Porto Bello gold

by Arthur D. Howden Smith

So I followed his example, and we fell to work with our spikes upon the sprung plank, the sweat pouring in rills of moisture from our half-naked bodies, our crude tools slipping in our greasy fingers as we pried and pushed and fought for every inch of space betwixt the plank and the upright it was nailed to. Peter did all the work. It was his tremendous muscles that fretted and teased the point of his spike into the tiny gap that awaited us, that gradually enlarged the advantage. All I could do was to hold whatever space he won, giving him opportunity to improve upon it until a smashing drive of his great shoulder tore the plank loose at one end.

We waited, then, gasping for breath, wiping the sweat from our eyes, fearful lest the wrench of the wood as it was ripped free should have attracted the attention of some member of the crew. But nobody appeared, and the uproar on deck was audibly decreased. Even the crew of the Walrus found occasion for sleep.

The most difficult portion of our task was immediately ahead. We had to pry loose now a plank which was nailed fast to the uprights, and we dared not resort to the use of any substitute for a hammer because of the noise. 'Twas necessary for Peter's fingers to force the point of a spike between plank and upright and slowly wedge the two apart. He did it, with the palm of his bare hand for a mallet, his muffled grunts the only indication of the energy he expended.

But this was a matter of several hours, for I was less able to assist than I had been before. My puny strength was wholly inadequate to the wrestle with seasoned wood and tempered iron which he must carry on in cramped quarters and semidarkness.

As the last nail yielded to Peter's shoulder the thin clangor of the bell of the Royal James stole down to us out of the night. Four times it rang—two o'clock! No answering strokes sounded on the deck above us. Ship routine was a thing of caprice aboard the Walrus.

"Get oudt, Bob," whispered Peter.

I wriggled through the gap in the bulkhead, and he passed the lanthorn after me. Its flame was burning low, but I had sufficient light to determine that I stood in a stores-hold crammed with casks of rum, salt meat and ship's biscuit. A door in its for'ard bulkhead led to another hold of the orlop deck, where were a hatch and ladder leading up to the gundeck. I crept as far as the foot of the ladder and listened to the snores of the scores of men who slept in hammocks slung between the great guns of the battery. That way lay our only path of escape.

I returned to Peter in a mood that was none too cheerful; but he was already at work with his spike, hissing like a kettle on the boil as he prodded away with its blunted point. I was able to be of more assistance to him this time, since from the farther side 'twas possible to exert a greater leverage, once the plank was sprung loose. Yet the James sounded seven bells before we were successful. Peter grunted his satisfaction.

"We got time," he said. "Whoof! So much I sweat I slide me t'rough dot hole."

The lanthorn's flicker was little more than a pin-prick of flame in the darkness of the ship's bowels, but I lighted my shirt from it and held this aloft to help him see his way. He was stripped to the buff, and his pink, hairless body was all a-glisten as he rolled into the opening. His head and shoulders made it easily, but I saw with dismay that his immense paunch was an insurmountable obstacle. He heaved and shoved and twisted. 'Twas no manner of use. He could not pass that gap without the removal of another plank, and there was not time for that. At any moment the James would ring eight bells. And at any moment then she would be under way.