Tony's Escape From The Coal Barge
"Hyar he is, Jeff," shouted Mose, who had at last succeeded in climbing up and seating himself on the gunwale. "Knock him outen dat dar boat, if he don't come back. Bus' de bottom in. Do something mighty lively, kase we's gone niggahs if dat dar tug kotch us hyar!"
Jeff must have thought so too, for his movements were much quicker than they had been before. He climbed out of the barge to the deck as quickly as he could, and opened a hot fire upon Tony, who was pulling swiftly away from the dangerous neighborhood; but although his missiles were thrown with power sufficient to do damage if they had hit anything, they all went wide of the mark, and by the time Jeff's companion could raise himself to his feet and run along the gunwale to the deck, the boy was safely out of range. Mose fired a few chunks at him, but they all fell short, and then it seemed to dawn upon the negroes all at once that their prize had slipped through their fingers; that they had opened the doors of the penitentiary for their reception, and gained nothing by it. It must have been some such thought as this that set them into the wild war-dance that followed. They jumped about the deck, stamped their feet, and whooped and swore at the top of their voices; and Mose shook his knife at Tony, and made furious gestures with the weapon, just to show what he would do if he only possessed the power.
"Well, boys," said Tony, as soon as he could make himself heard, "it looks to me as though you were in for it. I've got this thing in my own hands. You'll stay there until the tug comes, and I'll stay here."
"No, we won't stay hyar, nudder," shouted Mose, in reply. "We kin swim to de shoah."
"You try it, if you dare. If I see one of you take to the water, I'll knock him on the head with an oar."
Tony had not only brought himself safely out of a very dangerous situation, but he had very neatly turned the tables upon those who had intended to rob him, and he felt very jubilant over it. Well, it was something to be proud of, and it was a great pity that he should go deliberately to work and spoil it all by his foolishness.
"I have earned a hundred dollars by this day's work," said Tony, as he wiped the big drops of perspiration from his forehead, "and as soon as I get it safe in my hands, I shall bid a long farewell to St. Louis."
Tony uttered these last words very slowly, as if he were talking about one thing and thinking about another. And so he was. Why should he return to St. Louis at all? he asked himself. Before he left home that morning, something had prompted him to put into his pocket the twenty-five dollars he had saved to buy his sailor's outfit when he reached New Orleans. Why not add to that at least a portion of the amount which Mr. Vandegriff had told him he might retain if he got into a fight with the negroes and came off first best? It is true that he had no clothes except those he carried on his back, and he told himself that he did not want any more. It would be a waste of time to go back to the city after a supply, and he would run the risk of being seen by somebody when he crept out of his father's house with a valise in his hand. There was something about such a proceeding that did not suit Tony. He thought it would make him look too much like a sneak-thief. Besides, he wanted to forget his home entirely, and he could not do it so long as he was wearing any of the clothes his father's money had purchased for him.
"It is now or never," said Tony, to himself "I can go down the river in this skiff to Cairo, purchasing my supplies at farm-houses along the way, and there I shall find some Cincinnati or Pittsburgh boat whose officers will not question me, because they are not acquainted with me. I don't feel just right about taking that money, but I have fairly earned it—I wouldn't go through such a battle again for ten times one hundred dollars—and Mr. Vandegriff said I might have it. Good-by!" he shouted, waving his hand to the negroes, "I'll go and hurry up the tug."
As Tony said this, he pulled toward the Missouri shore, and when he had got out of the current, he turned and rowed up the river. As long as he remained in sight of the barge, he kept his eyes fastened upon the negroes, expecting to see them take to the water and strike out for shore; but as they did nothing of the kind, the boy finally came to the conclusion that they could not swim. At last the current carried them and their floating prison into the bend around which the Armada had disappeared half an hour before, and when the barge was out of sight behind the point, Tony ceased his efforts at the oars and began to look about him.
"The first thing is to find a place in which to hide for awhile," said Tony, to himself. "That tug can't be far away—Mr. Vandegriff said she would come up with the barge by the time the Armada had taken all the coal she wanted—and I must keep out of sight until she takes the barge in tow and goes up the river again. I don't know what folks will think when she goes back to St. Louis without me, and I don't care, either. I don't expect to see any of them again for long years to come. I will send Mr. Vandegriff his money as soon as I reach Cairo, and that will make me square with him. I believe that is the spot I am looking for."
Tony had just discovered what he declared to be "the finest kind of a hiding-place." A huge tree which had been undermined by the water had sunk down into the river, and now lay with its top resting upon the bank and its roots in the stream. These roots formed a mass twelve or fifteen feet square, and between them and the bank there was water enough to float the skiff. Tony pulled up to examine this hiding-place, his movements being accelerated by a sound which just then came to his ears. He exerted himself to the utmost, and to his great relief succeeded in running his skiff behind the roots just as the tug came around the point above. Had he been a few moments later he would certainly have been discovered.
"A miss is as good as a mile," panted Tony, as he stretched himself out under the thwarts and looked at the tug through an opening in the roots. "If she doesn't see me now she never will, for it will be pitch dark when she comes back with the barge. I'd give something to know how Jeff and Mose will explain my disappearance."
Tony kept his eyes fastened upon the tug as she moved swiftly past his place of concealment, and then he turned around, and lying with his face toward the stern of the skiff, watched her until she disappeared around the bend below. It was pitch dark when her lights came into view around the point, and her labored puffing, as she struggled against the current with her heavy burden, became audible to the ears of the runaway. Presently she began to whistle, and she kept it up at irregular intervals.
"That's for me," thought Tony. "Captain, you're only wasting steam. I hear you, but I'll not pay any attention to you."
In about two hours the tug passed Tony's hiding-place the second time, and when the sound of her exhaust began to grow fainter, the boy made his skiff fast to one of the roots and lay down to sleep. He slept, too, and his slumber was not in the least disturbed by regretful dreams of the home he had deserted. It needs contact with the world and a few hard knocks from it to show a discontented boy what home is worth, and Tony had not yet received any of these.
He awoke the next morning at daylight, hungry as a wolf, and impatient to reach Cairo in order that he might send Mr. Vandegriff's money to him. He was in a great hurry to be rid of it, for his experience on the barge had satisfied him that he was not altogether safe so long as it was in his possession. The first thing was to look out for a breakfast, and this he obtained at a farm-house he found about five miles down the river. At this place he also purchased a basket and cooked viands enough to fill it. He did not want to go supperless to bed again if he could help it.
