Story Two: Aboard the Sea-Mew.Story 2--Chapter I.I shipped aboard the Sea-mew, full-rigged, trading from the port of London to New Zealand. Two more old shipmates of mine entered along with me; and we were just beginning to feel the breeze that would send us down Channel in less than no time. The skipper came aboard at Gravesend, and the rest of the passengers, and among ’em we had one poor chap who had to be whipped up in a chair, looking the while like as if he’d come aboard to find a hammock and a sailor’s funeral. There was some petticoats, too, about him, and they had to be whipped up too, but I didn’t take much notice, being hurried about here and ordered there, and the passengers all seeming to have an idea, that now they’d come aboard, all there was to do was to get in everybody’s way, and stand wiping their eyes. They would get in your way and aggravate, and when they moved, go and stand somewhere wuss, till it was enough to make a saint swear; and I’m blest if I don’t think that, being a man used to the sea, and a quick-tempered sort of a fellow, Peter hisself would have gone on ’most as bad as I did. What does a great fat fellow of two-and-forty want to go walloping down where the mate had told you to coil forty fathom o’ rope, and then begin blubbering like a great gal? And what do people as have done nothing but grumble and cuss at the old country, go waving their handkerchiefs at it for, and then fall into one another’s arms a-kissing and a-hugging, and just, too, when the deck’s in such a litter that the skipper and the mate are ’most raving mad?It’s a nice place, deck of a ship just before sailing, what with the lumber, and the crew being all raw, and half of ’em three parts, or quite drunk. We’d a nice lot, we had, aboard the Sea-mew; for it seemed to me, as soon as I saw them together, that the skipper had been having the pick of the docks, and choosing all them as nobody else wouldn’t take aboard a ship. But it was in this way: there’d been a sort of an upset about pay, and half the merchant-sailors were on strike; and as the owners of the Sea-mew had advertised her to sail at a certain time, and it was ten days past that time, the skipper had been obliged to sign articles with any one he could get. They were all fresh ones to us; six-and-twenty of ’em, but mostly seemed to know one another, and how to handle a rope.We’d a mixed freight—live-stock mostly, going out emigrating, and more live-stock to feed ’em with, and a young doctor to see as they was all well, and had their salts-and-senny reg’lar; and a great big chap as couldn’t stand up down below, but was always chipping his head, and taking the shape out of his hat against what he called the ceiling. They said he was a nat’ralist, though he was about the longest, okkardest, corner-shaped, unnat’ral fellow I ever did see; and he’d got more live-stock in no end of great cages—cock-sparrows and tom-tits, and blackbirds and starnels, and all sorts o’ little twittering things to introduce amongst the New Zealanders. Then there was Brummagem and Manchester and Sheffield goods, and plants and seeds in cases; and the deck that full, that, as I said before, it was enough to make any one swear, let alone a sailor.’Tain’t a nice time, the first week at sea; for, to begin with, it takes all that time to get the longshore goings-on shook out of the men, and them fit to work well together; then, if it happens to blow a bit, as it mostly does in the Channel, there’s all the passengers badly, cabin and steerage, and their heads chock-full of shipwrecks; and when they ain’t frightened of going to the bottom, calling the doctor a brute for not attending to ’em. Sea-sickness is bad enough, while it lasts, but folks needn’t be so disagreeable about it, and every one think his case ten hundred times worse than anybody else’s; but they will do it; and as for the fat chap as cried so about going away, he quite upset the young doctor, as they called Mr Ward; and if I’d been him, and been bothered as he was, I’d have give Mr Fatsides such a dose o’ Daffy as would have sent him to sleep for a week.Story 2--Chapter II.“You’ve put your foot in it, Sam Brown,” I says to my old shipmet when things was about knocked together, and we were bowling along well out of sight of land. We’d been putting that and that together, and found out that for some months to come, let alone wind and weather, we’d got our work cut out, the skipper being one of your reg’lar slave-drivers, that nothing can’t satisfy, and the mate a sneak, as would do anything to please the captain. So “You’ve put your foot in it, Sam Brown,” I says; but he only grunted. Bill Spragg, though—my other mate—turns a bit rusty, and says it was me as got them to sign the articles, and it was all my fault; for he was a bit sore, owing to a row he’d been in that day.But it was no use to growl, and say the ship was a bad one; we were in the ship, and bad captain, bad mate, bad crew, and bad victualling, there it all was, and there was no getting away from it.“Never mind, lads; ’tain’t bad pay,” I says.“Pay!” says Bill Spragg. “I’d forfeit to-morrow to be out of it, and—Look ye there, Tom.”I turned to look; and it was the passenger I’ve spoken of before, him that was whipped up on deck, and now he was out for the first time for a walk, being a bright sunshiny time; while the petticoat as came on board with him was leading him about the deck.“Looks bad,” I says.“Yes,” says Bill. “But I meant the lass. Just look at her.”“What for?” I says.“Fine lines,” growls Sam Brown, squinting at her, for he was a chap that could squint awful, and when he looked partic’lar at anything his eyes used to get close together, and he had to turn his head first on one side and then on the other. He was such a quiet chap, and spoke so little, that I used to think his eyes tried to turn round and look inside his head, to see what he was thinking about. “Fine lines,” he says, and then he shuts one eye up, and holds it close, while he has another look.“Beautiful! ain’t she?” says Bill.“Gammon,” I says. “Wax-doll. She’d better not get wet, or she’d melt. I wish they wouldn’t have no women aboard.”“Why?” says some one close behind me. And looking round, there was the young doctor and Tomtit, as we called him—the long chap as had all the birds.“Why?” I says gruffly; “because they’re in the way, and ain’t no good, and consooms the ship’s stores. Would my deck be littered here with hens and cocks singing out eight bells when ’tain’t nothing of the kind; and a couple of cows as is always lowing to be milked, and then giving some thin stuff like scupper-washings; and a goat and sheep till the place only wants an old turkey-cock and jackass or two to be a reg’lar farmyard, ’stead o’ a ship’s deck—would there be all these things there if it warn’t for the women? Bother the women! I wish there wasn’t a woman on the face of the earth.”“He was crossed in love when he was a young un, sir,” says Bill Spragg with a grin.“Women’s right enough ashore,” says Sam Brown, and he squinted towards where the sick patient was along with the petticoat, till both his eyes went out of sight behind his nose, which was rather long in the bridge, and then he sighed, and we sprinkled the sea with a little baccy-juice before coming back to the job we were at—scraping the chain-cable.“One of our protectors wants to pay his regards to you, Miss Bell,” says Mr Ward, the young doctor, you know, for just then she was passing close with the poor thin sick chap, who was her husband, and I saw her just bend her head as the doctor and Tomtit took off their hats to her.“Sarvant, miss,” I says gruffly, getting my legs straight too, for there was something about her that seemed to compel one to be civil like, being such a bright-eyed girl, with red and white in her face and a set o’ teeth as couldn’t have known what it was to want to be pulled out in their lives. “Sarvant, Miss,” I says, making a scrape, and not a bit took aback. “I was only a-saying as worn—ladies ain’t no business aboard ships.”“And why not?” she said quietly.“’Cause all’s rough and ready, and folk’s tongues gets running too free afore them,” I says. And then to myself: “That’s one for you, Mr Jalap;” and then I turned towards the sick young man, whose sunken eyes looked brighter, and angry, and jealous like, as he held tight by his sister’s arm, and he says: “Come, lady, let’s go below. The sailor is right. Drink my health, my man;” and he threw me a shilling.“That I will, sir,” I says, as he turned away, though I thought to myself it would want drinking a many times before I could do him any good.The doctor looked rather black at me; but I wouldn’t see it, and got down cross-legged at my work, while Tomtit and he lit their cigars, and began walking up and down the deck.Story 2--Chapter III.What a wonderful deal a sailor can get to know if he only keeps his eyes and ears open! Of course, I mean aboard ship, where everything is, as you may say, close to your hand. Now, acting after this way, and being a rough, blunt sort of an old fellow—for I always looked old from the time I was forty—people would come and make friends with me, in a fashion, so that I got to know a deal. The doctor would have his chat on things in general, and give me cigars, and by degrees work round to the sick passenger and his case; and I soon could see that though he didn’t care a damp about the sick passenger, he took a deal of interest in his case, and I could guess pretty well why. Then Tomtit would come and fold his back, so that he could lean his elbers on the bulwarks, and he’d chatter about his birds, all the while smoothing his hair, and arranging his tie and collar, and brushing specks off his coat, as he kept looking towards the cabin-stairs, to see if some one was coming up; and when—being a thoroughly good-hearted, weak, soft-Tommy sort of a chap—he’d heave a great sigh, I used to shake my head at him, and say as I could see what was the matter with he, it was wonderful how friendly he’d get.“I wouldn’t care if I had a few canaries on board,” he’d say. “They are such nice birds if you want to make a present to a lady.”“Why not try a couple o’ doves?” I says.He looked at me as if he meant to do it through and through, but I don’t think he got far below the outside rind—mine being rather a thick skin, and I didn’t let a single wrinkle squeeze up to look like a smile; so he says, after a minute’s thought: “You’re right, Roberts,” he says; and that night, hang me, if he didn’t send me to the cabin with a note, and a cage with a couple of turtle-doves in. He gave me half-a-crown for taking it, and he’d been busy all the afternoon touching up the cage with a bit of ship’s paint, that wasn’t half dry when I took it; but I brought it back again with me, with Mr and Miss Bell’s compliments and thanks, but Mr Bell’s health would not bear the noise of the birds.The poor chap—Butterwell, his name was—looked awfully down when he saw me come back, but he wouldn’t show it more than he could help; he only said something about wishing he’d had canaries, and turning his back to me, began to whistle, and feed his other birds, of which he’d got quite five hundred in a place fitted up on purpose, though there was nearly always one or two dead of a morning, specially if the night had been rough.Well, somehow, I got to see that Miss Bell was not without her admirers; while her brother, poor chap, clinging to her as the only being he had to love on earth, seemed to hate for a soul to speak to her, and whenever I saw him, he used to watch her every look. Not that he had any need, for she seemed almost to worship him; leading him about; reading to him for hours, till I’ve heard her husky and hoarse, and have gone and fetched a glass of lime-juice and water from the steward, to get a pleasant smile from her, and a nod from the sick man for what I had done.“You’re a lucky man, Roberts,” Mr Ward says to me one day when he had seen me fetch it, and the pay I got for my trouble.“What for?” I says gruffly, for it wasn’t no business of his. “P’raps you’d like to change places, sir, eh?” But he only laughed, and the more rough I was, the better friends we kept.There were many more passengers, of course, but I never saw that they were any different to other cargoes of emigrants as I had helped to take over: there was two or three of those young chaps that always go out to make fortunes, packed off by their friends because they don’t know what to do with them at home; some young farmers, and labourers, and mechanics—some with wife and children, some without; children there was plenty of—always is where there’s women; and one way and another there was enough to make the ship uncomfortable, without a skipper who was a brute, and a mate a cowardly sneak. The crew were as bad a lot as ever ran round a capstan, but that was no reason why they were to be treated like dogs. If they’d been as good men as ever stepped, it would have been the same, for Bill Smith and Sam were A1 foremast-men; and while there was a sheet to haul taut, a sail to furl, or a bit of deck to holy-stone, I was ready to take my turn; but it was all the same, and I’ve seen the men bullied till they’ve gone scowling down below, and more than once I’ve said to Sam: “There’ll be foul weather yet, my lad, afore we get this voyage to an end.”Story 2--Chapter IV.Now, as to ordinary weather, that was all as a sailor could wish for—bright skies, fine starn winds, and the ship bowling along her nine or ten knots an hour. We got into the warm belts, shoved up the awnings, and had our bits of fishing as chances come up; but for all that, I wasn’t easy in my mind. I’d been so long at sea, and knocked about amongst so many sorts of people, and in such different weather, that appearances that would not have been noticed by some folks made a bit of an impression on me, and not without reason, as you’ll say by and by. For instance, it didn’t look well, so I thought, for a chap to out knife and threaten the captain for hitting him on the head with a speaking-trumpet, though it might be only in a bit of a passion, still it didn’t seem right; nor yet for the skipper to be always harassing the men when there was no need—piping all hands up to make or shorten sail, when the watch could have done it very well themselves, and then making the men do it again and again, because it wasn’t what he called smart enough. You see, men don’t take much notice of that sort of thing once, nor yet twice, but if it’s kept up, they grumble, ’specially when they know they’ve been doing their best. Then the provisions were horrible, and enough to make any man discontented; water wasn’t served out in sufficient quantity, and things got so bad at last that the men had meetings, right forward of a night, about the way they were served.I knew a good deal and heard a good deal, but it didn’t seem to be my place to go and tell tales, and besides, I never thought there’d be much the matter, more than a row, and perhaps a man or two put in irons, to be kept there till we got into port. I said so, in fact, to my mates Bill and Sam, “and what’s more,” I says, “irons won’t do for me, my lads, so let’s make the best of things, and get a better ship as soon as we can.” Sam grunts, and Bill Smith said it was all right; so we went on with what was set us to do, and made as little trouble of it as we could.But there was one chap aboard as the captain seemed quite to hate, and used to put upon him shameful. He was a thin wiry fellow, as yellow as a guinea, and looked as if he’d black blood in his veins; but he always swore as he had not. He’d got a Dutch sort of name, Van Haigh, but hailed somewhere out of one of the West Indy Islands, and had knocked about almost everywhere. Curious-looking chap he was, looked as if he’d always got his parlour window-blinds half pulled down, and he’d peep at you sideways from underneath them in a queer catlike sort of way. He was quite a swell fellow in his way, only dirty as dirty, and that didn’t do nothing towards setting off the big silver rings he had in his ears, and was uncommon proud of. We mostly used to call him “Van” for short; and against this chap the skipper always seemed to have a spite, bullying him about more than all the rest put together, till you might have thought his life would have been miserable—but not