Chapter 57 - The Boy Tar by Mayne Reid
A very grand Obstacle
The good ship Inca, then, was like most others built to the merchants’ order. She was “pigeon-breasted,” and bulged out along the sides in such a fashion, that her hold was far wider than her beam; and, looking up from the bottom of the hold, the sides appeared to curve towards each other, and converge over you like a roof. I knew that this was the shape of the Inca, for it was then the universal shape of merchant vessels, and I was somewhat used to noticing ships of all kinds that came into our bay.
I have said that, while trying through the slits of the top of the box with my knife, I felt something soft, which I took to be a bale of linen; but I had also noticed that it did not extend over the whole lid. On the contrary, there was about a foot at the end—that end contiguous to the ship’s timbers—where I could feel nothing. There were two slits, and I had run my blade through each without touching any substance, either hard or soft. I concluded, therefore, that there was nothing there, and that about a foot of space behind the bale of linen was empty.
This was easily explained. The bale standing on the two large cloth-cases, was at that height where the side of the ship began to curve inwards; and as its top would lie in contact with the timbers higher up, the bottom angle would evidently be thrown out from them to the distance of a foot or so, thus leaving a three-cornered space quite empty, being only large enough to hold small packages of goods.
I reasoned, therefore, that if I were to proceed vertically upward, I should soon come in contact with the side timbers of the ship, constantly curving inward as high as the deck itself, and that I should meet with many obstacles, such as small packages, which I knew would be more difficult to deal with than large cases and boxes. For this reason, then, but more for the others already assigned, I came to the determination to make my next move in a horizontal direction.
You will perhaps wonder that I should have taken so much pains to determine this point; but when you reflect upon the time and labour which it required to cut through the side of a box, and then through the adjacent side of the next—in short, to make a “stage” in advance—when you reflect that a whole day might be so occupied, you will then perceive how important it was not to act rashly, but, if possible, to proceed in the right direction.
After all, I was not quite so long in choosing which way to go, as I have here been in narrating my reflections about it. It only required a few minutes for me to make up my mind; but I was so pleased at being once more on my legs, that I remained standing for nearly half an hour.
When sufficiently rested by this, I placed my arms inside the upper case; and then, drawing myself up, prepared to go on with my work.
I experienced a thrill of joy as I found myself in this upper box. I was now in the second tier of the packages, and more than six feet from the bottom of the hold. I was full three feet higher than I had yet been; three feet nearer to the deck and the sky—to my fellow-creatures—to liberty!
On minutely examining the end of the case through which I intended to make an aperture, I was further joyed to find that this part of my work would not be difficult. One board was already loose—the looseness having been caused by my tearing out the large piece at the bottom. Moreover, the blade of my knife told me that the object that was beyond, did not stand close up to the case, but was several inches from it. In fact, I could only just reach it with the tip of the blade. This was a manifest advantage. I should be able, by a strong push or kick, to start the board outward, and then dispose of it on one side or the other between the two packages.
And this I finally succeeded in doing. Booted for the purpose, I laid myself back, and then commenced beating a tattoo with my heels.
In a short while the “scranching” sound announced that the hoops and nails were giving way; and after another kick or two the board flew out, and slipped down between the boxes quite out of my reach.
I was not slow in thrusting my hands through the aperture thus made, and endeavouring to ascertain what sort of an article was to come next; but though I could feel a broad surface of rough plank, I was unable to make out what sort of a package it was.
I knocked out another piece from the end of the cloth-case, and then a third—which was all there was of it—so that I had now the whole end open before me.
This gave me a fine opportunity to explore beyond, and I continued my examination. To my surprise, I found that the broad surface of rough deal extended in every direction beyond my reach. It rose vertically, like a wall, not only covering the whole end of the cloth-case, but stretching beyond it, upward and on both sides—how far I could not tell, but so far that, after thrusting my arms up to the elbows, I could feel neither edge nor corner.
This, then, was certainly a case of different shape and size from any I had yet encountered; but what kind of goods it contained, I had not the slightest idea. Cloth it was not likely to be, else it would have resembled the other cases; nor yet linen—and there was some gratification in knowing it could not be this.
In order to ascertain what it really was, I inserted my blade through the slits of the rough deal. I felt something like paper; but I could perceive that this was only an outside covering, for immediately under it a hard substance resisted the point of my blade, almost as hard and smooth as marble. By pressing the knife forcibly, however, I could feel that it was not stone, but wood, some kind that was very hard, and that appeared to be polished finely on the surface. When I struck suddenly against it, it gave out an odd echo—a sort of ringing sound, or “twang,” but for all this, I could not imagine what it was.
There was no help for it but to cut into the case, and then perhaps I should become better acquainted with the contents.
I followed a plan I had tried already. I selected one of the boards, of which the great case was made, and with my knife cut it across the middle. It was nearly twelve inches in width, and the work occupied me for many long hours. My knife had become as “dull as a beetle,” and this added to the difficulty of the task.
The section was completed, at length; and, laying aside the knife, I contrived to draw one end of the cut plank outwards. The space between the two cases gave me room to move the board upward and downward, till at length the nails at the end were twisted out, and the board fell down along with the others.
The second half was displaced in a similar manner; and I had now made an opening in the great case, large enough to enable me to examine its contents.
There were sheets of paper spread over the surface of something hard and smooth. These I dragged outwards, and laid the surface bare; and then I ran my fingers over it. I perceived that it was some kind of wood, but polished till it was as slippery as glass. It felt to the touch just like the surface of a mahogany table; and I might have mistaken it for one, but on rapping it with my knuckles, it gave forth that same ringing hollow sound I had already noticed. Striking it with still greater violence, I could hear a prolonged musical vibration, that reminded me of an Eolian harp.
But I had now become aware of the nature of this huge object. It was a Pianoforte. I had seen one like it before. One used to stand in the corner of our little parlour, upon which my mother often made most beautiful music. Yes, the object whose broad smooth surface now barred my way, was neither more nor less than a Piano.