Tony passed two more nights on the river, and by that time he had become heartily disgusted with this mode of travelling. Whenever he became tired of rowing, he drew in his oars and allowed the skiff to float with the current; but during these periods of rest, his progress was very slow, and he was so impatient to reach his journey's end, that he kept the oars in motion almost all the time. He had to be constantly on the alert, for there was a good many boats passing up and down the river, and Tony made it a point to go ashore and hide in the bushes every time one hove in sight. He was afraid that some of the pilots would see and recognise him. He was plied with questions every time he stopped for supplies. Canoeing was not as popular in those days as it has since become, and the people living along the river had not grown accustomed to the sight of solitary travellers making their way down the stream in this primitive fashion. One long-haired, unkempt Missourian, after filling his basket, informed him that he had given him a good looking over, and that if anybody came that way in a day or two looking for a stolen boat, he would be able to give an accurate description of him.
Tony passed the little town of Cape Girardeau bright and early one morning, and shortly after twelve o'clock he looked over the levee on the Illinois side, and obtained his first view of the city of Cairo. He at once directed his course across the river, and running the bow of his skiff high and dry upon the bank, he left it and the basket for the use of the first person who might be in need of them, and set out for the city on foot. In this way he saved himself a good deal of hard work, for it would have taken him two or three hours to row around the point and up the Ohio river to the wharf-boat. As it was, he reached the St. Charles hotel in about half an hour, and having purchased two sheets of note-paper and an envelope from the news-agent, he went into the office and sat down to write a letter to Mr. Vandegriff. Having made up his mind what he wanted to say, his pen moved rapidly, and in twenty minutes the letter was finished. It contained a circumstantial account of the battle on the coal-barge, and wound up with these words:—
"You told me that if those negroes attempted to rob me, and I saved your money for you, I could keep a hundred dollars out of it and hand you the balance. You will see, by reference to the book which I send you with this letter, that I have kept out fifty dollars of it, which I need to pay my expenses to the place where I am going. If you should happen to see my father, I wish you would tell him for me that I have decided to strike out for myself. I inclose you bank check for the rest of the money."
When Tony read the letter over to correct the mistakes he had made in his hurried writing, and came to this part of it, he could not help telling himself that it was rather a heartless way of taking leave of his relations; but he was in a great hurry to get through with the business he had to do before the bank closed, and he had only time to add, "Give my love to my mother." Then a sharp pang shot through his heart. He had never cherished much affection for his father, who, being completely engrossed in his business, scarcely ever spoke to Tony, except to take him to task for something he had done. But his mother; could he leave her in this way?
"It isn't too late yet," thought the runaway, settling back in his chair, and holding the letter off at arms' length. "If I leave town this afternoon by rail, I can be in St. Louis to-morrow morning, and I have half a notion—no, I haven't, either. Father would give me a regular overhauling for going away on that barge without first asking his permission (I wasn't fool enough to do that, for I know he would have said 'no' most emphatically), and what excuse could I make for dodging the tug? No, sir; this thing has gone so far that there's no backing out now."
As the boy said this he drew his hand hastily across his eyes, folded and addressed the letter, and placed it into the account book, which he put into his pocket. It was necessary that the book should go with the letter, so that Mr. Vandegriff might know how many bushels of coal the Armada had taken from the barge.
"I suppose there is a bank in this city?" said he, as he approached the clerk's counter.
"Yes, sir," was the reply; "it is in the block up the levee."
"Where is the express office?"
"Two doors this side of the bank; same block."
After thanking the clerk for this information, Tony hurried away. He had no trouble in finding the bank, and after he had counted out fifty dollars of Mr. Vandegriff's money, he handed the rest, together with the letter, to the cashier, with the request that he would give him a check on St. Louis for it, made payable to the person whose name was on the envelope. The cashier complied, and when Tony had placed the check in the letter, and the letter in the account book, he started back for the express office. The clerk he found there was accommodating enough to supply him with paper and twine, and when he had wrapped the book and its contents up in a neat package, and the clerk had further secured it by sealing it with wax, Tony paid the charges on it and went out.
"That's done," said he, as he crossed the railroad track and bent his steps toward the nearest wharf-boat, "and all I have to do now is, to find a boat that is going down the river."
Just then the afternoon train came in from the north, and the steamer lying alongside the wharf-boat began to whistle. Toward her the boy directed his course; and ten minutes later, he was seated on the boiler-deck with his chair tipped back, his feet on the railing, his thumbs hooked in the armholes of his vest, and a ticket for Memphis in his pocket. When he reached that city, he took passage on a steamer bound for New Orleans, at which place he arrived early in the morning. He stayed on board the boat long enough to get his breakfast, and then sauntered out to take a look at things along the river. He had never been in the city before, and and if he had come there under different circumstances, he would have been glad to spend a day or two in seeing the sights; but he was too full of his idea of becoming a sailor, to waste any time in that way. The sooner he found a chance to ship, the sooner he would be on the ocean.
A few minutes after he left the steamer, he obtained his first view of a sea-going vessel. Of course, he was disappointed in her; we generally are disappointed, when we see for the first time something of which we have read and heard a great deal, and which we have often longed to examine for ourselves. She was not near as large as he had expected to find her; and there were many things about her, that did not suit Tony's idea of marine architecture. While he stood on the wharf looking at her, and wondering if anybody would order him ashore if he should step aboard to take a closer view of her, he became aware that he was an object of interest to a boy a little older than himself, who was leaning over the rail, staring at Tony as hard as the latter was staring at the vessel. He was a sailor, that was plain enough to be seen; and he might have been a very good-looking one too, if he had taken a little more pains with his personal appearance. He wore a tarpaulin, which was pushed as far back on his head as it could go without falling off; a blue flannel shirt with a wide collar, and trowsers of the same material, which were thrust into a pair of heavy boots. His face was almost copper-colored; and his hands, which were large and bony, were profusely tattooed with India ink. He chewed tobacco, too, and threw away a big quid before addressing Tony.
"Want to ship?" said he.
"That's what I am here for," answered Tony. "Do you allow folks aboard there?"
"O, yes; come on. You don't look like a sailor man," he added, as Tony sprang over the rail and approached him.
"And when you first went to sea, you didn't look any more like a sailor than I do," replied Tony. "I know I am green, but I can learn as well as anybody, can't I?"
