The Boy Tar

by Mayne Reid

I was still under the belief that it was a bale of linen that lay on the top, and this quite hindered me from thinking of going upward. My attention was turned, therefore, to the right and the left.

I knew that by tunnelling either way I should gain no advantage. It would not bring me an inch nearer the desired goal; and even after I should have made a stage in either direction, I should still be only in the “second tier.” This was discouraging enough—more loss of labour and time—but I dreaded that horrid bale of linen!

One advantage I had gained by knocking out the whole end of the cloth-case. I have already said there was a space of several inches between it and the great coffin that contained the piano. Into this space I could insert my arm beyond the elbow, and ascertain something about the sort of goods that lay right and left of me.

I did so. I was able to perceive that on each side was a box or case—both of which, as near as I could guess, were similar to that in which I was—that is, both were cloth-cases. This would do well enough. I had now obtained such practice in breaking open these chests, and rifling them of their contents, that I considered it a mere bagatelle; and I should not have desired anything better than that the cargo had consisted entirely of those goods, for which the West of England has long been so famous.

While groping along the sides of these cases, it occurred to me to raise my hand upward, and just ascertain how far the bale of linen projected over the empty cloth-case. To my astonishment it did not project at all! I say to my astonishment, for those bales I had already examined were as near as possible of the same size as the cases of broadcloth; and as this one wanted quite a foot of being “flush” with the inner end of the case, I concluded I should find it that much over at the other end. But it was not—not an inch over; and therefore, thought I, it must be a smaller package than the others.

While making this reflection something suggested that I should scrutinise the bale more closely. I did so, both with my fingers and the blade of my knife, and was now agreeably surprised to find that it was not a bale at all, but a wooden box. It was covered all over with a soft thick substance—a piece of rush matting—and this it was that had led to my mistake.

The possibility of tunnelling in a vertical direction was now apparent. I could easily hew off the rush matting and then deal with the box as I had done with the others.

Of course, I thought no longer of taking the roundabout way by the right or the left; but at once changed my intention, and determined to travel upward.

I need hardly describe how I made my entry into this mat-covered box. Suffice it to say, that I began by cutting one of the lid boards of the empty cloth-case, and then drawing it downwards till I pulled it out. The open space by the side of the ship proved an advantage to me while making the cross-section, as it allowed me to ply my blade freely through the planks.

Having succeeded with one board, I was enabled to detach another without any more hewing; and this gave me enough space to work on the bottom of the covered case.