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.

Next came the idea as to how the measurement was to be made, so that it would exhibit the relative proportions of ships; and that was very fittingly done by ascertaining in each the length of keel, the breadth of beam, and the depth of the hold. These three, when multiplied together, will give relative sizes of ships, if these skips be properly constructed.

A law was thus obtained sufficiently just for taxation purposes, and you would think (if you are a superficial thinker) that this law could in no way exert any bad influence, except on those who had the tax to pay.

Not so; that simple, unsuspicious-looking law has caused more evil to the human race, more waste of time and loss of life, more consumption of human means, than would buy up at the present moment all the slavery existing in the world!

How has it done this? You will ask the question with surprise, I have no doubt.

Simply, then, by its not only having retarded the progress of improvement in ship-building—one of the most important arts in the possession of man—but actually by its having thrown the art backward by hundreds of years. And thus came the evil to pass: the owner—or he who was to be the owner—of a new ship, seeing no means of avoiding the heavy tax, was desirous of reducing it as much as possible, for dishonesty of this kind is the certain and natural result of over-taxation. He goes to the ship-builder; he orders him to build a vessel with such and such measurements of keel, beam and depth of hold— in other words, of such tonnage as will be required to pay a certain amount of tax. But he does not stop there: he desires the builder, if possible, to make the vessel otherwise of such capacity that she will actually contain a third more of measured tonnage than that for which the tax is to be paid. This will lighten his tax upon the whole, and thus enable him to cheat the government that has put such a grievous impost upon his enterprise.

Is it possible to build a ship of the kind he requires? Quite so; and the ship-builder knows he can accomplish it by swelling out the vessel at the bows, and bellying her out at the sides, and broadening her at the stern, and altogether making her of such a ridiculous shape, that she will move slowly, and become the grave of many a hapless mariner. The ship-builder not only knows that this can be done; but, complying with the wishes of the merchant-owner, he does it, and has done it for so long a period that he has grown to believe that this clumsy structure is the true shape of a ship, and would not, and could not, build any other. Nay, still more lamentable to state: this awkward form has so grown into his thoughts, and become part of his belief, that after the foolish law is repealed, it will take long, long years to eradicate the deception from his mind. In fact, a new generation of ship-builders will have to be waited for, before ships will appear of a proper and convenient form. Fortunately, that new generation has already sprung up beyond the Atlantic, and by their aid we shall get out of this hundred years' dilemma a little sooner. Even they have been half a century in arriving at what is yet far from perfection in the art; but, unsaddled by the incubus of the tax, they have been looking at the fishes in the sea, and drawing a few ideas from the mechanism of nature; and hence their present superiority.

Now you will better understand what I mean by the assertion that political science is the most important study that can occupy the minds of men.



CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN.

A VERY GRAND OBSTACLE.

The good ship Inca, then, was like most others built to the merchants' order. She was "pigeon-breasted," and bulged out along the sides in such a fashion, that her hold was far wider than her beam; and, looking up from the bottom of the hold, the sides appeared to curve towards each other, and converge over you like a roof. I knew that this was the shape of the Inca, for it was then the universal shape of merchant vessels, and I was somewhat used to noticing ships of all kinds that came into our bay.

I have said that, while trying through the slits of the top of the box with my knife, I felt something soft, which I took to be a bale of linen; but I had also noticed that it did not extend over the whole lid. On the contrary, there was about a foot at the end—that end contiguous to the ship's timbers—where I could feel nothing. There were two slits, and I had run my blade through each without touching any substance, either hard or soft. I concluded, therefore, that there was nothing there, and that about a foot of space behind the bale of linen was empty.

This was easily explained. The bale standing on the two large cloth-cases, was at that height where the side of the ship began to curve inwards; and as its top would lie in contact with the timbers higher up, the bottom angle would evidently be thrown out from them to the distance of a foot or so, thus leaving a three-cornered space quite empty, being only large enough to hold small packages of goods.

