I found the position in which I stood inconvenient. The triangular space, narrowing acutely towards the bottom, hindered me from standing fairly on my feet; but I soon remedied this defect, by filling the angle with some pieces of cloth and velvet that were near at hand. I then proceeded more comfortably with my work.

I need not detail the mode in which I burrowed through the bottom of the box. It was just as with the others, and succeeded as well. I had to make one cross-cut, and in this my newly-hafted blade behaved admirably; after which, I pulled out the divided pieces.

I was not a little surprised when I arrived at the inside, and ascertained the contents of the box. It was some time before I could make them out by the "feel," but when I had succeeded in getting one separated from its fellows, and ran my fingers over its outline, I at length recognised what they were. They were bonnets!

Yes, ladies' bonnets, and nothing but that—all apparently full "trimmed," and garnished with their feathers, flowers, and ribbons.

Had I at that time possessed a more intimate knowledge of the costumes of the Peruvians, I should have been more surprised, perhaps, to find such an odd "item" in the list of their imports. I should have known that such a thing as a bonnet is never seen upon the beautiful head of a Peruvian lady. But I knew nothing of this then, and I was only surprised by the oddity of such an article occurring in the cargo of a great ship.

The explanation was given me afterwards, thus:—that there were English and French ladies living in many of the South American cities—the wives and sisters of English and French merchants resident there, as well as of various representative officials—and that these, although so very far distant from their homes, still obstinately persisted in following the fashions of London and Paris, notwithstanding (it was added) the ridicule with which such an absurd headdress was regarded by their fair sisters of Spanish America.

For these sojourners, then, the box of bonnets had been intended.

I am sorry to add that for that season their expectations must have been disappointed. The bonnets could never have reached them, or, if they did, it must have been in such a state as to render them unfit for any purpose of adornment. Mine was an unmerciful hand; for, once inside that box, it never ceased from wreck and ruin till the whole of those beautiful "ducks" were crumpled up and stowed away in less than a tenth part of the valuable space they had hitherto occupied.

No doubt many an imprecation was afterwards heaped on my devoted head; and the only apology I can make is to speak the simple truth—that with me it was a matter of life or death, and the bonnets had to go. It was not likely that this would be satisfactory in the quarter where the bonnets were expected. I never heard whether or no. I only know that I was enabled afterwards—but long afterwards—to satisfy my own conscience about the matter, by paying the damage claimed by the Transatlantic milliner.



CHAPTER SIXTY TWO.

HALF SUFFOCATED.

Having disposed of the bonnets, my next step was to climb up into the empty box; and, if possible, get the lid, or part of it, removed. But, first, I endeavoured to ascertain what was on the top of it, and for this purpose I adopted a plan that had already served me more than once—of feeling through the slits with the blade of my knife. Unfortunately, this was now shorter, and not so suitable for such a service, but it was still long enough to reach through a piece of inch plank, and two inches beyond, and this would no doubt enable me to determine whether the next obstacle to be encountered was a hard or a soft one.

Once within the bonnet-box, I stuck my blade up through the lid. The package above was composed of something soft and yielding. I remembered that there was a canvas cover, but I drove the blade in to its hilt, and still it encountered nothing like wood—nothing that resembled the boarding of a box.

But I was equally certain that it was not linen, for the blade penetrated as freely as it would have done into a mass of butter, and this would not have been the case had it been a bale of linen. Knowing it could not be this, my mind was easy. I would rather have had to deal with anything else.

I tried in several places—in fact, all over the top—and at every point I could bury my blade as far as the haft would let it go, with a very slight effort used to push it in. Certainly the package consisted of some substance I had not before encountered, but as to what it was I could form no idea.

However, it did not feel as though it would present a serious obstacle to my progress; and under this pleasant impression, I went to work to undermine it, by taking a board out of the lid upon which it lay.

This, of course, required me to go through the tedious and painful process of making a cross-section with my knife—a kind of work that absorbed more of my time, and caused me more labour, than all the rest put together. But it was absolutely necessary, for there was no other plan by which I could tunnel through the tops of the boxes. On each rested the heavy weight of the packages above, and to start one of the planks, with this weight pressing down upon it, was impossible. It was only by cutting them across that they could be removed.

The lid of the bonnet-box did not prove so difficult to cut through. It was of thin deal, and in about a half or three quarters of an hour I had the middle piece of the three—for there were just three boards in it— cut into twain. The sections were easily bent downwards, and removed.

