One thing I was determined on, and that was not to return to the dreadful hold. I looked back at it with horror, and I shuddered to think of the amount of rats’ flesh I had eaten. Yet in many respects I was not better off than before. I had not found any food. My position might be perilous in the extreme, for I could not tell what was around me. I might, should a sudden breeze come on, be thrown back again to the bottom of the hold. For some time I could not move, or exert my mental or physical powers. I again thought that I was going to die; but I was not really so weak as I supposed, for at length, a desire to live returning, I raised myself and tried once more to work my outward way. I could find no outlet, and as my voice had failed me, I was unable to shout, but I could manage to move about. I was very thirsty, and notwithstanding my previous resolution not to return to the lower part of the hold, I thought the wisest thing I could do was to go down and get a draught of water. I believed that I could easily find my way. I let myself down off one bale and then another, till I came to the crate. I crept through it, and curiously enough I felt as if I had returned home. I walked up to the water-cask as if it had been an old friend, with delight, and took a draught of water. It was cool and refreshing, and revived me greatly. I felt hungry; I had hoped never again to eat another rat, but the keenness of my appetite overcame my scruples, and I took one out of the bag. I even thought of placing the bag ready to catch some more. I, however, only ate one of the creatures, though not without difficulty, in spite of my hunger. I then bathed my face and washed my hands, to look a little more respectable should I ere long make my appearance among the crew. For this purpose I withdrew the spile, and allowed the fresh water to trickle first over my hands, and then over my face. This still further refreshed me, and I wished that I had performed a similar operation oftener. Had I not suspected that the water at the bottom of the hold must have been by this time very foul, I should have taken off my clothes and had a bath.
I refrained, however, from doing this, and contented myself with the pleasant sensation of feeling cleaner than I had been for a long time. I suspect that had I had a looking-glass placed before me, I should not have known myself. On feeling my arms and legs, they seemed like those of a skeleton; my cheeks were hollow, and my hair long and tangled. The rat which I had last eaten had dulled the sense of hunger. I felt a peculiar sensation afterwards, which convinced me more than ever that I could not long exist on rats’ flesh. I fancy that I might have been wrong.
It was night when I made my last attempt to get upwards, so I thought that I would take a sleep and renew my efforts in the daytime, when I should have a better chance of attracting notice should I get near the hatchway. I accordingly lay down to rest, hoping that it would be the last time I should have to sleep in the hold. I took only short snatches of sleep.
When I awoke I lay for some time without moving, and could not help thinking over and over again of the events which had occurred since I left the quay at Liverpool. I knew that the end of my confinement must be approaching in some form or other; I should either die, or be restored to the open air. In spite of the wretched condition to which I had been reduced, I had a strong wish to live. I especially wanted to go back to assure Aunt Deb that I had not intentionally run away, and also to relieve the minds of my father and mother, and brothers and sisters, of the anxiety I believed they must have felt on my account. Suddenly also I remembered with painful distinctness the remarks Mr Butterfield had made respecting Captain Longfleet, the commander of the “Emu,” and his ruffianly crew. Certainly their appearance was not in their favour; and old Growles, who had received me so surlily, was not a good specimen of British seamen. What if the ship should prove to be a pirate, instead of an honest trader? I had heard of the crews of vessels, fitted out at Liverpool, assisting slavers on the coast of Africa in carrying out their nefarious trade, some committing all sorts of atrocities.
Should the “Emu” prove to be one of these, even if I were not hove overboard, I might be sold as a slave in the Spanish possessions, perhaps to labour in the mines among the hapless Indians, who are thus employed by their cruel taskmasters. “Where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise,” and I should have been much less anxious had I not heard so much about such things. I remembered especially a yarn old Riddle told me one day about a messmate of his, Toney Lawson. I may as well try to give the yarn in his own words, though that may be a hard matter, and I can scarcely hope to do full justice to his narrative.
“Toney, d’ye see, was once on a time knocking about Plymouth, after he had been paid off from the ship he last sailed in, when who should he meet but Joe Gubbins, who had served with him for many years gone by. Joe had always been a wild slip of a fellow when he was a youngster.
“Said Joe to Toney, ‘What are you doing in these ’ere parts, old Ship?’
“Toney told him how he had been paid off and had pretty well emptied his pockets of shiners, and was thinking that before long he must join another craft.
“‘That’s just what I was a thinking of too, so just step in here, mate, and we’ll have a talk about the matter over a glass or two,’ and he pointed to the door of a public-house which stood temptingly open to entice passers-by.
“Toney was not one of those chaps to get drunk on every occasion, but he had no objection to good liquor when it came in his way. So, intending to pay for what he had, he went in with Joe. Joe boasted of a craft he had served aboard—a privateer, he called her. She had taken no end of prizes, and had made every one on board her as rich as Jews, only somehow or other they didn’t keep their money as well as Jews did, ‘and that’s the reason why my pockets ain’t lined as well as they were a few weeks ago,’ observed Joe. Toney, who was a steady sort of a man, didn’t quite like the account Joe gave of the ‘Viper’s’ cruise Joe was talking about.