I reasoned, therefore, that if I were to proceed vertically upward, I should soon come in contact with the side timbers of the ship, constantly curving inward as high as the deck itself, and that I should meet with many obstacles, such as small packages, which I knew would be more difficult to deal with than large cases and boxes. For this reason, then, but more for the others already assigned, I came to the determination to make my next move in a horizontal direction.

You will perhaps wonder that I should have taken so much pains to determine this point; but when you reflect upon the time and labour which it required to cut through the side of a box, and then through the adjacent side of the next—in short, to make a "stage" in advance—when you reflect that a whole day might be so occupied, you will then perceive how important it was not to act rashly, but, if possible, to proceed in the right direction.

After all, I was not quite so long in choosing which way to go, as I have here been in narrating my reflections about it. It only required a few minutes for me to make up my mind; but I was so pleased at being once more on my legs, that I remained standing for nearly half an hour.

When sufficiently rested by this, I placed my arms inside the upper case; and then, drawing myself up, prepared to go on with my work.

I experienced a thrill of joy as I found myself in this upper box. I was now in the second tier of the packages, and more than six feet from the bottom of the hold. I was full three feet higher than I had yet been; three feet nearer to the deck and the sky—to my fellow-creatures—to liberty!

On minutely examining the end of the case through which I intended to make an aperture, I was further joyed to find that this part of my work would not be difficult. One board was already loose—the looseness having been caused by my tearing out the large piece at the bottom. Moreover, the blade of my knife told me that the object that was beyond, did not stand close up to the case, but was several inches from it. In fact, I could only just reach it with the tip of the blade. This was a manifest advantage. I should be able, by a strong push or kick, to start the board outward, and then dispose of it on one side or the other between the two packages.

And this I finally succeeded in doing. Booted for the purpose, I laid myself back, and then commenced beating a tattoo with my heels.

In a short while the "scranching" sound announced that the hoops and nails were giving way; and after another kick or two the board flew out, and slipped down between the boxes quite out of my reach.

I was not slow in thrusting my hands through the aperture thus made, and endeavouring to ascertain what sort of an article was to come next; but though I could feel a broad surface of rough plank, I was unable to make out what sort of a package it was.

I knocked out another piece from the end of the cloth-case, and then a third—which was all there was of it—so that I had now the whole end open before me.

This gave me a fine opportunity to explore beyond, and I continued my examination. To my surprise, I found that the broad surface of rough deal extended in every direction beyond my reach. It rose vertically, like a wall, not only covering the whole end of the cloth-case, but stretching beyond it, upward and on both sides—how far I could not tell, but so far that, after thrusting my arms up to the elbows, I could feel neither edge nor corner.

This, then, was certainly a case of different shape and size from any I had yet encountered; but what kind of goods it contained, I had not the slightest idea. Cloth it was not likely to be, else it would have resembled the other cases; nor yet linen—and there was some gratification in knowing it could not be this.

In order to ascertain what it really was, I inserted my blade through the slits of the rough deal. I felt something like paper; but I could perceive that this was only an outside covering, for immediately under it a hard substance resisted the point of my blade, almost as hard and smooth as marble. By pressing the knife forcibly, however, I could feel that it was not stone, but wood, some kind that was very hard, and that appeared to be polished finely on the surface. When I struck suddenly against it, it gave out an odd echo—a sort of ringing sound, or "twang," but for all this, I could not imagine what it was.

There was no help for it but to cut into the case, and then perhaps I should become better acquainted with the contents.

I followed a plan I had tried already. I selected one of the boards, of which the great case was made, and with my knife cut it across the middle. It was nearly twelve inches in width, and the work occupied me for many long hours. My knife had become as "dull as a beetle," and this added to the difficulty of the task.

The section was completed, at length; and, laying aside the knife, I contrived to draw one end of the cut plank outwards. The space between the two cases gave me room to move the board upward and downward, till at length the nails at the end were twisted out, and the board fell down along with the others.

The second half was displaced in a similar manner; and I had now made an opening in the great case, large enough to enable me to examine its contents.

