The potatoes had not been carelessly thrown in upon him. It had been done intentionally, to act as a part of his punishment.
Long before anyone on board was asleep, Max was wishing that he had never thought of running away.
He thought of the fine dinner that had been served at Cliffmore hours before, and here was he, Max Deland, in an old and dirty barrel that vegetables had been stored in, very hungry, and with no way of obtaining anything to eat.
After a time, his cramped position became unbearable, and slowly but surely he crept out of the barrel, and upon the cabin floor, where, because he was so weary, he fell into sound sleep.
At daylight a group of sailors were looking down at the sleeping boy.
The captain of the barge spoke.
"Good-looking little chap, but he must learn not to try this trick again. Let him lie there until he wakes. Then give him some breakfast, hard tack and water, remember, and then give him the task I set for him. When the first fishing smack, bound for Eastville appears, start him for home."
"Aye, aye, sir!" was the prompt reply, and the boy stirred as if he had heard it.
"Come now! Step lively!" cried the mate. "No loitering on shipboard."
Max, hardly awake, barely grasped the meaning of the words, and scrambled to his feet.