it; he always showed his white teeth and grinned, pocketing all that the skipper and the mate gave him, till them pockets of his must have been full and nigh unto bursting. Once the captain knocked him down with a marlinespike, but he never drew no knives, not even when the mate kicked him, and told him to get up. He only grinned, but it was a queer sort of grin, and I didn’t like the look of it.These sort of rows used generally to take place when the passengers had gone down of a night, or before they came on deck of a morning. While before the cabin lot, Captain Harness was quite the gentleman, and it seemed to me that he had a sort of hankering after Miss Bell, like some more of them, or else he wouldn’t have been so wonderfully civil about having Mr Bell’s chair moved here and there, and wanting him to take wine, and things that Mr Ward said he was better without.As to the fore-cabin passengers, they went on just about the same as fore-passengers mostly do: asked every day whether we were nearly there, played ship’s billiards, and a bit or two of music; smoked a deal, and slept a deal more, and only did just so much work as they was obliged to. No doubt there was their little bits of squabbling, and courting, and so on, going on; but my eyes were turned in another direction; and, soon after we’d crossed the line, I couldn’t help thinking how very sixy-and-seveny matters had growed. Instead of being friendly, there was quite an unpleasantness between Mr Ward and the Bells, for the sick man was as jealous as could be, and it was plain enough that he downright hated the doctor. As for Miss Bell, as far as I could see, she never even bowed to him, and he and Tomtit used to walk up and down the deck together, as if they were the fastest of friends. “And why don’t they bow to one another as they used?” I says to myself, as I lay in my hammock. “Why don’t you mind your own business and go to sleep?” says Common-sense; and as I was too tired to argufy, I made no answer, but went off sound.Story 2--Chapter V.Now, if what I’m going to tell you had happened a week sooner, I should have been on the look-out for it, or if it had come off a week later; but, like many more such things, it came when it wasn’t expected, and my sails were took aback as much as anybody’s.Things had been going on more peaceably than usual—weather having been hot, with light steady wind, which just took us easily through the water with stunsails set alow and aloft. The heat had made the captain sleepy, and he showed precious little on deck, while the mate, who always took his tone from the skipper, used just to give an order or two, and then make himself as comfortable as he could.It was my watch one night with Sam Brown, Bill Smith, and a couple more. Hot! it was one of the hottest nights I ever knew, and we were lolling about over the sides, looking at the golden green water as it gently washed by the bows as we just parted it, making only way enough for the ship to answer her helm. Bill Smith had gone to take his trick at the wheel, and, looking along the deck, you could just make out his face by the binnacle-light shining up and around him. There was a faint glow, too, up from the cabin skylights, and from where the ship’s lanterns flashed on the water, else it was a thick darkness everywhere, and us sailing through it, and seeming to get nearer and nearer to some great black heat, that made the perspiration stream out of you at every pore.“’Nuff to bake ’em down below, Sam,” I says, after we’d been quiet for a good hour. “I fancy if I was there, I should be for coming up and lying on the deck, where it’s cooler.”“Cooler!” says one of them with us, “why, the planks are hot yet.”“But you can breathe,” I says.“Well, yes,” says the other; “youcanget your breath.”Then we were quite still again for a piece, when Sam gives me a shove, to call my attention to something.“Well, what now?” I says.“They’re a-coming on deck,” says Sam.“They’re in the right of it,” I says; “and if—”I got no more out, for there was a hand clapped over my mouth, and the next moment I was at it in an up-and-down struggle with some one, but not so hard but that I heard Sam Brown go down like a bullock upon the deck; and then I shook myself free, ran to the mizen-shrouds, and sprang up them like a cat; and, as soon as I was out of reach, leaned down and listened.There was no mistake about it: the ship had been taken with hardly so much as a scuffle, and though I could not see more than a figure trot quickly by one of the skylights, I could hear that the hatches were being secured, and men posted there; and for a minute I felt sure that we had been boarded in the darkness, and that I, one of the principal men in the watch, had kept a bad lookout. Directly after, though, there came a bit more scuffling and an oath or two, and I heard a voice that I knew for Bill Smith’s, and another that I could tell was Van’s; and then, like a light, it all came upon me that while we had been watching out-board, there was an enemy in the ship, and the men had risen.I wouldn’t have it for a bit, feeling sure that I must have known of it; but I was obliged to give in, for I heard next in the darkness a hammering at the cabin doors, and the skipper’s voice shouting to be let out; and then came the mate’s backing him up; then a pistol-shot or two, and the shivering of glass, like as if the cabin skylight had been broken; and then came Van’s shrill voice, giving orders, and threatening; and from the way the man spoke, I knew in a minute that there had been a chained devil amongst us, and that he had broken loose.As soon as I could pull myself together a bit, and get to think, I got out my box, opens it and my knife, cuts a fresh bit of baccy, and then, taking a good hold of the stay I was on, began to wonder what I’d better do next. Staying where I was did very well for the present; but it would not be such a great while before daybreak, and then I knew they would see me, and, if I didn’t come down, shoot me like a dog. I felt sure that they had done for my two poor mates, for I could not hear a sound of them; and seeing that joining the enemy below was out of the question, what I had to do was to get to them in the cabin. But how?There I was, perched up close to the top, with the yard swinging gently to and fro; and between me and those I wanted to join, there was the enemy. I felt puzzled; and in the midst of my thought, listening the while as I was to the muttering of voices I heard below, I snapped-to the lid of the steel box I had in my hand, and in the still night it sounded quite sharp and clear.“What a fool!” I said to myself, and crept in closer to the mast, for the voices below ceased, and two pistol-bullets came whistling through the rigging. Then there was a sharp whispering, and a couple more shots were fired; but I did not move, for it would have been like directing them where to aim. Then came Van’s voice, as he shouted: “Fetch him down!” And I knew from the way in which the rigging trembled, that some of the enemy were coming up the shrouds to leeward and windward too.“Hunt him overboard, if he won’t give in,” shouted Van, and I set my teeth as I heard him; but there was no time to spare, and feeling about for a sheet, I got hold of it, meaning to swing myself out clear, and hang quite still, while they passed aloft, and then try for some hiding-place where I could gain the deck. I held on tight for a moment, and listened; and then in the darkness I could hear some one coming nearer and nearer, when, letting go with my feet, I swung gently off, and the next instant brushed up against something, when my heart gave a great bound, for I had found the way to get down to them in the cabin.Story 2--Chapter VI.“It may come to a fight though, after all, and a prick will keep some of them at a distance,” I says to myself, and getting my legs well round the sheet, I got hold of my knife, and opened it with my teeth, before making use of the chance that had shown itself.Perhaps it isn’t every one who knows what a wind-sail is, so I’ll tell you; it’s a contrivance like a great canvas stocking, six or seven feet round, and twenty or thirty long and by letting one end of this hang down through the cabin-hatch or skylight, and having the other bowsed up in the rigging, you have like a great open pipe bringing you down a reg’lar stream of cool air in the hot weather.Now it was just against the top end of this that I had brushed; and as it seemed to me all I had to do was to slip in, check myself all I could, and then go down with a run amongst friends, where, if not safe, I should certainly share their fate, whatever it might be, besides, perhaps, being of some use.Fortunately, I had the rope, and hauling myself up a bit, after two or three tries, I got my legs in, lowered away quickly, and came down pretty smartly, not, as I meant, in the chief cabin, but upon the deck, where I was now struggling to get loose, like a monkey in a biscuit-bag, for they had done what I had not reckoned upon, dragged up the end of the wind-sail, and shut down the cabin skylight, most likely when I heard the shots and breaking glass.It was lucky for me that it was dark, for though the noise I made brought them round me, I had time first to slit the canvas and slip out, panting, and not knowing which way to turn. I knew they dare not fire, for fear of hitting one another, and starting off, I ran them once right round the deck, keeping as much as I could under the bulwarks. The second time round I came right against one fellow, and sent him down head over heels; but I knew it couldn’t last, and that in spite of doubling they must have me. I could hear panting and voices all round, and on leaving off running, and creeping cautiously about, more than once I felt some one pass close by me—regularly felt them, they were so close. Once I thought of getting into the chains, but I knew if I did they would see me as soon as it was daybreak. Then I thought I might just as well jump overboard, and make an end of it, as be pitched over; directly after, I fancied I could crawl under the spare sail that covered the long-boat, and lie there. Last of all, I made for the poop, meaning to try and climb down to one of the cabin windows, but I stopped half-way, on account of the binnacle-light, and crept back towards the fore-part, to see if I could get down to the fore-cabin passengers. But it was of no use, and the only wonder was that I did not run right into some one’s arms; but the chances, perhaps, were not, after all, so very much against me, and I kept clear till they grew savage, and I could hear that they were cutting about at me with either knives or cutlasses; and in spite of my trouble then, I could not help wondering how they had come by their arms, for, of course, I could not know then how Van had stolen them from the cabin while the skipper was asleep.“I may as well knock under,” I said to myself, and I was about to give up, meaning first to give ’em one more round, when I stumbled. Twice over I had felt my bare feet, slip upon the deck, in what seemed blood, and had shuddered as I thought of how I should leave my footmarks all over the clean white boards; but this time I stumbled over what seemed to be a body, and should have fallen, if I had not gathered up my strength for a jump, and thrown myself forward, when, as if in one and the same moment, there was a crash as of breaking glass, a heavy fall, and then a foot was upon my throat, and a pistol held to my head.Story 2--Chapter VII.I was that shaken and confused by my fall, that for a moment I could not speak, and when I could say a few words, I did not know who I was speaking to, expecting that it was Van, till a voice I seemed to know whispered: “If you attempt to move, I fire.”“I ain’t going to move, Mr Ward,” I says at last: “it’s been too hard work to get here; but if you’ll pynt your pistol up at the skylight, it’ll be better, or some one else will be tumbling down after me. Only wish Sam Brown would.”“Pitched me down more’n half a hour ago,” growled a voice I knew.“What’s come of Bill Smith?” I says.“Lyin’ on the deck with his head split,” says Sam, “if they ain’t pitched him overboard.”Then I heard a whispering consultation going on, which seemed to be about whether I was to be trusted, when Mr Ward seemed to be taking my part, and then the skipper whispers to me: “If you’ll be faithful to us, Roberts, you shall be well rewarded; but if you play fast and loose, mind, we are well armed, and there will be no mercy for you.”“Who’s playing fast and loose?” I says gruffly as old Sam. “Ain’t I been cut at, and shot at, and then pitched neck and crop through the cabin skylight! If that’s your fast and loose, give me slow and tight for a game,” I says; “but mind you, it’s my opinion that there’s something else to do but play, for them beggars mean mischief.”“I’ll be answerable for him, Captain Harness,” says Mr Ward; and though all this went on in whispers, there wasn’t a face to be seen, every light having been put out. “You may trust him, he’s no spy.”“Spy be hanged,” I says. “Who’s going to play spy down here, in a place as is dark as an empty pitch-kettle in a ship’s hold! Don’t I tell you I’ve had to cut and run for my life, and what more do you want?”“Nothing, my man,” says Mr Ward; “only your help as a good and true British sailor, for here are women and children for us to protect.”“However shall I get to my birds?” some one says from out of the darkness.“Birds!” I says: “you won’t want no more birds, sir, for it’s my impression as we’re going to be kept caged up ourselves now.”Just then I seemed to catch just a faint glimpse of a face from out of the darkness, then it was gone again, and half a minute after I got another glimpse, and then another, when it was plain enough that the day was breaking; and then quickly the pale light stole down through the skylight, till the anxious faces of all the passengers, with the two officers and Sam Brown, was plain enough to see; and strange, and haggard, and queer they looked; but for all that, there was an air of determination amongst them, that showed they meant mischief; and I soon gathered from Mr Ward’s words that he was spurring the captain on to try and retake the ship.“I’m afraid it would only be a sacrifice of life, if I did,” said the skipper.“It would be a sacrifice of duty, if you did not, sir,” says Mr Ward warmly.“Perhaps you’d better retake her yourself, sir,” says the skipper sulkily.“I certainly shall try, sir, if you do not do your duty, to protect these helpless women. But we have a right to demand your assistance, and we do; while I have the word of every man present that he will fight to the last gasp for those who need our protection.”“I cannot fight, but I can load for you,” said a voice from behind; and looking round, as many of us did, there stood Mr Bell, pale as a ghost, but quite calm, and leaning upon his sister’s arm; while, if I could have seen anything in a woman to admire, I should have said she looked beautiful just then—being quite pale and calm—like the sea of a still morning before the sun rises.“There’s something to fight for there,” says Sam in my ear.