There were sheets of paper spread over the surface of something hard and smooth. These I dragged outwards, and laid the surface bare; and then I ran my fingers over it. I perceived that it was some kind of wood, but polished till it was as slippery as glass. It felt to the touch just like the surface of a mahogany table; and I might have mistaken it for one, but on rapping it with my knuckles, it gave forth that same ringing hollow sound I had already noticed. Striking it with still greater violence, I could hear a prolonged musical vibration, that reminded me of an Eolian harp.

But I had now become aware of the nature of this huge object. It was a Pianoforte. I had seen one like it before. One used to stand in the corner of our little parlour, upon which my mother often made most beautiful music. Yes, the object whose broad smooth surface now barred my way, was neither more nor less than a Piano.



CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT.

TURNING THE PIANO.

It was with unpleasant feelings I arrived at this knowledge. Beyond doubt, the piano would be a difficult obstacle, if not a complete barrier, to my further progress in that direction. It was evidently one of the grandest of "grand pianos," far larger than the one I remembered to have stood in my mother's cottage parlour. Its upper side, or table, was towards me, for it had been placed upon its edge; and I could tell by the echo given back to my blows that this table was a piece of mahogany of an inch or more in thickness. It appeared, moreover, to consist of one solid board, for I could feel no crack or joining over its whole extent; and to get through this board, therefore, a hole would have to be made by sheer cutting and carving.

With such a tool as I handled, to make a hole big enough to creep through, even had it been common deal, would have been a work of no ordinary magnitude; but through a solid plank of mahogany doubly hardened by a process of staining and polishing, was a task that appalled me.

Besides, even could I succeed in doing so—even could I cut through the table-top—which, though a severe and tedious labour, would not have been impossible—what then? There were all the inside works to be got out. I knew little of the arrangement of the interior. I only remembered having observed a great many pieces of black and white ivory; and vast numbers of strong wire strings. There were shelves too, and pieces that ran lengthwise, and upright pieces, and then the pedals—all of which would be very difficult to detach from their places. Beyond these, again, there would be a bottom of hard mahogany, to say nothing of the case on the other side, and through these another aperture would have to be made to let me out.

Still, other difficulties stared me in the face. Even should I succeed in getting the works loose, and drawing them out, and disposing of them behind me, would I then find room enough within the shell of the instrument to enable me to cut through its opposite side and also the case, and, still more, to make an entrance into whatever case or box lay beyond? This was a doubtful point, though not very doubtful. It was rather too certain that I could not do so.

Still, I might work upwards once I had cleared out the shell; but the clearing out the shell was of itself the most doubtful point; for that I feared I should not be able to effect at all.

On the whole, the difficulty of this enterprise quite dismayed me; and the more I thought about it, the less inclination I felt to attempt it. After considering it in all its bearings, I abandoned the idea altogether; and instead of trying to make a breach through the great wall of mahogany, I resolved upon "turning" it.

I was considerably chagrined at being forced into this resolution, the more so that I had lost half a day's labour in hewing through the outside case; and all this, as well as the opening of the end of the cloth-box, now counted for nothing. But it could not be helped. I had no time to spend in idle regrets; and, like a besieging general, I commenced a fresh reconnaissance of the ground, in order to discover what would be my best route to outflank the fortress.

I was still under the belief that it was a bale of linen that lay on the top, and this quite hindered me from thinking of going upward. My attention was turned, therefore, to the right and the left.

I knew that by tunnelling either way I should gain no advantage. It would not bring me an inch nearer the desired goal; and even after I should have made a stage in either direction, I should still be only in the "second tier." This was discouraging enough—more loss of labour and time—but I dreaded that horrid bale of linen!

One advantage I had gained by knocking out the whole end of the cloth-case. I have already said there was a space of several inches between it and the great coffin that contained the piano. Into this space I could insert my arm beyond the elbow, and ascertain something about the sort of goods that lay right and left of me.

