore distress.

"Humph!" ejaculated the mate, "I suppose we must behave like Christians and get him out. But when I do! Here! Below there: where are you?"

No response; only the continuous moaning.

"Do you hear there? Answer--where are you?" shouted the second-mate with his mouth down to an opening in the great packages beneath their feet.

Still no reply but this dismal moaning "Oh!" a piteous appeal in its way, which made Mark shudder.

"I'll try again," said the first-mate. "Here, hi! Where are you?"

He paused, and they all listened. He shouted again and again, but with no result, and turning to the second-mate he said:

"The poor wretch is insensible, I'm afraid."

"Yes, he seems beyond answering. Where do you make him out to be?"

"That's what I can't make out," said the first-mate. "It's just as if he were practising ventriloquism. Sometimes it sounds to the right and sometimes to the left."

"Yes, that's how it strikes me," said the second-mate. "Listen, youngster. Here: silence there on deck!"

A pin fall might have been heard the next moment, and the silence was broken by the low piteous moan.

"It seems down here at one time, and then more forward there," said Mark.

"Yes, it does now," said the first-mate. "Here, Billy Widgeon, Small, you come and try."

The boatswain and the little sailor both lay down in different places on the cases and bales and listened, but only to rise up and declare that the sound came from quite a different direction.

"Hang it all!" cried the first-mate; "it isn't a question of amount of cargo to unstow, but of time before we get at the miserable wretch. Now, what right has a man to come and hide down here, and upset the whole cargo and crew!"

"My dear Gregory," cried the second-mate, "do let's begin somewhere."

"Yes, but where, my lad--where? Listen again. There, it's further in-- ever so much."

"Sounds like it," assented the second-mate. "Here, stop your noise!"

This last was consequent upon a dismal howl uttered by Bruff, who felt himself aggrieved at being left alone.

"Here, here!" cried Mark excitedly, and, raising his hands, he took the dog as he was passed down by the sailors. "Stop a minute, Mr Gregory, my dog will smell him out."

"Bravo, boy!" cried the first-mate, as Bruff was set down, no light-weight, on the stowed-in cargo. "Good dog, then!"

"Hush!" cried Mark, whose heart was beating painfully.

"Silence there!" cried Mr Small.

"Now, Bruff, old boy, listen."

There was utter silence for quite a minute, and then, as the chill of dread deepened, and it seemed as if the hidden man had fainted, the moaning arose once more, but certainly more feebly.

Mark was kneeling and holding Bruff with a hand on each side of the collar, and as the piteous moan arose the dog uttered a sharp bark.

"Good dog, then! Find him, boy!" cried Mark; and as the moaning continued, the dog went scuffling and scratching over the cargo, snuffing here and there, and uttering a bark from time to time.

"No, no, not there," cried the second-mate.

"Let the dog be," said the first; and the result was that Bruff suddenly stopped a dozen yards away from them toward the forecastle, and began scratching and barking loudly.

"It can't be there," said Small, creeping over the packages till he was beside the dog, and then quieting him as he listened. "Yes; it is!" he cried. "You can hear him as plain as plain."

The first-mate came to his side, and confirmed the assertion; the second-mate endorsed his brother officer's opinion; and now began the terrible task of dragging out the closely fitted-in lading of the ship, so as to work right down to where the poor wretch had concealed himself. It seemed to Mark's uninitiated eyes to be a task which would take days, but the men set-to with willing hands under the first-mate's guidance, and package after package was hauled out by main force, and sent on to the deck above, till quite a cutting was formed through the cargo.

Every now and then the work was stopped for one of the officers to listen, and make sure that they were working in the right direction, and this precaution was not without its results in the saving of labour, for the faint moanings, more plainly heard now that a portion of the cargo was removed, seemed to be a little more to their right.

Mark Strong's first sensation, after the dog had thoroughly localised the place of the man's imprisonment, was a desire to go right away, to get off the ship and go ashore, where he could be beyond hearing of those terrible moans; but directly after he found himself thinking that it would be very cowardly, worse still that the chief mate and this Mr Morgan would look upon him as being girlish. The result was that he crept along over the top of the cargo on his hands and knees to just beyond the place where the men were working, and seating himself there, with Bruff between his legs, he watched the progress of the search.

