Then I took a lantern and went exploring down in the hold of the
ship, which was pretty much empty of cargo, and foul, and smelt as if
things had rotted there a hundred years. There were barrels and boxes
and old canvas, and heaps of scrap iron, and some lead pipe, and
coils of bad rope. Afterward I came on deck, and had supper and
talked with Monson. He kept nudging me now and then, and saying,
"It's that way;" and me answering, "There's reason in it, when it's
put that way."
About nine o'clock I went below. By ten Monson and all the negroes
were asleep, except two with the other white man on watch. I waited
an hour, and then took a saw and a lantern, and crept from the cabin
down the ladder to the hold. The sea was easy, though moving some,
and slapping the ship's sides and the hold was full of loud echoes,
smelling bad, and very black beyond the space of lantern light, a
slimy cold place, and full of sudden noises. I worked till far in the
morning, sawing lead pipe into thin sections of maybe an eighth of an
inch thick, and thinking about Monson and whether he was deep or not.
I thought he was right about the negroes, but I thought Monson wasn't
deep, but simple by nature.
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