“Oh, yes; this is Liberty Hall,” he answered.
I was going forward, when I heard my name called, and going to the spot from whence the voice came, I saw the first lieutenant standing before my chest, at which he cast a look of mingled indignation and contempt. By his side was a warrant officer, whom I heard addressed as Mr Bradawl, with a saw and chisel and hammer in hand.
“Does this huge chest belong to you?” asked old Rough-and-Ready, as I came up.
“Yes, sir,” I answered; “I’m rather proud of it.”
“We shall see if you continue so,” he exclaimed. “Do you think we have room to stow away such a lumbering thing as this? Where’s the key?”
I produced it.
“Now tumble your things out.”
“But please, sir, I haven’t room to pack them away. I have got this bundle, and that case, and those other things are all mine.”
“Tumble them out!” cried the lieutenant, without attending to my expostulations.
I obeyed. And the carpenter began sawing away at a line which old Rough-and-Ready had chalked out not far from the keyhole. Mr Bradawl had a pretty tough job of it, for the oak was hard. The lieutenant stood by, watching the proceeding with evident satisfaction. He was showing me that a first lieutenant was all-powerful on board ship. I watched this cruel curtailment of my chest with feelings of dismay.