The moment I let go I felt that I must slip down again. Still the fear of another lash made me exert myself in a way I could not otherwise have done, and I tried very hard to put on my waistcoat and jacket, and to tie my handkerchief, by sitting down on a lower bunk.
“Now, come along!” said the mate; “the captain wants to speak to you.”
I attempted to walk, but as I tottered on my knees again failed me, and I should have fallen had not the mate caught me by the shoulders and dragged me along the deck.
It was a severe discipline, but it was effective, for the air and the necessity of moving quickly brought back strength to my limbs, and by the time I reached the quarterdeck I was able to keep my feet, though I should have fallen had not the mate still held me.
We there found the captain pacing to and fro. On turning he stopped when he saw me.
“Is this the young stowaway, Mr Huggins?” he asked, eyeing me very sternly. “What business had you to come aboard, boy, without leave?”
“Please, sir, I couldn’t help it,” I said, and I told him that when merely intending to look round the ship I had fallen into the hold.
“A likely story, youngster, which I don’t intend to believe. You came on board to please yourself, and now you’ll learn to please me, and do the work you’re set to do.”
“I’ll do my best, sir,” I answered, for I saw he was not a man to be trifled with; “but I am not fit for much at present.”
“You contrived to live down in the hold in an extraordinary manner—how did you manage it?”