I did so. I was able to perceive that on each side was a box or case— both of which, as near as I could guess, were similar to that in which I was—that is, both were cloth-cases. This would do well enough. I had now obtained such practice in breaking open these chests, and rifling them of their contents, that I considered it a mere bagatelle; and I should not have desired anything better than that the cargo had consisted entirely of those goods, for which the West of England has long been so famous.

While groping along the sides of these cases, it occurred to me to raise my hand upward, and just ascertain how far the bale of linen projected over the empty cloth-case. To my astonishment it did not project at all! I say to my astonishment, for those bales I had already examined were as near as possible of the same size as the cases of broadcloth; and as this one wanted quite a foot of being "flush" with the inner end of the case, I concluded I should find it that much over at the other end. But it was not—not an inch over; and therefore, thought I, it must be a smaller package than the others.

While making this reflection something suggested that I should scrutinise the bale more closely. I did so, both with my fingers and the blade of my knife, and was now agreeably surprised to find that it was not a bale at all, but a wooden box. It was covered all over with a soft thick substance—a piece of rush matting—and this it was that had led to my mistake.

The possibility of tunnelling in a vertical direction was now apparent. I could easily hew off the rush matting and then deal with the box as I had done with the others.

Of course, I thought no longer of taking the roundabout way by the right or the left; but at once changed my intention, and determined to travel upward.

I need hardly describe how I made my entry into this mat-covered box. Suffice it to say, that I began by cutting one of the lid boards of the empty cloth-case, and then drawing it downwards till I pulled it out. The open space by the side of the ship proved an advantage to me while making the cross-section, as it allowed me to ply my blade freely through the planks.

Having succeeded with one board, I was enabled to detach another without any more hewing; and this gave me enough space to work on the bottom of the covered case.

By dint of cutting and tearing I soon got the rushes out of the way, and then the wood was revealed to my touch; and by this delicate sense I perceived that, like the others, it was a case of common deal.

I only rested a moment before beginning my attack upon it. As it lay twelve inches from the timbers of the ship, one of its angles was quite within my reach; and on running my hand along it, I could feel the heads of the nails, that did not appear to be either numerous or very firmly driven. This gave me satisfaction, and still more was I rejoiced to find that there was no hooping upon it. I should, perhaps, be enabled to prise off one of the boards, and this would save me the long, wearisome task of cutting it crossways.

At the moment this appeared a fortunate circumstance, and I congratulated myself upon it. Alas! it proved the cause of a sad misfortune, that in five minutes had plunged me once more into the deepest misery.

Half-a-dozen words will explain.

I had inserted the blade of my knife under the board, and was trying if it felt loose. Not that I believed I could prize it off with this; but rather to ascertain what resistance there was, in order to look out for some more proper lever.

To my sorrow, I leant too heavily upon the piece of steel; for a short, sharp crack, startling me worse than a shot would have done, announced that the blade was broken!



CHAPTER FIFTY NINE.

THE BROKEN BLADE.

Yes, the blade was broken quite through, and remained sticking between the pieces of wood. The haft came away in my hand; and as I passed my thumb over the end of it, I could perceive that the blade had snapped off close to the end of the back-spring, so that not even the tenth of an inch of it was left in the handle.

I cannot describe the chagrin which this incident caused me. I at once recognised it as a misfortune of the very gravest kind, for without the knife what could I do?

Without it I was, as might be said, unarmed and helpless. I could make no further progress with my tunnel; I should have to abandon the enterprise so lately conceived, and upon which I had built such hopes of success; in other words, I might now renounce my design of proceeding farther, and resign myself to the miserable fate that once more stared me in the face.

There was something awful in this reaction of my spirits. It was painful in the extreme. The very suddenness of the change rendered the shock more acute. But the moment before, I was full of confidence, making fair progress in my enterprise, and cheered with partial success. This unexpected misfortune had interrupted all, and plunged me back again into the gloomy gulf of despair.

For a long while I remained wavering and undecided. I could not make up my mind to do anything. What could I do? I could not continue my work: I had no tool to work with!