“Why didn’t they all stop at home?” I says. “Just look what a mess they’ve got themselves in through being aboard ship, which is the last place as they should be in.”What Mr Ward had said seemed to have warmed the captain up; for sooner than see another take his place, he set to, and began to hunt out what arms he could find, after placing Mr Ward to guard the broken skylight, which he did with a revolver and a thin skewer of a thing out of a walking-stick, and it put me in mind of what I have read about some one being put in the fore-front of the battle; but the young man never said a word; and then, after a bit of a rummage, the captain came back to serve out what arms he could get told of, but that wasn’t many, for the enemy had pretty well emptied the locker where they were kept. A precious poor lot there was left for us to defend ourselves and a whole tribe of women and children; my share being an empty pistol, which didn’t seem to be so much use as a fellow’s fist, that being a handy sort of weapon in a tussle.Everything was done quiet as could be, so as not to let them on deck know what we were doing; but as soon as the arming part was finished, and I looked round, I could see that the game was up, for two more pistols, two cutlashes, and a couple of guns—sporting-guns, that two of the passengers had used to shoot sea-birds with—was all we could muster.As is always the case when it’s wanted, neither of these passengers had any more powder; and when Mr Ward’s little pistol-flask had been passed round once, there was not another charge left; but the captain had gone to get more, and we were expecting him back, piling up hammocks and bedding the while, to keep the mutineers off, and to have something to fight from behind. I was doing all I could, after shoving a good charge of powder and a whole handful of small-shot into my pistol, when Mr Ward beckons to me and whispers: “Go and see why he don’t come back; it’s time to be on the alert, for they are moving on deck.”I stepped lightly off—my feet being bare, making no noise on the planks—when coming upon the captain quickly, I saw him just putting down a water-can, and he turned round to me, looking pale as a sheet, as he says: “It’s no use, my lad; resistance would be vain, for they’ve contrived to wet what powder we had. Look at it.”He pointed to the little keg and a small case of cartridges, and sure enough they were all dripping wet, while it seemed rather surprising that the wetting looked so fresh. But I did not say so, only that Mr Ward hoped he’d make haste.“Curse Mr Ward!” he muttered; and then he went on first, and I followed with my cheeks blown out, as if I was going to whistle, but I didn’t make a sound for all that.“I fear that we must give up, Mr Ward,” says the skipper, “for the powder is all wet.”There was a regular groan of dismay at the news, and one woman gave a sort of sob, else they were still as mice, and the children too behaving wonderful.“Who talks of giving up?” says Mr Bell, his pale face flushing up as he spoke, and him holding one hand to his side. “Do you call yourselves men to hint at such a thing? I am no man now, only a broken, wasted shadow of a man, or, by the God who made me, Captain Harness, I’d strike you down! Look at these women, men! think of their fate if those scoundrels get the upper hand—completely—Mr Ward—you—as a gentleman—my sister—God help—”The poor young fellow staggered, and would have fallen, for the blood was trickling down upon his shirt-front—gushing from his lips; but Mr Ward saved him, springing forward as a cry burst from Miss Bell; and he was laid upon a mattress in one of the cabins fainting—dying, it seemed to me.Then there was a murmur among the passengers, of such a nature that Captain Harness found he must make some show of a fight, or it would be done without him; and accordingly he took hold of a very blunt cutlash, looking precious pale, but making-believe to tuck up the wristband of his shirt, to have free play for killing six or seven of the mutineers.As for the passengers, all mustered, there was about eighteen of them; and had they been well armed, numbers being about equal, I don’t think we should have had much the worst of it; but ever so many of them had no arms at all, and I began to turn over in my mind what was to be done. I had a pretty good jack-knife; and not having much faith in the pistol, I was about to trust to the bit of steel, same as Sam Brown, who had one with a spring-back and a good seven-inch blade, so I says to Tomtit: “P’r’aps you’d like the pistol, sir;” and he took it quietly and earnestly, tapping the back, to make sure the powder was up the nipple, and I thought to myself, that’s in the right hands, anyhow.“Are you ready?” says the skipper; for they were evidently collecting up above, and some one fired a pistol down the skylight, but none of us was hit.“Not quite, sir,” I says. “Steward, suppose you hand out some of them knives o’ yours; and I’ll trouble you for the big beef-carver, as I spoke first.”Mr Ward turned round and smiled at me; and I gave him a nod, turned up my sleeve too, and then laid hold of the big carver, which did not make such a bad weapon, being new, sharp-pointed, and stiff; while my idea had put a knife into a dozen hands that before had nothing to show.“Pile more mattresses and hammocks up,” said Mr Ward; for it was plain that neither the skipper nor Mr Wallace meant to do much towards what was going to take place; and then I saw the doctor give one look towards where Mr Bell was lying, and run across, as if to see how he was; but he hurriedly caught hold of Miss Bell’s hand, and I could see that he spoke, while, as she drew her hand hastily away, she gave a strange frightened sort of look at him. Next moment he was back at my side, just as the cabin-hatch was flung open, and the shuffling of feet told that the mutineers meant to make their rush.Story 2--Chapter VIII.It was a rush, and no mistake; for they had been priming themselves up with rum, I should think, for the last hour or two, till they were nearly mad; and with Van at their head, they came on, yelling like so many devils, more than Englishmen, though certainly half of them were from all parts of the world. There was no time then for thinking, and before you knew where you were, it was give and take.We fired as they came on; but I did not see that much harm was done, only one chap falling; while, as they returned it, Mr Wallace gave a cry, and clapped his hand to his shoulder, dropping at the same time his cutlash, which Tomtit laid hold of, for he had just shied his pistol, after firing it, right at Van’s head, only missing him by half an inch or so.Van dashed right at the skipper like a cat, and with one cut sent him down, when he turned upon me, to serve me the same; but I was too quick for him, and as I jumped aside, his cutlash hit the bulkhead and snapped in two. I believe it would have gone hard with him then, for that carver was sharp, and my old blood was up, but in the struggle I was driven back; and the next thing I saw was Mr Ward drive that skewer of his right through one fellow’s shoulder, and then starting back, he fired three shots from his revolver, but with what effect I never saw, for two of the piratical rascals were at me, and it was all I could do to keep them at a distance. I fetched one a chop across the back of the hand at last, though, and sent him off howling and cursing; and then managing to avoid a cut, and sending my arm out, I caught the other right in the chest, and down he went like a stone; when, to my surprise, I found it was only the buckhorn handle I had hit him with, the blade having flown out, and gone goodness knows where.There was no time to choose who should be your next enemy, for two or three were at you directly, and there I was at last, fighting best way I could with my fists, driven here and there, with the planks slippery with blood, and men, some wounded, some only stunned, lying about for you to fall over.I kept casting an eye at Mr Ward, and could see that he was fighting like a hero; but all at once I made a jump to get at him, for I saw Van creep up behind, while he was defending himself from a big fellow with a cutlash, and though I shouted to him, it was of no use, for the poor young fellow was cut down just as I turned dizzy from being fetched to the deck with a crack from a marlinespike.Story 2--Chapter IX.When I came to again, my head was aching awfully, and I found myself lying upon the deck, with old Sam Brown dabbing my forehead with a wet swab. Close beside me was Bill Smith, and the sight of him alive did me so much good that I jumped up into a sitting position, and gave his hand a good shake. But, there, it was for all the world like having boiling lead poured from one side to the other of your head, and I was glad to lean against the bulkhead again.There were half-a-dozen of the crew keeping watch over us, while Sam whispered to me that six bodies had been shoved out of the port—three being passengers; as to the rest on our side, Mr Ward’s seemed the worst wound, but he, poor fellow, was sitting up pale and anxious, with his handkerchief tied round his head, and evidently, like me, wondering what was to happen next.I could not help noticing soon after how well the women bore it all; hushing and chattering to the children to keep them quiet, and doing all they could to keep them from noticing our wild and wounded faces. They were all huddled together in the big cabin, while, with the exception of the men on guard, the mutineers were on deck. From the slight rolling of the ship, it seemed that they had altered her course; but my head was too much worried and confused for me to notice much, and that day slipped by, and the night came—such a night as, I pray God, I may never again pass; for the cabin-hatches were closed upon us, and none of the men stayed down, but after serving round some biscuit and water, and some rank bad butter at the bottom of one of the little tubs, they went on deck, though we soon found that a couple of them kept watch.It was a sad night and a bitter, for as soon as darkness came down upon us, the poor women, who had held up so well all day, broke down, and you could hear the smothered sobbing and wailing, till it went through you like a knife. I believe they tried all they could to keep it in, poor things; but then ’tain’t in ’em, you know, to keep up long; and then when the children broke out too, and wanted all sorts of things that they couldn’t have, why, it was awful. We had no lights, for they wouldn’t give us any, so we all had to set to, to try and make the best of everything; but we couldn’t, you see, not even second best, try how we would.“Only a bit of a cut, sir,” I says to Mr Ward, who was going round and doing what he could in the dark for we chaps as had got knocked about. “I sha’n’t hurt. See to Bill Smith here. Tell you what it is though, sir—you won’t catch me at sea again in such a Noah’s Ark as this here.”“Hush, my man,” he says, “and try all you can to help.” “In course I will, sir,” I says; and then, hearing a growl on my right, I says: “That ain’t Bill, sir, that’s Sam. He’s all right: nobody can’t hurt him, his blessed head’s too thick.” Directly after the doctor felt his way to Bill Smith, and tied up his head a bit, while I was wondering what to do for the best, listening all the time to women wailing, and little ones letting go, as if with the full belief that they’d got the whole of the trouble in the ship on their precious little heads. What seemed the best thing to do was to quiet some of them; and if it had been daylight, a sight or two of my phiz would have frightened ’em into peace; but how to do it now, I didn’t know. “Howsoever, here goes for a try,” I says; and I groped my way along as well as I could, expecting every moment to be deafened, when I turned half mad with rage, for some one yells down the skylight: “Stop that noise!” and at the same moment there was a pistol fired right into the wailing crowd; then there was a sharp clear shriek, and directly after a stillness that was awful.“It was a cruel cowardly act,” I heard some one say then close to me; “but, Miss Bell,”—And then directly came the young lady’s voice saying: “It is almost as cowardly, sir, to speak to me in this way, when I am so unprotected.”“By your leave,” I says gruffly, and I felt a little hand laid on my arm.“Is that you, Mr Roberts?” says Miss Bell, and I could feel her soft breath on my cheek.“It’s old Tom Roberts, without the Mister, ma’am,” I says, “and at your sarvice. What shall I do?”What could I do? Rum question, wasn’t it? When, if she didn’t put a little toddling thing into my arms—a bit of a two-year-older, as was just beginning to cry again, after the fright of the pistol; but I turned myself into a sort of cradle, got rocking about, and if the soft round little thing didn’t go off fast asleep, and breathe as reg’lar as so much clockwork!“Well done you, Tom Roberts,” I says, after listening to it for about half an hour; and do you know, I did feel a bit proud of what I’d done, being the first time, you see, that I’d ever tried to do such a thing; and so through the night I sat there with my back to the bulkhead, and with my head all worried like, for now it was me groaning, and now it seemed that I was crying like a child, and then people were telling me to be quiet, only I wouldn’t, for I had mutinied, and was going to kill Mr Ward, and marry Miss Bell, and things were all mixed together, and strange and misty, and then thicker still, and at last all was blank, and I must have gone off to sleep, in spite of my trouble, for when I opened my eyes, it was broad daylight again, and then the first thing they lit on was a little chubby, curly-headed thing in my lap, watching me as serious as could be, and twisting its little hand in my beard.I hadn’t eyes for anything else for a little while, but as soon as I did take a look round, all the troubles seemed to come back with a jump, for most of the party were asleep; there they all were, first-class passengers and steerage passengers, all huddled together, no distinctions now. Old Sam was snoring away close alongside of the skipper and Mr Wallace, and strange and bad they looked, poor fellows; while up at the far end sat Miss Bell, bending over her brother, who lay on a locker; but whether she was asleep or not, I couldn’t tell.But there was something else took my attention, and that was, that though all the other berths seemed empty, one had some one lying in it, and that berth I could not keep my eyes off, for it got to be somehow mixed up with the firing of that pistol down the skylight and the sharp cry I had heard; and so from thinking about it all, I got it put together in a shape which Mr Ward afterwards told me was quite right, for a little lad of nine years old was killed by that cowardly bullet, and it was him as I saw lying there so still.By degrees, first one and then another of our miserable party roused up with a sigh, and then sat staring about in a most hopeless way; all but Mr Ward, who went round to those who had been wounded, saying a cheering word or two, as well as seeing to their bandages; but it was quite by force that he had to do the skipper’s, for his wound had made him light-headed, and he took it into his poor cloudy brain that Mr Ward was Van, and wanted to make an end of him.People soon got whispering together and wondering what was to be done next, for they seemed to be busy on deck, and of course we were all very anxious to know; but when Sam Brown got a tub on one of the tables, and then hauled himself up, to have a look through the skylight, he came down again rubbing his knuckles and swearing, for one of the watch had given him a tap with a marlinespike; and after that, of course no one tried to look out.I, for one, expected that they would have taken advantage of having their own way to have a reg’lar turn at the spirits; but no: they certainly got some up, but Van seemed to be driving them all with a tightish hand, so that they were going on very quietly and reg’larly, as we found, for by and by they serves out biscuit and butter and fresh water again; and not very long after, Van sung out down the hatchway for me to come up; and knowing that if I didn’t go he’d send and fetch me, I went up, and sat down on the deck, where he pointed to with a pistol. Then he ordered up Sam and Bill, and four sailors who were on our side (lads only), and the skipper and Mr Wallace, one at a time, till we were all set in a row, with them guarding us; when, with his teeth glistening, Van walks up to the skipper, and hits him on the head with the butt-end of his pistol, so that the poor fellow fell back on the deck.