And now his only friend was torn away, and cast into the black depths of the hold, smarting with pain, writhing under the ignominy of a first blow, and chained hand and foot like a mad dog. If little Paul had known that the captain would kill him, I think he might have found his way to that poor friend.
At last they were together, down in the black hollows of the ship, with scarcely a breath of air, and surrounded by a host of uncouth objects, which appalled them like the walls of a prison. They had no light, and the rush and gurgle of the waves sounded horribly distinct. Jube held up bravely after his little master came to bear him company. No groan escaped his lips, but he insisted on sitting up, and made Paul nestle close to him, striving to soothe and comfort the child, spite of his own keen suffering.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAINED IN THE HOLD.
Chained in the hold, drifting away—it was only after dark that Paul could visit his friend without fear of detection. On the third night, they were together in the hold. Thrasher himself had been down just before, and finding Jube without irons, had riveted them on his limbs with his own hands, so the poor fellow was bowed down with the weight of his chains, and could not even hold the child to his bosom when he came to share his solitude.
It was very dark, and Paul was compelled to feel his way through the freight heaped up on each side the place where Jube was confined.
"Jube, Jube! do you hear?" he called out, in a frightened voice.
Jube lay still, for he was afraid of frightening the boy by the clank of his chains, but he called out softly, "Yes, little master, here I am, just here, don't hurt yourself against the boxes."
"Can't you come and help me, Jube; it's dark as midnight."
"Well, little master, it ain't just convenient this minute; but if you'll listen while I talk, and come by the sound, it'll bring you right straight to Jube."