Sail Ho! Part 73

There was a loud breathing and panting, and though Barney Blane and I could see nothing with our eyes, yet we could mentally picture the great slow-moving sailor crawling into an aperture between the beams and the heterogeneous stowing of bales and boxes, casks and crates of all kinds of goods en route for our destination.

Now we knew that his head and chest were in, for his voice came in a half-smothered tone.

"Deal hotter in here, messmate. Just take hold o' my hind legs, as if they was part of a wheelbarrow, and give 'em a lift and a shove at the same time."

"That right?"

"Yes; that's good. Steady!"

"Steady it is."

"Now another. With a will, my lad."

"Right. How far are yer in?"

"Up to the middle, lad; and if yer give another shove I can get a bit of a pull here. That's yer sort."

"I can't get you up no farder, messmate," said Bob. "Yes, I can, if you clap your foots together. I'll plant my hands again 'em, and ram yer along that way. Ready?"

"Ay, ready," came in smothered tones.

"There you goes then," growled Bob. "Now another. I'll shove yer feet with my hands."

There was a loud grunting and rustling, and Bob said, panting--

"There he goes. I've sent him in as far as I can reach. He must do the rest hisself."

We crouched there just under the streaks of light which came down from the cuts, listening for a good ten minutes to the scuffling, scrambling noise made by the big sailor, but they all sounded close to us, as if he was not making much way; but I concluded that this was because the opening conducted the sound so well, and in hopeful antic.i.p.ation I saw the brave fellow going on and on along the top of the cargo till he reached the forecastle bulk-head, upon which our friends must have tapped their signals. Then we should be able to arrange a plan of co-operation, and perhaps succeed in re-taking the vessel, when crash!

down went my card castle.

"Bob!" came in smothered tones.

"Hullo."

"Can't get any farder, mate."

"Why?"

"I'm too big."

"Well, then, come back and let me try."

"Can't, mate."

"Why?"

"'Cause I'm stuck fast, and can't move either way a hinch."

Bang, bang! came on the hatches overhead, in company with a loud talking, and above it the voice of Jarette.

"Have it off, my lads. Only one, my braves. And below there, be quiet all of you. Make a movement, and I'll shoot you down like dogs."

Those were terrible moments. The sudden glare of light by the removal of the hatch dazzled us, a couple of pistols were thrust down, and a bucket of water was lowered. Then some biscuits were thrown to us, as if we were the dogs of which Jarette had spoken; and I crouched there motionless, thinking only of Dumlow jammed in there amongst the cases, and expecting moment by moment to hear him call out for help.

But, poor fellow, he was as silent as we were, feeling as he did and afterwards said to me, that it would have been like telling Jarette that we had a chance of getting out.

But before the hatch was rattled on again, and hammered down into its place, I managed to get a glimpse of the opening in among the cargo, into which we had been thrown, and in that rapid glance I grasped the fact that it had evidently been made by the removal of a number of cases, probably hoisted out by Jarette's men.

I did not breathe freely again till the hatch was replaced, but I did then, from the fact that the strain was taken off my mind, and the hatch had been off long enough for the foul hot air below to rise, and be replaced by fresh.

To my great delight the tarpaulin was not put down over the opening, and consequently there were a few vivid pencils of light to brighten our prison.

We waited till the men had gone forward, and then I spoke to Dumlow.

"Are you sure you can't get any farther?" I whispered.

"Yes, sartain, sir."

"Then make another trial and get back at once."

"Can't, sir."

"Nonsense," I cried, speaking sharply to inspirit him; "if the hole was big enough for you to go in, it's big enough for you to come out."

"No it arn't, cause it's like a rat-trap, and the corners and things keeps you from getting back, sir."

The perspiration began to stand out on my forehead, and a strange feeling of horror came over me as I thought of the man's position, and of what might happen if he could not get back; while just as thoughts of suffocation ensuing came rushing through my mind, the object of my thoughts suddenly said in a low husky voice--

"Bob, lad?"

"Hullo, mate!"

"You and Barney get hold of a leg each, and haul me back, or I shall be suffocated."

"Yah! not you; wiggle yourself back, matey."

"There arn't no wiggle left in me, lad, and it's so hot that I can't breathe."

"Have another try," whispered Barney.

We heard a rustling, struggling sound as if some one was striving hard to get forward or back, but without result, and then the voice came more husky and smothered than ever.

"No go, lads. Look sharp and have me out, or I'm a goner."

"Get out," growled Bob, quite excitedly. "You don't half try."

"I did, mate, but I'm getting worse," came back faintly, "I'm a-swelling up and fitting tighter every moment. Can't yer get me out?"