Off Santiago with Sampson

Once having decided that this was to be his abiding-place during the time he could remain in hiding on board the Merrimac, Teddy set about making such bestowal of the goods as would best serve to his comfort, arguing with himself that he might not have another opportunity for putting the new quarters into decent shape.

Understanding that once the steamer was at sea she would be tossed about by the waves until it might be difficult for him to remain in whatever place he pleased, the boy's first care was to make of the rope and canvas a barricade to hold the remainder of the goods in proper position, and, this done, there was little else possible, save to unroll a bolt of the sail-cloth that it should serve as a bed.

"It's a good deal snugger than I expected, an' the dark part of it don't count," he said to himself, contentedly, as he wedged the two tin pails filled with water, and his store of provisions, inside the largest coil of rope. "When there ain't too much noise I can hear the crew talkin', and that'll help out big if a feller happens to get lonesome. Them signs on the coal-yard said 'keep out,' an' I come in; now I ought'er put up one that says 'keep in,' an' perhaps I'll go out quicker'n I'm countin' on. Anyhow it's a case of keepin' in mighty snug, 'less I want to run up against that captain once more, an' I'm thinkin' he'd be an ugly customer."

Teddy Dunlap was well content. He believed his store of provisions and water was sufficient to keep both hunger and thirst at a distance during such time as it might be necessary for him to remain there in hiding, and when the short term of imprisonment should come to an end, he would be with his father.

What more could any twelve-year-old boy ask for?

It was while counting up his reasons for being thankful that the stowaway fell asleep, the heat, the darkness, and the comparative quiet all contributing to make his eyelids heavy, and he was yet unconscious when two noisy, bustling little tugs, one either side of the big vessel, towed her down the harbour.

The voyage had begun, and, apparently, there was no suspicion in the minds of the officers that the Merrimac had on board other than her regularly shipped crew.

When Teddy awakened he felt comfortable both in mind and body; the steamer was rising and falling on the ocean swell, but not to such a degree as inconvenienced him in the slightest, and the many odours with which his nostrils were assailed passed almost entirely unnoticed.

He believed, because of the pounding of the waves, that the Merrimac was rushing through the waters at a sharp pace, and this supposed fact was in itself sufficient to counterbalance any defects he may have discovered in his hiding-place, for the greater the speed the sooner he might see his father.

Not until after he had been awake several moments was it possible to distinguish, amid the varied noises, the sound of human voices; but he was finally able to do so, and became greatly cheered thereby.

"Now, this ain't goin' to be so bad," he said to himself, contentedly. "I'll know everything that's goin' on, 'cause it won't be a big job to crawl out far enough to hear the men talk, an' a feller couldn't be better fixed, not if he'd paid two prices for a ticket."

Then the idea came to Teddy Dunlap that he was hungry, and he laughed gently at the thought that it was only necessary to stretch out his hand in order to satisfy the desire.

"Talk 'bout your palace-cars! They ain't a marker 'longside this way of travellin'. I don't have to wait for any tousled-headed nigger to bring my order, 'cause here it is!"

Straightway the boy began to satisfy his hunger, doing it in an economical fashion, for he was not minded to exhaust his supply on the first day of leaving port.

He drank sparingly of the water, but yet taking sufficient to quench his thirst, and when the meal was come to an end lay back on the canvas bed luxuriously, congratulating himself again and again, upon his determination to go in search of his father.

The motion of the steamer grew more violent; but Teddy was proof against such rolling as the Merrimac was indulging in then.

There remained the same buffeting of the waves which told of progress; told that the distance between himself and his father was rapidly being lessened, and this was sufficient for the stowaway.

The plunging of the steamer was to Teddy Dunlap no more than the violent rocking of a cradle would be to an infant; it prevented him from remaining quiet as would have been pleasant, but did not drive slumber from his eyelids.

In less than ten minutes after having partaken of the meal he was again wrapped in slumber, and during a full twenty-four hours he alternately slept and ate; but at the end of that time was more than ready for a change of programme.

Then it was that his eyes refused to close; the folds of canvas, which at first had seemed as soft as any fellow could have asked for, became hard as iron, and he suddenly discovered that he was sore and lame from having been flung about when the vessel rolled.

The hardships of a stowaway's life suddenly became a reality, and instead of congratulating himself upon being on board the Merrimac, he began to speculate upon the probable length of the voyage.

He hungered to hear the voices of the men more distinctly, and spent full two hours gently moving the dunnage around so that he might crawl out near the entrance to this seeming cave.

When he had gotten so far into the forecastle that no more than two coils of rope hid him from view of the watch below, and understood it would be dangerous to advance any farther, he learned that it was impossible to hear any more than such words as were spoken in the loudest tone. There was little hope of being able to realise what might be going on around him by such means.

