“Couldn't get but two-thirds cargo below because the lumber was sawed so long. Made it up by extra deck-lo'd.”
“Yes, piled it all on deck so as to make her top-heavy—so as to be sure of catching us,” suggested Mayo, beginning to work his hammer and chisel on the sheathing.
“'Tain't no such thing!” expostulated Captain Candage, missing the irony. “Them shingles and laths is packet freight, and I couldn't put 'em below because I've got to deliver 'em this side of New York. And you don't expect me to overhaul a whole decklo'd so as to—”
“Not now,” broke in Mayo. “The Atlantic Ocean has attended to the case of that deckload.”
“My Gawd, yes!” mourned the master. “I was forgetting that we are upside down—and that shows what a state of mind I'm in!”
Mayo had picked his spot for operations. He drove his chisel through the sheathing as close to the cabin floor as he could. Remembering that the schooner was upside down and that the floor was over his head, the aperture he was starting work on would bring him nearest the bilge. When he had chiseled a hole big enough for a start, he secured the saw from the mate and sawed a square opening. He lifted himself up and worked his way through the hole and found himself on lumber and out of water. It was what he had been hoping to find, after the assurance from the master: the partial cargo of lumber in the hold had settled to the deck when the schooner tipped over. Investigating with groping hands, he assured himself that there were fully three feet of space between the cargo and the bottom of the vessel.
“Come here with your daughter, Captain Candage!” he called, cheerily. “It's dry in here.”
He kneeled and held his hands out through the opening, directing them with his voice, reaching into the pitchy darkness until her hands found his, and then he brought her up to him and in upon the lumber.
“It's a little better, even if it's nothing to brag about,” he told her. “Sit over there at one side so that the men can crawl in past you. I'll need them to help me.”
“And what do you think now—shall we die?” she asked, in tremulous whisper.