Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fourteen.The result of that thrust was that the door was opened some little distance, and then stopped by part of the pile of chests and other luggage formed into a barricade.There was a dead silence in the saloon as the deep voice of a man was heard speaking in a subdued tone to those with him; and pointing to the sky-light, Mr Frewen stepped back from the defenders of the barricade so as to be ready in case an effort should be made to assail them there.Then the door was rattled loudly, and Jarette’s voice was heard speaking angrily to some one without.Again there was silence for a few moments, and then Jarette cried, “Now then; do you hear?”This was followed by a sharp rap on the door, and a voice cried—“You in the cabin—Captain Jarette says you are to understand that he is now master of this ship, and that no harm will be done to any one if you all give up quietly.”“And if we do not,” said Captain Berriman, sharply, “what then?”“That is for Captain Jarette to decide,” replied the voice, one which made me writhe as I looked from one to the other, wondering whether they recognised who was speaking.“Captain Jarette!” cried our sturdy old officer, furiously. “Look here, sir, don’t you insult me by calling that French scoundrel by such a title. And look here, are you making this announcement of your own free will, or are you forced by that contemptible mongrel knave to deliver his insolent message?”“There is no compulsion, captain, and no need for you to call names, without you wish to be punished for your insolence. I am Captain Jarette, sir, and this is my good ship, these are my good brave men. Brave enfans—do you hear, bons enfans. This lad is my young lieutenant, who, like the rest, was sick of the vagaries of such a tyrannical old wretch as you.”“You dog!” growled the captain, furiously.“Yes, dog, sir, so don’t tease me into biting, or I may use my teeth sharply.”“You, Walters,” cried the captain, “listen, boy—why are you with these men? Are you a prisoner?”There was silence for a space before Walters said sharply, as if some one had made a threatening gesture close to his head—“No, I am not a prisoner.”“But you have not joined these mutinous scoundrels, sir?” cried the captain, and his voice sounded quite plaintive.Walters made no reply.“Do you hear me, boy? Answer me, you— Oh no, it is impossible.”There was a low derisive laugh plainly heard, and then in a mocking tone Jarette said—“Why don’t you answer the good kind captain, Lieutenant Walters?”I started at this, and my lips parted to give utterance to the ejaculation, “Oh!” as I felt I was grasping the reason of my messmate’s conduct. Could it be ambition?“What! you’re too modest? All right, dear boy, I’ll answer for you. Yes, he has joined me, skipper, as my right hand, to help navigate our ship. Do you hear—our ship? He was sick of your bullying and domineering, just as we all were. I had only to ask the lads if they were not tired of being slaves, to have them join me at once. And now you’ve often talked to me; let me talk to you for your good. No more bad language, please, unless you want to go overboard to join those fools who showed fight last night. Be civil, and you shall be decently treated, till I set you afloat or ashore, as seems best to me. There, we only want to say—don’t play the fool, and let the doctor and those passengers think they can do any good by resisting. We don’t want to make any of you bleed. What have you been doing to the door to keep it from opening? Have it pulled down, and come out like sensible people.”“Don’t answer him, sir,” said the mate, in a whisper.“Do you hear?” cried Jarette, savagely. “Open the door, or I’ll put a few pounds of powder up against it and blow it in.”“Come and touch the door,” cried the captain, sternly, “and we’ll blow your brains out.”“What?” cried Jarette, mockingly. “You blow my brains out, fool!—what with?”“This!” said Mr Denning, sharply, and he thrust the barrel of the double gun so quickly through one of the openings left, and also through the narrow slit formed by the partly opened door, that there was the sound of men scuffling back, and a heavy fall, followed by a roar of laughter.We knew the next moment who had fallen, for Jarette’s voice came to us in an angry snarl.“You grinning idiots,” he cried, “take that!”As he spoke there was the sharp report of a pistol, and a fearful shriek, followed by a fall, and a low moaning as of some one in agony.“Serve him right!” cried Jarette. “Take him below. I’ll have the doctor out and send him down.”A minute later, after we had listened to the meaning noise growing fainter, Jarette spoke again.“There, Berriman,” he said, “that’s the stuff I’m made of, so no more nonsense; open the door and come out.”“Come and open it yourself, you half-French poodle hound,” cried the captain, “and I’ll show you what stuff I’m made of, and save you the trouble of going through a trial before reaching the hangman.”“You bragging idiot,” cried Jarette, fiercely, “open the door, or I’ll serve you as we served your miserable Brymer. Do you want to go overboard to join him?”“No; Captain Berriman prefers to stay on board to see me pay you back in your own coin,” said the mate. “Now, sir, who’s the braggart now?”Jarette was silenced for the moment, but he recovered himself directly.“Oh, you’re there then?” he cried. “I must punish some of my lads for only half doing their work. There, you are not so mad as Berriman is. Never mind the fool; open the door, and don’t make me savage, so that I am tempted to go to extremities. Do you hear?” he cried, after a pause.“I’ll answer for Mr Brymer,” cried the captain, “as you answered for that miserable, treacherous boy. No, he will not open the door for you and your pack to come in and wreck and rob. This is our stronghold till some ship heaves in sight, and you and your gang are put in irons to await your fate. I give you all fair warning,” he cried, raising his voice so that every one present might hear. “If you wish to escape being shot down, keep away from that door-way; for by all that is holy we will shoot the first ruffian who tries to open it.”“Powder!” said Jarette, laconically, “half a keg. It’s their own fault, my lads. They shall soon see who is master here.”There was a quick movement in the cabin then, and Captain Berriman turned to Mr Frewen.“Try and make more of an opening,” he said. “We must have full play for the guns.”The doctor nodded and drew back three of the chests a little.“That ought to do,” he said. “If one of us stands aside and watches, he can tell the others when to fire.”“Ah! but that will require care,” said the captain, quickly; “the shot must not be at the powder, or we shall be blown up. Look here, Mr Denning, if you will lend me your gun I think I can pick off the first scoundrel who comes to lay the powder. Perhaps another will come, but if he is dropped they will not try again.”“I can shoot them,” said Mr Denning, quietly. “I do not like to take life, but I feel that I must fire now.”“Then keep your gun, sir,” said Captain Berriman; “you need not hesitate, for it is a good deed to rid the earth of such wretches as these, and remember you are fighting for your sister’s sake.”“Yes,” said Mr Denning, in a low voice, almost a whisper to himself, “for my sister’s sake,”—and he moved a little to one side, where he could get a better aim and command the outer portion of the door, though it was only through quite a slit.“Hah!” cried Jarette, then in a triumphant tone—“but too much, my lads. We don’t want to blow out the side of the ship. She’s too much value to us now. Never mind, we’ll use half of it to make a good long train. Come, lieutenant, here’s a chance for you to distinguish yourself before the men. You shall lay the train.”“I? Lay the powder?” cried Walters, so excitedly that the men burst into a roar of laughter.“Bah! Don’t show the white feather, boy. It must be done. What? You won’t?”“No,” said Walters, quickly. “They’ve got a spite against me, and will shoot me. Let some one else.”Jarette uttered a fierce ejaculation.“Stand aside then,” he growled, “and let some one who is a man do it. Here, any one of you come and plant this powder, and show young Walters here how brave lads fight.”We listened full of excitement for the next moment, as every one watched Mr Denning standing there close to the opening in the barricade, his arms and the gun invisible as he reached through toward the saloon-door. But there was perfect silence, not a movement to be heard, as Jarette burst into a nasty harsh laugh.“Don’t all want to do the job?” he cried. “Not one to volunteer? Why, you laugh at me, and call me Frenchy, and brag about your English pluck, and not one man will come forward. Here you, Bob Hampton, your trick’s over at the wheel; come and lay this powder.”“What, to blow in the cabin-door?” came in familiar tones. “All right, skipper; only I don’t know much about powder to make trains. You wet in, don’t wild-fire on it?”“Bah! stand aside. Here you, Blane, lay that powder close up door.”“What me, skipper? Anything in going aloft and settin’ sail; but I know no more about gunpowder than a babby.”“Get out of the way, idiot. Where’s Dumlow?”“Which here I be,” growled that individual.“Here, lay hold of this powder, and plant it, my lad, and then lay a train.”“Take that there powder and lay a train?” said the big sailor.“Yes.”“Not me.”“What! You dare—” cried Jarette.“Lookye here, skipper,” growled Dumlow, “don’t you get poking that there pestle in my face, ’cause it might go off.”“Yes, and it will go off,” cried Jarette. “I mean to be obeyed by this crew, as I’ve just shown you.”“Nay, but don’t poke pestles in my face; ’cause it make me hit out, and when I hits out I hurts. You ask some one else.”“Bah!” ejaculated Jarette; and the word sounded like the short, sharp bark of some cur, as it reached us through the barricade.“Goin’ to plant it yourself?” said Bob Hampton.“Yes, you brave Englishman,” sneered Jarette. “I’m going to show you what your captain can do.”“Shoot the scoundrel!” said Captain Berriman, excitedly.“Impossible, without he comes into sight,” whispered Mr Denning.“Can’t you see him?”“No; he is pushing a bag of powder right in up against the door, and now sprinkling handfuls of powder up to it.”“You come away,” said the captain. “Quick, man! Here, every one lie down at the far end of the saloon.”I was one of the first to run; but I came back with a can of water, and held it to Mr Frewen.“Can you do anything with that, sir?” I said.“No, my lad. Quite impossible to reach it effectually.”I stood staring at the barricade and its openings for a few moments, and then an idea struck me. I had often seen my father’s gun cleaned, and when the barrels were detached from the stack, taken them up to look through them, binocular fashion, to see whether they were clean inside.“Take off the barrels from that gun!” I said excitedly.“What for?” cried Mr Frewen; but he did that which was asked all the same, and handed the barrels to me.“What are you going to do?” whispered the captain.“One minute, sir, and I’ll show you,” I said. “Let me come there, Mr Denning.”That gentleman altered his position a little, so that I could reach through the opening and let the ends of the barrels rest upon the deck, close to the powder, which I could just see scattered about the flooring.Directly after, I had raised my can and was carefully trickling the water down through one of the barrels with such good effect that the explosive grains were either saturated or borne away.I had been sending the little stream through for some moments before it was seen, and the first intimation we had of the mutineers noticing our defence was the explosion of a pistol, and simultaneously a dull, cracking sound as a bullet passed through the door and was buried in the trunk behind it.“That don’t matter, Berriman,” cried Jarette; “we have plenty of powder, and you can’t say the same about water.”I started at this, for it struck me that I had been pouring precious drops away which might mean life. But I laughed directly after, as I recalled the fact that we had only to drop a bucket out of the stern-windows and haul up as much salt water as we liked.Mr Frewen must have been thinking the same thing, for directly after he and Mr Brymer attached pieces of new halyard to a couple of tin pails, and threw them out of the window, and drew them up full, ready for the next attempt to lay powder.“No need to pour away the precious drops now,” said Mr Frewen. “But we must have down some of those chests so as to get at the powder easily.”The words had hardly left his lips when there was the sharp report of Mr Denning’s piece, followed directly after by a second shot, and the rush of feet upon the deck.

