Directly after, as the lad looked down he could see the mate tap once more upon a case in the curious-looking hollow.
“Now, then,” he shouted, “where are you?”
There was a silence that was painful in its intensity, and then plainly heard came a faint groan.
“Hooray, my lads! he’s here, and alive yet,” cried the mate, and the men set up a hearty cheer. “Steady, steady! He’s close here. Let’s have out this case next.”
“No, no,” cried the second-mate; “I see.”
“See what?” said Mr Gregory gruffly.
“Ease off that bale a little, and we can draw him out.”
“Draw him out! How? Well, of all! Of course!”
A lanthorn was being held to the side beneath Mark, and, staring over, he, too, grasped the position, which was plain enough now to all.
The case which the mate proposed to remove was one of the great deal chests with the top angle cut right off and used to pack pianos, and in the triangular space nearly six feet long between the case and the chests around the unfortunate man had crept, taking it for granted that he would be able to creep out again forward or backward after the ship had sailed.