Into one corner of this place they flung him.
"I guess you can howl yourself sick in there, and no one will hear you while we're at the dock," chuckled Walstein brutally, as he went out, slamming the bulkhead door behind him.
Soon after the vibratory motion of the engines ceased, and Tom could hear shouts and tramplings on deck. He guessed they were making fast to some dock, but where their stopping place was, he had, of course, no means of knowing.
In spite of Walstein's words, Tom did shout. He yelled and cried out for help till his throat was sore and cracked, and his voice a mere whisper. But no help came to the dark, stuffy place in which he had been flung.
CHAPTER V.
TOM IS IN THE THICK OF IT.
Tom had no way of gauging how long it was he lay in the pitchy darkness, before there was a scraping and a sliding sound, and a sort of trap-door in the deck above him was opened.
He was still wondering what this might portend, when the lip of a metal chute was suddenly projected into the opening, and without warning a shower of coal started to pour into the place, which, Tom now saw, was an empty coal bunker.
The boy shouted and halloed at the top of his voice, but it was some time before anybody appeared. By the time they did, the avalanche of coal threatened to overwhelm poor Tom, and his position was anything but enviable.
At length, however, a face was poked over the edge of the hole, and Tom, to his great relief, heard a voice shout: