Captain Mayne Reid (continued 5)

Chapter Forty Three.

Search after another Biscuit-Box.

For many hours I remained brooding over the altered state of my affairs, with no thought arising to cheer me. I felt so hopeless that I did not even take stock of the biscuits, or rather the crumbs that were left. I guessed roughly by the size of the little heap that it might sustain life—keeping up the very small ration I had been hitherto using—for about ten days—not more. Ten days, then, or at most a fortnight, had I to live, with the prospect of certain death at the end of that time—and a death that experience told me must be slow and painful. I had already suffered the extreme of hunger, almost to death, and I dreaded to try it again; but there appeared no hope of escaping from such a doom—at least, none appeared at the moment.

The shock that followed the discovery of my loss rendered me for a long time unable to think clearly. My mind was dejected and pusillanimous—my brain, as it were, paralysed—so that whenever I took to thinking, my thoughts only wandered, or centred on the terrible doom that waited me.

In time a reaction arrived, and I was better able to reflect on the circumstances in which I was now placed. Gradually hope dawned again, though it was only, of an indistinct and very indefinite character—literally but a “ray.” The thought that occurred to me was simply this: that as I had found one box of biscuits, why might there not be a second? If not immediately beside the first, it might be near. As stated already, I believed that in the stowage of a ship, goods of the same kind are not always placed together, but miscellaneously—just as the different packages may fit to the shape of the hold and to each other. I had proof that this was the usual arrangement, since around me, and in juxta-position, were articles of very different kinds—biscuits, broadcloth, brandy, and the butt of water. Although there was no second box of biscuits immediately adjoining the one already emptied, there might be another not far off—perhaps just on the other side of the cloth-box, or in some place where I might be able to get at it.

This, then, was the thought that inspired me with new hope.

As soon as I had conceived it, all my energies returned, and I set about reflecting on what course I should take to ascertain whether there was another biscuit-box that it was possible for me to reach.

The plan of reaching it was already shaped out in my mind. In fact, there was but one way—with my knife. No other means were within my reach, and therefore I thought of none. To cut a way with my knife through such packages—boxes, bales, or barrels—as might lie between my chamber and the desired biscuits, was the idea that had entered my mind, and it seemed more feasible and practicable the longer I reflected upon it. Deeds that would appear difficult, if not impossible, under ordinary circumstances, present a different aspect to one whose life is in danger, and who knows it may be saved by accomplishing them. The direst hardships, and severest privations, become light trials when life and death are on the issue.

It was from this point of view that I was compelled to contemplate the feat I now intended to perform; and I thought but lightly of the time and trouble, so long as there was a prospect of their saving me from horrid death by starvation.

I resolved, therefore, to hew a way with my knife among the packages of merchandise, in hopes of coming to one that contained food. If successful, then I should live; if not, I must die. Another thought had some effect in encouraging me to the attempt. It would be better for me to pass my time still hoping, than to yield to despair and remain idle. To live for two weeks in the certain anticipation of death, would have been a thousand times more painful than death itself.

Far better to struggle on, nourishing hope with the exertions I should be making for my safety. The very labour itself would help me to pass the time, and hinder me from brooding too keenly on my doubtful fate.

Thus ran my reflections, as I became once more roused to the energy that for awhile had forsaken me.

I was on my knees, knife in hand, resolved and ready. That precious piece of steel, how prized at the moment! I would not have exchanged it for the full of the ship of red gold!

I have said that I was upon my knees. I could not have stood erect, had I wished it. There was not room. The ceiling of my cabin was too low.

Was it my peculiar attitude that suggested the thought? Perhaps it had some influence. I cannot now remember; but I well remember that before proceeding farther in my design, I offered up a prayer—humble and earnest—to God, who had already, as I firmly believed, stretched forth his hand to succour me. I prayed for guidance, for strength, for success. I need not add that my prayer was heard, else I should not now have been living to record it.

My intention was first to work through the cloth-box, and discover what was behind it. That which had contained the biscuits was now empty, and I could get through it without trouble. It will be remembered that I had already been inside the biscuit-box while searching for another, and also while procuring the pieces of cloth; and so far my way was clear. But to get across the one in which the broadcloth was packed, it would be necessary to pull out several more pieces, to give me room to work on to the next. My knife, therefore, would not be needed at first starting; and putting it aside, where I could easily lay my hands upon it again, I ducked my head and crawled into the empty box. In another minute I was pulling and tugging away at the stiff rolls of broadcloth—all my strength being exerted, and all my energies employed in detaching them from their places.

Chapter Forty Four.

The Crumbs Secured.

This was a work that cost me both time and labour much more than you might imagine. No doubt the cloth had been packed with the idea of economising space, and the pieces were wedged as tightly together as if done by a steam-press. Those opposite the opening I had made, came out easily enough; but with the others I had more trouble. It took all my strength to detach many of them from their places. When a few were removed, the work became easier. There were several rolls larger than the rest. They were larger, because they were of coarser cloth. They were too big to pass through the apertures I had made, either the one in the cloth-case, or that in the side of the biscuit-box. I was puzzled how to deal with them. I could not enlarge the openings without a great deal of labour. On account of the situation of the two boxes, it was not possible to knock off another board. I should have to cut the hole wider with my knife; and this, for the same reason, would have been difficult.

A better plan suggested itself—apparently a better, but which in the end proved a mistake. I managed the matter by cutting off the fastenings of each piece, and, laying hold of the end of the web, unrolled it. I then drew out the loose cloth until the web became small enough to pass through. In this way I succeeded in emptying the case, but the work kept me employed for several hours.

I was delayed, moreover, by a more serious interruption. On returning to my chamber, with the first piece of cloth which I had drawn out of the box, I found, to my consternation, that it was already occupied by other tenants—a score of them: the rats were in possession!

I dropped the piece of cloth; and, dashing into their midst, succeeded in routing them; but, as I had anticipated from their presence, I found that another portion of my wretched store of provisions was eaten or carried off. Not a great deal, however, appeared to have been taken. Fortunately, I had been absent only for a short while. Had I been gone for but another twenty minutes, the robbers would have quite cleared me out, and left me not a crumb to live upon.

The consequence of this would have been fatal; and once more deploring my negligence, I resolved to take better care for the future. I spread out a large piece of the cloth, and depositing the fragments upon it, I wrapped them up into a sort of bag-like bundle, which I tied as firmly as I could with a strip of list torn from the cloth itself. This, I fancied, would keep all safe; and placing it in a corner, I proceeded with my work.

As I passed to and fro upon my hands and knees—now empty-handed, now dragging with me a piece of the cloth—I might have been likened to an ant crawling upon its track, and laying in its stores for the winter; and during many hours I was kept as busy as an ant might be. The weather still continued calm, but the atmosphere appeared hotter than I had yet felt it, and the perspiration ran from every pore of my skin. I was often obliged to use a loose piece of the broadcloth to wipe the drops from my forehead and out of my eyes; and at times it appeared as if the heat would suffocate me. But with such a motive as I had for perseverance, I continued to toil on, without thought of resting for a moment.

All the while I was conscious of the presence of the rats. They appeared to be everywhere around me—in the crevices between the casks and boxes, which they used as so many ways and paths. They met me in my own particular gallery, crossing or running before me, and sometimes I felt them behind me coursing over my legs. Singular enough, I was less afraid of them than formerly. This partially arose from my observance of the fact, that it was the biscuit-box that had brought them in such numbers into my chamber, and not me. At first I was under the impression that they had come there to assail myself, but I now thought differently, and felt less apprehension of their attacking me. I no longer dreaded them while awake; but for all that, I could not have gone to sleep—nor did I intend to do so again—without first securing myself against their attacks.

Another reason there was why I feared them less. My situation had grown more desperate, and the necessity for action so apparent, that all lesser dangers had given way to the greater one that threatened me—the danger of starvation.

Having finished emptying the cloth-case of its contents, I resolved to rest a bit, and refresh myself with a scanty ration of crumbs and a cup of water. During the whole time I was engaged in unpacking I had not left off, even to take a drink, and I was now thirsty enough to drink quarts. As I had no fear that my water supply would run short, I now opened the tap and drank to my satisfaction. I must have lowered the water-line very considerably, before I could drag myself away from the butt. The precious fluid seemed sweeter than honey itself; and after drinking, I felt as though it had re-invigorated me to the tips of my fingers.

