Chapter Two.

Stowed Away.

When the “party of observation” under the leadership of the captain arrived at the foot of the companion way, nothing very alarming was presented to their notices as there were no signs of disturbance to be seen in the steward’s pantry, which was close to hand on their right; although, judging by the crashing sounds they had heard when on deck, one and all would have almost sworn that a “free fight” had taken place in that sanctum, causing its complement of crockeryware to come to irretrievable grief.

Nor was anything wrong to be perceived, at first sight, on entering within the cuddy.

On the contrary, everything there seemed in due order. The doors of the cabins on either side, as well as those of the state-rooms at the further end of the saloon, were closed in their ordinary way—with the exception of one, which was opened for an instant, to allow of a night-capped head, evidently of female ownership, peering forth for a momentary peep round, and then immediately slammed to again; and, the long table, which ran fore and aft the vessel the entire length of the apartment from the foot of the mizzen mast, was neatly spread over with a snow-white cloth, on which knives and forks were laid equi-distantly with trim regularity, as well as other prandial paraphernalia, in preparation for breakfast; while to complete the category, the swinging trays above, that oscillated to and fro as the ship gave an occasional lurch and roll to port or starboard, betrayed no lack of their proper quota of wine-glasses, decanters, and tumblers. No, there was no trace of any disorder here, nothing to account for that noise of a struggle and of breakages below that had preceded the sudden uprush of the steward to the poop. What could possibly have caused all that clatter and commotion?

Evidently so thinking, the captain, mate, and passenger looked at each other in a bewildered fashion, as if each were endeavouring to solve some knotty conundrum, and had ultimately come to the conclusion to “give it up!”

They had not long to wait, however, for an explanation to the mystery.

All at once, a deep, sepulchral groan came from abaft the mizzenmast, as if some one was being smothered in the hold below; and, almost at the same instant, there echoed from the adjacent cabin—that whence the night-capped head before mentioned had popped out—a shrill scream, as of a female in distress, succeeded by the exclamation, “Gracious goodness, help us and save us! We shall all be murdered in our beds!”

“Be jabers,” ejaculated the mate, following up the captain, who had immediately rushed aft to the spot whence the groan had proceeded; “sure and that’s the Meejor’s swate voice! I’d know it onywheres, aven in the Bog of Allen!”

On the captain reaching the end of the cuddy table, which had, of course, interfered with his view, the crash of crockery which they had heard, and which had been hitherto inexplicable, became at once clear; for, there on the floor of the deck was the débris of a pile of plates and scattered fragments of cups and saucers which had been suddenly dropped by the steward in his fright and were smashed to atoms; while, in the centre of the scene of devastation, was the dungeon-like cavity of the after-hatchway, the cover of which had been shifted from its coamings by the man, in order for him to get up some of the cabin provisions from the hold, whose gloomy depths were only faintly illumined by the feeble rays of a lantern, which as it lay on its side rolling on the deck, participated in the general upset.

Captain Dinks promptly took up the lantern, holding it over the open hatchway; and, as he did so, a second groan came from below, more hollow and sepulchral than before.

“Who’s there?” shouted the captain down the hatchway.

There was no reply, save a fainter moan, apparently further away in the distance, followed by a sort of gurgling sound, and then the fall of some heavy object was heard in the hold.

“Who’s there below?” repeated the captain, endeavouring to pierce the cimmerian darkness by waving the lighted lantern about and holding it as far down the hatchway as his arm could reach. “Speak or I’ll fire!”

This was an empty threat of the skipper’s, as he held no weapon in his hand save the lantern; but it had the necessary effect all the same.

“It’s only me, massa,” said a thick guttural voice from below; “only me,” repeated the voice pleadingly. “Goramighty, massa, don’t shoot!”

“And who’s me?” interrogated the captain sternly, as the mate and the passenger looked at each other inquiringly, a smile creeping over Mr Meldrum’s face, while the Irishman screwed up his left eye into a palpable wink.

“Me, Snowball, sah—a ’spectable collud genleman from Jamaikey, massa,” replied the voice in the hold.

“And what the dickens are you doing aboard my ship?” asked Captain Dinks in an angry tone; but the others could see that he was half-laughing as he spoke.

“Me want passage, sah, back home. Very bad peoples, sah, in Plymouth; tieve all poah niggah’s money and make him drunk. Snowball starbing; so um see lubly fine ship goin’ way and get aboard in shore boat wid um last shillun: eb’ryting scramble and jumble when come on deck; so Snowball go get in cabin, and den down in hold, where he see steward stow um grub, and lie quiet till ship sail. When hold open, he try get out, but can’t; box fall on um foot, and Snowball holler wid pain; steward tink um de Debbel and knock down tings. Snowball done no harm; um bery bad wid um leg!”

“Sure, an’ it’s an impedent schoundrel he is, the spalpeen!” said the mate. “Of all the cheeky stowaways I ever came across, he bates the lot entirely. Shall I rouse him up with a rope’s end, cap’en?”

“No, wait a bit, McCarthy,” said the captain; “we’ll try a little persuasion first. Here, ‘Snowball,’ or whatever else you call yourself, just sling your hook out of that, and come up here. I fancy I shall be able to accommodate you with something, besides a free passage at my owner’s expense!”

“Can’t, massa,” replied the stowaway, after making a movement, as they could hear, below, succeeded by a suppressed cry of pain; “um leg jammed ’tween box and cask: Snowball feel bery bad—tink leg go squash: can’t move um nohow.”

“Be jabers!” exclaimed the good-natured Irishman, “sure an’ the poor baste’s hurt, and, by your lave, cap’en, I’ll go down and say what’s the matther.”

“Do,” said Captain Dinks; but ere he could get out the word, the mate, taking his consent for granted, had caught hold of the hatchway coamings with his powerful hands and swung himself down on to the lower deck; reaching up afterwards for the lantern, which the captain handed him, and then disappearing from view as he dived amongst the heterogeneous mass of boxes and casks, and bales of goods, mingled with articles of all sorts, with which the place was crammed.

After a moment’s absence, he came back beneath the hatchway.

“Plaze, git a blanket or two out of one of the cabins, cap’en, to hoist him up,” said he; “the unlucky beggar sames to be injured badly, and I think his ribs are stove in, besides a heavy box having fallen on his leg. He hasn’t got such a chape passage this toime as he expected; for he has been more’n half suffocated in the flour hogshead where he first stowed himself away; and, begorrah, to look at him now, with his black face all whitened, like a duchess powthered for a ball, and his woolly hid, and the blood all over him, as if he had been basted wid a shillelagh at Donnybrook Fair, why, his own mother