close; the folds of canvas, which at first had seemed as soft as any fellow could have asked for, became hard as iron, and he suddenly discovered that he was sore and lame from having been flung about when the vessel rolled.

The hardships of a stowaway's life suddenly became a reality, and instead of congratulating himself upon being on board the Merrimac, he began to speculate upon the probable length of the voyage.

He hungered to hear the voices of the men more distinctly, and spent full two hours gently moving the dunnage around so that he might crawl out near the entrance to this seeming cave.

When he had gotten so far into the forecastle that no more than two coils of rope hid him from view of the watch below, and understood it would be dangerous to advance any farther, he learned that it was impossible to hear any more than such words as were spoken in the loudest tone. There was little hope of being able to realise what might be going on around him by such means.

Then came a most dismal twenty-four hours, when the Merrimac, met full in the teeth by a gale of wind, staggered, plunged, and rolled her way along, every wave striking the iron hull with a force that caused Teddy to wince, and then came that deathly sickness which those who sail upon the sea are sometimes forced to endure.

There were many hours when the stowaway believed the steamer was about to go to the bottom, and he fancied death was the only relief from his agony. He even ceased to think of his father, and considered no person save himself, wondering why he had been so foolish as to believe it might be wise to search for Commodore Schley's flag-ship.

More than once while the malady had a firm hold upon him, did he decide to throw himself upon the mercy of whosoever might chance to be in view when he emerged from the hiding-place, and perhaps if the sickness had been less severe, his adventures would have ended as do the greater number of such exploits.

Once having recovered, however, his heart became braver, even though he learned that nearly all the water had been spilled while the steamer was tossing about so wildly, and his store of provisions, which had seemed so large when he came on board, was nearly exhausted.

After this the hours passed more slowly, and each moment the imprisonment seemed more irksome.

It was only with difficulty he could force himself to remain screened from view, and more than once did he venture dangerously near the entrance to his floating cave in the hope of seeing a human face, but yet he kept his secret forty-eight hours longer, when the provisions, as well as the water, had come to an end.

He had ceased to speculate upon the meeting with his father, but thought only of how long he could endure the pangs of hunger and thirst, and even the fear of the commander's possible brutality faded away as he dwelt upon the pleasure of having sufficient to eat and drink.

And finally, as might have been expected, the moment arrived when he could no longer hold his courage against the suffering, and he made preparations to discover himself.

How long he had been cooped up in that narrow place it was impossible for him to so much as guess; he did not try to compute the number of hours that had elapsed since he last tasted food or water; there was only in his mind an intense desire to receive the punishment for having stowed away, in order that he might the sooner satisfy the cravings of his stomach.

"It's no use to hold on any longer; the voyage ain't comin' to an end for weeks an' weeks, an' I'll be dead in another day if I don't have somethin' to eat. I'll go out this minute, an' take whatever they give me in the way of a floggin', for waitin' won't make things any better."

Having arrived at this decision, Teddy Dunlap began to attack the cordage which screened the entrance to his retreat as if each strand of rope was a deadly enemy to be overcome without loss of time, and when he had thrown down the last obstacle he stood blinking and winking in the not overly strong light of the forecastle, confronted by a short, round-faced sailor, who surveyed him in mingled fear and astonishment.

"Where—who—what—oh, a stowaway, eh?" the little man cried, after having expressed on his glistening face, in rapid succession, fear, astonishment, and bewilderment. "Well, I'll eat my hat if I ever heard of a lad stowin' away on a collier what's out on an errand like ours!"