I now turned to my stock of food, but another cry of chagrin escaped me as I laid my hands upon the bundle. The rats again! Yes; I found, to my astonishment, that these persevering robbers had been back again, had gnawed a hole through the cloth, and abstracted another portion from my now greatly reduced store! A pound at least of the precious crumbs had been taken, and this must have been done within a few minutes’ time; for, only a few minutes before, I had occasion to move the bundle, and I had then observed that there was nothing amiss.

The discovery of this new misfortune caused me fresh misery and vexation. I saw that if I left the biscuit-bag behind me, even for the shortest space of time, I might expect on my return to find every crumb gone out of it.

Already I had lost nearly half of what I had taken from the box, and which I had calculated might keep me alive for a period of ten or twelve days. This calculation included everything, even to the dust, which I had carefully gathered up from the boards; and now, on re-examining what remained, I perceived that there was not enough to sustain me for a week!

This discovery added to the gloom of my situation; but I did not suffer it to bring despair. I resolved to proceed with my design, as if no new misfortune had happened; for the further reduction of my stores rendered both energy and perseverance more necessary than ever.

I could not think of any way of securing my crumbs, except by taking the bag along with me and keeping it by my side. I might have folded more cloth around them, but I was impressed with the belief that these vermin would have gnawed their way to my crumbs had I placed them in a box of iron.

To make safe, therefore, I tied up the hole that had been cut in the cloth; and, dragging the bundle after me, I took it into the cloth-case, determined to defend it against all comers.

Having deposited it between my knees, I once more set to work with my knife to tunnel through the side of the adjacent box.

Chapter Forty Five.

Another Bite.

Before proceeding to use the knife, I had endeavoured to burst one of the boards outward, first by pressing upon it with my hands. Finding I could not move it in this way, I lay down upon my back, and tried it with my heels. I even put on my old buskins in hopes of being able to kick it out; but, after thumping at it for a considerable time, I saw it would not do. It was too securely nailed, and, as I found out afterwards, it was still more strongly secured with strips of iron hooping, which would have resisted a stronger effort than any I could make. My kicks and thumps, therefore, were all given to no purpose; and as soon as I became convinced of this, I went to work with my knife.

I designed cutting across one of the boards near the end—and only at one end, as I could then force the piece out, no matter how securely it might be clasped at the other.

The timber was not very hard, being only common spruce deal, and I could soon have made a cross-cut of the whole piece, even with no better tool than my knife, if I had been in a proper attitude, with the box fairly before me. But instead of that, I was obliged to operate in a constrained position, that was both disadvantageous and fatiguing. Moreover, my hand was still painful from the bite of the rat, the scar not yet being closed up. The troubles I had been enduring had kept my blood in a constant fever, and this I suppose, had prevented the healing of the wound. Unfortunately, it was my right hand that had been bitten; and, being right-handed, I could not manage the knife with my left. I tried it at times, to relieve the other, but could make little progress at left-hand work.

For these reasons, then, I was several hours in cutting across a piece of nine-inch deal of only an inch in thickness; but I got through at last, and then, placing myself once more on my back, and setting my heels to the plank, I had the satisfaction to feel it yielding.

It did not move a great way, and I could perceive that there was something hindering it behind—either another box or a barrel—but this was exactly what I had expected. Only two or three inches of empty space were between the two, and it required a good deal of kicking, and twisting backward and forward, and upward and downward, before I could detach the piece from its fastenings of iron.

Before I had got it quite out of my way, I knew what was behind, for I had passed my fingers through to ascertain. It was another packing-case, and, alas! too similar to the one I was crouching in. The same kind of timber, if my touch was true—and this one of my senses had of late become wonderfully acute.

I felt its outline, as much of it as I could reach: the same size it appeared to be—the same rough, unplaned plank, just like that I had been cutting at—and both, as I now perceived, iron hooped at the ends. Beyond doubt, it was “another of the same.”

I came to this conclusion without proceeding further, and it was a conclusion that filled me with chagrin and disappointment. But although I felt too bitterly satisfied that it was another cloth-box, I deemed it worth while to put the matter beyond any doubt. To effect this, I proceeded to take out one of the pieces of the second box, just as I had done with the other—by making a clear cut across—and then prising it out, and drawing it towards me. It cost me even more labour than the first, for I could not get at it so well; besides, I had to widen the aperture in the other, before I could reach the joining between two pieces. The widening was not so difficult, as the soft plank split off readily under the blade of my knife.

I worked cheerlessly at this second box, as I worked without hope. I might have spared myself the pains; for during the operation the blade of my knife frequently came in contact with what was inside, and I knew from the soft dull object which resisted the steel with elastic silence, that I was coming upon cloth. I might have spared myself any further labour, but a kind of involuntary curiosity influenced me to go on—that curiosity which refuses to be satisfied until demonstration is complete and certain; and, thus impelled, I hewed away mechanically, till I had reached the completion of the task.

The result was as I had expected—the contents were cloth!

The knife dropped from my grasp; and, overcome, as much by fatigue as by the faintness produced by disappointment, I fell backward, and lay for some minutes in a state of partial insensibility.

This lethargy of despair continued upon me for some time—I noted not how long; but I was at length aroused from it by an acute pain, which I felt in the tip of my middle finger. It was sudden as acute, and resembled the pricking of a needle, or a sharp cut with the blade of a knife.

I started suddenly up, thinking I had caught hold of my knife—while half conscious of what I was doing—for I remembered that I had thrown it with open blade beside me.

In a second or two, however, I was convinced that it was not that which had caused me the pain. It was not a wound made with cold steel, but with the venomous tooth of a living creature. I had been bitten by a rat!

My lethargic indifference to my situation soon passed away, and was succeeded by a keen sense of fear. I was now convinced, more than ever, that my life was in danger from these hideous animals; for this was the first actual attempt they had made upon my person without provocation. Although my sudden movement, and the loud cries I involuntarily uttered, had once more driven them off, I felt satisfied they would become bolder anon, and take no heed of such idle demonstrations. I had threatened them too often, without making them feel my power to punish them.

Clearly it would not do to go to sleep again, with my person exposed to their attacks; for although my hopes of ultimate deliverance were now sadly diminished, and in all likelihood starvation was to be my fate, still this kind of death was preferable to being eaten up by rats. The very thought of such a fate filled me with horror, and determined me to do all in my power to save myself from so fearful a doom.

I was now very tired, and required rest. The box was large enough for me to have slept within it, stretched at full length; but I thought I could more easily defend myself against the encroachments of the rats in my old quarters; and, taking up my knife and bundle, I crawled back behind the butt.

My little chamber was now of much smaller dimensions, for in it I had stowed the cloth taken from the box. In fact, there was just room enough for my body and the bag of crumbs—so that it was more like a nest than an apartment.

With the pieces of cloth piled in one end against the brandy-cask, I was well defended in that quarter, and it only remained to close up the other end as I had done before. This I accomplished; and then, after eating my slender supper, and washing it down with copious libations, I sought the repose, both of body and mind, of which I stood in such need.

Chapter Forty Six.

The Bale of Linen.

My sleep was neither very sweet nor very sound. In addition to my gloomy prospects, I was rendered uncomfortable by the hot atmosphere, now closer than ever, in consequence of the stoppage of every aperture. No current of air, that might otherwise have cooled me, was permitted to reach my prison, and I might almost as well have been inside a heated oven. I got a little sleep, however, and with that little I was under the necessity of being satisfied.

When fairly awake again, I treated myself to a meal, which might be called my breakfast; but it was certainly the lightest of all breakfasts, and did not deserve the name. Of water I again drank freely, for I was thirsty with the fever that was in my blood, and my head ached as if it would split open.

All this did not deter me from returning to my work. If two boxes contained broadcloth, it did not follow that all the cargo was of this sort of merchandise, and I resolved to persevere. I had made up my mind to try in a new direction—that is, to tunnel through the end of the packing-case as I had done through its side—the end which was turned towards the outside—for I knew that the other rested against the side of the ship, and it would be no use searching in that direction.

Taking my bread-bag with me as before, I went to work with renewed hope, and after long and severe labour—severe on account of the crouching attitude I had to keep, as also from the pain caused by my wounded thumb—I succeeded in detaching one of the end pieces from its place.