“Set him up again,” says Van savagely; and a couple of the mutineers did so, but only for Van to knock him down once more; and he did that four times over, till, when they set the poor captain up again the last time, he fell back upon the deck of himself, being stunned like. It was enough to make any fellow burst with rage; but what can you do when there’s half a score standing over you with loaded pistols? and, besides, trouble makes people very selfish, while we all knew how Van was having his bit of revenge, cowardly as it was, for the way the captain had treated him.Last of all, Van goes and puts his foot on the skipper’s neck, and I made as though to get up, for I thought he was going to blow his brains out; and bad and cowardly as the captain had been, I couldn’t a-bear to see him hit when he was down without trying to help him; but it was of no use, for I was pulled back directly, and all I could do was to sit and look on.All at once, Van turns a breaker on its end, jumps on it, and, sticking his arms a-kimbo like a fishwoman, he begins to spout at us; and fine and fierce no doubt he thought he looked in his red nightcap, and belt stuck full of pistols. “Now, my lads,” he says, “we’re going to have some of the good old times over again: take possession of one of the beautiful isles in the Pacific, and sail where we like under the black flag, free as the day, with none of your cursed tyrants to make men sweat blood and work like dogs, but all free and equal. We’ve done the work, and captured the ship, and you’ve acted like thieves and curs, and sided with them as will be ready to kick you for your pains. As for you, Wallace, curse you! you have always been a cur and a tool; but we shall want help, and you can come if you like; while, you others, we’ll look over what’s gone by, for you did fight like men. So, what do you say?—will you join us, or take your chance to reach land in one of the boats with the lot below?”The young lads all looked at me, to see what I’d say, for no one took much notice of Mr Wallace. Bill Smith, too, who was much better, he looks at me; and I s’pose old Sam meant to do the same, but when I turned to him, all I could make out was the whites of his eyes, till he turned his head on one side, and I got a sight of one eye, when he turned his head t’other way, and then I see t’other.It was very plain that they meant me to be spokesman; and seeing that was to be the case, and that, after a fashion, they left me to decide, I just turns it over in my own mind for a hit, and seeing as I should be wanted in the boats to help make the land somewhere, as they was to be loaded with a set of the helplessest beings as ever breathed—why, I says: “T’others can do as they like; as for me, you never asked me at first; and as you’ve done without me so far, why, you can do without me now—till you gets to the gallows,” I added, but so as they couldn’t hear me. And, though I hardly expected it from the lads, they said they’d do as I did; while, as for Bill and Sam, they always was a pair of the helplessest babbies as ever breathed, and left me to think for ’em ever since we first sailed together—indeed, I don’t fancy as Sam ever had any thinking machinery at all. Howsoever, they said as they’d stick by me; and Van gave a curse and a swear, and a blow or two at us; and then, after a bit of ’scussion, in which women was named two or three times, and Van and another party was quite at loggerheads for a time, he gave his orders, big and bounceable like, and telling us to lend a hand, he made ready to lower down one of the boats.Story 2--Chapter X.Two boats were lowered down, and my two mates and me and the four sailors was to man ’em. They let down Captain Harness, wounded and half mad as he was, into one boat, and Mr Wallace the mate into the other; and then a couple of compasses, and some breakers of water, a bag or two of biscuit, and a tub of butter were shoved in. Then came the job of getting the passengers over the side. The men were ordered up first, and, some wounded, some savage, some weak and disheartened, they were made to take their places, six of the mutineers keeping guard with cocked pistols and drawn cutlashes. I believe, though, in spite of their weapons, that a little English pluck was all that was needed to save the ship; but no attempt was made, and, trembling and frightened, the women and children were ordered up, and then the boats were loaded.“Now, then, down with you, and shove off,” says Van Haigh, showing his cursed white teeth, and pricking at poor Sam Brown with his cutlash, just out of malice like. And you should have seen Sam’s eyes that time! He never spoke, but it’s my opinion if he’d had the chance, he’d have shaken Van’s precious body until the silver rings he was so proud of had dropped out of his yellow ears. But, as I said before, Sam didn’t speak; he only lays hold of the side rope, and lowers himself into the boat, already too full; Bill Smith dropping into the other, in spite of his wound.“Now you!” roars Van to me, for I was standing hesitating, and I don’t mind saying that a cold chill ran all through me, for just then I heard the click of his pistol cock, and I knew he was taking aim at my head. But I mastered myself, and wouldn’t turn round; for it was an important time, and there was much to think about. There was poor Mr Ward, with his head bound up, held by two of the mutineers; and poor Tomtit, with his knees to his chin as he sat upon the deck; and of course they weren’t going, for the boats wouldn’t hold any more. And there was the fat passenger, as cried when we left home; and last of all, Miss Bell and her brother below.It didn’t take me long to make up my mind, for it seemed to me as it would never do for me and my mates to go and leave them in their trouble, for maybe they’d be sent afloat in a little boat next, and wouldn’t know how to work her; so, half-expecting every moment to drop with a bullet through me, I says: “I’m blest, my lads, if I ain’t had about enough of it. While the old skipper was aboard, I did my duty by him and them as was under him; but now there’s a new skipper, I don’t see what call there is for me to go afloat with a set o’ lubbers in a crazy boat. You, Bill Smith, and you, squinty Brown, can do as you like. Captain Van,” I says, turning to him, “if you’ll shove that pistol away, I’ll stop aboard.”“Hooray!” shouts half a dozen of the fellows; and I could see Van looking me through and through with them dark eyes of his; but I don’t think he got much below the skin either, and besides, he was a bit tickled by me calling him “captain;” so he puts the pistol in his belt, and the next minute Bill and Sam was aboard again, looking half-puzzled like. Then the mutineers gave a bit of a cheer, and the passengers groaned at us; and, to make matters right with them on board, I jumps on the taffrail and groans again, and calls the poor beggars “swabs”—God forgive me!—for shoving off in so lubberly a way, with their oars dipping anyhow, nohow, one after the other in the water, and the boats not trimmed. It was a cruel trick, but I meant it all for the best; while, what to do about old Sam, I didn’t know, for he was growling and swearing to himself like some old tiger-cat, and I was afraid he’d show his teeth and claws every moment; but he kept quiet. As for poor Bill, he seemed misty and dazed, never speaking, but sitting down on the deck to lean his head against the side. Then Van seemed more at rest, for, giving his orders, the men uncocked their pistols, after making-believe to blow the fat passenger’s brains out, and making the perspiration run down his face, mixed up with tears, for he began to pipe his eye terribly.“Lower ’em below,” says Van; and the fat passenger saved ’em the trouble; while, when they were letting down Tomtit, whose hands were tied, and they were going to let go, they found his legs was already at the bottom, and then his head disappeared, but only to pop up again the next moment like a Jack-in-the-box, to see what was going to be done to the doctor.“Ain’t he a rum beggar?” I says to one of the blood-thirsty devils at my side, all to make friends, you see; and he laughed, and so did two or three more, for another of ’em made a cut at the poor chap’s head with his cutlash, to make him bob down the hatchway again, which he did, though only to come up again, till, finding it wasn’t safe, he kept down, and we didn’t see him no more just then. The poor doctor was the next to take their attention; and, seeing how cut up the poor fellow was, I’d have given something to have gone and shaken hands with him, and told him what I felt, and at first I hardly dare look him in the face.They lashed Mr Ward’s hands behind him, and I saw his lips quiver as he kept on casting an eye at the cabin-stairs. I knew well enough what he was thinking about, only I daren’t look at him much, for there were plenty watching me suspiciously enough, and, let alone not wanting to be knocked on the head, I felt that to do any good for the passengers, I must throw them as had the upper hand off the scent.I was leaning against the bulwarks, making-believe to look on, cool as could be, and screwing my old mahogany phizog into what I meant to be a grin of delight at our freedom, but I know it must have been about the sort of screw that a fellow would give when lashed to a gun for a round dozen.Mr Ward saw me grinning, and sent such a look at me as made my face grow as long as a spoon; but that wouldn’t do, and I daren’t give him any signal, so I laughed it off, and, pulling out my box and opening my knife, I goes up to him, and I says in a free-and-easy way, “Have a chaw, mate?” and made-believe to cut him one.“You infernal traitorous scoundrel!” he shouted, and in spite of his lashings he made at me; while, making-believe to have my monkey up, I up with my knife and made a stroke at him, sending it through his pilot-coat and into one of the side-pockets, dragging at it, to get it out again, and keeping it hitched the while, till some of them laid hold of me by the arm, when, struggling and swearing, I hit out with my left hand, and caught Mr Ward upon the chest, sending him down upon the deck, when I tried again to get at him, but they held me fast.“I’ll let him know,” I spluttered out; and then Brassey, Van’s right-hand man, gives the order, and three of his mates drags Mr Ward down the hatchway; when I pretended to be better, and only kept on muttering and scowling about like a dog that’s lost his bone, till ten minutes after, when I got a pannikin of grog, and sat looking at what was going on.Story 2--Chapter XI.I don’t think I’d any plans made; my only idea was, that when they sent the three or four others off, me and my mates might seize another boat, and row after them, the same night, for they wouldn’t get very far, as I knew, unless a fresh breeze sprung up, and took us away. Certainly the two boats that had gone were loaded deep, but they were not making a mile an hour; and it seemed plain enough to me that unless they could answer for its being calm till the poor wretches were picked up, if they ever were, the brutes on board had murdered ’em one and all, men, women, and children, by a slow kind of torture.“Not very smart crews, matey,” I says, pointing with my knife over my shoulder to where the boats were slowly rising and falling, and then I fished out a piece of chicken from a tin case of the skipper’s, and went on eating away as if I hadn’t a care on my mind. “Peg away, my lads,” I says to Bill and Sam; but Bill couldn’t touch a snap. Sam made up for it, though; and after plenty of hard work and fighting, and two days on biscuit and water, and that rank yellow grease sailors get for butter, one’s teeth do get rather sharp. “Now, if you’ll just sarve another tot o’ grog round, cap’n,” I says to Van, as I wiped my knife on the leg of my trousers, “I shall be about done and ready for work.”Some of the fellows laughed, and Van said something about my not being such a bad sort after all; but I could see as he did not trust me, which, I must say, was quite right, and the only right thing as I ever saw in the blackguard’s character.I soon found that though they’d all doubled the Cape a good many times, there wasn’t a man with navigation enough in him to tell where we were, or how to carry the ship on her course; while, though I don’t believe I could have worked a reckoning right, yet, somehow or other, I fancy I could have shoved that old ship’s nose into the harbour for which we were bound. Their plan seemed to be to crack on due south till we’d got high enough, and then to steer west, and get into the Pacific best way we could. I give them my bit of advice when it was asked, for I thought that the more we were in the track of ships, the more likely we were to be overhauled; but they would not have it my way; and Van giving his orders, a lot of us sprung up to make sail. When lying out on the main-royal yard, I run my eye round and quite jumped again, for, bearing down towards where the boats were crawling along, there was a bark with every stitch of canvas set.Sam saw it too, for he grunted; but I give him a kick, and down we came, our vessel feeling the breeze now, and careening over as the water began to rattle under her bows.I felt more comfortable after that, for though I did not for a moment think that the ship I had seen would overhaul us, still I felt pretty sure that she’d pick up those poor creatures in the boats, and save them from a horrible death. There was no doubt about having seen the bark, but from the deck never a glimpse was got of it; and we went bowling along in capital style, just, in fact, as if we had been a honest ship on a good cruise.Having nothing particular to do, I went below, and the first place I came to was the cabin that had been fitted up for Mr Butterwell’s birds; and on getting to ’em, there they were, poor little things, fluttering and chirping about with their feathers all rough, for they’d got no water and seed. Quite a score of ’em were lying dead in the bottom amongst the sand; and after giving the pretty little things water, and seed, and paste, I fished out the dead ones in a quiet, methodical sort of way, turning over something in my mind that I couldn’t get to fit, when I feels a hand on my shoulder.“Going to wring their necks?” says Van, for it was him come down to watch me.“Not I,” I says. “They’ll do first-rate to turn out on the island we stops at. Sing like fun.”“Look ye here, Roberts,” he says, “we’re playing a dangerous game, and you’ve joined us in it. Don’t play any tricks, or—” He didn’t say any more, but looked hard at me.“Tricks!” I grumbled out; “I’m not for playing anything. I’m for real earnest, and no favour to nobody.”“I only said don’t,” says Van; and he went up again.“A suspicious hound,” I says to myself; and then I began to turn over in my own mind what I had been thinking of before; and then having, as I thought, hit upon a bright idea, I hugged it up, and began to rub it a little more shiny.You see what I wanted to do was to get a word with Mr Ward, and how to do it was the question. I knew well enough that I should be watched pretty closely, and any attempt at speaking would be put an end to most likely with a bullet.I rubbed that thought about no end, and next morning I goes to one particular cage where there was a linnet that I had seen Mr Butterwell play all sorts of tricks with; and instead of feeding it, I quietly took out the panting little thing, carried it on deck, got up in a corner under the bulwarks, and waited my time, watching the while to see if any one had an eye on me. Then I let the bird go; and it flitted here and flitted there with a tiny bit of paper fastened under its wing, till, as I had hoped, there came from out of the cabin skylight a particular sort of chirrup, when the bird settled on the glass for a moment, and then dropped through the opening where it had been broken.Now, on that bit of paper I had printed what I knew wouldn’t hurt me if the bird was seen by the mutineers, for I was afraid to say much the first time; and as I had written on it, “Let him go again,” so sure enough up he came ten minutes after, and watching my chance, I followed him about till I caught him, and took him back to his cage, and gave him plenty of seed.Van had taken possession of the cabin next to where his prisoners were, and the skylight being partly over his place, a word with Mr Ward was out of the question; while such a little messenger as I had found would go to his master when called, perhaps without calling, specially after him being fortunate enough to catch sight of the bird the first time I tried.All that day matters went on as usual, a strict watch being kept over the prisoners, and more than one as I fancied having an eye to me. On and on we sailed due south, and the weather kept wonderful all the time; but there seemed no sign of starting the rest of the passengers off in a boat, and I began to feel worried and troubled about their fate, and more anxious to get on with the plans I was contriving.