A patch of the canvas covering was then hacked off, and I could now get my hand upon the unknown package that was resting on the top. I recognised the object at once. I had been enough about my uncle's barn to know the feel of a sack. This, then, was a sack.

It was full of something: of what?—wheat, or barley, or oats? No, it was not grain—something softer and finer: was it a sack of meal?

I should soon ascertain that. My blade entered the sack, and a slit was cut large enough to admit my fist. I had no need to thrust my hand inside, for as I held it under the vent thus opened, I felt a soft, powdery substance streaming downward, with which my palm was instantly filled; and as my fingers closed upon it, I felt satisfied that I had got hold of a fistful of flour. My hand went straight to my lips, and a single taste of the precious dust confirmed my conjecture. It was a sack of flour.

This was a joyous discovery. Here was food, and enough to last me for months! No more danger of starvation—no more rat diet. No. On flour and water I could live like a prince. What matter if it was raw? it was sweet, and palatable, and wholesome.

"Heaven be praised! I am no longer in danger!"

Some such exclamation escaped me, as I arrived at a full appreciation of the importance of my new discovery.

I had now been at work for many hours, and once more needed rest. I was hungry, too, and could not resist the desire to make a grand meal on the new article of diet; and, filling my pockets with the flour, I prepared to return to my old lair behind the water-butt. I took the precaution to stanch the wound I had made in the flour-sack, by sticking a piece of loose canvas into the vent, and then I commenced my descent. The rats, bag and all, were chucked into the first convenient corner that offered, with the hope that no necessity would ever require me to draw them out again; and, then, having mixed me a large quantity of flour paste, I made as hearty a meal upon it as if it had been the nicest hasty pudding that ever was cooked.

A few hours of good sleep again refreshed me; and, on awaking, I ate another hasty meal of the paste, and after that commenced ascending my now greatly-extended gallery.

As I climbed through the second tier of boxes, I was surprised to feel on all sides of me a soft, powdery substance, resembling dust scattered over the boards wherever they lay horizontally; but on passing into the triangular space by the piano-case, I found the lower half of this cavity filled with the same dust, so that, as I stepped upon it, I sank up to the ankles. I perceived, moreover, that a shower of this soft substance was falling down upon my head and shoulders; and, as I inadvertently turned my face upwards, it came rushing into my mouth and eyes, causing me to sneeze and cough in the most violent manner.

I felt for a moment as if I was in danger of being suffocated, and my first impulse was to beat a speedy retreat, and get back to the rear of the water-butt. But I had no need to go quite so far; for on getting out to the old biscuit-box, I perceived that there the dust no longer reached me.

I was not long in arriving at an explanation of this singular phenomenon. It was the flour that was causing such a "stoor." The movement of the ship had shaken out the canvas rag with which I had stopped the vent, and the flour was escaping. No doubt this was the cause of the wastage.

The idea that all the flour would be lost rushed into my mind, and, as a consequence, that I should once more be forced to return to the rat diet. It would be necessary, therefore, to ascend to the sack, and stop the wastage at once.

Notwithstanding some apprehensions I had on the score of suffocation, I perceived the necessity of action; and closing both mouth and eyes, I scrambled as fast as I could towards the empty bonnet-box.

I felt flour lodged on all sides as I went up, but I fancied it was no longer showering downwards. This was in reality the fact; for on reaching the bonnet-box, I found that it had ceased to run out of the sack, and for the best of reasons—it was now all out of it. The sack was empty!

Perhaps I should have regarded this as a greater misfortune, but I saw that the flour was not all lost. A good deal, no doubt, had filtered through the crevices, and got down to the bottom of the hold; but a large quantity—as much as I would be likely to need—had lodged upon the pieces of cloth that I had placed in the bottom of the triangular cavity, and also in other places where I could get at it whenever I wanted.

It mattered little, however; for in another moment I had made a discovery that drove all thoughts of the flour out of my head, and rendered any calculation about my future provision—either of food or water—a subject of the most trifling importance.

I had stretched up my hand to ascertain if the sack was quite empty. It appeared so. Why, then, should I not pull it through the aperture, and get it out of the way? No reason why I should not; and I at once dragged it down, and flung it behind me.

I then raised my head through the end of the box into the space where the sack had lain.

Merciful heavens! What did I behold? Light! light! light!



CHAPTER SIXTY THREE.

LIGHT AND LIFE.