Something soft lay beyond. There was encouragement even in this. At all events, it was not another case of broadcloth; but what it was, I could not guess until I had laid bare the full breadth of the board. Then my hands were eagerly passed through the aperture, and with trembling fingers I examined this new object of interest. Coarse canvas it appeared to the touch; but that was only the covering. What was there inside?

Until I had taken up my knife again, and cut off a portion of the canvas, I knew not what it was; but then, to my bitter disappointment, the real nature of the package was revealed.

It proved to be linen—a bale of fine linen, packed in pieces, just as the cloth had been; but so tight that if I had used all my strength I could not have detached one piece from the bale.

The discovery of what it was, caused me greater chagrin than if it had proved to be broadcloth. This I could take out with less difficulty, and make way to try farther on; but with the linen I could do nothing, for, after several attempts, I was unable to move any of the pieces, and as to cutting a way through them, a wall of adamant would scarce have been more impervious to the blade of my knife. It would have been the work of a week at least. My provision would not keep me alive till I had reached the other side. But I did not speculate on such a performance. It was too manifestly impossible, and I turned away from it without giving it another thought.

For a little while I remained inactive, considering what should be my next movement. I did not rest long. Time was too precious to be wasted in mere reflection. Action alone could save me; and, spurred on by this thought, I was soon at work again.

My new design was simply to clear out the cloth from the second box, cut through its farther side, and find out what lay in that direction.

As I had already made a way into the box, the first thing was to remove the cloth. For the time my knife was laid aside, and I commenced pulling out the pieces. It was no light labour, getting out the first three or four. Unfortunately, the ends of the webs were towards me, and this rendered it more difficult to separate them; but I continued to tug and pull until I had extracted a few; and then the work became easier.

Just as in the other case, I found large coarse pieces that would not pass through the aperture I had made; and not liking to take the pains to make a wider opening in the wood, I adopted the same plan I had tried before; that is, to cut the cloth loose from its fastenings, unroll it, and draw it out by the yard.

This was easier, I thought; but, alas! it proved the source of a new and unexpected dilemma, as I had occasion soon after to perceive.

I was getting on well enough, and had succeeded in clearing out a space almost large enough to work in, when I was suddenly brought to a stop, by finding that I had no room for any more cloth behind me! The whole of the open space—including my little apartment, the biscuit-box, and the other case—was quite full, for I had filled each in succession as I went along. There was not a foot of space left—not so much as would hold another web!

This discovery did not create an immediate alarm; for I did not at first perceive the full consequence of it. It was only after a little reflection, that I recognised the difficulty; and then I saw that it was indeed a difficulty—a very dangerous dilemma.

It was plain that I could proceed no farther in my work without clearing off the “back-water” that I had so thoughtlessly accumulated; and how was this to be done? I could not destroy the cloth by burning, nor in any other way that I could think of. I could not lessen its bulk, for I had already pressed it together as closely as I had strength. How, then, was it to be disposed of?

I now perceived the imprudence I had committed in unrolling the webs. This was the cause of its having increased so in bulk though not altogether, for the very taking out of the pieces—on account of the tight pressure they had originally undergone while being packed in the cases—of itself greatly enlarged their mass. To restore them to the state in which I had found them, was no longer possible. They were littered through and through in the most complete confusion, and I had no room to work in, even to refold them again, since I could scarce move about in the constrained quarters and attitude I was compelled to assume. Even had I had ample space to work in, I could not easily have got the stuff back to a suitable bulk; for the coarser material, elastic as it was, would have required a screw-press to bring it to its former size. I felt quite disheartened as I thought the thing over—more than disheartened, again almost despairing.

But, no! it had not yet reached the point of despair with me. By getting enough space for another piece or two, I should have room to cut a hole through the opposite side of the box, and there was still hope beyond. If, indeed, another case of broadcloth, or another bale of linen, should be found there, it would then be time to yield myself up to despair.

But hope in the human breast is hard to destroy, and it was so in mine. So long as there is life, thought I, let there be hope; and, inspired with the old proverb, I renewed my exertions.

After awhile, I succeeded in stowing away two more pieces; and this gave me just room to creep inside the now nearly empty box, and go to work again with my knife.

This time I had to cut the board across the middle, as the cloth on both sides would not permit me to get at either end. It made little difference, however; and when I had finished carving at the wood, I was able to push out both sections, and make an aperture sufficient for my purpose. I say sufficient for my purpose, for it only needed a hole large enough to admit my hand; and, once protruding my fingers, I was satisfied, as before, with a most melancholy result. Another bale of linen!

Fatigued and faint, I could have fallen, had it been possible to fall lower; but I was already upon my face, alike prostrate in body and soul!

Chapter Forty Seven.

Excelsior!

It was some time before I recovered strength or spirit to arouse myself. But for hunger, I might have remained longer in the sort of torpid lethargy into which I had fallen; but nature craved loudly for sustenance. I could have eaten my crumbs where I lay, and would have done so, but that thirst carried me back to my old quarters. It made little difference where I slept, as I could have fenced myself against the rats within either of the boxes; but it was necessary to be near the water-butt, and this alone influenced me in the choice of my sleeping-place.

It was not such an easy matter getting back to my former position. Many pieces of cloth had to be lifted out of the way and drawn behind me. They had to be placed carefully, else on reaching the entrance to my chamber, I should not be able to clear a space large enough to contain my body.

I succeeded, however, in effecting my purpose; and having eaten my morsel, and quenched my feverish thirst, I fell back upon the mass of cloth, and was asleep in the twinkling of an eye.

I had taken the usual precaution to close the gates of my fortress, and this time I slept my sleep out, undisturbed by the rats.

In the morning—or rather, I should say, in the hour of my awaking—I again ate and drank. I know not whether it was morning; for, in consequence of my watch having once or twice run down, I could no longer tell night from day; and my sleep, now not regular as formerly, failed to inform me of the hours. What I ate failed to satisfy hunger. All the food that was left me would not have sufficed for that; and not the least difficult part I had to perform, was the restraining myself from eating out my whole stock at a meal. I could easily have done it, and it required all my resolution to refrain. But my resolution was backed by the too certain knowledge that such a meal would be my last, and my abstinence was strengthened simply by the fear of starvation.

Having breakfasted, then, as sparingly as possible, and filled my stomach with water instead of food, I once more worked my way into the second cloth-box, determined to continue my search as long as strength was left me. There was not much left now. I knew that what I ate was barely sufficient to sustain life, and I felt that I was fast wasting away. My ribs projected like those of a skeleton, and it was as much as I could do to move the heavier pieces of the cloth.

One end of all the boxes, as already stated, was placed against the side of the ship. Of course, it was of no use tunnelling in that direction; but the end of the second case, which faced inwards, I had not yet tried. This was now my task.

I need not detail the particulars of the work. It resembled that I had executed already, and lasted for several successive hours. The result was, once again, a painful disappointment. Another bale of linen! I could go no farther in that direction. And now no farther in any direction!

Boxes of broadcloth and bales of linen were all around me. I could not penetrate beyond. I could not make a way through them. There was no room for further progress.

This was the melancholy conclusion at which I had arrived, and I was once more thrown back into my despairing mood.

Fortunately, this did not last long, for shortly after a train of thought came into my mind that prompted me to further action. It was memory that came to my aid. I remembered having read a book, which described very beautifully the struggles of a boy, amidst great difficulties—how he bravely refused to yield to each new disappointment; but, by dint of courage and perseverance, overcame every obstacle, and at last obtained success. I remembered, too, that this boy had adopted for his motto, the Latin word “Excelsior,” which was explained to mean “higher” or “upward.”

On reflecting upon the struggles which this boy had undergone, and how he had succeeded in surmounting so many difficulties—some even as great as those that surrounded myself—I was nerved to make a new effort.

But I believe it was this peculiar word, “Excelsior,” that guided me in my after proceedings, for by its most literal sense was I directed. Upward, thought I; I might search upward. Why did it not occur to me before? There might be food in this direction, as likely as in any other, and certainly I had no choice, as every other direction had been tried. I resolved, then, to search upward.

In another minute I was upon my back, knife in hand. I propped myself with pieces of cloth, so that I might work more conveniently, and after groping out one of the divisions of the lid, I commenced notching it crossways.

The board at length gave way to my exertions. I dragged it downwards. Oh, heavens! were my hopes again destined to suffer defeat and mockery?

