But I thought it best to say nothing; I had bound myself to obey orders,
and it was too late to retreat. So I only asked for a shovel, or spade,
or something else to work with.

"We don't dig gardens here," was the reply; "dig it out with your
teeth!"

After looking round, I found a stick and went to scraping out the pen,
which was awkward work enough, for another boat called the "jolly-boat,"
was capsized right over the longboat, which brought them almost close
together. These two boats were in the middle of the deck. I managed to
crawl inside of the long-boat; and after barking my shins against the
seats, and bumping my head a good many times, I got along to the stern,
where the pig-pen was.

While I was hard at work a drunken sailor peeped in, and cried out to
his comrades, "Look here, my lads, what sort of a pig do you call this?
Hallo! inside there! what are you 'bout there? trying to stow yourself
away to steal a passage to Liverpool? Out of that! out of that, I say."
But just then the mate came along and ordered this drunken rascal
ashore.

The pig-pen being cleaned out, I was set to work picking up some
shavings, which lay about the deck; for there had been carpenters at
work on board. The mate ordered me to throw these shavings into the
long-boat at a particular place between two of the seats. But as I found
it hard work to push the shavings through in that place, and as it
looked wet there, I thought it would be better for the shavings as well
as myself, to thrust them where there was a larger opening and a dry
spot. While I was thus employed, the mate observing me, exclaimed with