Chapter 61 - The Boy Tar by Mayne Reid
A Milliner’s Box
I was not long about this business. I soon perceived that the back of the empty space was closed in by a large box, and a similar one blocked up the right side. The left was the diagonal edge of the case itself, about twenty inches or two feet in width.
But I troubled myself very little either about back, left, or right. It was the ceiling of the little chamber that had the greatest interest for me; for it was in that direction I intended, if possible, to continue my tunnel.
I knew that I was now far enough in the horizontal direction; for the chief advantage I had gained by the discovery of the empty space was, that it carried me the thickness of the piano-case—about two feet, as I have said—in this course, besides the distance that was open, upwards. Neither forward, then, nor to the right or left, did I wish to go, unless forced to do so by an obstacle. Upward was the echo of my thoughts. Excelsior! excelsior! Two or three stages more—perhaps less, if no obstacle intervened—and I might be free. My heart beat joyfully as the prospect passed before my mind.
It was not without a keen anxiety that I raised my hand to the ceiling of the empty chamber. My fingers trembled as they touched what I well knew to be canvas, and involuntarily they recoiled from it. O, mercy!—once more that hated fabric—a bale of linen!
I was not so sure of this however. I remembered the mistake I had already made in this regard. I must examine farther.
I closed my fist, and gave the bottom of the package a smart rap with my knuckles. Ha! it was a pleasant sound that answered to the blow. It was not a bale of linen, then, but a box, covered, like many others, with several folds of coarse cheap canvas. It could not be cloth, either; for instead of the dull report which the cloth-boxes give out when struck, the one in question returned a hollow sound, precisely that of one that was empty!
This appeared strange enough. It could not be empty, else why was it there? and yet if not empty, what did it contain?
I hammered upon it with the haft of my knife—still the same hollow sound!
“Good!” thought I. “If empty, all the better; but if not, surely there is something in it of a light nature—something that may be easily got rid of. Good!”
After making this reflection, I resolved to waste no more time in conjectures, but to satisfy myself of the contents of this new box, by making my way into it; and in a trice I had ripped off the canvas that protected its bottom.
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.