Chapter 64 - The Boy Tar by Mayne Reid
An Astonished Crew
I tried to think of some way by which I might be enabled to make reparation for the loss; but my reflections were only foolish, as they were bitter. I owned nothing in the world that I knew of—nothing but my old watch—and that—ha! ha! ha!—would scarce have paid for the box of crackers!
Yes, there was something else that belonged to me—and does still (for I have kept it till this hour)—something which I esteemed far more than the watch—ay, far more than I would a thousand watches; but that something, although so highly prized by me, would not have been valued at a single sixpence. You guess of what I am speaking? You guess, and rightly, that I mean that dear old knife!
Of course, my uncle would do nothing in the matter. He had no interest in me farther than to give me a home, and that was a thing of choice rather than responsibility. He was in no way bound to make good my damages; and, indeed, I did not permit myself for a moment to entertain the idea.
There was but one thought that held out to me the slightest hope—one course that appeared to be tolerably rational. It was this: I could bind myself to the captain for a long period. I could toil for him as a boy-sailor—a cabin-boy—a servant—anything that would enable me to work off my debt.
If he would only accept me for this purpose (and what else could he now do, unless, indeed, he really did toss me overboard), then all might yet be right.
The thought cheered me; and I resolved, as soon as I should reach the captain’s presence, to make the proposal.
Just at that moment I heard a loud stamping noise above me. It was a continued series of thumps, that resembled the heavy footsteps of men passing backward and forward over the decks. They were on both sides of the hatchway, and all around it, upon the deck.
Then I heard voices—human voices. Oh, how pleasant to my ears! First, I heard shouts and short speeches, and then all of them mingling together in a chant or chorus. Rude it may have been, but during all my life never heard I sounds that appeared to me so musical or harmonious as that work-song of the sailors.
It inspired me with confidence and boldness. I could endure my captivity no longer; and the instant the chorus ended, I sprang forward under the hatch, and with the wooden handle of my knife knocked loudly upon the planks overhead.
I listened. My knocking had been heard. There was a parley among the voices above, and I could distinguish exclamations of surprise; but although the talking continued, and even a greater number of voices appeared to take part in it, no attempt was made to take up the hatch.
I repeated my knocking louder than before; and added to it the summons of my voice; but I could myself perceive that my voice was tiny and feeble as that of an infant, and I doubted whether it could have been heard.
Again I listened to a volley of loud exclamations that betokened surprise; and from the multitude of voices I could guess that the whole crew was around the hatchway.
I knocked a third time, to make sure; and then I stood a little to one side, in anxious and silent expectation.
Presently I heard something rubbing over the hatches. It was the tarpaulin being removed; and, as soon as this covering was taken off, I perceived that light shot in through several chinks at the joining of the planks.
But the next moment the sky suddenly opened above me; and the flood of light that poured down upon my face, rendered me quite blind. It did more—it caused me to faint and fall backward against the boxes. I did not lose consciousness all at once, but swooned gradually away under a feeling of strange bewilderment.
Just as the hatch was lifted upwards, I noticed a ring of rough heads—human heads and faces—above the edge, all around the great opening, and I observed that all of them were drawn suddenly back with an expression of extreme terror. I heard cries and exclamations that betokened the same; but the shouts gradually died upon my ears, and the light dimmed and darkened in my eyes, as I lapsed into a state of unconsciousness, as complete as if I had been dead.
Of course, I had only swooned; and was insensible to what was passing around me. I did not see the rough heads as they reappeared over the edge of the hatch frame, and again reconnoitre me with looks of alarm. I did not see that one of them at length took courage, and leaped down upon the top of the cargo, followed by another and then another, until several stood bending over me, uttering a volley of conjectures and exclamatory phrases. I did not feel them as they tenderly raised me in their arms, and kindly felt my pulse, and placed their huge rough hands over my heart to see whether it was still beating with life—no more did I feel the big sailor who lifted me up against his breast and held me there, and then, after a short ladder had been obtained and placed in the hatchway, carried me up out of the hold and laid me carefully on the quarter-deck: I heard nothing, I saw nothing, I felt nothing, till a shock, as if of cold water dashed in my face, once more aroused me from my trance, and told me that I still lived.