Alas! it was even so. The coarse, hard-grained canvas, with the dull sodden mass behind it, answered me with a sad affirmative.

There yet remained the upper side of the other case, and then that of the biscuit-box. Both should be tried as a last effort, and that before I could again sleep.

And both were tried, with like evil fortune. Upon the former rested a case of the cloth, while another bale of linen completely covered the top of the latter.

“Merciful God! am I forsaken?”

Such was my exclamation as I sank back into an attitude of complete exhaustion.

Chapter Forty Eight.

A Torrent of Brandy.

Sleep followed, brought on by weariness and long exertion; and when I awoke, I felt my strength greatly restored. Singular enough, my spirits were a good deal lighter, and I was far less despairing than I had been before. It seemed as if some supernatural influence sustained me—perhaps an inspiration given by the great Creator himself, to enable me to persevere. Notwithstanding that my disappointments had been many and oft-repeated, I bore up under the infliction as meekly as I could, and never yet had I felt in my heart a rebellious feeling against God.

I still continued to offer up prayers for my success, and to place reliance upon the hope that His mercy would yet be extended to me. This feeling it was—I am sure it was—that upheld me, and kept me from falling into utter despondency.

On awaking again, as I have said, my spirits felt lighter, though I know not why, unless it was that I was cheered by some influence from above. I can only account for it in this way, since there was no change in the circumstances that surrounded me—at least none for the better—nor had I conceived any new hope or plan.

It was certain that I could penetrate no further through the boxes of cloth and bales of linen, as I had no place to stow their contents behind me. That side, therefore, was now no longer the object of my attention.

There were still two other directions in which I might search—the one directly in front, and that toward the left, which last I knew to be in the direction of the bows of the ship.

In front, the space was taken up by the great water-butt, and of course I did not think of cutting a way through this. It would lead to the loss of my supply of water. I did for a moment imagine that I might make a hole high up above the water-line, through which I might squeeze my body, and then get through to the opposite side by making a second hole. I knew that the butt was now scarce half full, as the heat had kept me almost continually athirst, and, confident in my supply, I had drunk large quantities. But it occurred to me that if I made this great opening, I might lose all my water in a single night. A sudden squall might arise—for several had been encountered already—and set the ship a-rolling. In that case, if the vessel, crank as she was, came near getting upon her beam-ends, which she often did, my butt would be turned half over, and the water of course would all escape—the precious water that had hitherto stood my friend, and but for which I should have long ago miserably perished.

Another consideration influenced me not to touch the butt: there was an easier direction to proceed in, and that was through the brandy-cask.

This stood end towards me, and, as already stated, shut me in upon the left. Its head or bottom—I could not say which—lay quite up against the end of the water-butt; but for some reason it had been cleated closer up to the side timbers of the ship, so that there was hardly any vacant space behind it. For this reason, nearly one half of its diameter overlapped the end of the water-butt—the other half completing the enclosure of my cabin.

Through this last half I resolved to cut my way, and then, creeping inside the cask, to make another hole that would let me through its opposite side.

Perhaps, beyond the brandy-cask I might find food and safety? It was only blind guessing on my part; but I again prayed for success.

Making an incision across the thick oak plank that formed the bottom staves, was a very different affair from cutting through soft spruce deal, and I progressed but slowly. A beginning had already been made, however, where I had formerly tapped the cask; and entering my blade at this same hole, I worked away until I had cut one of the pieces clear across. I then put on my buskins, and, getting upon my back, kicked upon the stave with all my might, using my heels as a trip-hammer. It was a stiff job; for the piece, being jointed into the others on both sides, refused for a long time to yield. But the constant hammering at length loosened it, by breaking off one of the joinings, and I had the satisfaction to find that it was giving way. A few more strong finishing blows did the business, and the stave was at length forced inward.

The immediate result was a gush of brandy that completely overwhelmed me. It rushed over me, not in a jet but in a grand volume as thick as my body; and before I could raise myself into an erect position, it was all over and around me, so that I had a fear I was going to be drowned in it! The whole space I occupied was filled up, and it was only by holding my head close up to the ship’s timbers that I could keep my mouth clear of being filled. At the first gush, a quantity had got into my throat, and eyes as well, and well-nigh choked and blinded me; and it was some time before I got over the fit of coughing and sneezing which it had suddenly brought on.

I was in no mood to be merry at the time; yet strange enough, I could not help thinking of the Duke of Clarence and his odd fancy of being drowned in the butt of malmsey.

The singular flood subsided almost as rapidly as it had risen. There was plenty of space for it down below; and in a few seconds’ time it had all gone down to mix among the bilge-water, and jabble about during the remainder of the voyage. The only traces it had left were in my wet clothes, and the strong alcoholic smell that filled the atmosphere around me, and almost hindered me from getting breath.

As the ship’s head rose upon the waves, the cask was tilted upwards, and this movement in ten minutes emptied it so completely that not a single pint remained inside.

But I had not waited for this. The stave I had kicked out left an aperture large enough to admit my body—it did not need to be very large for that—and as soon as my coughing fit had ended, I squeezed myself through to the inside of the cask.

I groped around for the bung, believing that this would be the best place to cut across one of the staves. The hole, usually a large one, would admit the blade of my knife, and would be so much of my work done to hand. I found the place easily enough, and fortunately it was not on the top, where I fancied it might be, but on the side, and just at a convenient height. Closing the blade of my knife, I hammered on the wooden plug with the half. After a few strokes, I succeeded in forcing it outwards, and then set to work to make the cross-cut of the stave.

I had not made a dozen notches, before I felt my strength wonderfully increased. I had been weak before, but now it appeared to me as if I could push out the staves without cutting them. I felt in a measure cheerful, as if I had been merely working for the play of the thing, and it was of but little consequence whether I succeeded or not. I have some recollection that I both whistled and sang as I worked. The idea that I was in any danger of losing my life quite forsook me, and all the hardships through which I had been passing appeared to have been only imaginary—a chimera of my brain, or, at most, only a dream.

Just then I was seized with a terrible fit of thirst, and I remember making a struggle to get out of the brandy-cask for the purpose of having a drink from the water-butt. I must have succeeded in getting out of the cask, but whether I actually did drink at the time, I could never be certain; for after that I remembered nothing more, but was for a long while as completely unconscious as if I had been dead!

Chapter Forty Nine.

A new Danger.

I remained in this state of insensibility for several hours, and was not even troubled, as was usual when I slept, with painful dreams. I did not dream at all; but, on awaking to consciousness, I had a dread feeling upon me, just as if I had been cast from off the earth into infinite space, and was rapidly floating onwards, or falling from some great height, without ever reaching a point of rest. It was a feeling of a most unpleasant kind—in fact, a feeling of horror.

Fortunately, it did not continue long; and as I endeavoured to rouse myself it became less painful, and at length passed away. In its stead, however, I felt sick at the stomach, and my head ached as though it would split. Surely it was not the sea that had made me sick? No, it could not be that. I was long since hardened against sea-sickness. Even another storm would not have brought it on; but there was no particular roughness. The ship was sailing under breezy but not stormy weather.

Was it fever that had suddenly attacked me in a violent manner? or had I fainted from want of strength? No; I had experienced both calamities, but this new sensation resembled neither.

I was in reality at a loss to account for what was ailing me. In a short time, however, my thoughts became clearer, and then the truth dawned upon my mind. I had been in a state of intoxication!

Intoxication it must have been, though wine I had not tasted, nor brandy neither—not a mouthful. I disliked it too much for that; and although there was plenty of it—or had been, for it was now all gone—enough to have drowned myself in, I was not conscious of having drunk a drop of it. True, a drop had passed into my mouth—a drop, or maybe a spoonful, had gone down my throat when the torrent gushed over me; but surely this small quantity could not have produced intoxication, even if it had been liquor ever so much above proof? Impossible; it could not have been that that produced intoxication!

And what, then? Something had made me drunk. Although I had never been so in my life, yet I guessed the symptoms to mean only this.

As I continued to reflect—that is, as I grew more sober—the mystery was cleared up, and I discovered the cause of my intoxication. It was not brandy, but the “fumes” of brandy, that had done it—this, and nothing else.