"Of course you can," said the boy, backing up against the rail, and running his eyes over Tony's clothes. "But I don't know whether you can stand the racket or not. You don't look to be any too stout."
"I shouldn't care to measure strength with you," said Tony, with a smile, "but still I have got a pretty good muscle, although I have never done a day's manual labor in my life."
"What kind of labor is that?" asked the young sailor.
"I mean that I have never worked with my hands. I have always worked with my head," explained Tony.
"O! Then you are not the stuff that sailors are made of," was the rather disheartening rejoinder. "I didn't think you could stand the racket."
"Is it a hard life?"
"Well, it aint an easy one—not by no means."
"Then why don't you quit it and go at something else?"
"Me? O, I can't. There's nothing else I could do. I have been to sea ever since I was eight years old, and I am now seventeen."
"You ought to be a first-class sailor," said Tony.
"I can hand, reef and steer as well as the rest of them, if that's what you mean," replied the young sailor, rather proudly. "I am an able seaman, and I should think I had ought to be. I made three voyages as second mate of a little coaster."
"Are you an officer of this ship?" inquired Tony.
"This aint a ship, you lubber. She's a brig." "You see," he added, in a little milder tone, "a ship has three masts, and this has only two. No, I am not an officer. I always have to go before the mast on long voyages, such as the one we have just made, but then I like them better than I do short ones. If you have got any book-learning you might get to be an officer in a few years. If you want to ship I know where there is a chance for you."
"Do you?" exclaimed Tony, eagerly. "I am ever so much obliged to you for telling me of it. I do want to ship."
"All right! Come on. There's a berth for somebody aboard my old vessel, the Princeton," said the young sailor, as he and Tony sprang out upon the wharf. "She's the one I was second mate of, you know. I was down there this morning, and the old man told me, if I heard anybody say he wanted to ship, to send him along; but I guess I had better go with you, for you might not be able to find her. If the captain takes you, you will have the same berth I did when I first went to sea."
"What was it?" asked Tony.
"Jemmy Ducks!"
"I don't understand you. Who's Jemmy Ducks?"
"Well, he's a sort of lackey to everybody. He has to keep the cabin in order, help the cook, and haul at the sheets; and he works for kicks instead of ha'pence."
"Kicks!" exclaimed Tony. "Who'll kick me?"
"All hands and the cook. But, bless you, that won't hurt you. It only makes you tough and waterproof. The only way is to work hard; keep still, and say nothing to nobody till your time comes, and then let him have it, good and strong."
"Let who have it?"
"Why, if you tend to your business straight and square you'll get ahead, of course; and then you'll go for the fellow that takes your place."
"Must I kick somebody who has never done me any harm, simply because somebody else has kicked me?" cried Tony.
"If you want to get square, that's the only way you can do it," said his new friend, indifferently.
If Tony had never known before, that it will not do to put implicit faith in everything one reads in books, he knew it now. In his favorite sea-novels there was no mention made of the hardships of a sailor's life, and the cruelties that are practised upon him. His existence was described as one of ease and pleasure. Of course there were wrecks, and fights with pirates and mutinous crews; but the typical sailor, who was always loyal to his captain, rather enjoyed such things as these, for they served to break the monotony of long voyages, and gave him opportunity to show his skill and courage, and win a reward. The constant annoyances and punishments to which a foremast hand is sometimes subjected, were never spoken of; but Tony's new friend referred to them as though they were matters of everyday occurrence. The runaway found that they were, too. He began to believe that he had made a mistake, and while he was informing himself of the fact, his companion led him down to a pier and across to a little schooner that lay on the opposite side. This was the Princeton—an ill-looking craft to bear so dignified a name. She was not more than half as large as the brig to which Tony's new acquaintance belonged, and neither did her deck present the same scene of neatness and order.
"She's bound for Rio, so the old man told me this morning; and on the way, she's going to stop at Havana," said the young sailor, as he and Tony fell in behind a couple of longshoremen, who were rolling a heavy cask down the gang-plank.
"To Rio Janeiro!" exclaimed Tony. "Why, that's in Brazil. This little brig can't go there."
"This is a schooner," replied the young sailor, with some contempt in his tones.
"She has two masts, just like yours."
"She's got two masts, I know, but she ain't like my vessel. Can't you see that she is a fore-and-after, while mine is square rigged?"
This was all Greek to Tony, who could only gaze about the vessel and look bewildered.
"Avast, there!" suddenly cried his companion, seizing him by the arm and pulling him away from an open hatch, into which he would have walked in a moment more. "Don't fall into the hold and break your neck before you sign articles. Say, captain," he added, as he and Tony approached a short, broad-shouldered, red-faced man, who had just ascended the companion-ladder. "You told me this morning, that you wanted a cabin-boy. How do you like the looks of this fellow?"
The captain run his eyes over Tony's face and figure, took one or two pulls at his pipe, and said in a hoarse voice:
"He looks well enough, but can he do anything?"
"Nary thing," replied the young sailor, with refreshing candor. "Can't you see for yourself that his mouth is always gaping like a contribution box for dimes? He don't know a schooner from a brig. You'll have to break him in."
The captain gave Tony another good looking over, after which he took his pipe out of his mouth long enough to say "Humph!" Then he put it back again.
"Oh, he can make up the bunks and sweep the cabin and help the doctor, if he don't know the ropes," exclaimed the sailor, who thought he ought to say a good word for Tony, seeing that the latter did not know enough to say it for himself. "You can do that, can't you, shipmate?"
"No, I can't," answered Tony. "I don't know anything about medicine; I can't help the doctor."
The young sailor stared at the captain, and the captain looked hard at Tony. Then they both looked up at the main top-mast, and broke out into loud peals of laughter. After that the skipper also swore a good-natured oath, and asked Tony where he lived.
"In St. Louis," was the reply.
"Why didn't you stay there?"
"Because I didn't want to. I would like to see something of the world, and earn a living at the same time."
"All right; I'll take you."
"At how much a month, captain?" asked the sailor.
"Eight dollars," replied the skipper.
"That's settled," said the sailor. "Have you got any money? You want an outfit—some bedding and clothes that will do to work in."
"Oh, yes, I've got enough for that," replied Tony.
"Then let's go ashore, and I'll show you where to get them. I am my own master to-day, for we shan't begin to break cargo until to-morrow. When do you sail, captain?"
"About four o'clock. Look here, Bradley, I'll leave that greenhorn in your charge, and I want you to bring him back as soon as you can. And you, Abraham," added the skipper, looking at the runaway.
