Mother Carey's Chicken Part 6

"No," replied Mark smiling; "and Bruff does not believe it either."

For after the mate had given the dog a couple of pieces of steak, Bruff had stopped by him and laid the heavy head upon his knee to patiently wait for further consignments of cargo, which, however, did not come, for the chief officer was thoughtfully stirring his tea with his left hand, while his right, as he said he hated dogs, was involuntarily rubbing the rough jowl, the process being so satisfactory that Bruff half-closed his eyes.

"Humph! This seems a better dog than some," said the mate. "No business on board ship, though. I don't even like chickens; but we're obliged to put up with them. I'm always glad, though, when they're eaten. I once went a voyage with a cow on deck. They wanted the milk for an officer's lady and her children. That cow used to make me melancholy."

"Why, sir? Was she such a bad sailor?"

"No; she was always stretching out her neck to try and lick some green paint off one of the boats. Thought it was gra.s.s. Cows have no brains.

Hallo! What is it, Billy?"

"Mr Morgan wants you, sir."

"What is it?"

"One on 'em, sir, right below."

"Bah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the mate. "Coming directly. Let him wait till I've finished my tea."

The sailor gave Mark a knowing look, and made a sign which the lad did not comprehend, as he disappeared through the door.

Mark would have given something to ask who "one on 'em" was, for the news seemed to have ruffled the mate terribly. A few minutes before he had been growing quite friendly; now he was as gruff as ever, finishing his steak viciously, and drinking his tea far hotter than was good for him.

"I'd like to trice them all up and give them the cat," he exclaimed suddenly, and with so much emphasis that at the last magic word Bruff suddenly sprang into action, c.o.c.ked his ears and tail, uttered a fierce growling bark, and then looked excitedly from one to the other, his eyes plainly enough asking the question "Where?"

"Get out with you, ugly!" cried the mate. "I meant the cat with nine tails, not the cat with nine lives. Here, young Strong, whatever you do, never take to being mate in the merchant service."

He went out on deck, and Mark followed him, eager to see what was the matter; and as he pa.s.sed out, it was to hear the second-mate say:

"I was coming after you; the poor wretch's groans are awful."

"Serve him right, the scoundrel! Government ought to interfere and put a stop to it."

"But, my dear Gregory, hadn't we better get the poor wretch out, and settle the government interference afterwards?"

"These men make me half mad," cried the first-mate. "Where do you suppose he is?"

"A long way down, I'm afraid."

"And we are behind with our lading. How can a man be such an idiot as to expose himself to such risks?" cried the first-mate.

"Sheer ignorance. If they thought they were likely to be crushed to death or suffocated, they would not do it."

"What is the matter?" asked Mark anxiously.

"Stowaway, my lad," said the second-mate. "Man hidden himself in the hold, and is frightened now the cargo has been packed over him."

A peculiar chill ran through Mark as he realised the horror of the man's position, perhaps below the huge bales and cases which he had seen lowered down into the hold, and so inclosed that it would be impossible to get to him before life was extinct.

CHAPTER FIVE.

HOW BRUFF SHOWED HE HAD A NOSE.

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

"Hush! Don't speak!" cried the first-mate, bending over the opening.

"Are you sure it isn't a cat?"

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

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

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

"Yes, we all deserve more than we get," said the second-mate patiently.

"Here, what do you make of it? The sound puzzles me, and I don't know where to begin."

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

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

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

"Humph!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the mate, "I suppose we must behave like Christians and get him out. But when I do! Here! Below there: where are you?"

No response; only the continuous moaning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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