I shipped aboard the Sea-mew, full-rigged, trading from the port of London to New Zealand. Two more old shipmates of mine entered along with me; and we were just beginning to feel the breeze that would send us down Channel in less than no time. The skipper came aboard at Gravesend, and the rest of the passengers, and among ’em we had one poor chap who had to be whipped up in a chair, looking the while like as if he’d come aboard to find a hammock and a sailor’s funeral. There was some petticoats, too, about him, and they had to be whipped up too, but I didn’t take much notice, being hurried about here and ordered there, and the passengers all seeming to have an idea, that now they’d come aboard, all there was to do was to get in everybody’s way, and stand wiping their eyes. They would get in your way and aggravate, and when they moved, go and stand somewhere wuss, till it was enough to make a saint swear; and I’m blest if I don’t think that, being a man used to the sea, and a quick-tempered sort of a fellow, Peter hisself would have gone on ’most as bad as I did. What does a great fat fellow of two-and-forty want to go walloping down where the mate had told you to coil forty fathom o’ rope, and then begin blubbering like a great gal? And what do people as have done nothing but grumble and cuss at the old country, go waving their handkerchiefs at it for, and then fall into one another’s arms a-kissing and a-hugging, and just, too, when the deck’s in such a litter that the skipper and the mate are ’most raving mad?
It’s a nice place, deck of a ship just before sailing, what with the lumber, and the crew being all raw, and half of ’em three parts, or quite drunk. We’d a nice lot, we had, aboard the Sea-mew; for it seemed to me, as soon as I saw them together, that the skipper had been having the pick of the docks, and choosing all them as nobody else wouldn’t take aboard a ship. But it was in this way: there’d been a sort of an upset about pay, and half the merchant-sailors were on strike; and as the owners of the Sea-mew had advertised her to sail at a certain time, and it was ten days past that time, the skipper had been obliged to sign articles with any one he could get. They were all fresh ones to us; six-and-twenty of ’em, but mostly seemed to know one another, and how to handle a rope.
We’d a mixed freight—live-stock mostly, going out emigrating, and more live-stock to feed ’em with, and a young doctor to see as they was all well, and had their salts-and-senny reg’lar; and a great big chap as couldn’t stand up down below, but was always chipping his head, and taking the shape out of his hat against what he called the ceiling. They said he was a nat’ralist, though he was about the longest, okkardest, corner-shaped, unnat’ral fellow I ever did see; and he’d got more live-stock in no end of great cages—cock-sparrows and tom-tits, and blackbirds and starnels, and all sorts o’ little twittering things to introduce amongst the New Zealanders. Then there was Brummagem and Manchester and Sheffield goods, and plants and seeds in cases; and the deck that full, that, as I said before, it was enough to make any one swear, let alone a sailor.
’Tain’t a nice time, the first week at sea; for, to begin with, it takes all that time to get the longshore goings-on shook out of the men, and them fit to work well together; then, if it happens to blow a bit, as it mostly does in the Channel, there’s all the passengers badly, cabin and steerage, and their heads chock-full of shipwrecks; and when they ain’t frightened of going to the bottom, calling the doctor a brute for not attending to ’em. Sea-sickness is bad enough, while it lasts, but folks needn’t be so disagreeable about it, and every one think his case ten hundred times worse than anybody else’s; but they will do it; and as for the fat chap as cried so about going away, he quite upset the young doctor, as they called Mr Ward; and if I’d been him, and been bothered as he was, I’d have give Mr Fatsides such a dose o’ Daffy as would have sent him to sleep for a week.
“You’ve put your foot in it, Sam Brown,” I says to my old shipmet when things was about knocked together, and we were bowling along well out of sight of land. We’d been putting that and that together, and found out that for some months to come, let alone wind and weather, we’d got our work cut out, the skipper being one of your reg’lar slave-drivers, that nothing can’t satisfy, and the mate a sneak, as would do anything to please the captain. So “You’ve put your foot in it, Sam Brown,” I says; but he only grunted. Bill Spragg, though—my other mate—turns a bit rusty, and says it was me as got them to sign the articles, and it was all my fault; for he was a bit sore, owing to a row he’d been in that day.
But it was no use to growl, and say the ship was a bad one; we were in the ship, and bad captain, bad mate, bad crew, and bad victualling, there it all was, and there was no getting away from it.
“Never mind, lads; ’tain’t bad pay,” I says.
“Pay!” says Bill Spragg. “I’d forfeit to-morrow to be out of it, and—Look ye there, Tom.”
I turned to look; and it was the passenger I’ve spoken of before, him that was whipped up on deck, and now he was out for the first time for a walk, being a bright sunshiny time; while the petticoat as came on board with him was leading him about the deck.
“Looks bad,” I says.
“Yes,” says Bill. “But I meant the lass. Just look at her.”
“What for?” I says.
“Fine lines,” growls Sam Brown, squinting at her, for he was a chap that could squint awful, and when he looked partic’lar at anything his eyes used to get close together, and he had to turn his head first on one side and then on the other. He was such a quiet chap, and spoke so little, that I used to think his eyes tried to turn round and look inside his head, to see what he was thinking about. “Fine lines,” he says, and then he shuts one eye up, and holds it close, while he has another look.
“Beautiful! ain’t she?” says Bill.
“Gammon,” I says. “Wax-doll. She’d better not get wet, or she’d melt. I wish they wouldn’t have no women aboard.”
“Why?” says some one close behind me. And looking round, there was the young doctor and Tomtit, as we called him—the long chap as had all the birds.
“Why?” I says gruffly; “because they’re in the way, and ain’t no good, and consooms the ship’s stores. Would my deck be littered here with hens and cocks singing out eight bells when ’tain’t nothing of the kind; and a couple of cows as is always lowing to be milked, and then giving some thin stuff like scupper-washings; and a goat and sheep till the place only wants an old turkey-cock and jackass or two to be a reg’lar farmyard, ’stead o’ a ship’s deck—would there be all these things there if it warn’t for the women? Bother the women! I wish there wasn’t a woman on the face of the earth.”
“He was crossed in love when he was a young un, sir,” says Bill Spragg with a grin.
“Women’s right enough ashore,” says Sam Brown, and he squinted towards where the sick patient was along with the petticoat, till both his eyes went out of sight behind his nose, which was rather long in the bridge, and then he sighed, and we sprinkled the sea with a little baccy-juice before coming back to the job we were at—scraping the chain-cable.
“One of our protectors wants to pay his regards to you, Miss Bell,” says Mr Ward, the young doctor, you know, for just then she was passing close with the poor thin sick chap, who was her husband, and I saw her just bend her head as the doctor and Tomtit took off their hats to her.
“Sarvant, miss,” I says gruffly, getting my legs straight too, for there was something about her that seemed to compel one to be civil like, being such a bright-eyed girl, with red and white in her face and a set o’ teeth as couldn’t have known what it was to want to be pulled out in their lives. “Sarvant, Miss,” I says, making a scrape, and not a bit took aback. “I was only a-saying as worn—ladies ain’t no business aboard ships.”
“And why not?” she said quietly.
“’Cause all’s rough and ready, and folk’s tongues gets running too free afore them,” I says. And then to myself: “That’s one for you, Mr Jalap;” and then I turned towards the sick young man, whose sunken eyes looked brighter, and angry, and jealous like, as he held tight by his sister’s arm, and he says: “Come, lady, let’s go below. The sailor is right. Drink my health, my man;” and he threw me a shilling.
“That I will, sir,” I says, as he turned away, though I thought to myself it would want drinking a many times before I could do him any good.
The doctor looked rather black at me; but I wouldn’t see it, and got down cross-legged at my work, while Tomtit and he lit their cigars, and began walking up and down the deck.
What a wonderful deal a sailor can get to know if he only keeps his eyes and ears open! Of course, I mean aboard ship, where everything is, as you may say, close to your hand. Now, acting after this way, and being a rough, blunt sort of an old fellow—for I always looked old from the time I was forty—people would come and make friends with me, in a fashion, so that I got to know a deal. The doctor would have his chat on things in general, and give me cigars, and by degrees work round to the sick passenger and his case; and I soon could see that though he didn’t care a damp about the sick passenger, he took a deal of interest in his case, and I could guess pretty well why. Then Tomtit would come and fold his back, so that he could lean his elbers on the bulwarks, and he’d chatter about his birds, all the while smoothing his hair, and arranging his tie and collar, and brushing specks off his coat, as he kept looking towards the cabin-stairs, to see if some one was coming up; and when—being a thoroughly good-hearted, weak, soft-Tommy sort of a chap—he’d heave a great sigh, I used to shake my head at him, and say as I could see what was the matter with he, it was wonderful how friendly he’d get.
“I wouldn’t care if I had a few canaries on board,” he’d say. “They are such nice birds if you want to make a present to a lady.”
“Why not try a couple o’ doves?” I says.
He looked at me as if he meant to do it through and through, but I don’t think he got far below the outside rind—mine being rather a thick skin, and I didn’t let a single wrinkle squeeze up to look like a smile; so he says, after a minute’s thought: “You’re right, Roberts,” he says; and that night, hang me, if he didn’t send me to the cabin with a note, and a cage with a couple of turtle-doves in. He gave me half-a-crown for taking it, and he’d been busy all the afternoon touching up the cage with a bit of ship’s paint, that wasn’t half dry when I took it; but I brought it back again with me, with Mr and Miss Bell’s compliments and thanks, but Mr Bell’s health would not bear the noise of the birds.
The poor chap—Butterwell, his name was—looked awfully down when he saw me come back, but he wouldn’t show it more than he could help; he only said something about wishing he’d had canaries, and turning his back to me, began to whistle, and feed his other birds, of which he’d got quite five hundred in a place fitted up on purpose, though there was nearly always one or two dead of a morning, specially if the night had been rough.
Well, somehow, I got to see that Miss Bell was not without her admirers; while her brother, poor chap, clinging to her as the only being he had to love on earth, seemed to hate for a soul to speak to her, and whenever I saw him, he used to watch her every look. Not that he had any need, for she seemed almost to worship him; leading him about; reading to him for hours, till I’ve heard her husky and hoarse, and have gone and fetched a glass of lime-juice and water from the steward, to get a pleasant smile from her, and a nod from the sick man for what I had done.
“You’re a lucky man, Roberts,” Mr Ward says to me one day when he had seen me fetch it, and the pay I got for my trouble.
“What for?” I says gruffly, for it wasn’t no business of his. “P’raps you’d like to change places, sir, eh?” But he only laughed, and the more rough I was, the better friends we kept.
There were many more passengers, of course, but I never saw that they were any different to other cargoes of emigrants as I had helped to take over: there was two or three of those young chaps that always go out to make fortunes, packed off by their friends because they don’t know what to do with them at home; some young farmers, and labourers, and mechanics—some with wife and children, some without; children there was plenty of—always is where there’s women; and one way and another there was enough to make the ship uncomfortable, without a skipper who was a brute, and a mate a cowardly sneak. The crew were as bad a lot as ever ran round a capstan, but that was no reason why they were to be treated like dogs. If they’d been as good men as ever stepped, it would have been the same, for Bill Smith and Sam were A1 foremast-men; and while there was a sheet to haul taut, a sail to furl, or a bit of deck to holy-stone, I was ready to take my turn; but it was all the same, and I’ve seen the men bullied till they’ve gone scowling down below, and more than once I’ve said to Sam: “There’ll be foul weather yet, my lad, afore we get this voyage to an end.”
Now, as to ordinary weather, that was all as a sailor could wish for—bright skies, fine starn winds, and the ship bowling along her nine or ten knots an hour. We got into the warm belts, shoved up the awnings, and had our bits of fishing as chances come up; but for all that, I wasn’t easy in my mind. I’d been so long at sea, and knocked about amongst so many sorts of people, and in such different weather, that appearances that would not have been noticed by some folks made a bit of an impression on me, and not without reason, as you’ll say by and by. For instance, it didn’t look well, so I thought, for a chap to out knife and threaten the captain for hitting him on the head with a speaking-trumpet, though it might be only in a bit of a passion, still it didn’t seem right; nor yet for the skipper to be always harassing the men when there was no need—piping all hands up to make or shorten sail, when the watch could have done it very well themselves, and then making the men do it again and again, because it wasn’t what he called smart enough. You see, men don’t take much notice of that sort of thing once, nor yet twice, but if it’s kept up, they grumble, ’specially when they know they’ve been doing their best. Then the provisions were horrible, and enough to make any man discontented; water wasn’t served out in sufficient quantity, and things got so bad at last that the men had meetings, right forward of a night, about the way they were served.
I knew a good deal and heard a good deal, but it didn’t seem to be my place to go and tell tales, and besides, I never thought there’d be much the matter, more than a row, and perhaps a man or two put in irons, to be kept there till we got into port. I said so, in fact, to my mates Bill and Sam, “and what’s more,” I says, “irons won’t do for me, my lads, so let’s make the best of things, and get a better ship as soon as we can.” Sam grunts, and Bill Smith said it was all right; so we went on with what was set us to do, and made as little trouble of it as we could.
But there was one chap aboard as the captain seemed quite to hate, and used to put upon him shameful. He was a thin wiry fellow, as yellow as a guinea, and looked as if he’d black blood in his veins; but he always swore as he had not. He’d got a Dutch sort of name, Van Haigh, but hailed somewhere out of one of the West Indy Islands, and had knocked about almost everywhere. Curious-looking chap he was, looked as if he’d always got his parlour window-blinds half pulled down, and he’d peep at you sideways from underneath them in a queer catlike sort of way. He was quite a swell fellow in his way, only dirty as dirty, and that didn’t do nothing towards setting off the big silver rings he had in his ears, and was uncommon proud of. We mostly used to call him “Van” for short; and against this chap the skipper always seemed to have a spite, bullying him about more than all the rest put together, till you might have thought his life would have been miserable—but not it; he always showed his white teeth and grinned, pocketing all that the skipper and the mate gave him, till them pockets of his must have been full and nigh unto bursting. Once the captain knocked him down with a marlinespike, but he never drew no knives, not even when the mate kicked him, and told him to get up. He only grinned, but it was a queer sort of grin, and I didn’t like the look of it.