Even before entering the cask, I had noticed a decided change in my feelings, for the fumes of the liquor, even outside, were strong enough to make me sneeze; but this was nothing to the effluvia which I encountered inside the vessel. At first I could scarcely breathe, but by little and little I became accustomed to it, and rather liked it. No wonder, since it was making me feel so strong and happy!

On cogitating further on this singular incident, I remembered how I came to be outside the cask—how thirst had influenced me to come out; and I now perceived how fortunate it was that I had followed the guidance of this appetite. I have said that I did not know whether I had actually quenched my thirst. I had no remembrance of going to the butt, or of drawing a cup of water. I think I did not get so far. Had I done so, in all probability I should have left out the vent-peg, and then a large quantity of water would have been spilled. The water-line would have been down to a level with the vent; and this, on examination, I gladly perceived was not the case. Moreover, my drinking-cup felt too dry to have been used lately. I had not drunk, then, and this was a fortunate circumstance, though far more fortunate was the circumstance that I had thirsted. Had it not been for this, I should no doubt have remained inside the cask, and the consequence must have been disastrous indeed. I cannot say what, but certainly some fatal result would have followed. In all likelihood, I should have remained in a state of intoxication—how was I ever to get sober?—every moment getting worse, until when? Until death! Who knows?

A mere accidental circumstance, then, had once more saved my life; but perhaps it was not accidental. It may have been the hand of Providence, and I believed so at the time. If prayers express gratitude, mine were given, and with all the fervour of my soul.

Whether I had allayed my thirst or not, certain it was that the quenching had been but temporary; for I now felt as if I could drink the butt dry. I lost no time in groping for my cup, and I am sure I did not leave off till I had drunk nearly half a gallon of water.

The water removed a good deal of the sickness, and also cleared my brains, as if it had washed them. Being once more restored to my proper senses, I returned to the consideration of the perils by which I was surrounded.

My first thought was about continuing the work I had so abruptly left off, and only now did it occur to me that I might not be able to go on with it. What if I was to get into the same state as before—what if my senses again became stupefied, and I should not have presence of mind or resolution to come out of the cask?

Perhaps I might labour away for awhile without getting into the same state, and if I felt it coming on me I could hasten out? Perhaps! But should it be otherwise? If the intoxication should come suddenly upon me, how then? How long had it been before I felt it on the former occasion? I tried to remember, but could not.

I remembered how this strange influence had stolen over me—how soothingly and sweetly it came, wrapping my senses as if in a delightful dream. How it had made me reckless of consequences, forgetful even of my appalling situation!

Supposing that all was to be repeated—the same scene to be enacted over again—and only one incident to be left out: that is, the thirst which brought me forth from the cask—supposing all this? And why might it not be just what would take place? I could not answer the question one way or the other; but so strong were my apprehensions of the probability that it might, that I hesitated to re-enter the cask!

There was no help for it, however. I must either do so, or die where I lay. If death in the end was to be my fate, better far, thought I, to die by this apparently easy mode; for I felt convinced, from the experience I had had, that such death would be without a pang.

The reflection emboldened me, as well as the knowledge that I had no alternative, no choice of plan; and again pronouncing a prayer, I crawled back into the brandy-cask.

Chapter Fifty.

Where was my Knife?

On entering, I groped about for my knife. I had quite forgotten how or where I had laid it down. I had already searched for it outside, but without success; and I concluded that I must have left it behind me in the cask. I was surprised at not laying my hand upon it at once, for although I ran my fingers all around the under-side of the vessel, nothing like a knife did I touch.

I was beginning to feel alarmed about it. It might be lost, and if so, all hopes of deliverance would be at an end. Without the knife, I could proceed no farther in any direction, but might lie down inactive to abide my fate. Where could the knife be? Was it likely that the rats had carried it off?

I again backed out of the cask, and made a new search outside; but not finding what I was looking for, I once more crept into the barrel, and once more felt it all over—that is, every part of it where a knife could lie.

I was very near going out again, when it occurred to me to raise my hands a little higher, and examine the bung-hole, at which I had been working when I last had the knife in my hands. It may be there, thought I; and to my joy it was there, sticking in the notch I had been cutting with it.

I set to work, without further delay, to widen the hole crossways; but the blade, from so much use, had become “dull as a beetle,” and my progress through the hard oaken stave was as slow as if I had been cutting through a stone. I carved away for a quarter of an hour, without making the notch the eighth part of an inch deeper; and I almost despaired of ever getting through the stave.

I now felt the singular influence again coming over me, and could have remained without much fear, for such is the effect of intoxication; but I had promised myself that the moment I became aware of any change, I should retreat from the dangerous spot. Fortunately, I had resolution, and barely enough, to keep my promise; and, before it was too late, I dragged myself back to the rear of the water-butt.

It was well I did so at the very time, for had I remained in the brandy-cask but ten minutes longer, beyond doubt I should have been hopelessly insensible. As it was, I already felt quite “happy,” and remained so for some time.

But as the alcoholic influence departed, I grew more miserable than ever; for I now perceived that this unexpected obstacle to my progress was about to ruin all my hopes. I believed that I could return at intervals, and go on with the work; but only at long intervals, and now that the blade of my knife had grown so blunt, I could make but little progress. It would be days before I should get through the side of the cask; and days were denied me. The small store of crumbs were sadly reduced; in fact, I was on my last handful. I had not enough to keep me alive for three days! The chances of saving my life were growing narrower with every fresh move, and I was fast giving way to despair. Had I been sure that after cutting through the cask, I should have found relief on the other side, I might have contemplated the enterprise with more eagerness and energy; but this was worse than doubtful. There were ten chances to one against my finding a box of biscuits, or anything that was eatable.

One advantage had arisen from my breaking into the brandy-cask, which now occurred to me in full force. It had given me a large empty space; and therefore, if I could only get beyond—even though there should not be a package containing food—still it might be something which I could remove into the inside of the cask, and thus make way for further operations.

This was certainly a fresh phase which my situation had assumed; but a still better idea succeeded, that lent a new and joyous aspect to my thoughts. It was this: if I could so easily cut my way from box to box, as I had already proved, why might I not tunnel upwards, and reach the deck?

The thought startled me. It was quite new. It had not occurred to me before—strangely enough it had not—and I can only explain its tardy conception by the fact of the confused state of mind in which I had all along been, and which might have led me to deem such an enterprise an impossibility.

No doubt there were numberless packages heaped over me, one upon another. No doubt the hold was quite full of them, and I knew that I was near the bottom of all. I remembered, too—what had puzzled me at the time—that the stowage had continued for a long time after I came aboard; that for two days and nights the work seemed to be going on, and therefore the whole cargo must have been placed above me. Still, withal, a dozen large boxes would reach to the top, or, maybe, not half so many would fill up to the deck. Allowing a day to the cutting through each one, I might be able to reach the top in about a week or ten days!

Though a joyful thought, it would have been far more welcome at an earlier period, but it now came accompanied by the wildest regrets. Perhaps it had come too late to save me? Had I begun aright, when I had my full box of biscuits, I might easily have carried the plan into execution; but now, alas! scarce a morsel remained; and it seemed hopeless to attempt what I had conceived.

Still, I could not surrender up this alluring prospect of life and freedom; and, stifling all idle regrets, I gave my mind to its further consideration.

Time, of course, was now the important matter, and that which caused me the greatest anxiety. I feared that even before I could accomplish an opening on the farther side of the empty barrel, my food would be all consumed, and my strength quite exhausted. Perhaps I should die in the middle of my work—literally “in the breach.”

While pondering thus, another new thought came uppermost in my mind. It was also a good idea, however horrid it may seem to those who do not hunger. But hunger and the dread of starvation have the effect of simplifying the choice of a man’s appetite, and under such circumstances the stomach ceases to be dainty.

Mine had long since lost all niceness; and was no longer squeamish as to the sort of food I might swallow. In fact, I could have eaten anything that was eatable. And now for the new idea.

Chapter Fifty One.

A Grand Rat-Trap.

For some time I have said nothing of the rats. Do not fancy, from this silence about them, that they had gone away and left me to myself! They had done no such thing. They were around and about me, as brisk as ever, and as troublesome. Bolder they could not have been, unless they had positively assailed me; and no doubt such would have been the case, had I exposed myself to their attack.