Yes, my eyes were once more cheered with heavenly light, producing within my heart a joy sudden and complete. I could not describe the happiness I felt. Every fear at once forsook me. I had no longer the slightest apprehension. I was saved!

The light I saw was but a very slender beam—a mere ray—that appeared to penetrate through a crack between two planks. It was above me, not vertically above me, but rather in a diagonal line, and apparently about eight or ten feet distant.

I knew it could not be through the deck that the light came. There are no open spaces between the planks of a ship's deck. It must be through the hatchway; and very likely the crack I saw was through the boarding of the hatch, at a place where the tarpaulin might be off or torn.

While gazing on this tiny beam, shining like a meteor above me, I thought it the loveliest object I had ever looked upon. No star in the blue sky had ever appeared to me half so brilliant or beautiful; it was like the eye of some good angel smiling upon me, and bidding me welcome again to the world of life.

I did not remain long in my position within the bonnet-box. I believed myself near the end of my labour, and the accomplishment of my hopes, and had no inclination to pause upon the threshold of deliverance. The nearer to the goal, the more earnest had I become to reach it; and therefore, without further hesitation, I set about widening the aperture already made in the lid of the box.

The fact of my seeing the light had convinced me of one important truth, and that was that I had reached the top of the cargo. Since it appeared in a diagonal direction, there could be no boxes or other packages intervening between it and my eyes, and, therefore, the space was empty. This emptiness could only be above the cargo.

But the matter was soon set at rest. It did not take me twenty minutes to widen a hole big enough to pass my body; and, scarcely waiting to make this of sufficient size, I squeezed myself through, and wriggled out on to the top of the box.

I lifted my arms over my head, and extended them all around me. Only behind could I perceive anything—and there I could feel boxes, and bales, and sacks piled up still higher—but in front there was nothing but empty air.

I remained for some moments seated on the lid of the box, where I had climbed out, with my legs hanging down outside of it. I was cautious not to step off, lest I might fall into some great cavity. I remained gazing upon the beautiful beacon that was now shining still nearer to my face.

Gradually my eyes became accustomed to the light; and, though the chink admitted only a few slender rays, I began to perceive the forms of objects that were near. I soon made out that the empty space did not extend far. It was a little pit, of an irregular, circular form—a sort of amphitheatre, shut in on all sides by the huge packages of merchandise that were piled around it. It was, in fact, a space that had been left under the hatchway, after the cargo had been all stowed; and a number of loose barrels and bags that were strewed over it appeared to contain provisions—no doubt stores for the crew—thus placed so that they could be readily reached when wanted.

It was on one side of this little amphitheatre I had emerged from my gallery; and no doubt I was just under the edge of the hatchway. It only needed to advance a pace or two, knock upon the boards over my head, and summon the crew to my assistance.

But although a single blow, and a single cry, were all that were needed to procure my liberation, it was a long while before I could muster the resolution to strike that blow, or utter that cry!

I need not give you the reasons of my reluctance and hesitation. Think only of what was behind me—of the damage and ruin I had caused to the cargo—a damage amounting perhaps to hundreds of pounds—think of the impossibility of my being able to make the slightest restitution or payment—think of this, and you will comprehend why I paused so long, seated upon the edge of the bonnet-box. An awful dread was upon me. I dreaded the denouement of this dark drama; and no wonder I hesitated to bring it to its ending.

How could I ever face the stern wrath of the captain?—the brutal anger of that savage mate? How could I endure their looks—their words, their oaths, and, likely enough, their blows? Perhaps they would pitch me into the sea?

A thrill of terror ran through my veins, as I dwelt on the probability of such a fate. A sudden change had passed over my spirits. But the moment before that twinkling ray had filled my bosom with joy; and now, as I sat and gazed upon it, my heart was throbbing with fear and dismay!



CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR.

AN ASTONISHED CREW.

I tried to think of some way by which I might be enabled to make reparation for the loss; but my reflections were only foolish, as they were bitter. I owned nothing in the world that I knew of—nothing but my old watch—and that—ha! ha! ha!—would scarce have paid for the box of crackers!

Yes, there was something else that belonged to me—and does still (for I have kept it till this hour)—something which I esteemed far more than the watch—ay, far more than I would a thousand watches; but that something, although so highly prized by me, would not have been valued at a single sixpence. You guess of what I am speaking? You guess, and rightly, that I mean that dear old knife!