These sort of rows used generally to take place when the passengers had gone down of a night, or before they came on deck of a morning. While before the cabin lot, Captain Harness was quite the gentleman, and it seemed to me that he had a sort of hankering after Miss Bell, like some more of them, or else he wouldn’t have been so wonderfully civil about having Mr Bell’s chair moved here and there, and wanting him to take wine, and things that Mr Ward said he was better without.
As to the fore-cabin passengers, they went on just about the same as fore-passengers mostly do: asked every day whether we were nearly there, played ship’s billiards, and a bit or two of music; smoked a deal, and slept a deal more, and only did just so much work as they was obliged to. No doubt there was their little bits of squabbling, and courting, and so on, going on; but my eyes were turned in another direction; and, soon after we’d crossed the line, I couldn’t help thinking how very sixy-and-seveny matters had growed. Instead of being friendly, there was quite an unpleasantness between Mr Ward and the Bells, for the sick man was as jealous as could be, and it was plain enough that he downright hated the doctor. As for Miss Bell, as far as I could see, she never even bowed to him, and he and Tomtit used to walk up and down the deck together, as if they were the fastest of friends. “And why don’t they bow to one another as they used?” I says to myself, as I lay in my hammock. “Why don’t you mind your own business and go to sleep?” says Common-sense; and as I was too tired to argufy, I made no answer, but went off sound.
Now, if what I’m going to tell you had happened a week sooner, I should have been on the look-out for it, or if it had come off a week later; but, like many more such things, it came when it wasn’t expected, and my sails were took aback as much as anybody’s.
Things had been going on more peaceably than usual—weather having been hot, with light steady wind, which just took us easily through the water with stunsails set alow and aloft. The heat had made the captain sleepy, and he showed precious little on deck, while the mate, who always took his tone from the skipper, used just to give an order or two, and then make himself as comfortable as he could.
It was my watch one night with Sam Brown, Bill Smith, and a couple more. Hot! it was one of the hottest nights I ever knew, and we were lolling about over the sides, looking at the golden green water as it gently washed by the bows as we just parted it, making only way enough for the ship to answer her helm. Bill Smith had gone to take his trick at the wheel, and, looking along the deck, you could just make out his face by the binnacle-light shining up and around him. There was a faint glow, too, up from the cabin skylights, and from where the ship’s lanterns flashed on the water, else it was a thick darkness everywhere, and us sailing through it, and seeming to get nearer and nearer to some great black heat, that made the perspiration stream out of you at every pore.
“’Nuff to bake ’em down below, Sam,” I says, after we’d been quiet for a good hour. “I fancy if I was there, I should be for coming up and lying on the deck, where it’s cooler.”
“Cooler!” says one of them with us, “why, the planks are hot yet.”
“But you can breathe,” I says.
“Well, yes,” says the other; “youcanget your breath.”
Then we were quite still again for a piece, when Sam gives me a shove, to call my attention to something.
“Well, what now?” I says.
“They’re a-coming on deck,” says Sam.
“They’re in the right of it,” I says; “and if—”
I got no more out, for there was a hand clapped over my mouth, and the next moment I was at it in an up-and-down struggle with some one, but not so hard but that I heard Sam Brown go down like a bullock upon the deck; and then I shook myself free, ran to the mizen-shrouds, and sprang up them like a cat; and, as soon as I was out of reach, leaned down and listened.
There was no mistake about it: the ship had been taken with hardly so much as a scuffle, and though I could not see more than a figure trot quickly by one of the skylights, I could hear that the hatches were being secured, and men posted there; and for a minute I felt sure that we had been boarded in the darkness, and that I, one of the principal men in the watch, had kept a bad lookout. Directly after, though, there came a bit more scuffling and an oath or two, and I heard a voice that I knew for Bill Smith’s, and another that I could tell was Van’s; and then, like a light, it all came upon me that while we had been watching out-board, there was an enemy in the ship, and the men had risen.
I wouldn’t have it for a bit, feeling sure that I must have known of it; but I was obliged to give in, for I heard next in the darkness a hammering at the cabin doors, and the skipper’s voice shouting to be let out; and then came the mate’s backing him up; then a pistol-shot or two, and the shivering of glass, like as if the cabin skylight had been broken; and then came Van’s shrill voice, giving orders, and threatening; and from the way the man spoke, I knew in a minute that there had been a chained devil amongst us, and that he had broken loose.
As soon as I could pull myself together a bit, and get to think, I got out my box, opens it and my knife, cuts a fresh bit of baccy, and then, taking a good hold of the stay I was on, began to wonder what I’d better do next. Staying where I was did very well for the present; but it would not be such a great while before daybreak, and then I knew they would see me, and, if I didn’t come down, shoot me like a dog. I felt sure that they had done for my two poor mates, for I could not hear a sound of them; and seeing that joining the enemy below was out of the question, what I had to do was to get to them in the cabin. But how?
There I was, perched up close to the top, with the yard swinging gently to and fro; and between me and those I wanted to join, there was the enemy. I felt puzzled; and in the midst of my thought, listening the while as I was to the muttering of voices I heard below, I snapped-to the lid of the steel box I had in my hand, and in the still night it sounded quite sharp and clear.
“What a fool!” I said to myself, and crept in closer to the mast, for the voices below ceased, and two pistol-bullets came whistling through the rigging. Then there was a sharp whispering, and a couple more shots were fired; but I did not move, for it would have been like directing them where to aim. Then came Van’s voice, as he shouted: “Fetch him down!” And I knew from the way in which the rigging trembled, that some of the enemy were coming up the shrouds to leeward and windward too.
“Hunt him overboard, if he won’t give in,” shouted Van, and I set my teeth as I heard him; but there was no time to spare, and feeling about for a sheet, I got hold of it, meaning to swing myself out clear, and hang quite still, while they passed aloft, and then try for some hiding-place where I could gain the deck. I held on tight for a moment, and listened; and then in the darkness I could hear some one coming nearer and nearer, when, letting go with my feet, I swung gently off, and the next instant brushed up against something, when my heart gave a great bound, for I had found the way to get down to them in the cabin.
“It may come to a fight though, after all, and a prick will keep some of them at a distance,” I says to myself, and getting my legs well round the sheet, I got hold of my knife, and opened it with my teeth, before making use of the chance that had shown itself.
Perhaps it isn’t every one who knows what a wind-sail is, so I’ll tell you; it’s a contrivance like a great canvas stocking, six or seven feet round, and twenty or thirty long and by letting one end of this hang down through the cabin-hatch or skylight, and having the other bowsed up in the rigging, you have like a great open pipe bringing you down a reg’lar stream of cool air in the hot weather.
Now it was just against the top end of this that I had brushed; and as it seemed to me all I had to do was to slip in, check myself all I could, and then go down with a run amongst friends, where, if not safe, I should certainly share their fate, whatever it might be, besides, perhaps, being of some use.
Fortunately, I had the rope, and hauling myself up a bit, after two or three tries, I got my legs in, lowered away quickly, and came down pretty smartly, not, as I meant, in the chief cabin, but upon the deck, where I was now struggling to get loose, like a monkey in a biscuit-bag, for they had done what I had not reckoned upon, dragged up the end of the wind-sail, and shut down the cabin skylight, most likely when I heard the shots and breaking glass.
It was lucky for me that it was dark, for though the noise I made brought them round me, I had time first to slit the canvas and slip out, panting, and not knowing which way to turn. I knew they dare not fire, for fear of hitting one another, and starting off, I ran them once right round the deck, keeping as much as I could under the bulwarks. The second time round I came right against one fellow, and sent him down head over heels; but I knew it couldn’t last, and that in spite of doubling they must have me. I could hear panting and voices all round, and on leaving off running, and creeping cautiously about, more than once I felt some one pass close by me—regularly felt them, they were so close. Once I thought of getting into the chains, but I knew if I did they would see me as soon as it was daybreak. Then I thought I might just as well jump overboard, and make an end of it, as be pitched over; directly after, I fancied I could crawl under the spare sail that covered the long-boat, and lie there. Last of all, I made for the poop, meaning to try and climb down to one of the cabin windows, but I stopped half-way, on account of the binnacle-light, and crept back towards the fore-part, to see if I could get down to the fore-cabin passengers. But it was of no use, and the only wonder was that I did not run right into some one’s arms; but the chances, perhaps, were not, after all, so very much against me, and I kept clear till they grew savage, and I could hear that they were cutting about at me with either knives or cutlasses; and in spite of my trouble then, I could not help wondering how they had come by their arms, for, of course, I could not know then how Van had stolen them from the cabin while the skipper was asleep.
“I may as well knock under,” I said to myself, and I was about to give up, meaning first to give ’em one more round, when I stumbled. Twice over I had felt my bare feet, slip upon the deck, in what seemed blood, and had shuddered as I thought of how I should leave my footmarks all over the clean white boards; but this time I stumbled over what seemed to be a body, and should have fallen, if I had not gathered up my strength for a jump, and thrown myself forward, when, as if in one and the same moment, there was a crash as of breaking glass, a heavy fall, and then a foot was upon my throat, and a pistol held to my head.
I was that shaken and confused by my fall, that for a moment I could not speak, and when I could say a few words, I did not know who I was speaking to, expecting that it was Van, till a voice I seemed to know whispered: “If you attempt to move, I fire.”
“I ain’t going to move, Mr Ward,” I says at last: “it’s been too hard work to get here; but if you’ll pynt your pistol up at the skylight, it’ll be better, or some one else will be tumbling down after me. Only wish Sam Brown would.”
“Pitched me down more’n half a hour ago,” growled a voice I knew.
“What’s come of Bill Smith?” I says.
“Lyin’ on the deck with his head split,” says Sam, “if they ain’t pitched him overboard.”
Then I heard a whispering consultation going on, which seemed to be about whether I was to be trusted, when Mr Ward seemed to be taking my part, and then the skipper whispers to me: “If you’ll be faithful to us, Roberts, you shall be well rewarded; but if you play fast and loose, mind, we are well armed, and there will be no mercy for you.”
“Who’s playing fast and loose?” I says gruffly as old Sam. “Ain’t I been cut at, and shot at, and then pitched neck and crop through the cabin skylight! If that’s your fast and loose, give me slow and tight for a game,” I says; “but mind you, it’s my opinion that there’s something else to do but play, for them beggars mean mischief.”
“I’ll be answerable for him, Captain Harness,” says Mr Ward; and though all this went on in whispers, there wasn’t a face to be seen, every light having been put out. “You may trust him, he’s no spy.”
“Spy be hanged,” I says. “Who’s going to play spy down here, in a place as is dark as an empty pitch-kettle in a ship’s hold! Don’t I tell you I’ve had to cut and run for my life, and what more do you want?”
“Nothing, my man,” says Mr Ward; “only your help as a good and true British sailor, for here are women and children for us to protect.”
“However shall I get to my birds?” some one says from out of the darkness.
“Birds!” I says: “you won’t want no more birds, sir, for it’s my impression as we’re going to be kept caged up ourselves now.”
Just then I seemed to catch just a faint glimpse of a face from out of the darkness, then it was gone again, and half a minute after I got another glimpse, and then another, when it was plain enough that the day was breaking; and then quickly the pale light stole down through the skylight, till the anxious faces of all the passengers, with the two officers and Sam Brown, was plain enough to see; and strange, and haggard, and queer they looked; but for all that, there was an air of determination amongst them, that showed they meant mischief; and I soon gathered from Mr Ward’s words that he was spurring the captain on to try and retake the ship.
“I’m afraid it would only be a sacrifice of life, if I did,” said the skipper.
“It would be a sacrifice of duty, if you did not, sir,” says Mr Ward warmly.
“Perhaps you’d better retake her yourself, sir,” says the skipper sulkily.
“I certainly shall try, sir, if you do not do your duty, to protect these helpless women. But we have a right to demand your assistance, and we do; while I have the word of every man present that he will fight to the last gasp for those who need our protection.”
“I cannot fight, but I can load for you,” said a voice from behind; and looking round, as many of us did, there stood Mr Bell, pale as a ghost, but quite calm, and leaning upon his sister’s arm; while, if I could have seen anything in a woman to admire, I should have said she looked beautiful just then—being quite pale and calm—like the sea of a still morning before the sun rises.
“There’s something to fight for there,” says Sam in my ear.
“Why didn’t they all stop at home?” I says. “Just look what a mess they’ve got themselves in through being aboard ship, which is the last place as they should be in.”
What Mr Ward had said seemed to have warmed the captain up; for sooner than see another take his place, he set to, and began to hunt out what arms he could find, after placing Mr Ward to guard the broken skylight, which he did with a revolver and a thin skewer of a thing out of a walking-stick, and it put me in mind of what I have read about some one being put in the fore-front of the battle; but the young man never said a word; and then, after a bit of a rummage, the captain came back to serve out what arms he could get told of, but that wasn’t many, for the enemy had pretty well emptied the locker where they were kept. A precious poor lot there was left for us to defend ourselves and a whole tribe of women and children; my share being an empty pistol, which didn’t seem to be so much use as a fellow’s fist, that being a handy sort of weapon in a tussle.