But, whenever I moved, my first care had been to close them out, by means of walls, which I constructed with pieces of cloth, and thus only had I kept them at bay. Now and then, when I had passed from place to place, I could hear and feel them all around me; and twice or three times had I been bitten by one or another. It was only by exercising extreme vigilance and caution, that I was enabled to keep them from attacking me.

This parenthesis will, no doubt, lead you to anticipate what I am coming to, and enable you to guess what was the idea that had taken possession of my mind. It had occurred to me, then, that instead of letting the rats eat me, I should eat them. That was it exactly.

I felt no disgust at the thought of such food; nor would you, if placed in a situation similar to mine. On the contrary, I hailed the idea as a welcome one, since it promised to enable me to carry out my plan of cutting my way up to the deck—in other words, of saving my life. Indeed, as soon as I had conceived it, I felt as if I was actually saved. It only remained to carry out the intention.

I knew there were many rats—too many, I had thought before—but now I cared not how plentiful they were. At all events, there were enough of them to “ration” me for a long while—I hoped long enough for my purpose. The question was, how should I capture them?

I could think of no other way but by feeling for them with my hands, and boldly grasping them, one at a time, and so squeezing the life out of them. I had already given my attention to trapping them, without success. I had, as you know, killed one, by the only ingenuity I could think of, and likely enough I might get one or two more in the same way, but it was just as likely I might not; or even if I succeeded in killing one or two, the rest might become shy of me, and then the supply would stop. Better, therefore, to consider some plan for capturing a large number of them at once, and so have a larder that would last me for ten or twelve days. Perhaps by that time I might be within reach of more palatable food. This would be wiser, as well as safer; and I remained for a long while considering how I should make a wholesale capture.

Necessity is the parent of invention; and I suppose, by the help of this, more than from any real genius I possessed for contriving, I at last succeeded in sketching out the plan of a rat-trap. It was certainly of the simplest kind, but I felt pretty sure it would be effective. I should make me a large bag out of the broadcloth, which I could easily do, by cutting a piece of the proper length, and sewing up the two sides with a string. Strings I had in plenty for the rolls of cloth had been tied with strong pieces of twine, and of course these were at hand. I should use the blade of my knife for a needle, and by the same instrument I should be enabled to reeve round the mouth of the bag a strong piece of the twine, to act as a draw-string.

I not only should do all this, but did it without further delay; for in less than an hour I had my bag (net, I called it) quite finished, draw-string rove around the mouth, and all complete for action.

Chapter Fifty Two.

A Wholesale Take.

I now proceeded to the further carrying out of my design, which had all been matured while I was working at the bag. The next step was the “setting of the net,” and this was done as follows:—

I first cleared away the loose bundles so as to make a large space—in fact, the whole of my original apartment. This I was able to accomplish by means of the empty brandy-cask, which I had now filled with broadcloth. I also stopped up every aperture and crevice as before, leaving only one large one—that which I knew the rats were accustomed to use as their principal entrance.

Right in front of this I placed my bag, with its opened mouth covering the whole aperture, and with the remainder kept in a state of extension by means of several props of sticks, which I had cut for the purpose to a proper length. Then placing myself on my knees by the mouth of the bag, I held it wide open, and also kept the draw-string ready between my fingers. In this attitude I awaited the coming of the rats.

I knew they would enter the bag, for I had there placed a bait for them. This bait consisted of some crumbs of biscuit—the very last I had—as sailors would say, the “last shot in the locker.” I was risking all upon the cast; and should the rats eat all up and then escape, I should not have a scrap left me for another meal.

I knew some of them would come, but I was in doubt whether they might arrive in numbers sufficient to make a good haul. I feared they might come one at a time, and thus carry off the bait piece-meal; and to prevent this, I had ground the crumbs to very dust. This, I thought, would delay the first comers until a large assemblage had got into the bag, and then it was my intention to cut off their retreat by drawing the string upon them.

Fortune favoured me. I had not been upon my knees more than a minute, when I heard the pattering of the little paws of the rats outside, and also the occasional “queek-queek” of their sharp voices. In another second or two, I felt the bag moving between my fingers, and knew that my victims were creeping inside. The shaking of the cloth became more violent, and I was able to perceive that large numbers were crowding in, eager to get part of the powdered biscuits. I could feel them scrambling about, leaping over one another, and squealing as they quarrelled.

This was my cue for drawing the string; and in the next instant I had it pulled all taut, and the mouth of the bag gathered close and firmly tied.

Not a rat that had entered got out again; and I had the satisfaction to find that the bag was about half full of these savage creatures.

I lost no time in taming them, however; and this I effected in a somewhat original manner.

There was one part of the floor of my apartment that was level and firm. By removing the cloth off it, it was quite hard, being the oak timbers of the ship itself. Upon this I deposited the bag of rats, and then, laying a large piece of deal board on the top, I mounted on this board, upon my knees, and then pressed it downward with all my weight and strength.

For awhile the bag underneath felt as elastic as a spring mattress, and heaved upward with a tendency to roll from under the board, but I replaced the latter with my hands, and then pounced upon it as before. There was, no doubt, a deal of kicking, and scrambling, and biting within the bag, and I am sure there was plenty of squealing, for that I heard. I gave no heed to such demonstrations, but kept churning on till every motion had ceased, and all was silence underneath.

I now ventured to take up the bag, and examine its contents. I was gratified at the wholesale slaughter I had committed. There was evidently a large number of rats within the trap, and every one of them dead as a door-nail!

At all events, none of them seemed to be stirring, for when I held the bag up by its mouth, it hung down perfectly still, and there was neither kick nor squeak inside; and therefore I took it for granted that I had killed them all.

Notwithstanding this belief, when I proceeded to count them, I inserted my hand with great caution, and drew them one by one out of the bag. There were ten of them!

“Ha! ha!” exclaimed I, apostrophising the dead rats, “I’ve got you at last, you ugly brutes! and this serves you right for the trouble you have put me to. If one good turn deserves another, I suppose so does one evil one. Had you let me and mine alone, this ill fortune might not have befallen you. But you left me no alternative. You ate my biscuits, and, to save myself from starving, I am compelled to eat you!”

This apostrophe ended, I commenced skinning one of the rats, with the intention of dining upon him.

You may fancy that I anticipated the meal with a feeling of disgust, but in this you would be greatly mistaken. Hunger had cured me of all daintiness. I had not the slightest repugnance for the food of which I was about to partake. On the contrary, I longed to be at it, as much as you might do for a dinner of the most delicate viands.

So keen was my hunger, that I could hardly wait till I had stripped off the skin; and five minutes after this operation was finished, I had bolted the rat raw—body, bones, and all!

If you are anxious to know how it tasted I can only tell you that I observed nothing disagreeable about it, no more than if it had been the leg of a fowl or a slice off the most delicate mutton. It was the first flesh-meat I had eaten for weeks, and this may have added to my zest for such food. Certainly I thought, at the time, that a sweeter morsel had never gone down my throat, and no longer felt wonder at what books had told me about the rat-eating Laplanders.

Chapter Fifty Three.

About Face!

The aspect of my affairs had now undergone a complete change for the better. My larder was replenished with store enough to last me for ten days, at the least; for I made a sort of resolution that my future ration should be one rat per diem. In ten days what might I not effect? Surely I should be able to accomplish the great feat which I ought to have attempted at the first, but which, as ill fortune would have it, I had hitherto considered impossible—that is, to cut my way to the deck.

A rat a day, reflected I, will not only keep me alive, but restore some of my spent strength; and labouring constantly for ten days, I should be almost certain to reach the topmost tier of the cargo. Perhaps in less time? If less, all the better; but certainly in ten days I might get through them all, even though there should be ten tiers of boxes between me and the upper deck.

Such were the new hopes with which the successful rat-catching had inspired me, and my mind was restored to a state of confidence and equanimity that had long been stranger to it.

I had one apprehension that still slightly troubled me, and that was about getting through the cask. It was not the fear of the time it might take, for I no longer believed that I should be pinched for time; but I was still in dread lest the fumes of the brandy (which inside the cask were as strong as ever) might again overcome my senses, despite all my resolution to guard against a too long exposure to them. Even when I had entered the cask on the second occasion, it was as much as I could do to drag myself out of it again.

I resolved, however, to steel myself against the seductions of the potent spirit that dwelt within the great barrel, and retreat before I felt its influence too strong to be resisted.