The result of that thrust was that the door was opened some little distance, and then stopped by part of the pile of chests and other luggage formed into a barricade.

There was a dead silence in the saloon as the deep voice of a man was heard speaking in a subdued tone to those with him; and pointing to the sky-light, Mr Frewen stepped back from the defenders of the barricade so as to be ready in case an effort should be made to assail them there.

Then the door was rattled loudly, and Jarette’s voice was heard speaking angrily to some one without.

Again there was silence for a few moments, and then Jarette cried, “Now then; do you hear?”

This was followed by a sharp rap on the door, and a voice cried—

“You in the cabin—Captain Jarette says you are to understand that he is now master of this ship, and that no harm will be done to any one if you all give up quietly.”

“And if we do not,” said Captain Berriman, sharply, “what then?”

“That is for Captain Jarette to decide,” replied the voice, one which made me writhe as I looked from one to the other, wondering whether they recognised who was speaking.

“Captain Jarette!” cried our sturdy old officer, furiously. “Look here, sir, don’t you insult me by calling that French scoundrel by such a title. And look here, are you making this announcement of your own free will, or are you forced by that contemptible mongrel knave to deliver his insolent message?”

“There is no compulsion, captain, and no need for you to call names, without you wish to be punished for your insolence. I am Captain Jarette, sir, and this is my good ship, these are my good brave men. Brave enfans—do you hear, bons enfans. This lad is my young lieutenant, who, like the rest, was sick of the vagaries of such a tyrannical old wretch as you.”

“You dog!” growled the captain, furiously.

“Yes, dog, sir, so don’t tease me into biting, or I may use my teeth sharply.”

“You, Walters,” cried the captain, “listen, boy—why are you with these men? Are you a prisoner?”

There was silence for a space before Walters said sharply, as if some one had made a threatening gesture close to his head—

“No, I am not a prisoner.”

“But you have not joined these mutinous scoundrels, sir?” cried the captain, and his voice sounded quite plaintive.

Walters made no reply.

“Do you hear me, boy? Answer me, you— Oh no, it is impossible.”

There was a low derisive laugh plainly heard, and then in a mocking tone Jarette said—

“Why don’t you answer the good kind captain, Lieutenant Walters?”

I started at this, and my lips parted to give utterance to the ejaculation, “Oh!” as I felt I was grasping the reason of my messmate’s conduct. Could it be ambition?

“What! you’re too modest? All right, dear boy, I’ll answer for you. Yes, he has joined me, skipper, as my right hand, to help navigate our ship. Do you hear—our ship? He was sick of your bullying and domineering, just as we all were. I had only to ask the lads if they were not tired of being slaves, to have them join me at once. And now you’ve often talked to me; let me talk to you for your good. No more bad language, please, unless you want to go overboard to join those fools who showed fight last night. Be civil, and you shall be decently treated, till I set you afloat or ashore, as seems best to me. There, we only want to say—don’t play the fool, and let the doctor and those passengers think they can do any good by resisting. We don’t want to make any of you bleed. What have you been doing to the door to keep it from opening? Have it pulled down, and come out like sensible people.”

“Don’t answer him, sir,” said the mate, in a whisper.

“Do you hear?” cried Jarette, savagely. “Open the door, or I’ll put a few pounds of powder up against it and blow it in.”

“Come and touch the door,” cried the captain, sternly, “and we’ll blow your brains out.”

“What?” cried Jarette, mockingly. “You blow my brains out, fool!—what with?”

“This!” said Mr Denning, sharply, and he thrust the barrel of the double gun so quickly through one of the openings left, and also through the narrow slit formed by the partly opened door, that there was the sound of men scuffling back, and a heavy fall, followed by a roar of laughter.

We knew the next moment who had fallen, for Jarette’s voice came to us in an angry snarl.

“You grinning idiots,” he cried, “take that!”

As he spoke there was the sharp report of a pistol, and a fearful shriek, followed by a fall, and a low moaning as of some one in agony.

“Serve him right!” cried Jarette. “Take him below. I’ll have the doctor out and send him down.”

A minute later, after we had listened to the meaning noise growing fainter, Jarette spoke again.

“There, Berriman,” he said, “that’s the stuff I’m made of, so no more nonsense; open the door and come out.”

“Come and open it yourself, you half-French poodle hound,” cried the captain, “and I’ll show you what stuff I’m made of, and save you the trouble of going through a trial before reaching the hangman.”

“You bragging idiot,” cried Jarette, fiercely, “open the door, or I’ll serve you as we served your miserable Brymer. Do you want to go overboard to join him?”

“No; Captain Berriman prefers to stay on board to see me pay you back in your own coin,” said the mate. “Now, sir, who’s the braggart now?”

Jarette was silenced for the moment, but he recovered himself directly.

“Oh, you’re there then?” he cried. “I must punish some of my lads for only half doing their work. There, you are not so mad as Berriman is. Never mind the fool; open the door, and don’t make me savage, so that I am tempted to go to extremities. Do you hear?” he cried, after a pause.

“I’ll answer for Mr Brymer,” cried the captain, “as you answered for that miserable, treacherous boy. No, he will not open the door for you and your pack to come in and wreck and rob. This is our stronghold till some ship heaves in sight, and you and your gang are put in irons to await your fate. I give you all fair warning,” he cried, raising his voice so that every one present might hear. “If you wish to escape being shot down, keep away from that door-way; for by all that is holy we will shoot the first ruffian who tries to open it.”

“Powder!” said Jarette, laconically, “half a keg. It’s their own fault, my lads. They shall soon see who is master here.”

There was a quick movement in the cabin then, and Captain Berriman turned to Mr Frewen.

“Try and make more of an opening,” he said. “We must have full play for the guns.”

The doctor nodded and drew back three of the chests a little.

“That ought to do,” he said. “If one of us stands aside and watches, he can tell the others when to fire.”

“Ah! but that will require care,” said the captain, quickly; “the shot must not be at the powder, or we shall be blown up. Look here, Mr Denning, if you will lend me your gun I think I can pick off the first scoundrel who comes to lay the powder. Perhaps another will come, but if he is dropped they will not try again.”

“I can shoot them,” said Mr Denning, quietly. “I do not like to take life, but I feel that I must fire now.”

“Then keep your gun, sir,” said Captain Berriman; “you need not hesitate, for it is a good deed to rid the earth of such wretches as these, and remember you are fighting for your sister’s sake.”

“Yes,” said Mr Denning, in a low voice, almost a whisper to himself, “for my sister’s sake,”—and he moved a little to one side, where he could get a better aim and command the outer portion of the door, though it was only through quite a slit.

“Hah!” cried Jarette, then in a triumphant tone—“but too much, my lads. We don’t want to blow out the side of the ship. She’s too much value to us now. Never mind, we’ll use half of it to make a good long train. Come, lieutenant, here’s a chance for you to distinguish yourself before the men. You shall lay the train.”

“I? Lay the powder?” cried Walters, so excitedly that the men burst into a roar of laughter.

“Bah! Don’t show the white feather, boy. It must be done. What? You won’t?”

“No,” said Walters, quickly. “They’ve got a spite against me, and will shoot me. Let some one else.”

Jarette uttered a fierce ejaculation.

“Stand aside then,” he growled, “and let some one who is a man do it. Here, any one of you come and plant this powder, and show young Walters here how brave lads fight.”

We listened full of excitement for the next moment, as every one watched Mr Denning standing there close to the opening in the barricade, his arms and the gun invisible as he reached through toward the saloon-door. But there was perfect silence, not a movement to be heard, as Jarette burst into a nasty harsh laugh.

“Don’t all want to do the job?” he cried. “Not one to volunteer? Why, you laugh at me, and call me Frenchy, and brag about your English pluck, and not one man will come forward. Here you, Bob Hampton, your trick’s over at the wheel; come and lay this powder.”

“What, to blow in the cabin-door?” came in familiar tones. “All right, skipper; only I don’t know much about powder to make trains. You wet in, don’t wild-fire on it?”

“Bah! stand aside. Here you, Blane, lay that powder close up door.”

“What me, skipper? Anything in going aloft and settin’ sail; but I know no more about gunpowder than a babby.”

“Get out of the way, idiot. Where’s Dumlow?”

“Which here I be,” growled that individual.

“Here, lay hold of this powder, and plant it, my lad, and then lay a train.”

“Take that there powder and lay a train?” said the big sailor.

“Yes.”

“Not me.”

“What! You dare—” cried Jarette.