It was a curious experience to a lad fresh from school, and the aspect of the place added to the horror of knowing that a fellow-creature was perhaps dying by inches beneath the sailors' feet. Where he sat the beams and planks of the lower deck were only about four feet above his head, and to right, left, and behind him all was thick darkness, faintly illumined by the yellow light of a couple of swinging lanthorns, which shed a curious ghastly halo all around; sixty feet away was the great hatch, down which came the light of day; and between this and where Mark sat, the dark figures of the busy sailors were constantly on the move in a way that looked weird in the extreme. Now, half of them were out of sight fastening the hooks and loops of the tackle to some bale; then there was a loud "yoho-ing," and, with creaking and rasping, the great package was dragged away into the patch of daylight, which it darkened for a few moments, and then disappeared to the deck.

For the first few minutes Mr Gregory--"Old Greg," as the sailors called him--stormed and raved about the labour and waste of time; but soon after he was at work as energetically as any man in the crew, and in the intervals of a great package being secured he kept coming to where Mark sat with his dog.

"Rough work this, my lad, isn't it?" he said every time, and as he spoke his hand went unconsciously to Bruff's head to rub and pat it.

Then he was off again, giving orders which package to take next, and securing the loops of the rope-tackle himself.

"Now, all together my lads," he shouted, and away went the load.

It was dreary work, and yet full of excitement, for the men toiled on with terrible energy, for there was the knowledge that though a great deal of cargo had been removed, the moans of the poor wretch were being heard less plainly.

It was Mr Morgan who now came to where Mark was seated, and he too began to pat and rub Bruff's head.

"No, my lad," he said, in answer to a question, "we can do no more than we are doing. If we got more hands at work they would be in each other's way."

He was panting with exertion as he spoke, and began to wipe his brow.

"It's a horrible set out. The man must have been mad to hide himself there."

"But you'll get him out?"

"Yes, we shall get him out," said the young officer; "but I'm growing sadly afraid that he'll die from sheer fright before we reach him."

"But you will keep on?"

"Keep on, my lad! Yes, if we have to empty the hold. Why, what sort of savages do you think us?"

He hurried away, and after a lapse Mr Gregory came.

"Help? no, my boy--poor old doggie then! Good old man!--no, you can't help. If I set you to hold a lanthorn, you'd be in somebody's way. We can't half of us work as it is, for want of room. It's a sad job."

As he spoke he kept on caressing Bruff, who rolled his stupid great head from side to side with evident enjoyment, while, in spite of the horror of what was going on, Mark could not help a feeling of satisfaction at the way in which his dog was growing in favour.

One hour--two hours--three hours must have gone by, and still the men toiled on at their fearfully difficult task, one which seemed to grow more solemn as they went on.

"Can't hear a sound, my lad," said the first-mate; "and I think we'll try the dog again. Come along, old chap."

Mark loosened his hold on the dog, and he followed the mate and was lifted down into the great cavernous hole the men had made, while a lanthorn was held so that they could watch his proceedings.

Bruff did not leave them long in doubt, but began snuffing at one side, close to the end, following it up by scratching and whining.

"That'll do," shouted the first-mate hoarsely. "Come, my lad. That's it. Good old dog, then!"

He lifted Bruff out and passed him up to Mark, who leaned over and listened as in the midst of a deep silence Mr Gregory slapped the side of a case.

"Now, then, where are you?" he shouted.

There was no reply; and he shouted again and again, but without effect.

"At it you go, my lads," he said, drawing in his breath with a hiss. "He must be in here; the dog says so."

"Ay, ay, sir!" rose in chorus, and the task was resumed with fresh energy, and but for the careful management of the two officers there must have been a fresh mishap, the sailors being rather reckless and ready to loosen packages whose removal would have caused the sides of the heaps to come crumbling down in a cargo avalanche, to cause disaster as well as delay.

Another hour had passed and Bruff had been had down four more times, always after his fashion to show where the man they sought must be, but still there was no result to their task, and Mark felt a blank sensation of despair troubling him, for he could see that the first-mate was beginning to lose faith in the dog's instinct, though there had for long enough past been nothing to prove that he was wrong, not so much as a sigh being heard.

"I think we'd better have the dog down again," said Mr Gregory at last, his voice sounding strange from deep among the cargo. "Stop a moment, my lads. Silence, and pass me a lanthorn."

At the sound of his voice Bruff uttered a whine, and Mark had to hold tight by his collar to keep him back.

Directly after, as the lad looked down he could see the mate tap once more upon a case in the curious-looking hollow.

"Now, then," he shouted, "where are you?"

There was a silence that was painful in its intensity, and then plainly heard came a faint groan.

"Hooray, my lads! he's here, and alive yet," cried the mate, and the men set up a hearty cheer. "Steady, steady! He's close here. Let's have out this case next."

"No, no," cried the second-mate; "I see."

