All at once the sounds ceased, and there was profound silence in the ship--at least I could hear no one stirring about. "At last they have knocked off," thought I; "they are now gone to bed; but surely it must be near daybreak, though day has not yet broken, else I should see some light through the aperture. Well! I shall try to go to sleep again myself." I laid me down as before, and endeavoured to compose myself to sleep. In about an hour's time I had well-nigh succeeded in doing so, when the thumping of the boxes re-commenced, and roused me up afresh. "What? they are at it again! Surely they cannot have been to sleep?--an hour--it was not worth their while to lie down for an hour." I listened to assure myself that they had really set about work again. There could be no doubt of it. I could hear the clinking and clanking, and the creaking of the pulley-blocks just as before, only not quite so loud. "Well," thought I, "it is a strange crew, working thus all night long. Ha! on second thoughts, perhaps it is a fresh set who are at it--another watch that has relieved the former one?" This was probable enough, and the conjecture satisfied me. But I could no more compose myself to sleep, and lay listening. Still they worked on, and I could hear the noises through the longest night I ever remember. Several hours they had kept at it, and then there was a pause of about an hour, and then I heard the work progressing as before, and as yet there were no signs of morning--not a ray of light came near me! I began to fancy I was dreaming, and that those spells of work that seemed to last for hours were only of minutes' duration. And yet, if they were only minutes, I must have been gifted with a strange appetite, for no less than three times had I fallen ferociously upon my provisions, until my stock was well-nigh exhausted. At length the noises ceased altogether, and for several hours I did not hear them. During this interval there was almost complete silence above and around me, in the midst of which I again fell asleep. When I awoke, my ears were once more greeted with sounds, but these were quite of another character from those I had before been listening to. They were to me sounds of joy, for I at once recognised the well-known "crik-crik-crik" of a windlass, and the rattling of a great chain. Down where I was, in the hold, I did not hear these noises very distinctly, but enough so to know what was going on above. _They were weighing the anchor; the ship was about to sail_! I could scarce restrain myself from giving a cheer; but I managed to keep silence, fearing that my voice might be heard. It was not yet time. If heard, I should be dragged forth, and sent packing without ceremony. I therefore lay as still as a mouse, and listened to the great chain harshly rasping through the iron ring of the hawse-hole. Harsh as it may have sounded in other ears, it was music to mine at that moment.