“Lookye here, skipper,” growled Dumlow, “don’t you get poking that there pestle in my face, ’cause it might go off.”

“Yes, and it will go off,” cried Jarette. “I mean to be obeyed by this crew, as I’ve just shown you.”

“Nay, but don’t poke pestles in my face; ’cause it make me hit out, and when I hits out I hurts. You ask some one else.”

“Bah!” ejaculated Jarette; and the word sounded like the short, sharp bark of some cur, as it reached us through the barricade.

“Goin’ to plant it yourself?” said Bob Hampton.

“Yes, you brave Englishman,” sneered Jarette. “I’m going to show you what your captain can do.”

“Shoot the scoundrel!” said Captain Berriman, excitedly.

“Impossible, without he comes into sight,” whispered Mr Denning.

“Can’t you see him?”

“No; he is pushing a bag of powder right in up against the door, and now sprinkling handfuls of powder up to it.”

“You come away,” said the captain. “Quick, man! Here, every one lie down at the far end of the saloon.”

I was one of the first to run; but I came back with a can of water, and held it to Mr Frewen.

“Can you do anything with that, sir?” I said.

“No, my lad. Quite impossible to reach it effectually.”

I stood staring at the barricade and its openings for a few moments, and then an idea struck me. I had often seen my father’s gun cleaned, and when the barrels were detached from the stack, taken them up to look through them, binocular fashion, to see whether they were clean inside.

“Take off the barrels from that gun!” I said excitedly.

“What for?” cried Mr Frewen; but he did that which was asked all the same, and handed the barrels to me.

“What are you going to do?” whispered the captain.

“One minute, sir, and I’ll show you,” I said. “Let me come there, Mr Denning.”

That gentleman altered his position a little, so that I could reach through the opening and let the ends of the barrels rest upon the deck, close to the powder, which I could just see scattered about the flooring.

Directly after, I had raised my can and was carefully trickling the water down through one of the barrels with such good effect that the explosive grains were either saturated or borne away.

I had been sending the little stream through for some moments before it was seen, and the first intimation we had of the mutineers noticing our defence was the explosion of a pistol, and simultaneously a dull, cracking sound as a bullet passed through the door and was buried in the trunk behind it.

“That don’t matter, Berriman,” cried Jarette; “we have plenty of powder, and you can’t say the same about water.”

I started at this, for it struck me that I had been pouring precious drops away which might mean life. But I laughed directly after, as I recalled the fact that we had only to drop a bucket out of the stern-windows and haul up as much salt water as we liked.

Mr Frewen must have been thinking the same thing, for directly after he and Mr Brymer attached pieces of new halyard to a couple of tin pails, and threw them out of the window, and drew them up full, ready for the next attempt to lay powder.

“No need to pour away the precious drops now,” said Mr Frewen. “But we must have down some of those chests so as to get at the powder easily.”

The words had hardly left his lips when there was the sharp report of Mr Denning’s piece, followed directly after by a second shot, and the rush of feet upon the deck.

Chapter Fifteen.“Well!” said the captain grimly. “Did you bring down your gaol-bird, sir?”“No,” replied Mr Denning, as he drew back and began to reload. “I could not see any one, only that a bag of powder was being thrust along the deck with a hand-spike, and I fired at where I thought a man might be.”“And hit him, seemingly,” said Mr Frewen. “Now then, we must down with some of these trunks.”They were seized directly, and pulled away, so that had we liked we could have opened the door widely; and Mr Denning now took up his position here, while Mr Frewen and Mr Preddle stood ready each with their guns, which had not yet been discharged, while I and Mr Brymer were in charge of the two buckets of water.There was now plenty of room for any one to look round the edge of the door and make an observation; and though our position was a good deal weakened, this was to some extent counterbalanced by the chests and trunks being built across as a breastwork, behind which the guns were stationed, Mr Brymer and I being between the breastwork and the door.“Now, Dale, look out and see how matters stand,” said the captain.I peered cautiously round, and saw that the deck was blackened with moist powder, and that two powder-bags lay in patches of wet, while all round was rapidly drying up. There were the mutineers, standing in a group, every man armed, though some only bad knives and hatchets. By their side, as if in command, stood Walters, with two pistols in his belt, looking like a pirate in a penny picture; and they were all staring at the cabin-door; but I looked in vain for the leader of the mutiny.I drew back and reported what I could see, and Mr Frewen whispered—“Could you reach the powder-bags with a walking-stick? I mean one with a hook.”“No; but I could easily run out and pick them up.”“No; never mind,” said the captain; “the water would run up through them like in salt or sugar. There’s no danger from them. Look out again.”I peered out, and felt quite ready to laugh in spite of our perilous condition, for I could not help thinking what a conceited fool Walters looked. He seemed to me like a big school-boy playing at being a buccaneer; and the feeling was strong upon me that I should like to go out and punch his head till it was soft enough for some common-sense to get in.Then the reality, the stern, horrible reality, of all that was before me came with terrible force; for as I scanned the rapidly drying deck, all strewed and splotched with trampled wet powder, I saw one great patch that did not seem to dry up at all, and the next moment I grasped what it was, and shuddered, for it was blood.And then I felt that in spite of the absurdity of the appearance of Walters and some of the men, we poor creatures, shut up there in that saloon-cabin, with ladies depending upon us for protection, were face to face with death; for when weak, thoughtless men were once committed to an enterprise and led away, there would be no bounds to the excesses they might commit.Strong thoughts, terrible thoughts these, but the weapons, the powder, and the blood showed me that there was no exaggeration.A cold shudder passed through me as I stood there watching, and ready to report the next movement on the part of our enemies. My eyes felt a little dim, too, as I looked round vainly in search of Jarette, who must be, I was sure, planning some means of getting us all into his power.The door was only opened widely enough for me to look along the deck where the men were watching the door; and I was just thinking that if we all made a bold dash at them, armed as we were with right upon our side, there was no reason why we should not scatter them; and once scattered and Jarette mastered, the rest would, I knew, be easy enough.“And we shall have to do it,” I thought. “I can’t do much, but I could and I would lick Walters.”My fingers itched to get at him as I thought all this, and the blood flushed up into my temples.“A mean, contemptible coward!” I muttered, as I gazed at him. “Yes, you may stand there as cocky as you like with your pistols, but they don’t frighten me. You daren’t fire them, and you showed what a coward you were when you were told to lay the powder here and— Hallo!”The current of my thoughts was changed on the instant as something came down very softly from above—something soft and grey-looking hanging from a string. There was not a sound, but I grasped directly what it meant.Some one had gone softly up on to the poop-deck, and was standing just over my head, letting down this something by a string, so that it should lie gently close up to the door.I could not look right up and see, but I knew as well as could be that it was Jarette there leaning over the rail; and as I watched, the bag—for bag it certainly was—came lower and lower till it nearly touched the deck-planks, when it was swung gently to and fro till it would just touch the door. Then the string was dropped; and it had all been so well managed that the bag, with perhaps ten pounds of powder within, leaned close up.“The cunning wretch,” I thought to myself, and I was so interested in the plan that I could not withdraw my eyes from the slit, but stood watching to see what would come next.I was not kept waiting many moments before there was a thick black shower of dust scattered down from above, and I knew that Jarette must be throwing down powder, so as to form a train. And this he did cleverly enough, so that the deck was thick with powder, close up to the bag, and then the train grew thinner, and I felt that he would have to come down on the lower deck to finish his task.Almost as I thought this, I saw a shadow, just the head and shoulders of a man, cast by the sun upon the deck, and I knew that our enemy was going to descend by the starboard ladder, and pass round to where he could scatter his powder.And now for a moment I drew back, and whispered to Mr Frewen.“Let me have the walking-stick now.”“Right, my lad. Get yours, Mr Preddle, with the big hook.”I heard a rustling behind me, and hurried back to watch, getting my eye on the deck in time to see a cloud of dust thrown toward the cabin-door, just as a farmer’s man might be sowing some kind of seed broadcast. And all the while, though the firing of that bag of powder would mean destruction, possibly death to some of us, I did not—mind, I who write you this am not boasting, but setting down the simple facts—I did not, I repeat, feel in the slightest decree alarmed, but so full of confidence, that it was like participating in some capital trick which was to result in confusion to a scoundrel.The dust was thrown still, and I could see something very curious now, for as Jarette suddenly came into sight, I saw the mutineers, led by Walters, all draw back to some distance farther, while Jarette said something to him, I don’t know what, but I think it was insulting, and laughed.Just as he had turned his head, Mr Preddle’s soft, smooth voice said—“Here is the stick,” and without turning my head, I reached back my hand, took it, and passed out the great hook. It was ash, I remember, and of a light brown.It was none too soon, for all at once right along the deck I saw a flash, then a white puff of smoke as Jarette knelt down, lit a match, and held it to the dust upon the deck.Above the smoke in one glance I saw Walters slinking back behind the main-mast, and then the white vapour shut off everything, so that I reached out unseen, hooked the powder-bag, and after two or three tries drew it in, and shut the door close.“What is it?” cried Mr Frewen, excitedly; “are they coming?” There was no time to answer. I leaped over the breastwork with the powder-bag in my hand, meaning to run to the stern-window and throw it out, but I thought it might be useful, and I rushed into Mr Preddle’s room to stand holding it behind me as there came a loud hiss and rush, and the saloon began to fill with smoke.As soon as the danger was over I went out, leaving the powder upon Mr Preddle’s cot, and told them why I had rushed by.“Oh, come, that’s better,” said the captain; “we thought you were showing the white feather, boy. So you hooked the powder-bag?”“Yes, there it is,” I said. “Ah, well, this is no time for praise,” said the captain. “You did your duty well, my lad. Yes, it would have been a pity to have thrown the stuff overboard, we might have wanted it to send back with our compliments, eh? Leaden ones. What is it, Brymer?”“Hist! Jarette is outside, looking astonished that the powder has not done any damage.”“And he’ll be trying it again,” said Mr Frewen, who, after a few words with the captain, took his gun, placed a chair on the saloon-table, and then mounted upon it, thus bringing his head well up in the sky-light and above the level of the deck, so that he could watch Jarette’s motions if he attempted the same plan.In addition, after glancing astern to see whether he was out of the steersman’s sight, he wrenched open the window a little more, pushed out the barrel of his gun, and stood there waiting.He was not kept long before he saw the man come on deck bearing a heavier bag of powder, and he was in the act of sitting down in one of the cane seats near the rail to tie on a piece of string, when, with all the caution of some wild bird, he looked sharply round for danger.In an instant he had caught sight of the barrel of the gun thrust through the window, and making a bound he reached the ladder, and swung himself down upon the main-deck, where he stood with the powder-bag in his hand, as if hesitating as to what he should do.The men were watching him, and he knew it. They must have noticed his ignoble retreat, and here was the way to redeem his character.This he did by coming straight to the cabin-door, and depositing the bag there, opening it, and throwing out several handfuls of powder to help form the train; but just at that moment the door was snatched open, and a gun thrust out so suddenly that it struck the mutinous leader on the side, and he leaped back, lost his balance, and fell heavily upon his back, while a roar of laughter arose from his followers.Jarette leaped up with a cry of rage, snatched a pistol from his belt, and bravely enough dashed at the door; but as he nearly reached it, there was the sharp report of a gun, and almost simultaneously there was a burst of flame from the deck, a heavy rushing sound,—and the mutineer disappeared in a dense white cloud of smoke, out of which he staggered back to his followers, panting, startled, but, with the exception of a little singeing, unhurt.