"See what?" said Mr Gregory gruffly.

"Ease off that bale a little, and we can draw him out."

"Draw him out! How? Well, of all! Of course!"

A lanthorn was being held to the side beneath Mark, and, staring over, he, too, grasped the position, which was plain enough now to all.

The case which the mate proposed to remove was one of the great deal chests with the top angle cut right off and used to pack pianos, and in the triangular space nearly six feet long between the case and the chests around the unfortunate man had crept, taking it for granted that he would be able to creep out again forward or backward after the ship had sailed.

The easing away of one package was enough now, and as the light was held, the legs of the prisoner were seen, and he was carefully drawn out. A rope was placed round his chest, and he was hauled out of the great chasm and hoisted carefully on deck, followed by the whole crew of workers, who formed a circle about him, as the first-mate went down on one knee and trickled a little brandy between his teeth.

"Shall I send one of the lads for a doctor?" said Mr Morgan.

"Wait a minute," was the first-mate's answer. "He was not suffocating, as you can see. It was sheer fright, I think. He'll come round in a few minutes out here in the fresh air."

The second-mate held down the light, and as Mark, for whom room had been made, gazed down in the ghastly face of the shabby-looking man, Bruff pushed his head forward and sniffed at him.

"Yes, that's him, old fellow," said the mate patting his head. "You are a good dog, then."

Bruff whined, and just then the prostrate stowaway moved slightly.

"There, he's coming to; give him a little more brandy, Gregory," said the second-mate.

"Not a drop," cried the other fiercely. "Yes, he's coming round now. I think I'll finish off with the rope's end--a scoundrel!"

A minute before, in spite of his rough ways, Mark had begun to feel somewhat of a liking for the first-mate, especially as he had taken to the dog; but now all this was swept away.

"Oh, yes, he's coming to," said Mr Gregory, as the man's eyelids were seen to tremble in the light of the lanthorn, and then open widely in a vacant stare.

"Where--where am I?" he said in a hoarse whisper; and then he uttered a wild cry and started up in a sitting position, for Bruff had touched his cheek with his cold nose.

"Where are you! On the deck of the _Black Petrel_, my lad, and you're just going to have that dirty shirt stripped off your back, ready for a good rope's-ending."

"No, no! no, no!" cried the poor wretch, grovelling at the first-mate's feet, and looking up at him appealingly.

This was too much for Bruff, who set up a fierce bark, and seeing his new friend apparently attacked he would have seized the crouching man had not Mark dropped down and seized his collar.

"Not do it, eh! You scoundrel! what do you mean by this hiding down in that hold and giving us hours of work to get out your wretched carcass, eh?"

"Please, sir--forgive me, sir. Let me off this time, sir."

"Kick the poor wretch out of the ship and let him go," said the second-mate in a low voice.

"Let him go! Not I. I'm going to flog him and then hand him over to the police."

"Ay, ay," rose in chorus from the men, who, now that they had with all respect to humanity saved the interloper's life, were quite ready to see him punished for his wrong-doing, and the trouble and extra labour he had caused.

"There, you idle vagabond, you hear what the jury of your own countrymen say."

"Let me off this time, sir. I was nearly killed down there."

"Nearly killed, you scoundrel! Serve you right; trying to steal a passage and food from the owner of this ship. How dare you do it?"

"I--I wanted to go abroad so badly, sir," said the shivering wretch. "I'd no money, and no friends."

"I should think not indeed. Who'd make a friend, do you think, of you?"

"Nobody, sir. I did try lots of captains to take me as a sailor, but no one would."

"Why, of course they wouldn't, you scoundrel!" stormed the first-mate. "Can you reef and splice and take your turn at the wheel?"

"No, sir," whimpered the man.

"Can you go aloft without tumbling down and breaking somebody's head instead of your own idle neck? Could you lay out on the foretop yard?"

"No, sir, but--but I'd try, sir, I would indeed, if you'd let me."

"Let the poor wretch go, Gregory," whispered the second-mate.

"Sha'n't!" snapped the first-mate; and as he raged and stormed Mark felt more than ever that this was the real captain of the ship, and that his father must occupy a very secondary position.

"I would work so hard," said the poor fellow piteously. "I only want to get into another country and try again."

"At our owner's expense, eh? Do you think the crew here want you?"

"No, no," rose in chorus; and Mark's heart gave a leap of sympathy, and anger against the men.

"There, you hear, you idle, cheating vagabond. Where did you want to go?"

"Anywhere, sir, anywhere. Do let me go!"

"Yes, to the police station. You'll have to answer for all this."