"I am Anthony Richardson," replied the owner of that name. "Tony, for short."
"Well, Tony, when you come back, report to the doctor."
As the boy was about turning away without making any reply, the captain called sharply after him.
"Did you hear me?" he demanded.
"Say 'ay, ay, sir!'" whispered Bradley, giving the runaway a prod in the ribs with his elbow.
Tony gave the required response, and the captain continued:
"Hereafter keep your ears open, and remember your manners."
"You had better bear that in mind," said Bradley, when he and Tony were once more ashore. "Whenever an officer gives you an order, say 'ay, ay, sir!' and don't waste any time about it, either."
"It hurts me to be obliged to show so much respect to such a fellow as that captain is," replied Tony. "I have had better men than he say 'sir' to me."
"That's what I thought," said Bradley; "and them are the fellows that you had ought to have stayed with. But that's all over now. The respect that's paid to a man on board ship don't depend upon the position he holds ashore, and you'll find it out. An able seaman who hasn't got a cent to his name, is worth more in a gale of wind than a landsman with a million dollars in his pocket."
"I suppose that's so," said Tony, with a sigh. "I suppose, too, that I shall be hauled over the coals a good many times before I know just what is required of me. But, Bradley, I can't be of any use to the doctor."
"Yes, you can. The doctor is the cook."
"O!" exclaimed Tony. "I understand. But what makes the old man so cross?"
"He ain't cross; it's only just his way. You won't have any trouble with him to speak of, if you only do your duty up to the handle. But there's one man there that you had better look out for. He's the captain's pet; and pets on shipboard are a nuisance."
"I'll not have anything to do with him, if you will tell me who he is," said Tony.
"You can't help yourself. He's the first mate. Now, I'll tell you, as near as I can, just what you will have to do, and the better you do it, the less trouble you'll get into."
Bradley then went on to describe the duties that were imposed upon himself when he first went to sea, and told of a good many difficulties he had fallen into, which he could have avoided if he had had a friend at the start to point them out to him. Tony listened with all his ears, and treasured everything up in his memory. Bradley told him what he had to expect in pretty plain language, and it was a wonder that Tony's courage did not give way altogether.
"If a sailor has to work so hard, what is there in the life that is so fascinating?" said he. "What is there about it that is pleasant?" he added, as Bradley turned toward him with an inquiring look.
"There's nothing about it that I ever heard of that is pleasant for poor Jack," was the reply. "Some of us like it, in spite of the hard work and harder fare, but the most of the men who are before the mast to-day are looking forward to the time when they can quit the sea and settle down on shore. It's the captains that have the bully times. If you could see the master of a fine ship come out of his cabin of a pleasant afternoon, when the wind is fair and everything draws, and sit down on his quarter-deck and smoke his cigar, you would say that he was the happiest man in the world. Those old fellows are happy, and some of them are rich, too. Let's go in here and see what we can find that is worth looking at."
So saying, Bradley led the way into a cheap clothing store near the levee, in which were to be found all articles of necessity and luxury required by sea-faring men; at least that was what the advertisement in the window said. If Tony had been left to himself he would not have known what to ask for; but Bradley selected the articles for him, and he went about it as though he understood it. Having purchased a good many outfits for himself, he knew almost to a penny what a shirt or a hat was worth, and setting his own price upon it, told the shop-keeper that he could take it or leave it alone—just as he pleased. The consequence was that he got the outfit for much less money than Tony would have been obliged to pay for the same articles. It was not a very extensive one, but Bradley assured him that it would answer until he could earn money enough to add to it. When everything had been paid for, the clothes were put into a canvas-bag, the mattrass was wrapped up in a pair of blankets, and each boy shouldered a bundle and set out to return to the Princeton. Tony's money had not much more than paid his expenses, for he had only fifteen dollars left.
Arriving at the Princeton, Bradley led the way at once into the forecastle, and throwing his bundle into the only empty bunk he found there, laughed heartily at the expression of blank amazement he saw on Tony's face. The latter had read much of the forecastle, and now he saw one for the first time. He could hardly bring himself to believe, that eight men could stow themselves away there. It was very small and dark, and pervaded by an odor that Tony did not like.
"It's mostly tobacco smoke," said Bradley, "and there's a little tar, slush and bilge-water mixed up with it. It's nothing when you get used to it."
"But I don't see how I can stand it," said Tony, heaving a deep sigh as he thought of his pleasant, little room at Kirkwood, with its neat writing-desk, well-filled bookcase and easy chairs. "I have been used to better things at home."
"Yes, I thought so, when I first slapped my peepers onto you," said Bradley, "and there's where you ought to have stayed. But since you are bent on snuffing salt water, it may comfort you to know, that better men than you have lived in just such places as this; and that some of those same men are now masters of our finest ships—East Indiamen, mail steamers and crafts like them. The only way to make a sailor out of a fellow is, to shove him in at the hawse-hole, and let him work his way aft, without help from anybody."
While the young sailor was speaking, he was busy making up Tony's bed in the empty bunk, which was in the lower tier and in the darkest corner of the forecastle. This work took up scarcely two minutes of his time, for all he had to do, was to put the mattrass in and spread the blankets over it.
"There you are," said he, when he had finished his task. "Now when you are ready to turn in, you can use your clothes-bag for a pillow. Is there anything more I can do for you?"
"I don't think of anything," answered Tony. "I am very grateful to you for the service you have rendered me."
"Belay that," said Bradley, hastily. "It's all right. If I was going with you, I could give you a hint now and then that would be of use to you."
"Why can't you go?" exclaimed Tony.
"Because the crew is all shipped—the bedding in these bunks shows that—and I am not yet discharged from the brig. I want my money before I leave her, and I don't know when I shall get it. It depends upon the work there is to be done. Good-by! Who knows but you and I may some day reef a top-sail together in a gale of wind? Now, pull off those shore duds, and put on one of the suits I bought for you. When you have done that, go on deck and report to the doctor, as the old man told you to do."
Bradley, having shaken hands with the runaway, mounted the ladder that led to the deck; while Tony, remembering that his new friend had told him that promptness in obeying orders, was of the utmost importance on ship-board, made all haste to pull off his fine clothes and put on one of his new suits. He was very lonely now that Bradley was gone, and for the first time since leaving St. Louis, he began to be homesick.