“Well!” said the captain grimly. “Did you bring down your gaol-bird, sir?”

“No,” replied Mr Denning, as he drew back and began to reload. “I could not see any one, only that a bag of powder was being thrust along the deck with a hand-spike, and I fired at where I thought a man might be.”

“And hit him, seemingly,” said Mr Frewen. “Now then, we must down with some of these trunks.”

They were seized directly, and pulled away, so that had we liked we could have opened the door widely; and Mr Denning now took up his position here, while Mr Frewen and Mr Preddle stood ready each with their guns, which had not yet been discharged, while I and Mr Brymer were in charge of the two buckets of water.

There was now plenty of room for any one to look round the edge of the door and make an observation; and though our position was a good deal weakened, this was to some extent counterbalanced by the chests and trunks being built across as a breastwork, behind which the guns were stationed, Mr Brymer and I being between the breastwork and the door.

“Now, Dale, look out and see how matters stand,” said the captain.

I peered cautiously round, and saw that the deck was blackened with moist powder, and that two powder-bags lay in patches of wet, while all round was rapidly drying up. There were the mutineers, standing in a group, every man armed, though some only bad knives and hatchets. By their side, as if in command, stood Walters, with two pistols in his belt, looking like a pirate in a penny picture; and they were all staring at the cabin-door; but I looked in vain for the leader of the mutiny.

I drew back and reported what I could see, and Mr Frewen whispered—

“Could you reach the powder-bags with a walking-stick? I mean one with a hook.”

“No; but I could easily run out and pick them up.”

“No; never mind,” said the captain; “the water would run up through them like in salt or sugar. There’s no danger from them. Look out again.”

I peered out, and felt quite ready to laugh in spite of our perilous condition, for I could not help thinking what a conceited fool Walters looked. He seemed to me like a big school-boy playing at being a buccaneer; and the feeling was strong upon me that I should like to go out and punch his head till it was soft enough for some common-sense to get in.

Then the reality, the stern, horrible reality, of all that was before me came with terrible force; for as I scanned the rapidly drying deck, all strewed and splotched with trampled wet powder, I saw one great patch that did not seem to dry up at all, and the next moment I grasped what it was, and shuddered, for it was blood.

And then I felt that in spite of the absurdity of the appearance of Walters and some of the men, we poor creatures, shut up there in that saloon-cabin, with ladies depending upon us for protection, were face to face with death; for when weak, thoughtless men were once committed to an enterprise and led away, there would be no bounds to the excesses they might commit.

Strong thoughts, terrible thoughts these, but the weapons, the powder, and the blood showed me that there was no exaggeration.

A cold shudder passed through me as I stood there watching, and ready to report the next movement on the part of our enemies. My eyes felt a little dim, too, as I looked round vainly in search of Jarette, who must be, I was sure, planning some means of getting us all into his power.

The door was only opened widely enough for me to look along the deck where the men were watching the door; and I was just thinking that if we all made a bold dash at them, armed as we were with right upon our side, there was no reason why we should not scatter them; and once scattered and Jarette mastered, the rest would, I knew, be easy enough.

“And we shall have to do it,” I thought. “I can’t do much, but I could and I would lick Walters.”

My fingers itched to get at him as I thought all this, and the blood flushed up into my temples.

“A mean, contemptible coward!” I muttered, as I gazed at him. “Yes, you may stand there as cocky as you like with your pistols, but they don’t frighten me. You daren’t fire them, and you showed what a coward you were when you were told to lay the powder here and— Hallo!”

The current of my thoughts was changed on the instant as something came down very softly from above—something soft and grey-looking hanging from a string. There was not a sound, but I grasped directly what it meant.

Some one had gone softly up on to the poop-deck, and was standing just over my head, letting down this something by a string, so that it should lie gently close up to the door.

I could not look right up and see, but I knew as well as could be that it was Jarette there leaning over the rail; and as I watched, the bag—for bag it certainly was—came lower and lower till it nearly touched the deck-planks, when it was swung gently to and fro till it would just touch the door. Then the string was dropped; and it had all been so well managed that the bag, with perhaps ten pounds of powder within, leaned close up.

“The cunning wretch,” I thought to myself, and I was so interested in the plan that I could not withdraw my eyes from the slit, but stood watching to see what would come next.

I was not kept waiting many moments before there was a thick black shower of dust scattered down from above, and I knew that Jarette must be throwing down powder, so as to form a train. And this he did cleverly enough, so that the deck was thick with powder, close up to the bag, and then the train grew thinner, and I felt that he would have to come down on the lower deck to finish his task.

Almost as I thought this, I saw a shadow, just the head and shoulders of a man, cast by the sun upon the deck, and I knew that our enemy was going to descend by the starboard ladder, and pass round to where he could scatter his powder.

And now for a moment I drew back, and whispered to Mr Frewen.

“Let me have the walking-stick now.”

“Right, my lad. Get yours, Mr Preddle, with the big hook.”

I heard a rustling behind me, and hurried back to watch, getting my eye on the deck in time to see a cloud of dust thrown toward the cabin-door, just as a farmer’s man might be sowing some kind of seed broadcast. And all the while, though the firing of that bag of powder would mean destruction, possibly death to some of us, I did not—mind, I who write you this am not boasting, but setting down the simple facts—I did not, I repeat, feel in the slightest decree alarmed, but so full of confidence, that it was like participating in some capital trick which was to result in confusion to a scoundrel.

The dust was thrown still, and I could see something very curious now, for as Jarette suddenly came into sight, I saw the mutineers, led by Walters, all draw back to some distance farther, while Jarette said something to him, I don’t know what, but I think it was insulting, and laughed.

Just as he had turned his head, Mr Preddle’s soft, smooth voice said—

“Here is the stick,” and without turning my head, I reached back my hand, took it, and passed out the great hook. It was ash, I remember, and of a light brown.

It was none too soon, for all at once right along the deck I saw a flash, then a white puff of smoke as Jarette knelt down, lit a match, and held it to the dust upon the deck.

Above the smoke in one glance I saw Walters slinking back behind the main-mast, and then the white vapour shut off everything, so that I reached out unseen, hooked the powder-bag, and after two or three tries drew it in, and shut the door close.

“What is it?” cried Mr Frewen, excitedly; “are they coming?” There was no time to answer. I leaped over the breastwork with the powder-bag in my hand, meaning to run to the stern-window and throw it out, but I thought it might be useful, and I rushed into Mr Preddle’s room to stand holding it behind me as there came a loud hiss and rush, and the saloon began to fill with smoke.

As soon as the danger was over I went out, leaving the powder upon Mr Preddle’s cot, and told them why I had rushed by.

“Oh, come, that’s better,” said the captain; “we thought you were showing the white feather, boy. So you hooked the powder-bag?”

“Yes, there it is,” I said. “Ah, well, this is no time for praise,” said the captain. “You did your duty well, my lad. Yes, it would have been a pity to have thrown the stuff overboard, we might have wanted it to send back with our compliments, eh? Leaden ones. What is it, Brymer?”

“Hist! Jarette is outside, looking astonished that the powder has not done any damage.”

“And he’ll be trying it again,” said Mr Frewen, who, after a few words with the captain, took his gun, placed a chair on the saloon-table, and then mounted upon it, thus bringing his head well up in the sky-light and above the level of the deck, so that he could watch Jarette’s motions if he attempted the same plan.

In addition, after glancing astern to see whether he was out of the steersman’s sight, he wrenched open the window a little more, pushed out the barrel of his gun, and stood there waiting.

He was not kept long before he saw the man come on deck bearing a heavier bag of powder, and he was in the act of sitting down in one of the cane seats near the rail to tie on a piece of string, when, with all the caution of some wild bird, he looked sharply round for danger.

In an instant he had caught sight of the barrel of the gun thrust through the window, and making a bound he reached the ladder, and swung himself down upon the main-deck, where he stood with the powder-bag in his hand, as if hesitating as to what he should do.

The men were watching him, and he knew it. They must have noticed his ignoble retreat, and here was the way to redeem his character.