Then came a most dismal twenty-four hours, when the Merrimac, met full in the teeth by a gale of wind, staggered, plunged, and rolled her way along, every wave striking the iron hull with a force that caused Teddy to wince, and then came that deathly sickness which those who sail upon the sea are sometimes forced to endure.

There were many hours when the stowaway believed the steamer was about to go to the bottom, and he fancied death was the only relief from his agony. He even ceased to think of his father, and considered no person save himself, wondering why he had been so foolish as to believe it might be wise to search for Commodore Schley's flag-ship.

More than once while the malady had a firm hold upon him, did he decide to throw himself upon the mercy of whosoever might chance to be in view when he emerged from the hiding-place, and perhaps if the sickness had been less severe, his adventures would have ended as do the greater number of such exploits.

Once having recovered, however, his heart became braver, even though he learned that nearly all the water had been spilled while the steamer was tossing about so wildly, and his store of provisions, which had seemed so large when he came on board, was nearly exhausted.

After this the hours passed more slowly, and each moment the imprisonment seemed more irksome.

It was only with difficulty he could force himself to remain screened from view, and more than once did he venture dangerously near the entrance to his floating cave in the hope of seeing a human face, but yet he kept his secret forty-eight hours longer, when the provisions, as well as the water, had come to an end.

He had ceased to speculate upon the meeting with his father, but thought only of how long he could endure the pangs of hunger and thirst, and even the fear of the commander's possible brutality faded away as he dwelt upon the pleasure of having sufficient to eat and drink.

And finally, as might have been expected, the moment arrived when he could no longer hold his courage against the suffering, and he made preparations to discover himself.

How long he had been cooped up in that narrow place it was impossible for him to so much as guess; he did not try to compute the number of hours that had elapsed since he last tasted food or water; there was only in his mind an intense desire to receive the punishment for having stowed away, in order that he might the sooner satisfy the cravings of his stomach.

"It's no use to hold on any longer; the voyage ain't comin' to an end for weeks an' weeks, an' I'll be dead in another day if I don't have somethin' to eat. I'll go out this minute, an' take whatever they give me in the way of a floggin', for waitin' won't make things any better."

Having arrived at this decision, Teddy Dunlap began to attack the cordage which screened the entrance to his retreat as if each strand of rope was a deadly enemy to be overcome without loss of time, and when he had thrown down the last obstacle he stood blinking and winking in the not overly strong light of the forecastle, confronted by a short, round-faced sailor, who surveyed him in mingled fear and astonishment.

"Where – who – what – oh, a stowaway, eh?" the little man cried, after having expressed on his glistening face, in rapid succession, fear, astonishment, and bewilderment. "Well, I'll eat my hat if I ever heard of a lad stowin' away on a collier what's out on an errand like ours!"

"Yes, I'm a stowaway, an' I don't care who knows it!" Teddy cried, in a tone of desperation. "I held in just as long as any feller could, an' it seems as if I was next door to bein' dead, I'm so thirsty an' hungry!"

"You won't count triflin' things like that after you've come face to face with the captain, lad," and the little man appeared as truly sorrowful as any one of a like jolly countenance ever can, however saddening the situation.

"Will he let in to me pretty tough?"

"I'm thinkin' that anything else you've had in that line will seem a good deal like a joke, alongside of what he'll deal out, an' that ain't the worst of it."

"What else can he do?" and Teddy looked up timidly, absolutely frightened out of his hunger.

"This 'ere is the next thing to a government steamer, seein's we're on naval service, an' the captain is like to turn you over to the first cruiser we meet, for extra punishment. I don't know how Uncle Sam treats them as stows away on his vessels, but I'll go bail it ain't with any very tender hand."

Teddy Dunlap looked around the forecastle, searching for some one to whom he could appeal, for he believed this jolly-looking little sailor was trying to play upon his fears; but the sea-parlour was empty.

If he had waited forty-eight hours for an opportune time in which to make his appearance, he could not have come at a better moment.

"What's the use tryin' to scare a feller almost to death?" he asked, piteously. "I've got to take the dose, of course; but there's no need of your rubbin' it in."

"I ain't comin' any game on you, lad, an' that's the solemn truth. While I never saw the captain of this 'ere steamer till I came aboard, I'll eat my hat if he ain't a tartar when you rub his fur the wrong way, an' I'm tryin' to think if there ain't some way of gettin' you out of the scrape."

"I'd go back into my hole if I had somethin' to eat an' drink."

"Where'd you come from?"

Teddy pointed to his late place of concealment, and the jolly little man said, quite cheerfully:

"That's the very thing for you to do, my son. I don't want to see you abused, an' it'll be hard lines if between us you can't be got off this bloomin' steamer without everybody's knowin' that you've cheated Uncle Sam out of a passage."

"Can you get me somethin' to eat?" Teddy asked, imploringly.