My mind seemed to wander. Several times I passed my thumb along the handle of my knife, till it rested upon the short stump of the broken blade, or rather upon the neck, for the blade was all gone. I did this in a sort of mechanical way, to assure myself that it was really broken off; for so sudden had been the misfortune, that I could yet hardly believe in its reality. In truth, it had quite bewildered my senses, and in this state they remained for several minutes.

When the first shock was over, my self-possession slowly and gradually returned. Assured at length of the sad reality, and knowing the worst, I began to reflect whether something might not still be done with the broken weapon.

The words of a great poet, which I had heard at school, came into my mind: "Men better do their broken weapons use, than their bare hands;" and the suggestion that this wise saying afforded, I now took to myself. It occurred to me, then, to examine the blade. The haft I held in my hand, but the blade still remained in the angle of the box, where it had broken off.

I drew it out, and passed my finger over it. It was still entire, and as much of a blade as ever; but, alas! without the handle, what use could I make of it?

I grasped it round the thick end, and made trial whether I could still cut with it. It was some satisfaction to find that I could—a little. The blade was a good long one, and this was a fortunate circumstance. By wrapping a piece of rag around the thick end, I might yet make it available; though, of course, any cutting I might hereafter do with it, would be a slow and painful operation.

The idea of setting the blade in the haft again was out of the question. It is true I entertained it at first, but I soon discovered a difficulty not to be got over; and that was the removal of the back-spring.

Could I only have got this out of the way, the haft would still have served for a handle. I could easily have inserted the broken end of the blade between the scales; and as I had plenty of good string, I might have tied it firmly there. But I had nothing to draw the well-riveted nail, and the back-spring resisted all my efforts to detach it.

The haft, therefore, was of no more use than an ordinary piece of stick—indeed, not so much, for just then it occurred to me that a piece of stick might serve my purpose better. Out of a proper piece, I might be able to make some sort of a handle that would serve to hold the blade, so that I might still cut with it.

The encouragement which this idea gave me, once more roused my mind to new activity, and I set to thinking how I might make a new haft for the broken blade.

Necessity sharpened my ingenuity; and I was not long in conceiving my design, nor a great while either about the execution of it; for in about an hour's time I held in my hand a knife with a complete handle. It was but a rude one at best; but I felt satisfied it would serve my purpose nearly as well as that which I had lost; and this belief once more restored me to confidence and cheerfulness.

The new haft I had made in the following fashion:—Having procured a piece of wood from one of the thick boards, I first whittled it to the proper shape and size. This I was enabled to do with the blade, which, although without a handle, served well enough for light work like that. I then contrived to make a cleft in the stick, to the depth of two inches from its end; and into this cleft I inserted the broken end of the blade. To lap this tightly with a string, was my next idea; but I perceived at once that this would not do. The string would be stretched by the action of the blade, and the latter would soon get loose. If the sharp edge only came against the twine, while the blade was being worked backwards and forwards, it would instantly sever it, and then the blade would pull out, perhaps drop down among the boxes, and so get lost. Such an accident would be fatal to my prospects; and, if possible, I must not risk it.

What could I find that would fasten the blade more securely in the cleft? If I could have obtained a yard or two of wire, it would have been just the thing; but there was no wire near me. What! thought I, no wire near me? The piano! the strings! surely they are of wire?

Once more the piano became the object of my attention; and if I could at that moment have reached the inside of it, I should certainly have robbed it of one of its strings. But, then, to get at the string?—that was a difficulty I had not thought of, but which the next moment came up before me. Of course, with my knife in its present condition, to cut my way into the piano would be a sheer impossibility, and I was forced to abandon the idea.

But in that instant I thought of another expedient—I thought of the iron hooping, of which there was plenty within my reach. The very thing. A piece of this would serve my purpose equally as well as wire. It was thin and pliable, and one or two turns of it around the haft, by the neck of the blade, would hold the latter in its place admirably, and prevent it from budging either backwards or forwards. A string, lapped tightly over all, would keep the hoop from getting loose, and thus I should have a complete handle.