This he did by coming straight to the cabin-door, and depositing the bag there, opening it, and throwing out several handfuls of powder to help form the train; but just at that moment the door was snatched open, and a gun thrust out so suddenly that it struck the mutinous leader on the side, and he leaped back, lost his balance, and fell heavily upon his back, while a roar of laughter arose from his followers.

Jarette leaped up with a cry of rage, snatched a pistol from his belt, and bravely enough dashed at the door; but as he nearly reached it, there was the sharp report of a gun, and almost simultaneously there was a burst of flame from the deck, a heavy rushing sound,—and the mutineer disappeared in a dense white cloud of smoke, out of which he staggered back to his followers, panting, startled, but, with the exception of a little singeing, unhurt.

Chapter Sixteen.“Why didn’t you aim straight, man?—why didn’t you aim straight?” cried Captain Berriman. “You did not touch him.”“I did not try to hit him,” replied Mr Frewen, quietly.“Then why did you fire, sir? A loud noise is not likely to frighten such a man as that.”“No; but the idea of being shot at, and the explosion of that loose powder about his ears has startled him, and he’ll be careful about coming up to the door to lay powder-bags again.”“Then you fired to light the loose powder?”“Yes, and it has had its effect, though I hesitated for a moment for fear the bag should not be far enough off. Where did you put it, Dale?”“Along with the other in Mr Preddle’s cabin,” I said triumphantly, for when the door was open I was down on my knees ready by Mr Frewen’s legs, and as he thrust the barrels of his gun against Jarette’s side, I snatched at the bag and drew it in.“Take my place, Mr Preddle,” said Mr Denning to him, “I must go back to our cabin and speak to my sister. She will be terribly alarmed by the firing.”“Shall I go and speak to her?” said Mr Preddle, eagerly.“If you are afraid to take my place,” said Mr Denning, sternly.“I—I thought—I wanted—I wished to save you trouble,” stammered the stout passenger. “Thank you; my piece is loaded.”He was very red in the face as he stepped into Mr Denning’s place by the door, which was now carefully watched in expectation of another attempt to blow it open.But the minutes glided on, and all grew quiet forward to our great surprise; but we soon knew why, for a man came along bearing some biscuit and cold pork in one hand, a bowl of steaming coffee in the other, and it was evident that he was taking the man at the wheel some breakfast from the meal of which the crew were partaking.“A good example, captain,” said Mr Frewen. “I can keep on guard here while you people all have some refreshment. They must need it, for I’m sure I do.”I offered to take Mr Frewen’s place, but he would not hear of it, and matters were compromised by my taking him his breakfast, when some provisions had hastily been placed on the saloon-table; and carrying mine with me, together with a box for our table, dragged down close to the barricade, and between it and the door, we made a hearty meal.The ladies had come out of their cabins, and I saw how eager Miss Denning was to attend upon her brother and Mr Brymer, for whom, in his wounded state, she seemed to be full of sympathy. Then after attending upon him, she flitted to the captain’s side, while from time to time Mr Frewen looked on, and appeared to be wishing that he too was wounded so as to be waited upon like that. At last the captain spoke.“There, my dear,” he cried, “not another mouthful for me if you don’t go to your place by your brother, and have something to eat yourself.”“Oh, but I can have something at any time, Captain Berriman, when you are all busy protecting us.”“No,” cried Captain Berriman, “not another mouthful.” And he spoke so emphatically, that Miss Denning glanced at her brother, and then at a nod went and sat down.I noticed that in spite of our position, everybody was making an effort to treat the trouble coolly; even Mr Frewen smiled at me, after glancing through the narrow opening.“Come, Dale, lad, eat away. Don’t say you’ve got no appetite.”“Oh, I’m pretty hungry, sir,” I replied; “but all this in the night isn’t the sort of thing to make one want his breakfast.”“Don’t despair, my lad, it will come all right. Why, they must have given us nearly all the powder in those two bags you brought in, and if they don’t mind, you and I will make a contrivance to hoist them with their own petard. But I don’t want to shed blood if I can help it.”“No,” I said, with a shudder, “it is too horrid.”Mr Frewen looked at me searchingly.“Only,” he continued slowly, “if blood is to be shed, and by none of our seeking, it is our duty to see that it is the blood of the villains who have turned upon us and set the law at defiance. Do you see that, Dale?”“Yes,” I said, “I see that, and of course we cannot be expected to be merciful to them who would blow us up with gunpowder. Why, they wouldn’t have cared if the ladies had been injured as well as the men.”“You are quite right.”“But you did not shoot Jarette this morning, sir,” I said, and I believe that my eyes twinkled mischievously at being able to confute him.“No, Dale,” he said, “I couldn’t. Doctors have spent all their time learning how to save life, and it would have been such a cold-blooded act.”“But if you had shot him, sir, the mutiny would have been at an end.”“Unless your messmate, Walters, had constituted himself captain, and carried on the war.”“He!” I cried contemptuously. “Why, I’d go and fetch him out by one ear the same as a dog or a pig out of a drove. I believe, sir, that he is a regular coward and sneak.”“Ah, well, we shall see,” replied Mr Frewen, “but I suppose that I really ought to have shot down that ruffian, broken one of his legs say, and then spent six months in curing him ready for a judge and jury to punish.”“But look here, Mr Frewen,” I said, “isn’t it all a mad and stupid thing for that man to do?”“Worse than mad, my boy, for what can they do if they keep us down, and carry this vessel into port, which I doubt their ability to do?”“Oh, they can do that,” I said quickly. “Bob Hampton is such a capital sailor.”“A capital scoundrel,” he cried hotly, “and if I have a chance I’ll pitch him overboard.”“No, you won’t, Mr Frewen,” I said, laughing; “I don’t believe that.”“Well, Dale, I’m afraid that if I did, I should want a boat lowered down to pick him up, and go in it myself. There, as you say, it is a mad thing for the men to have done. It shows how a whole party can be carried away by the specious arguments of one scoundrel. However, we know our duty, my lad; and that is to re-take the ship, place the worst of the men in irons, and make the others navigate the vessel, unless you advocate our hanging the worst of them instead of putting them in irons.”“There are no irons on board a ship like this,” I said quietly.“Ah, and there is plenty of rope, my lad; so you advocate hanging?”“Don’t make a joke of it all, Mr Frewen,” I said, for I felt annoyed at his talking to me in that way, as if I were a mere boy of eight or nine.“Right,” he said sharply. “We will be wise over it all. Hallo, Mr Brymer is making signs for us to be quiet. The captain is going to speak.”I looked quickly at the table, and saw that Captain Berriman was standing just below the sky-light, when all at once there was a violent crashing of glass, and I saw pistols held down through the light, while almost at the same moment I heard a rustling noise outside, and leaped up.“Look out, Mr Frewen,” I whispered; “powder again!”For the rustling noise had been made by Jarette, who had crept along unnoticed till he could plant a powder-bag, and as I glanced out I saw that he was rapidly laying a train by drawing a second bag of powder after him as he stepped rapidly back towards another man who was carrying a lighted lanthorn—lighted, I felt sure, though in the brilliant sunshine the flicker of the candle inside was hardly visible.“Quick,” I said; “draw open the door a little more.”As I spoke I tried to pull the chest away upon which we had been having our meal, but I could not move it, as it was against Mr Frewen’s legs, and kept the door from being opened sufficiently wide in that narrow space for me to pass out.“Oh, quick—quick!” I whispered.“Anything the matter there?” cried Mr Brymer.“No, sir, no, sir,” said Mr Frewen. “Keep back there, everybody. Now, Dale, up on end with it.”I stooped down, and we quickly lifted the chest on its end, dragged the door a little way, but not far, for the chest still impeded it.But there was room for me to force my way through the door, and I was in the act of passing through a little way, so as to lean out and once more snatch the powder-bag in out of danger when I saw that Jarette had snatched the candle out of the lantern held ready for him, and applied the light to the train.Mr Frewen saw it too, and dragged me back, and in one and the same effort threw me and himself over the barricade. I should more correctly have said, let himself, as he held me, fall backward over the wall of chests into the cabin.It all took place almost as quick as thought, for as we fell heavily upon the saloon-floor, there was a terrific flash, a roar, and I was conscious of being driven right into the great cabin, buried beneath a weight which caused me intense pain, and then all was blank.

“Why didn’t you aim straight, man?—why didn’t you aim straight?” cried Captain Berriman. “You did not touch him.”

“I did not try to hit him,” replied Mr Frewen, quietly.

“Then why did you fire, sir? A loud noise is not likely to frighten such a man as that.”

“No; but the idea of being shot at, and the explosion of that loose powder about his ears has startled him, and he’ll be careful about coming up to the door to lay powder-bags again.”

“Then you fired to light the loose powder?”

“Yes, and it has had its effect, though I hesitated for a moment for fear the bag should not be far enough off. Where did you put it, Dale?”

“Along with the other in Mr Preddle’s cabin,” I said triumphantly, for when the door was open I was down on my knees ready by Mr Frewen’s legs, and as he thrust the barrels of his gun against Jarette’s side, I snatched at the bag and drew it in.

“Take my place, Mr Preddle,” said Mr Denning to him, “I must go back to our cabin and speak to my sister. She will be terribly alarmed by the firing.”

“Shall I go and speak to her?” said Mr Preddle, eagerly.

“If you are afraid to take my place,” said Mr Denning, sternly.

“I—I thought—I wanted—I wished to save you trouble,” stammered the stout passenger. “Thank you; my piece is loaded.”

He was very red in the face as he stepped into Mr Denning’s place by the door, which was now carefully watched in expectation of another attempt to blow it open.

But the minutes glided on, and all grew quiet forward to our great surprise; but we soon knew why, for a man came along bearing some biscuit and cold pork in one hand, a bowl of steaming coffee in the other, and it was evident that he was taking the man at the wheel some breakfast from the meal of which the crew were partaking.