"I am really afraid I have made a mistake," thought he, as he packed his clothes carefully away in his bag. "Now, that I have got out into the world, I find that it doesn't look just as I thought it would. Instead of being my own master, as I supposed I should be, it seems that I shall have more people to rule me than I ever had before. I don't much like the idea of being ordered around by such a fellow as that captain; and then there's the cook. What if he should happen to be a darkey?"
Having prepared himself for work, Tony went on deck and made his way toward the cabin, intending to ask the skipper where he should go to find the cook, an idea which, if it had been carried out, would have got him into trouble immediately. But, fortunately for him, he learned what he wanted to know without making any inquiries of the captain. Passing a little house on deck, he looked into it, and saw a negro banging the pots and kettles about. There was a stove in it, and preparations for dinner were going on. Tony's heart sank within him. This was the galley, and beyond a doubt the man before him was the cook.
"Perhaps it would be well to show him at the start that I shall stand no nonsense from him," thought Tony, as he leaned his arms on the window sill, and looked into the galley. "Well, Snowball," said he, "is there anything I can do for you?"
"Who is you?" demanded the negro, plunging a long-handled fork into one of the kettles on the stove.
"I am the cabin boy, and the old man told me to report to you," replied Tony.
The cook turned upon him like a flash when he heard this. "Look heah, chile," he exclaimed, shaking the fork at Tony. "If you use any mo' sich onrespecful language as Snowball to me agin, I chuck you in de ribber. Dar can't no white trash like you talk dat ar way to me. Bring your lazy bones in here, an' take dat knife an' peel dem taters."
Tony again thought of the advice Bradley had given him while they were on their way to the clothing store, and what was more he was wise enough to act upon it. He had been told that he must never answer back, no matter how savagely he might be addressed. If he did that, he would have everybody in the schooner down on him, and then his life would be a hard one indeed. There were a thousand ways in which a sailor could bother a landsman, and the only way in which he could escape being made a victim of their malice, was to do cheerfully and willingly whatever he was told to do.
"I feel very cheerful just now, don't I?" thought Tony, as he walked into the galley, and began the work that had been assigned to him. "What would my father say if he could see me at this moment? I don't think it is quite safe to fool with that cook, for he looks to me like a man who would chuck a fellow over the side in a minute if he got mad at him. Say, doctor," he added, suddenly, knowing that if he wanted to keep up his spirits he must not give away to his gloomy thoughts, "I want to tell you——"
"I is Mr. Sands, I is," interrupted the cook.
All the rest of the crew aroused his ire every hour in the day by calling him some name he did not like, and he was determined that the cabin boy, the only person on board over whom he had any authority, should treat him with due respect.
"All right, Mr. Sands," said Tony, who was rather amused by this assumption of dignity. "I want to tell you that I know nothing whatever about a cabin-boy's duties, and still less about cooking, and I want you to be easy on me till I learn how to do my work."
"Well, den, peel dem taters thinner'n dat," said the negro, pointing at Tony with his long-handled fork. "It's wastin' the schooner's money to cut off so much tater wid dem skins."
The darkey, remembering that his new assistant had addressed him by a title that he particularly despised, was inclined to be sulky at first, but he gradually recovered his good-nature and began to question Tony. The latter enjoyed the conversation, and exerted himself to do his part of it. While he was talking, he was not thinking of the dismal prospect before him.
Not being accustomed to work, Tony soon grew tired enough to sit down, but he could not find the opportunity. No sooner was one thing done than he was ordered to take up something else. Dinner being ready, the cook showed him how to set the table in the cabin, and when the officers were summoned, he had to take his stand behind the captain's chair in readiness to pass dishes, or execute any other orders he might receive. He took a good look at the two mates, whom he now saw for the first time, and although he did not admire the appearance of one of them, he was sure he would have liked the other if he had not been warned against him. There was nothing in the countenance of the first mate to indicate that he was such a brute as he afterwards showed himself to be. He looked more like a gentleman than either of the other officers.
When the captain and his mates had satisfied their appetites, Tony, having been previously instructed, set to work to clear away the table and put the cabin in order. This done, he went into the galley, where he was met by the cook, who, with his mouth too full to speak, waved his hand toward some viands he had placed upon one of the shelves, and nodded his head to Tony, as if inviting him to help himself. The boy looked at the food with rather a doubtful eye. It was a portion of what had been left over from the dinner in the cabin, and it was not dished up with the same care that the cook had expended upon it when he placed it before the captain.
"Have I got to be satisfied with other's leavings?" asked Tony, putting his hands into his pockets and looking at the cook.
"Why, chile, dat's your grub!" exclaimed the darkey.
"Of course it is; and you may see the day when you will be glad to put up with worse!" exclaimed another voice.
Tony faced about and saw the first mate standing in the door. He did not look as amiable now as he did while he was eating his dinner.
"Who are you that comes aboard this vessel and finds fault with the way things are done?" demanded the officer, angrily. "You are afraid to eat after gentlemen, are you? Come out of that and turn to."
Tony had heard orders issued often enough to know that "turn to" meant "go to work." He knew, also, that it was customary, when the work was not very pressing, to allow the crew ample time to eat their dinner and take a smoke after it. He did not want to smoke, but he was hungry, and he did want something to eat.
"I haven't had my dinner yet," said he.
No sooner had the words left his lips, than he recalled Bradley's advice, but it was too late to act upon it. The officer walked into the galley, and seizing the boy by the collar, shook him until he was so dizzy that he could scarcely stand when he was released. Then he dragged him to the door, and giving him a kick to hasten his movements, said in savage tones: "Jump into that yawl at the stern and hook them falls on. Lay aft, the rest of us, and run that boat up," he added, waving his hand to the crew who were sitting around the windlass.
Fortunately for Tony he understood this order. He made his way aft and found the second mate then overhauling the falls. The yawl floated close under the stern, and it was the work of but a few seconds for Tony to drop down into it and hook the blocks fast to ring-bolts in the bow and stern. By this time the crew arrived, and the boat with Tony in it, was hauled up to the davits and made fast there.
"I believe I have made a mistake," thought Tony, as he climbed back to the schooner's deck, after pulling the plug out of the yawl, so that the water that had leaked into her could run out. "This thing of working under the eye of a darkey, and waiting at table, and saying 'sir' to men I wouldn't have looked at a few days ago, isn't what it is cracked up to be. It isn't what I want to go to sea for, either. If the mate is going to make a practice of shaking me up in that way, I shan't have brains enough left to learn the ropes. I wonder if I can eat my dinner now."