Everything was done quiet as could be, so as not to let them on deck know what we were doing; but as soon as the arming part was finished, and I looked round, I could see that the game was up, for two more pistols, two cutlashes, and a couple of guns—sporting-guns, that two of the passengers had used to shoot sea-birds with—was all we could muster.
As is always the case when it’s wanted, neither of these passengers had any more powder; and when Mr Ward’s little pistol-flask had been passed round once, there was not another charge left; but the captain had gone to get more, and we were expecting him back, piling up hammocks and bedding the while, to keep the mutineers off, and to have something to fight from behind. I was doing all I could, after shoving a good charge of powder and a whole handful of small-shot into my pistol, when Mr Ward beckons to me and whispers: “Go and see why he don’t come back; it’s time to be on the alert, for they are moving on deck.”
I stepped lightly off—my feet being bare, making no noise on the planks—when coming upon the captain quickly, I saw him just putting down a water-can, and he turned round to me, looking pale as a sheet, as he says: “It’s no use, my lad; resistance would be vain, for they’ve contrived to wet what powder we had. Look at it.”
He pointed to the little keg and a small case of cartridges, and sure enough they were all dripping wet, while it seemed rather surprising that the wetting looked so fresh. But I did not say so, only that Mr Ward hoped he’d make haste.
“Curse Mr Ward!” he muttered; and then he went on first, and I followed with my cheeks blown out, as if I was going to whistle, but I didn’t make a sound for all that.
“I fear that we must give up, Mr Ward,” says the skipper, “for the powder is all wet.”
There was a regular groan of dismay at the news, and one woman gave a sort of sob, else they were still as mice, and the children too behaving wonderful.
“Who talks of giving up?” says Mr Bell, his pale face flushing up as he spoke, and him holding one hand to his side. “Do you call yourselves men to hint at such a thing? I am no man now, only a broken, wasted shadow of a man, or, by the God who made me, Captain Harness, I’d strike you down! Look at these women, men! think of their fate if those scoundrels get the upper hand—completely—Mr Ward—you—as a gentleman—my sister—God help—”
The poor young fellow staggered, and would have fallen, for the blood was trickling down upon his shirt-front—gushing from his lips; but Mr Ward saved him, springing forward as a cry burst from Miss Bell; and he was laid upon a mattress in one of the cabins fainting—dying, it seemed to me.
Then there was a murmur among the passengers, of such a nature that Captain Harness found he must make some show of a fight, or it would be done without him; and accordingly he took hold of a very blunt cutlash, looking precious pale, but making-believe to tuck up the wristband of his shirt, to have free play for killing six or seven of the mutineers.
As for the passengers, all mustered, there was about eighteen of them; and had they been well armed, numbers being about equal, I don’t think we should have had much the worst of it; but ever so many of them had no arms at all, and I began to turn over in my mind what was to be done. I had a pretty good jack-knife; and not having much faith in the pistol, I was about to trust to the bit of steel, same as Sam Brown, who had one with a spring-back and a good seven-inch blade, so I says to Tomtit: “P’r’aps you’d like the pistol, sir;” and he took it quietly and earnestly, tapping the back, to make sure the powder was up the nipple, and I thought to myself, that’s in the right hands, anyhow.
“Are you ready?” says the skipper; for they were evidently collecting up above, and some one fired a pistol down the skylight, but none of us was hit.
“Not quite, sir,” I says. “Steward, suppose you hand out some of them knives o’ yours; and I’ll trouble you for the big beef-carver, as I spoke first.”
Mr Ward turned round and smiled at me; and I gave him a nod, turned up my sleeve too, and then laid hold of the big carver, which did not make such a bad weapon, being new, sharp-pointed, and stiff; while my idea had put a knife into a dozen hands that before had nothing to show.
“Pile more mattresses and hammocks up,” said Mr Ward; for it was plain that neither the skipper nor Mr Wallace meant to do much towards what was going to take place; and then I saw the doctor give one look towards where Mr Bell was lying, and run across, as if to see how he was; but he hurriedly caught hold of Miss Bell’s hand, and I could see that he spoke, while, as she drew her hand hastily away, she gave a strange frightened sort of look at him. Next moment he was back at my side, just as the cabin-hatch was flung open, and the shuffling of feet told that the mutineers meant to make their rush.
It was a rush, and no mistake; for they had been priming themselves up with rum, I should think, for the last hour or two, till they were nearly mad; and with Van at their head, they came on, yelling like so many devils, more than Englishmen, though certainly half of them were from all parts of the world. There was no time then for thinking, and before you knew where you were, it was give and take.
We fired as they came on; but I did not see that much harm was done, only one chap falling; while, as they returned it, Mr Wallace gave a cry, and clapped his hand to his shoulder, dropping at the same time his cutlash, which Tomtit laid hold of, for he had just shied his pistol, after firing it, right at Van’s head, only missing him by half an inch or so.
Van dashed right at the skipper like a cat, and with one cut sent him down, when he turned upon me, to serve me the same; but I was too quick for him, and as I jumped aside, his cutlash hit the bulkhead and snapped in two. I believe it would have gone hard with him then, for that carver was sharp, and my old blood was up, but in the struggle I was driven back; and the next thing I saw was Mr Ward drive that skewer of his right through one fellow’s shoulder, and then starting back, he fired three shots from his revolver, but with what effect I never saw, for two of the piratical rascals were at me, and it was all I could do to keep them at a distance. I fetched one a chop across the back of the hand at last, though, and sent him off howling and cursing; and then managing to avoid a cut, and sending my arm out, I caught the other right in the chest, and down he went like a stone; when, to my surprise, I found it was only the buckhorn handle I had hit him with, the blade having flown out, and gone goodness knows where.
There was no time to choose who should be your next enemy, for two or three were at you directly, and there I was at last, fighting best way I could with my fists, driven here and there, with the planks slippery with blood, and men, some wounded, some only stunned, lying about for you to fall over.
I kept casting an eye at Mr Ward, and could see that he was fighting like a hero; but all at once I made a jump to get at him, for I saw Van creep up behind, while he was defending himself from a big fellow with a cutlash, and though I shouted to him, it was of no use, for the poor young fellow was cut down just as I turned dizzy from being fetched to the deck with a crack from a marlinespike.
When I came to again, my head was aching awfully, and I found myself lying upon the deck, with old Sam Brown dabbing my forehead with a wet swab. Close beside me was Bill Smith, and the sight of him alive did me so much good that I jumped up into a sitting position, and gave his hand a good shake. But, there, it was for all the world like having boiling lead poured from one side to the other of your head, and I was glad to lean against the bulkhead again.
There were half-a-dozen of the crew keeping watch over us, while Sam whispered to me that six bodies had been shoved out of the port—three being passengers; as to the rest on our side, Mr Ward’s seemed the worst wound, but he, poor fellow, was sitting up pale and anxious, with his handkerchief tied round his head, and evidently, like me, wondering what was to happen next.
I could not help noticing soon after how well the women bore it all; hushing and chattering to the children to keep them quiet, and doing all they could to keep them from noticing our wild and wounded faces. They were all huddled together in the big cabin, while, with the exception of the men on guard, the mutineers were on deck. From the slight rolling of the ship, it seemed that they had altered her course; but my head was too much worried and confused for me to notice much, and that day slipped by, and the night came—such a night as, I pray God, I may never again pass; for the cabin-hatches were closed upon us, and none of the men stayed down, but after serving round some biscuit and water, and some rank bad butter at the bottom of one of the little tubs, they went on deck, though we soon found that a couple of them kept watch.
It was a sad night and a bitter, for as soon as darkness came down upon us, the poor women, who had held up so well all day, broke down, and you could hear the smothered sobbing and wailing, till it went through you like a knife. I believe they tried all they could to keep it in, poor things; but then ’tain’t in ’em, you know, to keep up long; and then when the children broke out too, and wanted all sorts of things that they couldn’t have, why, it was awful. We had no lights, for they wouldn’t give us any, so we all had to set to, to try and make the best of everything; but we couldn’t, you see, not even second best, try how we would.
“Only a bit of a cut, sir,” I says to Mr Ward, who was going round and doing what he could in the dark for we chaps as had got knocked about. “I sha’n’t hurt. See to Bill Smith here. Tell you what it is though, sir—you won’t catch me at sea again in such a Noah’s Ark as this here.”
“Hush, my man,” he says, “and try all you can to help.” “In course I will, sir,” I says; and then, hearing a growl on my right, I says: “That ain’t Bill, sir, that’s Sam. He’s all right: nobody can’t hurt him, his blessed head’s too thick.” Directly after the doctor felt his way to Bill Smith, and tied up his head a bit, while I was wondering what to do for the best, listening all the time to women wailing, and little ones letting go, as if with the full belief that they’d got the whole of the trouble in the ship on their precious little heads. What seemed the best thing to do was to quiet some of them; and if it had been daylight, a sight or two of my phiz would have frightened ’em into peace; but how to do it now, I didn’t know. “Howsoever, here goes for a try,” I says; and I groped my way along as well as I could, expecting every moment to be deafened, when I turned half mad with rage, for some one yells down the skylight: “Stop that noise!” and at the same moment there was a pistol fired right into the wailing crowd; then there was a sharp clear shriek, and directly after a stillness that was awful.
“It was a cruel cowardly act,” I heard some one say then close to me; “but, Miss Bell,”—And then directly came the young lady’s voice saying: “It is almost as cowardly, sir, to speak to me in this way, when I am so unprotected.”
“By your leave,” I says gruffly, and I felt a little hand laid on my arm.
“Is that you, Mr Roberts?” says Miss Bell, and I could feel her soft breath on my cheek.
“It’s old Tom Roberts, without the Mister, ma’am,” I says, “and at your sarvice. What shall I do?”
What could I do? Rum question, wasn’t it? When, if she didn’t put a little toddling thing into my arms—a bit of a two-year-older, as was just beginning to cry again, after the fright of the pistol; but I turned myself into a sort of cradle, got rocking about, and if the soft round little thing didn’t go off fast asleep, and breathe as reg’lar as so much clockwork!
“Well done you, Tom Roberts,” I says, after listening to it for about half an hour; and do you know, I did feel a bit proud of what I’d done, being the first time, you see, that I’d ever tried to do such a thing; and so through the night I sat there with my back to the bulkhead, and with my head all worried like, for now it was me groaning, and now it seemed that I was crying like a child, and then people were telling me to be quiet, only I wouldn’t, for I had mutinied, and was going to kill Mr Ward, and marry Miss Bell, and things were all mixed together, and strange and misty, and then thicker still, and at last all was blank, and I must have gone off to sleep, in spite of my trouble, for when I opened my eyes, it was broad daylight again, and then the first thing they lit on was a little chubby, curly-headed thing in my lap, watching me as serious as could be, and twisting its little hand in my beard.
I hadn’t eyes for anything else for a little while, but as soon as I did take a look round, all the troubles seemed to come back with a jump, for most of the party were asleep; there they all were, first-class passengers and steerage passengers, all huddled together, no distinctions now. Old Sam was snoring away close alongside of the skipper and Mr Wallace, and strange and bad they looked, poor fellows; while up at the far end sat Miss Bell, bending over her brother, who lay on a locker; but whether she was asleep or not, I couldn’t tell.
But there was something else took my attention, and that was, that though all the other berths seemed empty, one had some one lying in it, and that berth I could not keep my eyes off, for it got to be somehow mixed up with the firing of that pistol down the skylight and the sharp cry I had heard; and so from thinking about it all, I got it put together in a shape which Mr Ward afterwards told me was quite right, for a little lad of nine years old was killed by that cowardly bullet, and it was him as I saw lying there so still.
By degrees, first one and then another of our miserable party roused up with a sigh, and then sat staring about in a most hopeless way; all but Mr Ward, who went round to those who had been wounded, saying a cheering word or two, as well as seeing to their bandages; but it was quite by force that he had to do the skipper’s, for his wound had made him light-headed, and he took it into his poor cloudy brain that Mr Ward was Van, and wanted to make an end of him.
People soon got whispering together and wondering what was to be done next, for they seemed to be busy on deck, and of course we were all very anxious to know; but when Sam Brown got a tub on one of the tables, and then hauled himself up, to have a look through the skylight, he came down again rubbing his knuckles and swearing, for one of the watch had given him a tap with a marlinespike; and after that, of course no one tried to look out.
I, for one, expected that they would have taken advantage of having their own way to have a reg’lar turn at the spirits; but no: they certainly got some up, but Van seemed to be driving them all with a tightish hand, so that they were going on very quietly and reg’larly, as we found, for by and by they serves out biscuit and butter and fresh water again; and not very long after, Van sung out down the hatchway for me to come up; and knowing that if I didn’t go he’d send and fetch me, I went up, and sat down on the deck, where he pointed to with a pistol. Then he ordered up Sam and Bill, and four sailors who were on our side (lads only), and the skipper and Mr Wallace, one at a time, till we were all set in a row, with them guarding us; when, with his teeth glistening, Van walks up to the skipper, and hits him on the head with the butt-end of his pistol, so that the poor fellow fell back on the deck.
“Set him up again,” says Van savagely; and a couple of the mutineers did so, but only for Van to knock him down once more; and he did that four times over, till, when they set the poor captain up again the last time, he fell back upon the deck of himself, being stunned like. It was enough to make any fellow burst with rage; but what can you do when there’s half a score standing over you with loaded pistols? and, besides, trouble makes people very selfish, while we all knew how Van was having his bit of revenge, cowardly as it was, for the way the captain had treated him.