“A good example, captain,” said Mr Frewen. “I can keep on guard here while you people all have some refreshment. They must need it, for I’m sure I do.”

I offered to take Mr Frewen’s place, but he would not hear of it, and matters were compromised by my taking him his breakfast, when some provisions had hastily been placed on the saloon-table; and carrying mine with me, together with a box for our table, dragged down close to the barricade, and between it and the door, we made a hearty meal.

The ladies had come out of their cabins, and I saw how eager Miss Denning was to attend upon her brother and Mr Brymer, for whom, in his wounded state, she seemed to be full of sympathy. Then after attending upon him, she flitted to the captain’s side, while from time to time Mr Frewen looked on, and appeared to be wishing that he too was wounded so as to be waited upon like that. At last the captain spoke.

“There, my dear,” he cried, “not another mouthful for me if you don’t go to your place by your brother, and have something to eat yourself.”

“Oh, but I can have something at any time, Captain Berriman, when you are all busy protecting us.”

“No,” cried Captain Berriman, “not another mouthful.” And he spoke so emphatically, that Miss Denning glanced at her brother, and then at a nod went and sat down.

I noticed that in spite of our position, everybody was making an effort to treat the trouble coolly; even Mr Frewen smiled at me, after glancing through the narrow opening.

“Come, Dale, lad, eat away. Don’t say you’ve got no appetite.”

“Oh, I’m pretty hungry, sir,” I replied; “but all this in the night isn’t the sort of thing to make one want his breakfast.”

“Don’t despair, my lad, it will come all right. Why, they must have given us nearly all the powder in those two bags you brought in, and if they don’t mind, you and I will make a contrivance to hoist them with their own petard. But I don’t want to shed blood if I can help it.”

“No,” I said, with a shudder, “it is too horrid.”

Mr Frewen looked at me searchingly.

“Only,” he continued slowly, “if blood is to be shed, and by none of our seeking, it is our duty to see that it is the blood of the villains who have turned upon us and set the law at defiance. Do you see that, Dale?”

“Yes,” I said, “I see that, and of course we cannot be expected to be merciful to them who would blow us up with gunpowder. Why, they wouldn’t have cared if the ladies had been injured as well as the men.”

“You are quite right.”

“But you did not shoot Jarette this morning, sir,” I said, and I believe that my eyes twinkled mischievously at being able to confute him.

“No, Dale,” he said, “I couldn’t. Doctors have spent all their time learning how to save life, and it would have been such a cold-blooded act.”

“But if you had shot him, sir, the mutiny would have been at an end.”

“Unless your messmate, Walters, had constituted himself captain, and carried on the war.”

“He!” I cried contemptuously. “Why, I’d go and fetch him out by one ear the same as a dog or a pig out of a drove. I believe, sir, that he is a regular coward and sneak.”

“Ah, well, we shall see,” replied Mr Frewen, “but I suppose that I really ought to have shot down that ruffian, broken one of his legs say, and then spent six months in curing him ready for a judge and jury to punish.”

“But look here, Mr Frewen,” I said, “isn’t it all a mad and stupid thing for that man to do?”

“Worse than mad, my boy, for what can they do if they keep us down, and carry this vessel into port, which I doubt their ability to do?”

“Oh, they can do that,” I said quickly. “Bob Hampton is such a capital sailor.”

“A capital scoundrel,” he cried hotly, “and if I have a chance I’ll pitch him overboard.”

“No, you won’t, Mr Frewen,” I said, laughing; “I don’t believe that.”

“Well, Dale, I’m afraid that if I did, I should want a boat lowered down to pick him up, and go in it myself. There, as you say, it is a mad thing for the men to have done. It shows how a whole party can be carried away by the specious arguments of one scoundrel. However, we know our duty, my lad; and that is to re-take the ship, place the worst of the men in irons, and make the others navigate the vessel, unless you advocate our hanging the worst of them instead of putting them in irons.”

“There are no irons on board a ship like this,” I said quietly.

“Ah, and there is plenty of rope, my lad; so you advocate hanging?”

“Don’t make a joke of it all, Mr Frewen,” I said, for I felt annoyed at his talking to me in that way, as if I were a mere boy of eight or nine.

“Right,” he said sharply. “We will be wise over it all. Hallo, Mr Brymer is making signs for us to be quiet. The captain is going to speak.”

I looked quickly at the table, and saw that Captain Berriman was standing just below the sky-light, when all at once there was a violent crashing of glass, and I saw pistols held down through the light, while almost at the same moment I heard a rustling noise outside, and leaped up.

“Look out, Mr Frewen,” I whispered; “powder again!”

For the rustling noise had been made by Jarette, who had crept along unnoticed till he could plant a powder-bag, and as I glanced out I saw that he was rapidly laying a train by drawing a second bag of powder after him as he stepped rapidly back towards another man who was carrying a lighted lanthorn—lighted, I felt sure, though in the brilliant sunshine the flicker of the candle inside was hardly visible.

“Quick,” I said; “draw open the door a little more.”

As I spoke I tried to pull the chest away upon which we had been having our meal, but I could not move it, as it was against Mr Frewen’s legs, and kept the door from being opened sufficiently wide in that narrow space for me to pass out.

“Oh, quick—quick!” I whispered.

“Anything the matter there?” cried Mr Brymer.

“No, sir, no, sir,” said Mr Frewen. “Keep back there, everybody. Now, Dale, up on end with it.”

I stooped down, and we quickly lifted the chest on its end, dragged the door a little way, but not far, for the chest still impeded it.

But there was room for me to force my way through the door, and I was in the act of passing through a little way, so as to lean out and once more snatch the powder-bag in out of danger when I saw that Jarette had snatched the candle out of the lantern held ready for him, and applied the light to the train.

Mr Frewen saw it too, and dragged me back, and in one and the same effort threw me and himself over the barricade. I should more correctly have said, let himself, as he held me, fall backward over the wall of chests into the cabin.

It all took place almost as quick as thought, for as we fell heavily upon the saloon-floor, there was a terrific flash, a roar, and I was conscious of being driven right into the great cabin, buried beneath a weight which caused me intense pain, and then all was blank.