Of course, my uncle would do nothing in the matter. He had no interest in me farther than to give me a home, and that was a thing of choice rather than responsibility. He was in no way bound to make good my damages; and, indeed, I did not permit myself for a moment to entertain the idea.

There was but one thought that held out to me the slightest hope—one course that appeared to be tolerably rational. It was this: I could bind myself to the captain for a long period. I could toil for him as a boy-sailor—a cabin-boy—a servant—anything that would enable me to work off my debt.

If he would only accept me for this purpose (and what else could he now do, unless, indeed, he really did toss me overboard), then all might yet be right.

The thought cheered me; and I resolved, as soon as I should reach the captain's presence, to make the proposal.

Just at that moment I heard a loud stamping noise above me. It was a continued series of thumps, that resembled the heavy footsteps of men passing backward and forward over the decks. They were on both sides of the hatchway, and all around it, upon the deck.

Then I heard voices—human voices. Oh, how pleasant to my ears! First, I heard shouts and short speeches, and then all of them mingling together in a chant or chorus. Rude it may have been, but during all my life never heard I sounds that appeared to me so musical or harmonious as that work-song of the sailors.

It inspired me with confidence and boldness. I could endure my captivity no longer; and the instant the chorus ended, I sprang forward under the hatch, and with the wooden handle of my knife knocked loudly upon the planks overhead.

I listened. My knocking had been heard. There was a parley among the voices above, and I could distinguish exclamations of surprise; but although the talking continued, and even a greater number of voices appeared to take part in it, no attempt was made to take up the hatch.

I repeated my knocking louder than before; and added to it the summons of my voice; but I could myself perceive that my voice was tiny and feeble as that of an infant, and I doubted whether it could have been heard.

Again I listened to a volley of loud exclamations that betokened surprise; and from the multitude of voices I could guess that the whole crew was around the hatchway.

I knocked a third time, to make sure; and then I stood a little to one side, in anxious and silent expectation.

Presently I heard something rubbing over the hatches. It was the tarpaulin being removed; and, as soon as this covering was taken off, I perceived that light shot in through several chinks at the joining of the planks.

But the next moment the sky suddenly opened above me; and the flood of light that poured down upon my face, rendered me quite blind. It did more—it caused me to faint and fall backward against the boxes. I did not lose consciousness all at once, but swooned gradually away under a feeling of strange bewilderment.

Just as the hatch was lifted upwards, I noticed a ring of rough heads— human heads and faces—above the edge, all around the great opening, and I observed that all of them were drawn suddenly back with an expression of extreme terror. I heard cries and exclamations that betokened the same; but the shouts gradually died upon my ears, and the light dimmed and darkened in my eyes, as I lapsed into a state of unconsciousness, as complete as if I had been dead.

Of course, I had only swooned; and was insensible to what was passing around me. I did not see the rough heads as they reappeared over the edge of the hatch frame, and again reconnoitre me with looks of alarm. I did not see that one of them at length took courage, and leaped down upon the top of the cargo, followed by another and then another, until several stood bending over me, uttering a volley of conjectures and exclamatory phrases. I did not feel them as they tenderly raised me in their arms, and kindly felt my pulse, and placed their huge rough hands over my heart to see whether it was still beating with life—no more did I feel the big sailor who lifted me up against his breast and held me there, and then, after a short ladder had been obtained and placed in the hatchway, carried me up out of the hold and laid me carefully on the quarter-deck: I heard nothing, I saw nothing, I felt nothing, till a shock, as if of cold water dashed in my face, once more aroused me from my trance, and told me that I still lived.



CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE.

THE DENOUEMENT.

When I came to my senses again, I saw that I was lying upon the deck. A crowd was gathered around, and look in what direction I might, my eyes rested upon faces. They were rude faces, but I noticed no unkindly expression in any one of them. On the contrary, I perceived looks of pity, and heard words of sympathy.

They were the sailors—the whole crew was around me. One was bending over my face, pouring water into my lips, and cooling my temples with a wet cloth. I knew this man at the first glance. It was Waters—he who had carried me ashore, and presented me with my precious knife. Little knowledge could he have at the time of the great service it was to do— and had since done—me.

"Waters," said I, "do you remember me?"

He started at my words, uttering, as he did so, a sailor's exclamation of surprise.

"Shiver my timbers!" was the phrase. "Shiver my timbers! if 'tain't the little marlin-spike as boarded us a-port!"

"Him as wanted to go a seelorin?" cried several in a breath.

"The same, for sartin'."

