We and the World, Part II | Page 9

little round the piles, and there was some
creaking and groaning and grinding, and the vessels drifted at their
moorings, and bumped against the wharves.
The watchman paced up and down, and up and down. I did not hear
him very clearly from under the tarpaulin, and sometimes when he
went farther away I did not hear him at all. At last I was so long
without hearing him that I peeped cautiously out. What Biddy had said
might be, seemed really to have happened. The watchman was sitting
in a sort of arm-chair of ironbound cotton-bales; his long coat was
tucked between his legs, his hat was over his nose, and he was fast
asleep.
I did not need any one to tell me that now was my time; but it was with
limbs that almost refused their office from sheer fright, that I crept past
the sleeping man, and reached the edge of the wharf. There was the
vessel moving very slightly, and groaning dismally as she moved, and
there was the hole, and it was temptingly dark. But--the gangway that
had been laid across from the wharf was gone! I could have jumped the
chasm easily with a run, but I dared not take a run. If I did it at all it
must be done standing. I tried to fetch a breath free from heart-throbs,
but in vain; so I set my teeth, and pulled nerves and sinews together
and jumped.
It was too much for me, and I jumped short and fell. Then my training
under the half-caste told in my favour. I caught the edge of the hole
with my hands, and swung suspended over the water, with quite
presence of mind enough to hear and think of what was going on about
me. What I heard was the watchman, who roused up to call out, "Who's
there?" and then he shot a sharp ray of light from his lantern right into
the hole. It was very lucky for me that I was so low, for the light went
over my head, and he saw nothing of me, my dark clothes making no
mark against the ship's black hull.

My head was cool enough now, and my heart steady, and I listened
with an intensity that postponed fear, though my predicament was not a
pleasant one, and the rippling water below me was confusing.
The suspense was no doubt shorter than it seemed, before the light
disappeared, and with a thankful heart I distinctly heard the watchman
flop down again among the cotton-bales. Then I drew myself up over
the edge and crept noiselessly into the ship. I took care to creep beyond
reach of the lantern, and then the swaying of the vessel made me feel so
giddy that I had to lie still for a while where I was, before I could
recover myself enough to feel about for a suitable hiding-place.
As I afterwards learnt, I was on the lower deck, which was being used
for cargo instead of passengers. The said cargo seemed so tightly
packed, that in spite of creeping, and groping, and knocking myself
pretty hard, I could feel no nook or corner to my mind. Then I turned
giddy again and reeled against the door of a cabin, which gave way so
far as to let me fall inwards on to a heap of old sails, ropes, and other
softish ship lumber stowed away within. As I fell my hand struck
something warm, which I fancied gave a writhe out of my grasp. I
groped and seized it again, and now there was no mistake. It was
somebody's arm, who said in a quick undertone, "Gently, gently, sirs;
I'm coming along with ye. I'll gie ye my word I'm after no harm."
I was taken aback, but thought it well to keep up my position, which
appeared to be one of advantage. The young man (for it was a
youngster's voice) was evidently no ship's officer. If he were a
dockyard pilferer, it was a nuisance, and a complication in my affairs,
but I might pull through the difficulty with presence of mind.
"Speak low!" I whispered sharply. "What's your name, and where do
you come from?"
"Alister Auchterlay, they call me" (the whisper was a reluctant one, but
I jogged his arm rather fiercely to shake the truth out of him). "I come
from Aberdeenshire. But, man! if ye're for having me up in court, for
GOD'S sake let me plead in another name, for my mother taks the
papers."

"What are you doing here?" I whispered in a not very steady whisper,
as I think my prisoner detected.
"I'm just stowing away," he said eagerly; "I'm no harming a thing. Eh,
sir, if you're a ship's 'prentice,