No sooner thought of than done. The piece of hoop was at once searched for and found. It was neatly wound round the neck of the blade and haft; and having been firmly tied with strong twine, I found myself once more in possession of a knife. The blade was of course much shorter than before, but I believed it would still be long enough for cutting through the thickest planks I should encounter; and with this belief I felt satisfied.

The different operations I have detailed must have occupied me for twenty hours at least. I was worn and wearied, and should have sought rest much sooner; but after the breaking of the blade, I could not think of resting. It would have been of no use attempting to sleep: my misery would have kept me awake.

The new knife, however, had restored my confidence; and I could no longer resist the desire to take that repose which, both in mind and body, I so much stood in need of.

I need hardly add that hunger compelled me to resort once more to my miserable larder; but, strange as it may appear to you—and as it does now to me—I felt no hardship in the kind of diet; but, on the contrary, ate my rat-supper with as much relish as I should now do the choicest of dishes!



CHAPTER SIXTY.

A TRIANGULAR CHAMBER.

I passed the night—I should rather say the hours of rest—in my old apartment, behind the water-butt. Whether it was night or day, I no longer knew nor cared. On this occasion I slept well, and awoke refreshed and strengthened. My new diet, no doubt, aided in producing this effect; for, however repugnant it might be to a dainty palate, it served well enough for a famished stomach.

I was not loath to make my breakfast upon it, which I did the moment after awaking; and that finished, I again crawled back through my "gallery," and entered the empty box, where I had already spent nearly the whole of a day and night.

As I climbed into the same place, I could not help thinking how little way I had made during my last spell of twenty hours; but some secret thought inspired me with the hope, that on this occasion I should be more fortunate.

My intention was to continue the work which had been interrupted by the breaking of my knife. Before that unlucky accident befell me, I had noticed that the board was not very firmly nailed on. It could be started easily enough with a proper tool; I fancied that even a good piece of stick would do it.

I was careful not to make any more rash experiments with the blade of my knife. Now, more than ever, did I value this precious weapon; for I was fully sensible that my life depended on its endurance.

"If I only had a piece of some hard wood!" thought I.

I remembered that in making an entrance into the brandy-cask I had cut large pieces from the oaken staves. Perhaps one of these would do?

With the thought, I hurried back to the little chamber where I knew they were lying.

After removing some pieces of cloth, I found them; and having groped among the cuttings, I possessed myself of a piece that appeared as if it would suit my purpose.

Getting back to the box, I even shaped out a little crowbar, by giving the stick a wedge end with my knife; and this thin end I inserted under the plank, and drove it inward as far as I could, by striking it with a heavy piece of board.

It soon took hold; and then grasping it by the end, and jerking it downwards, I had the gratification to hear the creaking of the nails as they started outward. My fingers now took the place of the little lever; and the board came "skreeking" out of the bottom of the box.

That contiguous to it was more easily detached; and the two left me an aperture large enough to get out the contents, whatever they might be.

They were oblong packages, shaped like pieces of cloth or linen, but they felt lighter and more elastic than either. Better still, they could be pulled out more easily, and without the necessity of being taken out of their envelopes.

I had no curiosity to know what they were, since I could tell they were nothing eatable, and perhaps I should not have known till this day, but that in drawing out one more tightly wedged than the rest, its wrapper was torn off; and as I passed my fingers between the folds of the soft light fabric, I guessed from their smooth silken surface that I was dealing with the finest of velvet.

The box was soon emptied, and its contents carefully stowed in the most convenient space behind me; and then, with a joyous heart, I mounted into the space I had cleared out. One more stage nearer to liberty!

I had been less than two hours in accomplishing this great advance. Such success was ominous of future good fortune. It was a day well begun; and I resolved not to throw away a minute of time, since the fates appeared so propitious.