Last of all, Van goes and puts his foot on the skipper’s neck, and I made as though to get up, for I thought he was going to blow his brains out; and bad and cowardly as the captain had been, I couldn’t a-bear to see him hit when he was down without trying to help him; but it was of no use, for I was pulled back directly, and all I could do was to sit and look on.
All at once, Van turns a breaker on its end, jumps on it, and, sticking his arms a-kimbo like a fishwoman, he begins to spout at us; and fine and fierce no doubt he thought he looked in his red nightcap, and belt stuck full of pistols. “Now, my lads,” he says, “we’re going to have some of the good old times over again: take possession of one of the beautiful isles in the Pacific, and sail where we like under the black flag, free as the day, with none of your cursed tyrants to make men sweat blood and work like dogs, but all free and equal. We’ve done the work, and captured the ship, and you’ve acted like thieves and curs, and sided with them as will be ready to kick you for your pains. As for you, Wallace, curse you! you have always been a cur and a tool; but we shall want help, and you can come if you like; while, you others, we’ll look over what’s gone by, for you did fight like men. So, what do you say?—will you join us, or take your chance to reach land in one of the boats with the lot below?”
The young lads all looked at me, to see what I’d say, for no one took much notice of Mr Wallace. Bill Smith, too, who was much better, he looks at me; and I s’pose old Sam meant to do the same, but when I turned to him, all I could make out was the whites of his eyes, till he turned his head on one side, and I got a sight of one eye, when he turned his head t’other way, and then I see t’other.
It was very plain that they meant me to be spokesman; and seeing that was to be the case, and that, after a fashion, they left me to decide, I just turns it over in my own mind for a hit, and seeing as I should be wanted in the boats to help make the land somewhere, as they was to be loaded with a set of the helplessest beings as ever breathed—why, I says: “T’others can do as they like; as for me, you never asked me at first; and as you’ve done without me so far, why, you can do without me now—till you gets to the gallows,” I added, but so as they couldn’t hear me. And, though I hardly expected it from the lads, they said they’d do as I did; while, as for Bill and Sam, they always was a pair of the helplessest babbies as ever breathed, and left me to think for ’em ever since we first sailed together—indeed, I don’t fancy as Sam ever had any thinking machinery at all. Howsoever, they said as they’d stick by me; and Van gave a curse and a swear, and a blow or two at us; and then, after a bit of ’scussion, in which women was named two or three times, and Van and another party was quite at loggerheads for a time, he gave his orders, big and bounceable like, and telling us to lend a hand, he made ready to lower down one of the boats.
Two boats were lowered down, and my two mates and me and the four sailors was to man ’em. They let down Captain Harness, wounded and half mad as he was, into one boat, and Mr Wallace the mate into the other; and then a couple of compasses, and some breakers of water, a bag or two of biscuit, and a tub of butter were shoved in. Then came the job of getting the passengers over the side. The men were ordered up first, and, some wounded, some savage, some weak and disheartened, they were made to take their places, six of the mutineers keeping guard with cocked pistols and drawn cutlashes. I believe, though, in spite of their weapons, that a little English pluck was all that was needed to save the ship; but no attempt was made, and, trembling and frightened, the women and children were ordered up, and then the boats were loaded.
“Now, then, down with you, and shove off,” says Van Haigh, showing his cursed white teeth, and pricking at poor Sam Brown with his cutlash, just out of malice like. And you should have seen Sam’s eyes that time! He never spoke, but it’s my opinion if he’d had the chance, he’d have shaken Van’s precious body until the silver rings he was so proud of had dropped out of his yellow ears. But, as I said before, Sam didn’t speak; he only lays hold of the side rope, and lowers himself into the boat, already too full; Bill Smith dropping into the other, in spite of his wound.
“Now you!” roars Van to me, for I was standing hesitating, and I don’t mind saying that a cold chill ran all through me, for just then I heard the click of his pistol cock, and I knew he was taking aim at my head. But I mastered myself, and wouldn’t turn round; for it was an important time, and there was much to think about. There was poor Mr Ward, with his head bound up, held by two of the mutineers; and poor Tomtit, with his knees to his chin as he sat upon the deck; and of course they weren’t going, for the boats wouldn’t hold any more. And there was the fat passenger, as cried when we left home; and last of all, Miss Bell and her brother below.
It didn’t take me long to make up my mind, for it seemed to me as it would never do for me and my mates to go and leave them in their trouble, for maybe they’d be sent afloat in a little boat next, and wouldn’t know how to work her; so, half-expecting every moment to drop with a bullet through me, I says: “I’m blest, my lads, if I ain’t had about enough of it. While the old skipper was aboard, I did my duty by him and them as was under him; but now there’s a new skipper, I don’t see what call there is for me to go afloat with a set o’ lubbers in a crazy boat. You, Bill Smith, and you, squinty Brown, can do as you like. Captain Van,” I says, turning to him, “if you’ll shove that pistol away, I’ll stop aboard.”
“Hooray!” shouts half a dozen of the fellows; and I could see Van looking me through and through with them dark eyes of his; but I don’t think he got much below the skin either, and besides, he was a bit tickled by me calling him “captain;” so he puts the pistol in his belt, and the next minute Bill and Sam was aboard again, looking half-puzzled like. Then the mutineers gave a bit of a cheer, and the passengers groaned at us; and, to make matters right with them on board, I jumps on the taffrail and groans again, and calls the poor beggars “swabs”—God forgive me!—for shoving off in so lubberly a way, with their oars dipping anyhow, nohow, one after the other in the water, and the boats not trimmed. It was a cruel trick, but I meant it all for the best; while, what to do about old Sam, I didn’t know, for he was growling and swearing to himself like some old tiger-cat, and I was afraid he’d show his teeth and claws every moment; but he kept quiet. As for poor Bill, he seemed misty and dazed, never speaking, but sitting down on the deck to lean his head against the side. Then Van seemed more at rest, for, giving his orders, the men uncocked their pistols, after making-believe to blow the fat passenger’s brains out, and making the perspiration run down his face, mixed up with tears, for he began to pipe his eye terribly.
“Lower ’em below,” says Van; and the fat passenger saved ’em the trouble; while, when they were letting down Tomtit, whose hands were tied, and they were going to let go, they found his legs was already at the bottom, and then his head disappeared, but only to pop up again the next moment like a Jack-in-the-box, to see what was going to be done to the doctor.
“Ain’t he a rum beggar?” I says to one of the blood-thirsty devils at my side, all to make friends, you see; and he laughed, and so did two or three more, for another of ’em made a cut at the poor chap’s head with his cutlash, to make him bob down the hatchway again, which he did, though only to come up again, till, finding it wasn’t safe, he kept down, and we didn’t see him no more just then. The poor doctor was the next to take their attention; and, seeing how cut up the poor fellow was, I’d have given something to have gone and shaken hands with him, and told him what I felt, and at first I hardly dare look him in the face.
They lashed Mr Ward’s hands behind him, and I saw his lips quiver as he kept on casting an eye at the cabin-stairs. I knew well enough what he was thinking about, only I daren’t look at him much, for there were plenty watching me suspiciously enough, and, let alone not wanting to be knocked on the head, I felt that to do any good for the passengers, I must throw them as had the upper hand off the scent.
I was leaning against the bulwarks, making-believe to look on, cool as could be, and screwing my old mahogany phizog into what I meant to be a grin of delight at our freedom, but I know it must have been about the sort of screw that a fellow would give when lashed to a gun for a round dozen.
Mr Ward saw me grinning, and sent such a look at me as made my face grow as long as a spoon; but that wouldn’t do, and I daren’t give him any signal, so I laughed it off, and, pulling out my box and opening my knife, I goes up to him, and I says in a free-and-easy way, “Have a chaw, mate?” and made-believe to cut him one.
“You infernal traitorous scoundrel!” he shouted, and in spite of his lashings he made at me; while, making-believe to have my monkey up, I up with my knife and made a stroke at him, sending it through his pilot-coat and into one of the side-pockets, dragging at it, to get it out again, and keeping it hitched the while, till some of them laid hold of me by the arm, when, struggling and swearing, I hit out with my left hand, and caught Mr Ward upon the chest, sending him down upon the deck, when I tried again to get at him, but they held me fast.
“I’ll let him know,” I spluttered out; and then Brassey, Van’s right-hand man, gives the order, and three of his mates drags Mr Ward down the hatchway; when I pretended to be better, and only kept on muttering and scowling about like a dog that’s lost his bone, till ten minutes after, when I got a pannikin of grog, and sat looking at what was going on.
I don’t think I’d any plans made; my only idea was, that when they sent the three or four others off, me and my mates might seize another boat, and row after them, the same night, for they wouldn’t get very far, as I knew, unless a fresh breeze sprung up, and took us away. Certainly the two boats that had gone were loaded deep, but they were not making a mile an hour; and it seemed plain enough to me that unless they could answer for its being calm till the poor wretches were picked up, if they ever were, the brutes on board had murdered ’em one and all, men, women, and children, by a slow kind of torture.
“Not very smart crews, matey,” I says, pointing with my knife over my shoulder to where the boats were slowly rising and falling, and then I fished out a piece of chicken from a tin case of the skipper’s, and went on eating away as if I hadn’t a care on my mind. “Peg away, my lads,” I says to Bill and Sam; but Bill couldn’t touch a snap. Sam made up for it, though; and after plenty of hard work and fighting, and two days on biscuit and water, and that rank yellow grease sailors get for butter, one’s teeth do get rather sharp. “Now, if you’ll just sarve another tot o’ grog round, cap’n,” I says to Van, as I wiped my knife on the leg of my trousers, “I shall be about done and ready for work.”
Some of the fellows laughed, and Van said something about my not being such a bad sort after all; but I could see as he did not trust me, which, I must say, was quite right, and the only right thing as I ever saw in the blackguard’s character.
I soon found that though they’d all doubled the Cape a good many times, there wasn’t a man with navigation enough in him to tell where we were, or how to carry the ship on her course; while, though I don’t believe I could have worked a reckoning right, yet, somehow or other, I fancy I could have shoved that old ship’s nose into the harbour for which we were bound. Their plan seemed to be to crack on due south till we’d got high enough, and then to steer west, and get into the Pacific best way we could. I give them my bit of advice when it was asked, for I thought that the more we were in the track of ships, the more likely we were to be overhauled; but they would not have it my way; and Van giving his orders, a lot of us sprung up to make sail. When lying out on the main-royal yard, I run my eye round and quite jumped again, for, bearing down towards where the boats were crawling along, there was a bark with every stitch of canvas set.
Sam saw it too, for he grunted; but I give him a kick, and down we came, our vessel feeling the breeze now, and careening over as the water began to rattle under her bows.
I felt more comfortable after that, for though I did not for a moment think that the ship I had seen would overhaul us, still I felt pretty sure that she’d pick up those poor creatures in the boats, and save them from a horrible death. There was no doubt about having seen the bark, but from the deck never a glimpse was got of it; and we went bowling along in capital style, just, in fact, as if we had been a honest ship on a good cruise.
Having nothing particular to do, I went below, and the first place I came to was the cabin that had been fitted up for Mr Butterwell’s birds; and on getting to ’em, there they were, poor little things, fluttering and chirping about with their feathers all rough, for they’d got no water and seed. Quite a score of ’em were lying dead in the bottom amongst the sand; and after giving the pretty little things water, and seed, and paste, I fished out the dead ones in a quiet, methodical sort of way, turning over something in my mind that I couldn’t get to fit, when I feels a hand on my shoulder.
“Going to wring their necks?” says Van, for it was him come down to watch me.
“Not I,” I says. “They’ll do first-rate to turn out on the island we stops at. Sing like fun.”
“Look ye here, Roberts,” he says, “we’re playing a dangerous game, and you’ve joined us in it. Don’t play any tricks, or—” He didn’t say any more, but looked hard at me.
“Tricks!” I grumbled out; “I’m not for playing anything. I’m for real earnest, and no favour to nobody.”
“I only said don’t,” says Van; and he went up again.
“A suspicious hound,” I says to myself; and then I began to turn over in my own mind what I had been thinking of before; and then having, as I thought, hit upon a bright idea, I hugged it up, and began to rub it a little more shiny.
You see what I wanted to do was to get a word with Mr Ward, and how to do it was the question. I knew well enough that I should be watched pretty closely, and any attempt at speaking would be put an end to most likely with a bullet.
I rubbed that thought about no end, and next morning I goes to one particular cage where there was a linnet that I had seen Mr Butterwell play all sorts of tricks with; and instead of feeding it, I quietly took out the panting little thing, carried it on deck, got up in a corner under the bulwarks, and waited my time, watching the while to see if any one had an eye on me. Then I let the bird go; and it flitted here and flitted there with a tiny bit of paper fastened under its wing, till, as I had hoped, there came from out of the cabin skylight a particular sort of chirrup, when the bird settled on the glass for a moment, and then dropped through the opening where it had been broken.
Now, on that bit of paper I had printed what I knew wouldn’t hurt me if the bird was seen by the mutineers, for I was afraid to say much the first time; and as I had written on it, “Let him go again,” so sure enough up he came ten minutes after, and watching my chance, I followed him about till I caught him, and took him back to his cage, and gave him plenty of seed.
Van had taken possession of the cabin next to where his prisoners were, and the skylight being partly over his place, a word with Mr Ward was out of the question; while such a little messenger as I had found would go to his master when called, perhaps without calling, specially after him being fortunate enough to catch sight of the bird the first time I tried.
All that day matters went on as usual, a strict watch being kept over the prisoners, and more than one as I fancied having an eye to me. On and on we sailed due south, and the weather kept wonderful all the time; but there seemed no sign of starting the rest of the passengers off in a boat, and I began to feel worried and troubled about their fate, and more anxious to get on with the plans I was contriving.