Chapter Seventeen.I could not have been insensible many moments, for I was conscious of shouting and trampling, of a thick black smoke which made it seem like night, of voices giving orders, and Jarette yelling to his men now in French, now in English, and all the time there was a crushing weight across my legs and chest.Then there were a couple of shots fired, and the shutting and banging of doors; some one shrieked, and a man was thrown back over the mass which held me down.After that I must have been insensible again, for the next thing I remember is hearing a groan, and directly after the voices of men talking in a familiar way.“That’s it, lads; altogether, and out she comes.”I could see light now, for something was lifted off me, and I looked out through a framework of shattered woodwork at the bright sunshine.“Now then,” said the same voice; “lift him out on to the deck.”It was Bob Hampton speaking, and it was Dumlow who spoke next in a low growl.“Poor lad; he’s got it bad, arn’t he?”I thought in my half-stunned fashion that they were talking about me; but they were lifting some one else, and just then Jarette came up. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear him blundering over the wreck around, and his words plain enough as he said sharply—“Dead? Overboard with him if he is.”“No, he arn’t dead,” said Bob Hampton. “Doctors don’t die in a hurry. He’ll come to and cure hisself, I dessay. Come on, mate.”In a muddled, dreamy way I knew now that it was a doctor they were carrying, and if it was a doctor I felt that it must be Mr Frewen; but what it all meant, or why I was lying there, I could not tell in the least.There was half-darkness then for a little while, then light—then darkness again, and some one was leaning over me.“Steady, lad,” was growled, and I knew it was Bob Hampton again, and I tried to think and ask him what was the matter, but no words would come, though everything was growing very clear now, and the men’s words bounded painfully sharp upon my ears.“Got him?”“Ay, ay.”“Heave then, together. No, hold hard; the corner of that portmanter’s over his hind leg. That’s it; hyste it away.”I felt myself laid down while something was done close to me, and then I was lifted once more and carried out into the warm sunshine, and laid upon the hot boards of the deck.“Poor laddie,” growled Bob Hampton, “he’s got it badly. Rum world this here, Neb!”“Orful,” said Dumlow.“Reg’lar wusser,” said another voice, which I knew to be Blane’s.“Look sharp there, my lads,” cried Jarette, from somewhere overhead, which must have been the poop-deck. “That one dead?”“Ay, ay, sir.”“You’re a liar, Barney Blane.”“If he’s dead, pitch him overboard.”“But he arn’t dead, captain,” growled Bob Hampton. “There’s stuff enough in him to make a full-sized sailor yet, and he’s far too good to be chucked over to the sharkses.”“But Barney Blane said he was dead.”“Don’t you take no notice o’ what Barney Blane says, skipper,” cried Dumlow. “He dunno chalk from cheese best o’ times, and I know he can’t tell a dead man from mutton.”“Hear, hear, mate!” cried Bob Hampton. “Haw, haw, haw; we’ll chuck the boy overboard if you like, capt’n; but there’s a kick in one of his hind legs, an’ I see him wink and waggle one ear.”“Let him lie there a bit till I come round,” cried Jarette. “You go on and clear that cabin.”“Ay, ay,” cried the three men who were near. “Come on, lads. Here, Barney, go and get that there pannikin o’ water from the breaker, and pour some in the boy’s mouth. What yer go and say he were dead for?”“Well, mate, I thought as he were. He had enough to ha’ killed a man, let alone a boy.”“You look sharp, and we’ll pull him and the doctor through, see if we don’t. I don’t think no bones is broke. Them chesties sheltered ’em.”Then I felt water being trickled into my mouth and some poured over my forehead, while, though I could neither move nor speak, I heard Jarette’s voice giving orders apparently ever so far away.“Look sharp, lads,” said Bob Hampton, “or Frog-soup ’ll be back and bully us.”“Must give the jollop purser a drop more,” said Dumlow. “Here, he arn’t dead neither; takes the water down as free as if it were grog. They’ll come right agen, won’t they?”“Ay, to be sure,” said Bob Hampton. “Now then, heave ahead afore he comes. Rum games these here, messmets.”“Rum arn’t the right word,” said Dumlow, and then all was perfectly still again, and I lay there wondering what was the matter, and why I couldn’t think as I should, and make out why I was lying there on my back in the hot sun listening to a low moaning sound, and some one close to my ear talking in a muttering tone.Then there was silence again for I don’t know how long: before there was another low moan, and the voice close by me muttered—“Oh, for more strength—could have saved—”The words died out, and I lay there wondering still. Then I felt that people were coming near me, and stopped talking together.I must have grown a little more sensible then, for I recognised the voices as some one gave me a rude thrust with the foot.“This boy’s dead enough,” and the words sounded so sharp and cruel that they quite stung me.“I think he is,” said another voice, which I knew to be that of Walters.“Oh yes; try him,” said the first speaker, Jarette, I was certain.And now as I felt some one take hold of my hand and raise my arm, my full senses seemed to come, and with them an intense feeling of pain. It was just as if the lifting of that arm was connected with something within me which had been stopped up, for as the arm was allowed to drop heavily back, and Walters said callously—“Yes; he’s dead enough,” I shouted as loudly as I could—“No, I’m not!” and opened my eyes to stare up at the group on deck.There was a hearty burst of laughter at this, and I suppose it was partly directed at Walters, who sprang up as sharply as if I had bitten him, and then joined weakly in the laugh.“Just like him,” he said, with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders. “Shamming again.”“Come, I like that,” I said faintly. “Why, your life’s all sham.”He took a step toward me as I lay there, and I thought he was about to kick me, but Jarette laid a hand upon his shoulder.“Let him be,” he said shortly. “Look here, young Dale, where are you hurt?”“I suppose I’m not hurt at all,” I said, speaking with a good deal of pain; “if I say I am, he’ll tell you I’m shamming.”“Never mind him, boy,” said Jarette, “listen to me. Look here, the game’s up with the officers, and they’re either my prisoners or as good as dead, so there’s nothing more for you to do. Now, I suppose you don’t want me to have you thrown overboard, do you?”“Of course not.”“Very well, then; it’s only a change in your captain, and I dare say you can be useful. What do you say to joining me?”“What, turning mutineer and pirate?” I said boldly.“Don’t you use ugly words, boy,” he said, with a scowl. “Come, I offer you good terms; will you join us?”“You don’t want midshipmen,” I said, as I tried to think hard as to what I ought to do under the circumstances.“How do you know, boy? Join us, and serve under me. It will only be like going on again with your old messmate here, and I dare say I can promote you faster than you would have been under Captain Berriman.”“But where are we going? What do you mean to do with the ship?”“What’s that to you? There, I offer you your chance; will you join us?”“I would if I was you, Mr Dale, sir,” said a familiar voice, and turning my head with difficulty, there was Bob Hampton looking quite frank and honest, and as if there was not such a thing as a mutineer on the face of the earth.“Why? What for?” I cried, with a catching of the breath which made me raise my hand to my breast.“’Cause we’re all so jolly together now, sir. You’ll like it same as me and my mates do. Jyne us, sir.”“All right,” I said, “if—”“If what?” said Jarette, sharply.“If you rouse up the doctor and make him tend to me, for I’m afraid I’ve got some broken ribs.”“Good! We will,” cried Jarette, but to my astonishment Walters suddenly roared out—“No; don’t trust him. He is a traitor, and he would only play the spy.”With a good deal of effort I raised myself upon one arm and looked him full in the face, for the pain I suffered and his words roused up in me a furious burst of temper.“Traitor! sham!” I cried. “You ought to be hung for turning against your captain as you did.”“Don’t trust him, Jarette; he’d only betray us.”“If ever I get a chance, I will, if it’s only for the sake of seeing you get your deserts, you miserable hound!” I cried. “No, I’m not fit to be trusted, Jarette,” I cried, now quite beside myself with rage and pain; “and don’t let that miserable cur come near me, or I shall try to do him some mischief.”“Do you hear, lieutenant?” said Jarette, with a sneering laugh. “Why don’t you go and serve him out for threatening you? He’s about helpless if his ribs are broken, and couldn’t hurt you back.”“I’m not going to meddle with the miserable, sneaking cur,” he said contemptuously. “And you needn’t banter me; I’ve saved you from being cheated by him.”“Oh, I don’t know,” said Jarette, gazing at Walters through his half-closed lids; “I dare say it was all talk, for he wouldn’t have dared to play tricks. But I say, lieutenant, he has got a stouter heart than you have. He’d be too much for you.”Walters gave him a malicious look, full of angry spite, and as Jarette saw it, there was a complete change in the man. His eyes flashed, his form seemed to dilate, and he looked taller, while I now realised how it was that he had gained so much ascendancy over the men, making them follow and trust him with powers which would possibly land them all in gaol, if no worse fate were in store.He and Walters were close to me, and I heard what could not have reached the ears of the men.“Take care, youngster,” he half whispered. “You’ve got a hasty tongue, and it stings sometimes. Mind I don’t turn and sting again. Recollect you’ve committed yourself so deeply that you are mine now; and recollect, too, that I’m captain.”“Yes, I know,” said Walters, sharply, “but he isn’t to be trusted, and—”“You hate him,” said Jarette. “Well, I know you do. There, that’s enough. Here, some of you, which cabin is empty?”“Second one on the left,” cried several.“Is the door broken by the powder?”“No; it’s all right,” said Bob Hampton.“Carry ’em both in,” said Jarette. “Fasten ’em up, and bring me the key. There, youngster,” he continued to me, “I’m sending the doctor with you to set you right.”I nodded, and then had hard work to keep from shrieking out as two men lifted me and carried me through the companion into the shattered saloon, and then into the cabin on the left, laying me down pretty gently in the cot.It seemed quite natural to me that I should be brought there, though it was unintentional on Jarette’s part, for the cabin I was in was that apportioned to Mr Frewen, who was now carried in and laid upon a rug which covered a portion of the floor.“Cheer up, Mr Dale, sir,” said Dumlow, bluffly, for he was one of the men who had helped to carry in Mr Frewen. “They won’t starve yer. If they do I’ll bring you some o’ my wittles and drink.”“Look here, Dumlow,” I said, “where are the officers and the passengers?”“Shut up, sir, in their cabins, like precious crocks in a cupboard, that’s where they are; and now you’re just the same, only you’ve got a crack in you somewheres.”The men all laughed and went out, and shut from my sight the shattered side, and confusion of chests and boxes lying in the saloon. Then I heard the door fastened, and I made an effort and looked over the side of the cot, groaning the while with the pain it gave me, down at poor Mr Frewen, who lay there quite insensible, and I said to myself bitterly—“Very kind of them to send me a doctor; why, I shall have to doctor him.”Then for the first time I saw that he was bleeding a little from one side of his head, and this roused me so that I forgot a good deal of my pain; and after feeling my chest and side a little to try and make out where my ribs were broken, and without success, I managed to crawl out of the cot, and got down on my knees by my companion.“Mr Frewen,” I said; “Mr Frewen,” and I laid my hand on his forehead. “Oh, I say, do, do pray try and speak. Tell me what to do for you.”There was no reply, and I grew more excited, and as I did, so did my suffering seem to be less, and all my anxiety began to be about him.“Mr Frewen,” I said. “Can’t you say a word?”But he made no sign, and, forced by the circumstances to act, I leaned over, turned his head a little more on one side, and found that the hair was all matted together with the blood, which was already drying up.Then I began to think that the hair ought all to be cut away, the wound bathed and strapped up, and I was about to proceed to do it, when another thought occurred to me.It was this:—The bleeding had pretty well stopped, and would, I felt sure, quite stop in a few minutes, so perhaps I should not be acting wisely if I disturbed the injury then, for it might be better if I tried to bring him to his senses, and then he would advise me what to do, and how to do it.I believe I was in great pain then, but I forgot it for the moment as I looked round and I saw that there was water there, and sponges and towels were close at hand, so without farther hesitation I poured out some of the water into a little basin, and taking a sponge, well bathed his face, after opening the window, for the cabin was suffocating.I bathed and bathed, and changed the water so as to get it a little cooler, though the rapid evaporation helped me most, and at last, to my great delight, his eyelids began to quiver, and finally he lay there staring at me wildly, and with his face terribly white.“Mr Frewen, do you know me?” I said.“Know you?—know you? Yes, of course,” he said hoarsely. “What is the matter?—what has happened?” and his hand went to the back of his head.“You were hurt when the powder went off,” I said, watching his face eagerly. “Don’t you remember?”“Yes,” he cried eagerly. “I threw myself back over the barricade with you.”“And the door and all the boxes and chests were blown in and buried us, I think.”“Was—was any one killed?” he said huskily.“I don’t know; I think not,” I replied.“But don’t you know, boy?” he cried angrily.“No; I was hurt by the chests the same as you were, and don’t know what happened. It was all like being in a dream till a little while ago.”“Then you know nothing?” he said excitedly.“I only have a sort of misty recollection of lying there after the explosion, till I was carried out on deck and laid in the sun.”Then I told him all about being like in a nightmare, and hearing them talk of throwing us both overboard, only Bob Hampton said we were alive.“The scoundrel!” he said bitterly.“Well, I thought it very jolly of him then,” I said, “for if it had not been for him we should have—”I pointed downward.“Right to the bottom of the sea,” I added.“Yes; and you seem to have been hurt.”“Hurt? I should think I was, horribly,” I cried; “but it don’t seem so bad now, since I’ve been helping you.”“But the passengers, Dale?” he said excitedly, as he tried to sit up, but sank back with a groan; “have you not heard anything whatever about them?”I shook my head.“Didn’t you see anything to suggest that any one was killed and—and thrown overboard?”“No, Mr Frewen.”“Go out then and make inquiries, my good lad,” he said piteously; “this suspense is worse than the injury.”“You forget,” I said quietly.“Forget? What?”“That we are prisoners. I couldn’t get out.”“Yes, yes,” he moaned. “I forgot. My head is all confused and strange. What’s that?”“Some one knocking gently at the bulk-head,” I whispered, for there were three gentle taps on the wooden partition just opposite to where I was kneeling.“Then there is some one else a prisoner,” he cried. “Quick, speak to him.”“Better not speak,” I said; “we may bring in some of Jarette’s gang;” and rising softly, I took out my pocket-knife, and gave three gentle taps with the haft just about the spot where we had heard the sounds.The moment I had done, two knocks came in answer, and when I had responded in the same way, there was one single one given which I also answered.“That only stands for some one being there,” said Mr Frewen, with a sigh; “we have no code arranged by which we could communicate.”“Oh yes, we have,” I said, with a laugh, and, after breaking my thumb-nail, I managed to open out a gimlet fitted in the back of my knife, in company with a button-hook, a lancet, another to bleed horses, a tooth-pick, pair of tweezers, and a corkscrew, all of which had been very satisfactory to look at when I received the knife as a present; but I often had come to the conclusion that the knife would have been better with two more blades instead. But now its time had come, and with a feeling of being able to triumph over a difficulty, I stepped to the bulk-head, feeling rather giddy and strange in the head, but this passed off in the excitement, as I rapidly stuck in the point of the gimlet and began to bore.The bulk-head was composed of three-quarter inch board, but I kept on boring and boring without apparently getting through, and I drew out the gimlet at last, after boring in as far as I could, and stood looking at the position in dismay.Just then came a fresh tapping, to which I responded, and then as I listened to the hollow sound I knew what had been wrong. I had been boring through the board just where it was backed by one of the uprights which gave strength to the bulk-head.The next minute I had bored a hole right through, and on withdrawing the gimlet I could see daylight.“Who’s that?” I whispered, with my lips to the tiny hole, and placing my ear to the orifice I heard for answer—“Me, Mr Preddle. Who are you?”“Dale and Mr Frewen,” I answered.“What does he say?” asked Mr Frewen.“Says he is so glad, sir.”“Thank him, and ask him about the passengers, whether any one is hurt.”I whispered the question through the hole, and listened for the answer.“Captain Berriman and Mr Brymer both wounded again in the struggle, when the men rushed into the saloon after the explosion. Now shut up in their cabins.”“But the passengers; ask him about the passengers,” whispered Mr Frewen.I asked, and the answer came back—“No one hurt.”I saw Mr Frewen close his eyes at this, and his lips moved as I felt sure in prayer.“Yes?” I whispered back, as Mr Preddle said something which sounded all buzz, buzz, buzz.“I say, what will those wretches do with us?”“I don’t know.”“Will they kill us and throw us overboard?”“No,” I whispered through. “If they had meant that, they would have done it at once. But don’t talk any more now.”“Buzz, buzz, buzz.”“What say?”“Buzz, talk, buzz, buzz.”I opened my penknife, for I knew that the reason why Mr Preddle’s words sounded so buzzy, was that a lot of little bits of wood were sticking up through the hole left by the gimlet. And so it proved, for after a little cutting all the words sounded clearly enough, and he promised to wait till I had attended to Mr Frewen’s injuries before asking any more questions.“Yes,” he said, “I’ll wait; but when one is in prison, and can talk to the prisoners next door, it does seem to do one good.”I had just knelt down to see to Mr Frewen’s head, when I heard my name pronounced again.“Yes,” I cried impatiently, “what is it?”“Only a word,” said Mr Preddle.“Quick, then.”“You were out on the deck some time, weren’t you?”“Yes; a long time,” I replied impatiently. “Why?”“Could you see how my poor fishes were getting on?”“No, I couldn’t,” I said gruffly, for my temper was as sore as my body just then, and Mr Preddle irritated me; he did seem so girlish and weak.“Now, Mr Frewen,” I said, “tell me what to do to your head.”“Leave it alone,” he said, smiling, “or no, perhaps you had better do something to it; I shall be better and stronger, and I want all my strength now.”“To help get back the ship?” I said.“Yes, of course. Now then, my lad,” he continued, “you must think that you are a surgeon’s mate or dresser.” I nodded.“You will not mind?”“Of course not, sir.”“Then go to that drawer, and you will find scissors, lint, bandages, and strapping.”I went to the drawer, and there, neatly arranged, were the articles he had described, in company with many more.“Now get water, sponge, and towel,” he said, and this I did.“Now go to work and cut away the hair, so that you can see what damage is done.”“But I’m afraid—”“What?”“Of hurting you.”“Then set that aside, boy,” he said, smiling. “A surgeon must take all the care he can, but he must not be afraid of hurting his patient. Go on.”It was not quite my first surgical experiment, for I had bound up cut fingers before then, and once roughly tended to the broken arm of a school-fellow, who had fallen in climbing a tree, though my attention merely consisted in laying the arm straight and bandaging it with a woollen comforter, while the doctor was fetched; but all the same I felt very hot, nervous, and uncomfortable, as, in following out Mr Frewen’s instructions, I cut away the hair, bathed the place, and told him exactly what I saw, horrible as it was.“Pooh!” he said, with a little laugh. “A mere scratch. Why, if it were a patient I was attending—you, for instance—I should say you were making a miserable fuss about nothing.”“But it is very bad, sir,” I said. “Why, you were quite insensible.”“Yes, Dale, that was the contusion. One of the chests must have been driven against my head like a square shot. Well, there’s one comfort, the skull isn’t cracked. Now cut some strips of that plaister, and place them across and across.”I followed out his instructions, and ended by laying some lint over the wound and securing all with a neatly sewn on bandage.He turned very pale twice over as I was busy, and, in obedience to a whisper, I took down a bottle and measured out some of its contents, afterwards administering the dose in water.“Not pleasant stuff, Dale,” he said, smiling feebly, “and it’s rather hard lines, as you lads would call it, for a doctor to have to take his own stuff; but you see I have a nasty crack, and if I had not been a particularly thick-headed sort of fellow, I’m afraid I should not have wanted another.”“What is that you have taken?” I asked. “Only ammonia—sal volatile—a capital stimulus when faintness comes on. There, I’m better now, and I dare say I shall do. I can examine you now. Ribs broken, eh?”“I thought so, sir.”“And I’m sure you are wrong, my lad. If your ribs, or even one rib, had been fractured, you could not have gone on working for me like that. You would have been in agony.”“Well, it does hurt pretty tidily, sir.”“Perhaps so, Dale, but not to the extent it would under those circumstances. There, I’m better now. Help me to sit up.” I helped him, and he turned ghastly.“Feel faint, sir?” I said.“Horrible, Dale, but I will master it. This is no time for giving way like a young lady in a hot room. There, that’s better. Nothing like making a fight for it. Come.”“Oh no; I’m not very much hurt, sir,” I cried. “Wait till you are easier.”“Come closer,” he said firmly. “Off with your jacket, and open the neck of your shirt.”I obeyed him unwillingly, and making another determined effort to master the faintness from which he suffered, he carefully examined my chest and side, giving me such intense pain the while that I too felt sick, and would gladly have prescribed for myself a draught of the medicine he had taken.“There,” he cried at last, “that’s perfectly satisfactory. No ribs broken, Dale, but you had a tremendous blow there from the nearest box. It’s a wonder that we were not killed.”“Then I shan’t want strapping or bandaging, sir?”“No; I’ll give you some arnica to bathe the place with. You’ll have some terrible bruises all up your side, but that will be all. Now then, my lad, that we have repaired damages, the next thing is to see what we can do for other people.”“Yes, and about re-taking the ship,” I said excitedly, though I could not then see the slightest chance of success.