After going down to refresh myself with a grand draught of water, I returned to the ci-devant depository of the velvet, and there entered upon a new series of explorations. As in the case of the cloth-box, I saw that the end of this, which also abutted against the pianoforte, could be easily kicked out; and without waiting to ascertain farther, I set my heels against it, and began playing my old tattoo.

This time I did not finish it so soon. I was pinched for want of room, the velvet-box being much smaller than that which contained the cloth; but I effected my purpose at length, and out went the end-boards, one after another, dropping down into the interstices between the cases of goods.

Doubling myself over upon my knees, I leant forward to make a new reconnaissance. I expected, or rather dreaded, to find the great wall-like piano-case shutting up the whole space I had opened. Certainly, the huge case was there—for I at once laid my hand upon it— but I could scarce restrain an exclamation of joy, when I found that it extended scarce half-way across the opening! What delighted me still further was, that, in groping around its edge, I observed that opposite the opening in that part to which the piano-case did not extend, there was a large space entirely empty—a space almost big enough to have contained another case of velvet!

This was a very joyful surprise, and I at once perceived the advantage thus thrown in my way. It was so much of my tunnel ready made to my hand.

On thrusting my arm outside the end of the box and upward, I became acquainted with a new source of joy. I perceived that the empty space continued for ten or twelve inches higher than the top of the box—in fact, to the top of the piano-case itself. It also opened about the same distance below where my knees rested. There I perceived that it ended in a sharp angle; for I had already noticed that this little chamber was not of a square shape, as we say, but of the form of a triangle, with its apex pointing downwards. This was caused by the peculiar construction of the piano-case, which resembled a great parallelopipedon, with one corner sawed off. It was standing upon its larger end, and it was where this corner should have been that the place remained empty.

In all likelihood the triangular shape of this space rendered it inconvenient for any package which there was among the merchandise, and hence was it unoccupied.

So much the better for me, thought I, as I stretched forth my arms, and leant my body over into it, with the design of giving it a more thorough exploration.



CHAPTER SIXTY ONE.

A MILLINER'S BOX.

I was not long about this business. I soon perceived that the back of the empty space was closed in by a large box, and a similar one blocked up the right side. The left was the diagonal edge of the case itself, about twenty inches or two feet in width.

But I troubled myself very little either about back, left, or right. It was the ceiling of the little chamber that had the greatest interest for me; for it was in that direction I intended, if possible, to continue my tunnel.

I knew that I was now far enough in the horizontal direction; for the chief advantage I had gained by the discovery of the empty space was, that it carried me the thickness of the piano-case—about two feet, as I have said—in this course, besides the distance that was open, upwards. Neither forward, then, nor to the right or left, did I wish to go, unless forced to do so by an obstacle. Upward was the echo of my thoughts. Excelsior! excelsior! Two or three stages more—perhaps less, if no obstacle intervened—and I might be free. My heart beat joyfully as the prospect passed before my mind.

It was not without a keen anxiety that I raised my hand to the ceiling of the empty chamber. My fingers trembled as they touched what I well knew to be canvas, and involuntarily they recoiled from it. O, mercy!— once more that hated fabric—a bale of linen!

I was not so sure of this however. I remembered the mistake I had already made in this regard. I must examine farther.

I closed my fist, and gave the bottom of the package a smart rap with my knuckles. Ha! it was a pleasant sound that answered to the blow. It was not a bale of linen, then, but a box, covered, like many others, with several folds of coarse cheap canvas. It could not be cloth, either; for instead of the dull report which the cloth-boxes give out when struck, the one in question returned a hollow sound, precisely that of one that was empty!

This appeared strange enough. It could not be empty, else why was it there? and yet if not empty, what did it contain?

I hammered upon it with the haft of my knife—still the same hollow sound!

"Good!" thought I. "If empty, all the better; but if not, surely there is something in it of a light nature—something that may be easily got rid of. Good!"

After making this reflection, I resolved to waste no more time in conjectures, but to satisfy myself of the contents of this new box, by making my way into it; and in a trice I had ripped off the canvas that protected its bottom.