by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER SIXTY TWO.
HALF SUFFOCATED.
Having disposed of the bonnets, my next step was to climb up into theempty box; and, if possible, get the lid, or part of it, removed. But,first, I endeavoured to ascertain what was on the top of it, and forthis purpose I adopted a plan that had already served me more thanonce--of feeling through the slits with the blade of my knife.Unfortunately, this was now shorter, and not so suitable for such aservice, but it was still long enough to reach through a piece of inchplank, and two inches beyond, and this would no doubt enable me todetermine whether the next obstacle to be encountered was a hard or asoft one.
Once within the bonnet-box, I stuck my blade up through the lid. Thepackage above was composed of something soft and yielding. I rememberedthat there was a canvas cover, but I drove the blade in to its hilt, andstill it encountered nothing like wood--nothing that resembled theboarding of a box.
But I was equally certain that it was not linen, for the bladepenetrated as freely as it would have done into a mass of butter, andthis would not have been the case had it been a bale of linen. Knowingit could not be this, my mind was easy. I would rather have had to dealwith anything else.
I tried in several places--in fact, all over the top--and at every pointI could bury my blade as far as the haft would let it go, with a veryslight effort used to push it in. Certainly the package consisted ofsome substance I had not before encountered, but as to what it was Icould form no idea.
However, it did not feel as though it would present a serious obstacleto my progress; and under this pleasant impression, I went to work toundermine it, by taking a board out of the lid upon which it lay.
This, of course, required me to go through the tedious and painfulprocess of making a cross-section with my knife--a kind of work thatabsorbed more of my time, and caused me more labour, than all the restput together. But it was absolutely necessary, for there was no otherplan by which I could tunnel through the tops of the boxes. On eachrested the heavy weight of the packages above, and to start one of theplanks, with this weight pressing down upon it, was impossible. It wasonly by cutting them across that they could be removed.
The lid of the bonnet-box did not prove so difficult to cut through. Itwas of thin deal, and in about a half or three quarters of an hour I hadthe middle piece of the three--for there were just three boards in it--cut into twain. The sections were easily bent downwards, and removed.
A patch of the canvas covering was then hacked off, and I could now getmy hand upon the unknown package that was resting on the top. Irecognised the object at once. I had been enough about my uncle's barnto know the feel of a sack. This, then, was a _sack_.
It was full of something: of what?--wheat, or barley, or oats? No, itwas not grain--something softer and finer: was it a sack of meal?
I should soon ascertain that. My blade entered the sack, and a slit wascut large enough to admit my fist. I had no need to thrust my handinside, for as I held it under the vent thus opened, I felt a soft,powdery substance streaming downward, with which my palm was instantlyfilled; and as my fingers closed upon it, I felt satisfied that I hadgot hold of a fistful of flour. My hand went straight to my lips, and asingle taste of the precious dust confirmed my conjecture. It was asack of flour.
This was a joyous discovery. Here was food, and enough to last me formonths! No more danger of starvation--no more rat diet. No. On flourand water I could live like a prince. What matter if it was raw? it wassweet, and palatable, and wholesome.
"Heaven be praised! I am no longer in danger!"
Some such exclamation escaped me, as I arrived at a full appreciation ofthe importance of my new discovery.
I had now been at work for many hours, and once more needed rest. I washungry, too, and could not resist the desire to make a grand meal on thenew article of diet; and, filling my pockets with the flour, I preparedto return to my old lair behind the water-butt. I took the precautionto stanch the wound I had made in the flour-sack, by sticking a piece ofloose canvas into the vent, and then I commenced my descent. The rats,bag and all, were chucked into the first convenient corner that offered,with the hope that no necessity would ever require me to draw them outagain; and, then, having mixed me a large quantity of flour paste, Imade as hearty a meal upon it as if it had been the nicest hasty_pudding_ that ever was cooked.
A few hours of good sleep again refreshed me; and, on awaking, I ateanother hasty meal of the paste, and after that commenced ascending mynow greatly-extended gallery.
As I climbed through the second tier of boxes, I was surprised to feelon all sides of me a soft, powdery substance, resembling dust scatteredover the boards wherever they lay horizontally; but on passing into thetriangular space by the piano-case, I found the lower half of thiscavity filled with the same dust, so that, as I stepped upon it, I sankup to the ankles. I perceived, moreover, that a shower of this softsubstance was falling down upon my head and shoulders; and, as Iinadvertently turned my face upwards, it came rushing into my mouth andeyes, causing me to sneeze and cough in the most violent manner.
I felt for a moment as if I was in danger of being suffocated, and myfirst impulse was to beat a speedy retreat, and get back to the rear ofthe water-butt. But I had no need to go quite so far; for on gettingout to the old biscuit-box, I perceived that there the dust no longerreached me.
I was not long in arriving at an explanation of this singularphenomenon. It was the flour that was causing such a "stoor." Themovement of the ship had shaken out the canvas rag with which I hadstopped the vent, and the flour was escaping. No doubt this was thecause of the wastage.
The idea that all the flour would be lost rushed into my mind, and, as aconsequence, that I should once more be forced to return to the ratdiet. It would be necessary, therefore, to ascend to the sack, and stopthe wastage at once.
Notwithstanding some apprehensions I had on the score of suffocation, Iperceived the necessity of action; and closing both mouth and eyes, Iscrambled as fast as I could towards the empty bonnet-box.
I felt flour lodged on all sides as I went up, but I fancied it was nolonger showering downwards. This was in reality the fact; for onreaching the bonnet-box, I found that it had ceased to run out of thesack, and for the best of reasons--it was now all out of it. The sackwas empty!
Perhaps I should have regarded this as a greater misfortune, but I sawthat the flour was not all lost. A good deal, no doubt, had filteredthrough the crevices, and got down to the bottom of the hold; but alarge quantity--as much as I would be likely to need--had lodged uponthe pieces of cloth that I had placed in the bottom of the triangularcavity, and also in other places where I could get at it whenever Iwanted.
It mattered little, however; for in another moment I had made adiscovery that drove all thoughts of the flour out of my head, andrendered any calculation about my future provision--either of food orwater--a subject of the most trifling importance.
I had stretched up my hand to ascertain if the sack was quite empty. Itappeared so. Why, then, should I not pull it through the aperture, andget it out of the way? No reason why I should not; and I at oncedragged it down, and flung it behind me.
I then raised my head through the end of the box into the space wherethe sack had lain.
Merciful heavens! What did I behold? _Light! light! light_!