"Yes," I answered, "it is; I am the same."

Another volley of ejaculations followed, and then there was a momentary silence.

"Where is the captain?" I asked. "Waters, will you take me to the captain?"

"You wish to see the capten? he's here, my lad," answered the big sailor, in a kind tone; and then, stretching out his arm, he made an opening in the ring that encircled me.

I glanced through this opening. I saw the same well-dressed man whom I had before recognised as the captain. He was only a few yards off, standing in front of the door of his cabin. I looked in his face. The expression was stern, but yet it did not awe me. I fancied it was a look that would relent.

I hesitated for a moment what course to pursue, and then, summoning all my energy, I rose to my feet, tottered forward, and knelt down before him.

"Oh, sir!" I cried, "you can never forgive me!"

That, or something like it, I said. They were all the words I could utter.

I no longer looked him in the face. With my eyes fixed upon the deck, I awaited his reply.

"Come, my lad! rise up!" said a voice, in a tone of kindness; "rise up, and come with me into the cabin."

A hand was placed upon mine, I was raised to my feet, and led away. He who walked by my side, and conducted me as I tottered along, was the captain himself! This did not look like giving me to the sharks. Was it possible that the ending should be of this merciful complexion?

As I passed into the cabin, I beheld my shadow in a mirror. I should not have known myself. My whole body was as white as if it had been lime-washed; but I remembered the flour. My face alone was to be seen, and that was almost as white as the rest—white, and wan, and bony as that of a skeleton! I saw that suffering and meagre fare had made sad havoc with my flesh.

The captain seated me on a sofa, and, having summoned his steward, ordered him to fill me out a glass of port wine. He uttered not a word till I had drunk it; and then, turning to me, with a look in which I could read nothing of sternness, he said—

"Now, my lad, tell me all about it!"

It was a long story, but I told it from first to last. I concealed nothing—neither of the motives that had led me to run away from my home, nor yet any item of the vast damage I had done to the cargo. This, however, was already well-known to him, as half the crew had long since visited my lair behind the water-butt, and ascertained everything.

When I had gone through every circumstance, I wound up with the proposal I had resolved to make to him; and then, with an anxious heart, I awaited his response. My anxiety was soon at an end.

"Brave lad!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet, and going towards the door, "you wish to be a sailor? You deserve to be a sailor; and by the memory of your noble father, whom I chanced to know, you shall be a sailor!"

"Here, Waters!" he continued, calling to the big tar, who was waiting outside, "take this youngster, have him fresh rigged; and, as soon as he is strong enough, see that he be properly taught the ropes."

And Waters did see that I was taught the ropes—every one of them, and in the proper manner. For many years afterwards he was my shipmate, under that same kind-hearted captain, until I rose from the condition of a mere "boy tar," and was rated upon the Inca's books as an "able seaman."

But my promotion did not end there. "Excelsior" was my motto; and, assisted by the generous captain, I soon after became a third mate, and afterwards a second mate, and, still later, a first mate, and, last of all, a captain!

In course of time, too—still better than all—I became captain of my own ship.

That was the crowning ambition of my life; for then I was free to go and come as I pleased, and plough the great ocean in any direction, and trade with whatever part of the world I might think proper.

One of my very first and most successful voyages—I mean in my own ship—was to Peru; and I remember well that I carried out a box of bonnets for the English and French ladies resident at Callao and Lima. But these arrived safe, and no doubt disgusted the eyes of the fair Creoles, who were expected to admire them!

The crumpled bonnets had been long ago paid for; so, too, the spilt brandy and the damage done to the cloth and velvet. After all, it did not amount to such a vast sum; and the owners, who were all generous men, taking the circumstances into account, dealt leniently with the captain, who, in his turn, made the terms easy for me. In a few years I had settled for all, or, as we say in sailor language, "squared the yards."

And now, my young friends! I have only to add, that having sailed the seas for many long years, and by careful mercantile speculations, and a fair economy, having acquired sufficient means to keep me for the remainder of my days, I began to grow tired of wave and storm, and to long for a calmer and quieter life upon land. This feeling grew upon me, every year becoming stronger and stronger; till at last, unable to resist it any longer, I resolved to yield to its influence, and anchor myself somewhere upon shore.

For this purpose, then, I sold off my ship and sea stores, and returned once more to this pretty village, where I have already told you I was born, and where I have also made known to you, that it is my intention to die!

And now, good-day! and God bless you all!

THE END.