He found out when he reached the galley. As he was about to enter the door, the cook held up his hand warningly; but before Tony could ask him what he meant, the first mate appeared and seized him by the collar.
"Didn't I tell you to turn to?" he demanded, tightening his grasp until the boy's neck-tie began to choke him.
"Yes, sir; but I thought I had got through," gasped Tony.
"Well, you haven't got through, and you won't as long as you stay aboard this vessel. We want to get to sea some time this month, and you are to help to clear up the decks. Go for'ard, now, and the second mate will tell you what to do."
Tony found that there was a great deal to be done, but his services did not amount to much. He made an effort to do something, knowing what the consequences would be if he shirked his duty, and he exerted himself to such good purpose that he succeeded in blistering both his hands, and calling down upon his devoted head the hearty maledictions of the men he was trying so hard to assist. Finally, the second mate got out of all patience with him.
"Go and help the doctor wash dishes," said he, pushing the boy toward the galley. "You are only in the way here, and we can get along better without you."
It was hard for Tony to respond with a cheerful "ay, ay, sir!" when he was spoken to as if he were an unruly dog, but he managed to do it, adding that he hoped he would some day know his duty better.
"Go way! Go way from dar, boy!" exclaimed the cook, when Tony presented himself before that important personage. "Didn't de fus' mate done tol' you to turn to?"
"He did," replied the boy, "but the other one ordered me to come here and help you."
"Den dat's all right. Dar's the dinner I done save for you; but you'd bes' eat wid one hand, an' do something else wid de other, kase if de fas' mate look in hyar an' see dat you ain't doin' nuffin' but eat, he'll find work for you, suah. Dat's de kind of a man he is!"
Acting upon this advice, Tony ate his dinner by snatches, and for a short half hour he was allowed a little peace; but at the end of that time, the cargo was all aboard, the hatchways were closed, and a tug came alongside to tow the schooner to the Gulf. As she was to pick up two or three other small vessels on the way, the services of all hands, as well as those of the cook and his clumsy subordinates, were called into requisition in making up the tow.
No doubt there were many interesting sights to be seen along the river below New Orleans, but if there were, Tony never knew it. He was kept busy every moment, and between handling wet lines and hauling at the halliards and sheets, his blistered palms fared badly indeed. He ate his supper as he had eaten his dinner, holding his food with one hand and working with the other; and at ten o'clock tumbled into his hard bed, aching in every joint, and almost ready to cry with weariness and disappointment.
"I know I have made a mistake," thought the runaway, who had borne up remarkably well considering all the circumstances. Almost all the boys who leave home as he did, shed bitter tears of repentance before the first night has passed over their heads. "Bradley was right when he said, that I am not the sort of stuff that sailors are made off, for I can't stand it, to work all the time as hard as I can put in. I've made one break, and if I get the chance I'll make another; but this one will be toward home."
Tony was very homesick now; and he awoke the next morning from a fitful slumber into which he had fallen, to find that he had been attacked by another malady, that was almost as bad—sea-sickness. He got up when all hands were called, but the officer on watch, seeing his condition, did not order him to turn to. They were now well out in the Gulf, and the shores of Louisiana were lying low in the horizon. The waves raised by the brisk wind that was blowing, tossed the little schooner about in a way, that made it impossible for Tony to keep his feet without holding fast to something; and now and then a billow, higher than the rest, would dash against her bows, and send the water in a shower all over the deck. This was the life for which Tony had so often longed; but now that he was having a little experience of it, he did not like it. The bounding and plunging of the schooner, were very different from the smooth, gliding motion of a river steamer, and Tony was frightened.
He never forgot the horrors of that day. His sea-sickness grew worse every moment, and finally prostrated Tony, who took to his bunk and stayed there, expecting every moment to be his last. When he found himself, as he supposed, standing face to face with death, his courage gave away altogether, and his hard pillow was wet with the tears that could no longer be restrained. He thought of the innumerable pleasures that had been his while he was at home, of the indulgences that had been so freely granted to him, and he wondered why in the world he had never appreciated them before. The little trials and troubles that fell to his lot, appeared very insignificant now.
"I was a fool," said Tony, bitterly, "and if I ever live to get off this vessel, I'll go as straight home as I can go. Thank goodness, I have money enough to pay my fare from Havana to New Orleans."
As Tony said this, he raised himself to a sitting posture in his bunk; took up the clothes-bag that served him for a pillow, and began throwing out its contents. He was so ill, that he did not notice that the articles were not so neatly packed away as they ought to have been. He had placed the suit he wore, when he first came aboard the schooner, in the top of the bag, so that it would not be wrinkled by the other clothes pressing upon it; but he found it at the bottom. The vest was the last article he brought to light, and to his great surprise and alarm, he found that all the pockets had been turned inside out. Then it flashed upon him, that the money he had been talking about had disappeared. Somebody had robbed him. He held the vest away from him with both hands, gazed at it a moment, and then dropped back upon his back.
Whether he went to sleep or became unconscious, Tony afterward said he didn't know; but he could not remember anything that happened during the next few hours. When he came to himself it was dark, and the forecastle was dimly lighted by a smoky lantern which hung from one of the beams overhead. His sea-sickness was all gone, and he was very hungry. He was pretty strong too, he found, when he came to sit up in his bunk, and he was able to think clearly and to remember the resolution he had made that morning.
"I am not going too stay among such a heartless lot as these sailors are," thought the runaway, as he picked up the various articles of clothing that were scattered about over the blankets, and put them back into his bag. "I have been as sick as a fellow could be all day, and not a soul has been near me to see whether I was getting better or worse. I don't believe there is one among them who would care a cent if I had died. That's not like the folks at home; and right there is where I am going, with as little delay as possible."
Having put all his clothes back into his bag, Tony threw off the blankets and arose to his feet. Then, he found, that he was not as strong as he thought he was; but still he managed to make his way to the deck. The crew, who were gathered about the windlass singing songs and telling stories (it was the second dog-watch, as the hours from six to eight in the evening are called, and they are the only hours of recreation known on shipboard), paid no attention to him as he staggered toward the galley; but Mr. Sands greeted him very cordially.
"I kinder reckoned you'd come around purty soon, an' so I kep' something hot for you," said he. "Come in an' take a bite. You don't look so peart as you did yesterday, when you come to de winder an' called me Snowball."