Notwithstanding that I was now more confident as regarded time, I had no thought of wasting it in idleness; and as soon as my dinner was washed down by a copious libation from the water-butt, I possessed myself once more of my knife, and proceeded towards the empty cask, to take a new spell at enlarging the bung-hole.

Ha! the cask was not empty. It was full of cloth. In the excitement of trapping the “vermin,” I had forgotten the circumstance of my having placed the cloth within the empty barrel.

Of course, thought I, I must remove it again, in order to make room for my work; and laying aside the knife, I commenced pulling out the pieces.

While thus engaged, a new reflection arose, and I asked myself some questions, to the following effect:—

Why am I removing the cloth from the brandy-cask? Why not let it remain there? Why try to go through the cask at all?

Certainly there was no reason why I should proceed in that direction. There had been, at an earlier period—while I was only searching for food, and not thinking of the object I now desired and hoped to accomplish—but for my newly-conceived enterprise there was no necessity to cut through the cask at all. On the contrary, it would be the worst direction I could take. It did not lie in the line which would lead to the hatchway, and that was the line in which my tunnel ought to point. I was pretty certain as to the direction of the hatch, for I remembered how I passed from it to the water-butt when I first came into the hold.

I had struck sharply to the right, and gone in a nearly direct line for the end of the butt. All these little points I distinctly remembered, and I was confident that my position was somewhere near the middle of the ship, on the side which sailors would call the “starboard beam.” To go through the cask, therefore, would lead me too far aft of the main-hatchway, which was that by which I had come down. Moreover, there was still the difficulty of broaching the side of the cask—greatly exaggerated, of course, by the dangerous atmosphere I should be compelled to breathe while effecting it.

Why, then, should I attempt it at all? Why not return, and proceed once more in the direction of the boxes? Circumstances were changed since I was last there. I could now find vent for my “back-water,” since the empty cask would serve for that, in one case as well as the other. Besides, it would be much easier to cut through the deal board than the hard oak; and, moreover, I had made some progress in that—the right—direction already. Therefore, considering all things—the danger as well as the difficulty—I came to the conclusion that, by tunnelling through the cask, I would be heading the wrong way; and, in this belief, I turned right about, determined to take the other.

Before proceeding to the boxes, I repacked the cloth into the cask, and added more, placing it piece by piece, with sufficient care, and afterwards wedging it in as tightly as my strength would permit.

I was considerate, also, to return my nine rats to the bag, and draw the string; for I suspected that I had not killed all the rats in the ship, and I feared that the comrades of the defunct nine might take a fancy to eat their old shipmates. This I had been told was not an uncommon habit of the hideous brutes, and I determined to guard against it, so far as my victims were concerned.

When these arrangements were completed, I swallowed a fresh cup of water, and crawled once more into one of the empty boxes.

Chapter Fifty Four.

Conjectures.

It was into the cloth-case which I had entered—that one which lay contiguous to the box that had contained the biscuits. It was from it I determined to start with my new tunnel; and I had two reasons for making it my terminus: first, because I believed that it was situated almost in a direct line with the main-hatchway. For that matter, so too was the biscuit-box; but the latter was smaller than the cloth-case, and therefore would not afford me so much room to carry on my work.

The second reason, however, which influenced my choice, was of more importance. I had already ascertained that another cloth-case stood on the top of this one, whereas the biscuit-box had bales of linen—both on the top, and at that end through which I should have to make way. Now, I was convinced that I could much more easily remove the pieces of cloth than the hard rolls of linen—indeed I was not certain that these could be stirred at all—and therefore it was that I made choice of the cloth-case.

Once inside it, you will suppose that I went immediately to work; but no. I remained for a considerable time without moving either hand or arm. I was not idle, however, for all that, but busy with all the faculties of my mind in full action.

In fact, the plan I had just conceived, had awakened in me a sort of new energy; and the hopes of safety that now presented themselves were as strong, and stronger, than any I had entertained since the first hour of my captivity. The prospect, too, was far brighter. Even after my discovery of the butt of water and box of biscuits—even when I believed there would be a sufficient quantity of both to last out the voyage, there was still the long imprisonment before me—months of silent and wretched solitude to be endured.

Now it was different. In a few days, if fortune favoured me, I should once more gaze upon the bright sky—once more breathe the free air of heaven—once more look upon the faces of men, and listen to the sweetest of all sounds—the voices of my fellow-creatures.

I felt like one long lost in the desert, who beholds afar off upon the horizon some signs of the habitation of civilised men. Perhaps the dark outlines of trees—perhaps the blue smoke rising over some distant fire—but something that produces within him a hope that he will soon be restored to the association of his fellow-men.

Just such a hope had sprung up within me, every moment becoming stronger, till it amounted almost to a feeling of certainty.

It was perhaps this very confidence that kept me from rushing too hastily towards the execution of my plan. It was a matter of too much importance to be trifled with—an enterprise too grand either to be commenced or carried through in a reckless or hurried manner. Some unforeseen object might become an obstacle—some accident might arise, which would lead to failure and ruin.

To avoid all chances of this, therefore, I resolved to proceed with as much caution as I could command; and before making any commencement of the work designed, to consider it in all its bearings. For this purpose, I sat down within the cloth-case, and yielded up my whole power of thought to an examination of my intended task.

One thing appeared very clear to me—that the task would be one of very considerable magnitude. As already stated, I knew that I was near the bottom of the hold; and I was not ignorant of the great depth of the hold of a large ship. I remembered that in slipping down the rope-tackle, it was as much as I could do to hold on till I had reached the bottom; and a glance upward after I had reached it, showed the hatchway a vast height above me. I reasoned, then, that if all that space was filled with merchandise quite up to the hatch—and no doubt it was—then I should have a long tunnel to make.

Besides, I should not only have to cut upwards, but also in a direction leading towards the hatchway—that is, nearly half across the breadth of the ship. This last did not trouble me so much; for I was pretty sure I would not be able to go in a direct line, on account of the nature of the packages I should encounter. A bale of linen, for instance, or some like unwieldy substance, would have to be got round; and, at each stage, I should have a choice either to proceed upward or in a horizontal direction—whichever might appear the easiest.

In this way I should rise by steps, as it were, obliquing always in the direction of the hatchway.

Neither the number of the packages I might have to burrow through, nor the distance, troubled me so much as the materials which they might contain. It was this thought which gave me the most concern; for the difficulty would be greater or less according to the materials I should have to remove out of my way. Should many of the articles prove to be of that kind, that, when taken out of the cases, would become more bulky, and could not be compressed again, then I should have to dread the “back-water;” and in reality this was one of the worst of my apprehensions. I had experienced already what a misfortune it would be, since, but for the lucky circumstance of the brandy-cask, the plan I was now about to attempt would have been altogether impracticable.

Linen I dreaded more than any other material. It would be more difficult to get through, and when removed from its close-pressed bales, could not possibly be repacked in so small a space. I could only hope, therefore, that the cargo contained a very small quantity of this beautiful and useful fabric.

I thought over many things which might be comprised in that great wooden chamber. I even tried to remember what sort of a country Peru was, and what articles of commerce would be most likely to be carried there from England. But I could make very little of this train of reasoning, so ignorant was I of commercial geography. One thing was certain: it was what is called an “assorted cargo,” for such are the cargoes usually sent to the seaports of the Pacific. I might, therefore, expect to encounter a little of this, and a little of that—in short, everything produced in our great manufacturing cities.

After I had spent nearly half an hour in this sort of conjecturing. I began to perceive that it could serve no purpose. It would be only guesswork, at best, and it was evident I could not tell what quality of metal the mine contained, until I had first sunk my shaft.

The moment to commence that labour had arrived; and, throwing reflection for the time behind me, I betook myself to the task.

Chapter Fifty Five.

The Luxury of Standing Erect.

It will be remembered that in my former expedition into the two boxes of cloth—while in hopes of finding more biscuits, or something else that was eatable—I had ascertained the sort of packages that surrounded them, as well as those that were placed above. It will be remembered, also, that on that end of the first cloth-case which lay towards the hatchway I had found a bale of linen; but on the top of the same case rested another of cloth, apparently similar to itself. Into this one on the top I had already effected an entrance; and therefore I could now count upon having made so much way upward. By emptying the upper case of its contents, I should thus have gained one clear stage in the right direction; and considering the time and trouble it took to hew my way through the side of one box, and then through the adjacent side of another, this portion of my work already accomplished was a matter of congratulation. I say already accomplished, for it only remained to drag down the pieces of cloth contained in the upper box, and stow them away to the rear.