Mark looked at the poor, wretched, piteous face, and then up at the mate, whose countenance was like cast-iron with the tip of his nose red-hot. He glanced at Mr Morgan, who was frowning and looked annoyed, but who smiled at Mark as their eyes met.

"Here, Billy Widgeon, fetch one of the dock police," cried the first-mate.

"Ay, ay, sir," cried the little sailor with alacrity; and he was in the act of starting, while the stowaway was once more appealing piteously and Mark was about to take his part, when a quiet firm voice said aloud:

"What's the matter?"

Mark's heart gave a bound, and for the moment he thought everything would be set right in a humane way. Then, as he heard the chief mate speak, he felt that it would be all wrong.

"What's the matter, Captain Strong!" thundered the officer. "Everything's the matter. Here we've to sail first tide to-morrow, and look at us. My cargo, that was all stowed, hauled all over the ship. We've been ever since four o'clock getting him out, and now it's nearly ten. And look at him--all hands unstowing cargo to get out a thing like that!"

"Where was he?" said the captain sternly.

"Where was he!" roared the mate, who looked as if one of his legs was quivering to kick the grovelling stowaway; "where wasn't he? Groaning all over the ship; and if it hadn't been for that dog--"

"Ah! the dog helped, did he?"

"Yes, sir; smelt him out buried down below a thousand tons--"

"More or less," said Mr Morgan laughing.

"Well, I didn't weigh or measure the cargo, did I, sir?" roared the first-mate. "Look at it, sir--look at it, captain. We shall be at work all night re-stowing it, and then sha'n't be done."

"He was right down there?"

"Yes, sir; and if we hadn't got to him he'd have been a dead man in a few hours; and a good job too, only see what a nuisance he would have been."

"How came you to do this, sir?" cried Captain Strong, turning to the man, who still crouched upon the deck.

"I wanted to get abroad, sir. Pray forgive me this time."

"You must have been mad," cried the captain. "Did you want to be buried alive?"

"No, sir. I didn't think you'd fill up above me, and I thought I could creep out by and by; but--but they stopped up both ends of the hole, and then--then they piled up the boxes over my head, and it got so hot, sir, that--that--I could hardly breathe, and--and--and, sir, I couldn't bear it, I was obliged to cry for help; but I wish I'd died in my hole."

"Poor wretch!" muttered the captain; but his son heard him and pressed nearer to his side, as he gazed at the stowaway, a man grown, but who was sobbing hysterically, and crying like a woman.

"Here, Widgeon, I told you to fetch one of the dock police," said the first-mate fiercely.

"Ay, ay, sir!" cried Billy Widgeon, and Mark's heart sank as he felt that his father was only secondary in power to the fierce red-nosed mate. But the next instant a thrill of satisfaction shot through him, for his father said in a calm, firm way:

"Stop!"

"Ah, we'll soon set him right," said the mate; "a miserable, snivelling cur!"

There was a laugh among the crew, and at a word from the mate they would have been ready to pitch the miserable object overboard.

"What is your name?" said the captain.

"Jimpny, sir. David Jimpny."

"Pretty name for a Christian man," said the mate; and the crew all laughed.

"What have you been?" said the captain.

"Anything, sir. No trade. Been out o' work, sir, and half starved and faint."

"Out of work!" roared the mate. "Why, you wouldn't work if you had it."

"Wouldn't I! You give me the chance, sir."

"Chance!" retorted the mate scornfully.

"Perhaps the poor wretch has not had one," said the captain. "Look here, my man."

"I haven't, sir; I haven't had a chance. Pray, pray, give me one, sir. I'll--I'll do anything, sir. I'll be like a slave if you'll only let me try."

"We don't want slaves," said the captain sternly; "we want honest true men who will work. Small."

"Ay, ay, sir," said the boatswain.

"This man has been half starved; take him below and see to him, and see that he is well treated."

"Ay, ay, sir," cried the boatswain. "Now, my swab."

"God--bless--"

"That will do," said the captain coldly. "No words. Let's have deeds, my man."

The abject-looking wretch shrank away, and the first-mate gave an angry stamp upon the deck.

"Look here, Captain Strong," he began furiously.

"That will do, my dear Gregory," said the captain, clapping him on the shoulder. "I wish the man to stay."

Mark Strong felt his heart at rest, for, as he saw the effect of his father's words upon the chief mate, he knew once and for all who was the real captain of the ship. _

Read next: Chapter 6. How Mark Strong Made Friends

Read previous: Chapter 4. How There Was An Unwelcome Passenger

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