"I don't feel so smart, either," replied Tony, in a faint voice. "I am obliged to you for thinking of me when everybody else seems to have forgotten me, and I will try to drink a cup of tea as soon as I come back. I am going to see the captain."
"What you want to see de capin' for?" demanded the cook. "Better keep away from him? I tell you. He don't like for to be pestered."
"I am not going to pester him. I want to tell him that I have been robbed. I left fifteen dollars in the pocket of my vest when I put it into my clothes-bag, and somebody has gone through it and stolen the money."
The cook did not seem to be at all surprised by this piece of news. He did not even look up from his work.
"Well, den," said he, "what made you luff your money down dar in de fo'castle. Dat ain't no way. 'Course it would be stole if you don't take care on it."
"It's gone, and I want the captain to get it back for me," said Tony.
"How can he get it back for you? Can you pick out de man who stole it?"
"No, I couldn't do that; but if the captain should find those bills in some man's pocket, wouldn't he know that he was the guilty one?" asked Tony.
"Could you sw'ar to dem bills, if you should see em?"
"Of course not," replied Tony, who began to see what the cook was trying to get at.
"Den how de ole man goin' to get your money back? How you know dat one of de crew took it? Mos' likely somebody slip down into the fo'castle an' stole it afore we luff New Orleans. You bes' drink your tea an' make no furse. You get nuffin but jaw from de ole man; I tell you dat. Nex' time look out."
Here was another disappointment for Tony. He supposed that the captain would interest himself in his case at once, and that it would be no trouble at all for him to discover the thief and restore the lost money; but now he saw that there were difficulties in the way. Suppose the captain was willing to be "pestered" for once, that he searched the crew, and found upon the person of each of them just fifteen dollars in bills? How was Tony going to prove his property? He could not even prove that he had fifteen dollars when he came aboard the schooner, for Bradley, who was the only one who was acquainted with the fact, was miles away at that moment.
"It's gone, and that's all there is about it," said Tony, to himself, as he leaned against the bulkhead, and nibbled a piece of dry toast and drank a decoction of herbs called tea, which the cook poured out for him. "It's gone, and I am penniless as well as friendless. There is only one thing I can do now, and if I live, I am going to do it."
The tea and toast tasted better than Tony thought they would; the fresh gulf breeze blew away the slight headache he had brought out of the forecastle with him, and gave him a little strength, and the boy finally mustered up ambition enough to assist the cook in his work about the galley. While he was thus engaged, the second mate came by, and seeing that Tony had got upon his feet again, he stopped at the door long enough to tell him that he belonged to his (the second mate's) watch, which would go on duty at eight o'clock and remain on until midnight. The crew of the Princeton was so small that the men were obliged to stand watch and watch, all hands being on duty during the daytime.
Tony awoke the next morning to pass through the hardest day he had yet experienced on shipboard. His troubles began at once, for everybody, including Mr. Sands, seemed to have got up cross. While he was engaged in washing down the deck, he was thoroughly drenched by a bucket of water which was thrown into his face by the first-mate, who would not allow him to go below to change his clothing, but ordered him into the galley as soon as the scrubbing was done.
"Get out o' hyar, boy!" exclaimed the cook, when his assistant presented himself before him with dripping garments. "I done wash dis galley dis mornin', an' now you muss it all up again."
"What am I to do?" asked Tony, in some alarm. "The mate won't let me change my clothes and you don't want me here."
"Well, den, go into de cabin an' set de table afore de ole man gets up," commanded Mr. Sands.
Tony stopped long enough to wring some of the water out of the legs of his trowsers (that brought him a blessing from the second-mate, who told him in rather sharp language, that that part of the deck had been swabbed up once), and after drying his hands on one of the cook's towels, he hurried into the cabin. When he was putting up the leaves of the table, he heard the captain moving about in his stateroom and he made all the haste he could, hoping to complete his work before that officer came out; for he noticed with no little uneasiness, that he was leaving a trail behind him wherever he went. It could be plainly seen, too, dingy as the carpet was; and it was the first thing that caught the captain's eye when he opened the door of his stateroom, which he did, before Tony had fairly begun setting the table.
"What's that?" roared the captain, looking first at the carpet and then at Tony.
"The mate threw a bucket of water over me, sir," replied the boy.
"Suppose he did! Haven't you sense enough to go and get on a dry suit?" demanded the captain.
"I wanted too, sir, but he wouldn't let me."
"Well, I tell you to go and do it now."
The captain took a step forward, and Tony, who had already learned to expect a kick every time he received a reprimand, sprang quickly up the ladder.
"Now, I'll see what that mate will do about it," said he, as he made his way toward the forecastle; and sure enough he did. He had scarcely taken down his bag of clothes, when he heard footsteps, and looking up saw the mate coming down the ladder. He walked straight up to Tony, and without saying a word, knocked him flat with a blow of his fist.
"Are you going to obey orders or not?" said he, looking down at the prostrate boy, who was so badly stunned, that he could not get upon his feet. "I didn't tell you to come in here. I told you to go into the galley. Now start or I'll give you another."
Tony heard the words, but they put no life into him. They seemed to come from some far away source, and to have no reference whatever to himself. He did not even know that they were addressed to him, nor did he fully comprehend the mate's threat to give him another. He knew when the officer picked him up and shook him; but when he was released, he sunk down beside his bunk again. He heard the mate say, that he thought he had received a lesson that he would not soon forget; and saw him when he ascended to the deck, but still he did not move. He must have laid there for half an hour or more, seeing everything in the forecastle and hearing all that went on on deck, but fully sensible of nothing; and during that time, no one came near him. At last his scattered faculties began to come back to him very gradually, accompanied by a splitting headache. After two or three ineffectual attempts, he succeeded in rolling into his bunk; and for the first time since he could remember, cried himself into a dreamless slumber.
His tears or the refreshing sleep he enjoyed put his head all right again, but he found, upon examination, that his face was pretty badly battered. His eyes had a long way to look to see beyond the swelling that surrounded them, and when he made his way to the deck, the crew looked at him in the greatest surprise. So did Mr. Sands, who, without saying a word, led him into the galley and placed him in front of a little piece of looking-glass that was nailed to the bulkhead. Both his eyes were as black as his hat.
"Does you feel sick?" asked the cook, in a tone of sympathy.
"Yes, I do—sick at heart," added Tony, to himself. "Things never go right with me as they do with other fellows, and I might just as well fold my hands and let them go as they please without making any effort to better myself. There's one thing about it: I'll burn up those lying books as soon as I get home, and never think of a sailor or salt water again."