To do this, then, was the first act of my new enterprise, and I proceeded to its execution without further delay.

After all, it did not prove a very easy task. I experienced the same difficulty as before, in detaching the pieces of cloth from one another, and drawing them forth from their tightly-fitting places. How-ever, I succeeded in getting them clear; and then taking them, one at a time, I carried, or rather pushed them before me, until I had got them to the very farthest corner of my quarters, by the end of the old brandy-cask. There I arranged them, not in any loose or negligent manner, but with the greatest precision and care; packing them into the smallest bulk, and leaving no empty corners, between them and the timbers, big enough to have given room to a rat.

Not that I cared about rats sheltering themselves there. I no longer troubled my head about them; and although I had reason to know that there were still some of them in the neighbourhood, my late sanguinary razzia among them had evidently rendered them afraid to come within reach of me. The terrible screeching which their companions had uttered, while I was pounding the life out of them, had rung loudly all through the hold of the ship, and had acted upon those of the survivors, that had heard it, as a salutary warning. No doubt they were greatly frightened by what they had heard; and perceiving that I was a dangerous fellow-passenger, would be likely to give me a “wide berth” during the remainder of the voyage.

It was not any thought about the rats, then, that caused me to caulk up every corner so closely, but simply with the view of economising space; for, as I have already said, this was the point about which I had the greatest apprehensions.

Proceeding, then, in this vigorous but careful manner, I at length emptied the upper box, and finished by stowing away its contents behind me. I had managed the latter to my entire satisfaction, and I was under the belief that I had repacked the pieces of cloth in such a manner as to lose scarcely the bulk of one of them of my valuable space.

The result had an encouraging effect upon me, and produced a cheerfulness of spirits to which I had long been a stranger. In this pleasant mood I mounted into the upper box—the one which I had just cleared—and after placing one of the loose boards across the bottom, which had been partially removed, I sat down upon it, leaving my legs to hang over into the empty space below. In this attitude, which was entirely new to me, and in which I had plenty of room to sit upright and at my ease, I found a new source of gratification. Confined so long within a chamber whose greatest height was little over three feet, while my own was four, I had been compelled to stoop in a crouching attitude whenever I attempted to stand; and I was even obliged to sit with my legs bent, and my knees on a level with my chin. These inconveniences are but slight, when one has only to suffer them for a short while; but under long endurance, they become irksome and even painful. It was, therefore, not only a release, but a great luxury to me, to find that I had room enough to sit upright, and with my legs at full stretch. Better still, I could also stand erect, for the two boxes now communicated with each other, and it was full six feet from the bottom of the one to the top of the other. Of course my own height being only four, left two feet of space between the crown of my head and the ceiling of my new apartment, which I could not even touch with the tips of my fingers.

Perceiving my advantages, I did not remain long seated. I had gone into the upper box, chiefly for the purpose of making a survey of its dimensions, and also to ascertain whether I had quite cleared out its contents; and then I had sat down as described. But I was not long in this attitude, when it occurred to me that I could enjoy a “stand up” still better; and with this idea I slipped back again till my feet rested on the bottom of the lower case, while my head, neck, and shoulders remained within the compartment of the upper. This gave me an attitude perfectly erect, and I was not slow in perceiving that this was for me the true position of rest. Contrary to the usual habit of human bipeds, standing was to me easier than sitting; but there was nothing odd about the thing, when it is remembered how many long days and nights I had spent either seated or on my knees; and I now longed to assume that proud attitude which distinguishes mankind from the rest of creation. In truth, I felt it to be a positive luxury to be permitted once more to stand at full height; and for a long while I remained in this attitude without moving a limb.

I was not idle, however. My mind was active as ever; and the subject with which it was occupied was the direction in which I should next carry my tunnel—whether still upward, through the lid of the newly-emptied case, or whether through the end that lay toward the hatchway? The choice lay between a horizontal and a vertical direction. There were reasons in favour of each—and reasons also that influenced me against one and the other—and to weigh these reasons, and finally determine upon which direction I should take, was a matter of so much importance that it was a good while before I could bring my plans to a satisfactory conclusion.

Chapter Fifty Six.

Ship-Shape.

There was one reason that would have influenced me to cut upward through the lid. It was, that by taking that direction, I should arrive the sooner at the top of all the packages; and once there, I might find a vacant space between them and the timbers of the deck, through which I could crawl at once to the hatchway. This would give me less tunnelling to do, since the vertical line would be shorter than that passing diagonally to the hatch. In fact, every foot gained in a horizontal direction would appear to be no gain at all, since there would still be the same height to be reached vertically.

It was highly probable there was a space between the cargo and the under-side of the deck timbers; and in the hope that this might be so, I made up my mind not to proceed in the horizontal direction unless when I should be forced out of the other by some obstacle that I could not remove. For all this, I resolved to make my first cut horizontally; and three reasons guided me to this resolve. The first was, that the end-boards of the case appeared somewhat loose, as if they could be easily got out of the way. The second was, that in thrusting the blade of my knife through the slits of the lid, it touched against a soft but stiff substance, which had all the “feel” of one of those dreaded packages which had hitherto proved so often an obstacle, and which I had already most bitterly anathematised.

I tried the slit in several places, and still touched what appeared to be a bale of linen. At the end of the case I made trial also, but there it was wood that resisted the point of my blade. It appeared to be deal, and the same as the other boxes were made of; but even had it proved to be timber of the hardest kind, it would be easier to cut a hole through it than through a bale of linen.

This reason would have been of itself sufficient to have influenced me to choose the horizontal direction; but there was still a third that offered itself to my view.

This third reason will not be so easily understood by those who are unacquainted with the interior of the hold of a ship, particularly such ships as were built in the time of which I am speaking, which you will remember was a great many years ago. In ships of the proper shape, such as the Americans have taught us to build, the reason I am about to give would not have any application.

But I shall enter into particulars, so that you may comprehend it; and, at the same time, in this trifling digression from the thread of my narrative, I hope, young friends, to teach you a lesson of political wisdom that may benefit both you and your country when you are old enough to practise it.

I hold the doctrine, or, I should rather say, I have long been aware of the fact (for there is no “doctrine” about it), that the study which is usually styled Political Science, is the most important study that ever occupied the attention of men. It embraces and influences all other existences in the social world. Every art, science, or manufacture hinges upon this, and depends upon it for success or failure. Even morality itself is but a corollary of the political state, and crime a consequence of its bad organisation. The political status of a country is the main cause of its happiness or its misery. In no case has government reached anything approaching to justice; hence, there is no people who ever has, as a whole, enjoyed ordinary happiness. Poverty, misery, crime, degradation, are the lot of the majority in every land, except one, and in that one there is yet nothing near perfection in government, only a step in advance.

As I have said, then, the laws of a country—in other words, its political condition—influence almost everything: the ship we set sail in, the carriage we ride in, the implements of our labour, the utensils we employ in our dwellings, even the comfort of our dwellings themselves. Nay more, and of still greater importance, they influence ourselves—the shape of our bodies, and the disposition of our souls. The dash of a despot’s pen, or a foolish act passed in Parliament, which might appear to have no personal application to any one, may exert a secret and invisible influence, that, in one single generation, will make a whole people wicked in soul and ignoble in person.

I could prove what I state with the certainty of a geometric truth, but I have no time now. Enough if I give you an illustration. Hear it, then:—

Many years ago a law was passed in the British Parliament for the taxation of ships, for they, like everything else, must pay for their existence. There was a difficulty how to proportion this tax. It would scarcely be just to make the owner of a poor little schooner pay the enormous sum required from him who is the proprietor of a grand ship of two thousand tons. It would at once eat up the profits of the lesser craft, and swamp her altogether. How, then, was this difficulty to be got over? A reasonable solution appeared. Tax each vessel in proportion to her tonnage.

The scheme was adopted; but then another difficulty presented itself. How was this proportion to be obtained? It was by bulk that the ships were to be taxed; but tonnage is weight, not bulk. How, then, was this new difficulty to be got over? Simply by taking some standard size as the weight of a ton, and then ascertaining how many of these sizes the vessel would contain. In fact, after all, it came to measurement, not weight.