"I knowed you didn't do right to go an' raise a furse wid dat fus' mate," continued the cook. "He's a bad one."
Tony replied that he didn't raise any fuss with him, and then went on to tell why the mate had knocked him down. When he had finished his story, the darkey shook his head as if to say that it was a hard case altogether; and then he whispered to Tony—
"He never luff up on you now so long as you stay aboard dis schooner. He get wusser every day, an' de fus' thing you know you find yourself overboard. Boy, you'd bes' cl'ar yourself."
"That's just what I am determined to do," answered Tony, in the same cautious whisper. "How far are we from Havana?"
"We oughter to be dar to-morrer," replied Mr. Sands. "Now, I'll tell you what's a fac': I allers have to go ashore arter de grub, an' I'll take you along to help me tote it. If you shouldn't come back wid me, I wouldn't blame you."
As the cook said this, he winked at his assistant, who tried to respond in the same way; but he didn't succeed very well.
Tony's face would have excited the sympathy of anybody but a brutal mate. The one who had given him the blow, called upon him just as often, and expected just as much of him, as he would if the boy had been in good working condition. His creed was, that so long as a foremast hand was able to stand upon his feet, he was able to do duty; and more than that, he must attend to it or take the consequences. Tony succeeded in escaping further punishment, and it was well for him that he did so, for another blow like that might have settled the business for him for ever.
The next morning at eight o'clock, the Princeton was made fast to a jetty in the harbor of Havana, where she was to remain two or three days, or until she had discharged a portion of her cargo and taken on some more which she had been chartered to carry to Rio.
As soon as she was fairly in her berth and everything had been made snug, the doctor and his assistant made ready to go ashore—or rather the doctor did, for when Tony was about to descend into the forecastle to change his clothing, the first mate, who was always around when he was not wanted, ordered him back.
"I want to put on my shore rig," said Tony. "The captain told me to go ashore with the doctor."
"All right," was the reply. "Go as you are."
"Ay, ay, sir! I wonder if he knows what I am going to do, and if he thinks the want of good clothes will keep me from deserting this miserable craft?" thought the boy. "If he does, he doesn't know Tony Richardson. I will go with the first vessel that leaves this port for New Orleans, if I have to hang on to the rudder."
Tony did not look much like the dashing young fellow who had clambered over the Princeton's rail a few days before. His face, to quote from the doctor, was getting no better very fast; the cheap stuff of which his clothes was made, already began to show large spots of dirt and numerous signs of wear; his hands looked as though they had never been washed; and his hair wouldn't stay anywhere. No shipmaster would care to employ such a miserable looking object as he was to wait upon him at the table.
"Getting to New Orleans is the hardest part of the undertaking," said Tony, when he and the doctor were safe ashore. "If I can only reach that city, I shall be all right. Good-by, you miserable old tub," he added, shaking his fist at the schooner. "I only wish I were a man so that I could take satisfaction out of that mate. Now, doctor, I am going to leave you. Good-by!"
"Dat won't do," said the darkey, hastily. "We mustn't be friendly enough to shake hands, kase if anybody should see us, dat would fotch Mr. Sands into trouble."
"Then you take the baskets," said Tony, who had one on each arm, which the captain expected him to bring back filled with fresh vegetables.
"No, sir. I'll turn my back, an' you jes' luff 'em down an' cl'ar yourself. Dat's de bes' way. Say, boy," added the darkey, directing Tony's attention to a large steamer that lay at a pier a short distance further up the bay. "You see dat boat? Dat's de City of Baltimore. She runs between dat port an' New Orleans every three weeks. We's been in New Orleans nigh onto four weeks, an' she's never been dar, so she mus' be goin' dar now."
"I wonder if I could get a berth on her?" exclaimed Tony.
"Dunno nuffin' 'bout dat; but I'll tell you dis for a fac': Don't you luff dat boat go to New Orleans widout you. You hears me, I reckon. Hello! what's dat?"
Mr. Sands suddenly became very deeply interested in something that he thought he saw going on over toward Moro Castle, and Tony taking the hint, deposited his baskets on the ground behind him and hurried away. He quickly placed a building between himself and the cook, and looking around the corner of it saw that the latter had not yet changed his position. When he thought he had given the boy plenty of time to get out of sight, he faced about, looked all around him, and shaking his head as if he were completely mystified, picked up the baskets that Tony had dropped, and walked rapidly down the street.
"He's a good-hearted fellow," said Tony, who felt some regret at parting with his sable friend, "and he was the only one who showed me any kindness while I was on board the schooner. I hope he won't get into trouble by going back without me. Now, if I only had my money in my pocket, it would be very easy for me to reach home; and if I ever get there again I'll stay. Home is the best place, after all, and it is a great pity I couldn't see it when I was there. The old saying: 'Experience is a hard school, and none but fools learn therein,' applies to me very strongly. It takes the hard knocks to put sense into the heads of some fellows—" here he raised his hand to his face—"and if I haven't got a little now, I never shall have any."
As Tony drew nearer to the steamer, he saw that there was a goodly number of gaily-dressed passengers on her deck watching what was passing on the wharf. He had seen the time when he had mingled freely with just such a company on board his father's steamers; but if he should venture among these people in his present plight, how long would it be, he asked himself, before somebody would take him by the collar and assist him back to the pier? His place now was on deck and among the men, and there he was perfectly willing to go.
"Want to ship a hand, sir?" asked Tony, stepping up to a man who was dressed in a suit of navy blue, and wore a gold band around his cap.
"Guess not," replied the officer, taking one glance at Tony and then turning away.
"I'll not ask for any wages, sir," pleaded Tony. "I only want to work my passage to New Orleans."
"Don't want you," was the curt reply. "The crew is full."
This was very discouraging, but still Tony's case was not hopeless. The doctor's parting advice, "Don't you let that boat go to New Orleans without you," kept ringing in his ears, and to prevent it Tony was willing to do something desperate. He walked along the wharf until he came abreast of the stern of the vessel, and there he took his stand, and set himself to watch the officer to whom he had spoken. He moved away presently, and then Tony ran up the plank that led into the after gangway. There was no one in sight, but the hatchway was open, and as quick as thought Tony seized the combings, and swung himself into it. He crawled along over the boxes and bales, of which the steamer's freight was composed, and settling himself into a comfortable position by the side of a water-butt, drew a long breath of relief, and waited to see what was going to happen.