I could not have been insensible many moments, for I was conscious of shouting and trampling, of a thick black smoke which made it seem like night, of voices giving orders, and Jarette yelling to his men now in French, now in English, and all the time there was a crushing weight across my legs and chest.

Then there were a couple of shots fired, and the shutting and banging of doors; some one shrieked, and a man was thrown back over the mass which held me down.

After that I must have been insensible again, for the next thing I remember is hearing a groan, and directly after the voices of men talking in a familiar way.

“That’s it, lads; altogether, and out she comes.”

I could see light now, for something was lifted off me, and I looked out through a framework of shattered woodwork at the bright sunshine.

“Now then,” said the same voice; “lift him out on to the deck.”

It was Bob Hampton speaking, and it was Dumlow who spoke next in a low growl.

“Poor lad; he’s got it bad, arn’t he?”

I thought in my half-stunned fashion that they were talking about me; but they were lifting some one else, and just then Jarette came up. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear him blundering over the wreck around, and his words plain enough as he said sharply—

“Dead? Overboard with him if he is.”

“No, he arn’t dead,” said Bob Hampton. “Doctors don’t die in a hurry. He’ll come to and cure hisself, I dessay. Come on, mate.”

In a muddled, dreamy way I knew now that it was a doctor they were carrying, and if it was a doctor I felt that it must be Mr Frewen; but what it all meant, or why I was lying there, I could not tell in the least.

There was half-darkness then for a little while, then light—then darkness again, and some one was leaning over me.

“Steady, lad,” was growled, and I knew it was Bob Hampton again, and I tried to think and ask him what was the matter, but no words would come, though everything was growing very clear now, and the men’s words bounded painfully sharp upon my ears.

“Got him?”

“Ay, ay.”

“Heave then, together. No, hold hard; the corner of that portmanter’s over his hind leg. That’s it; hyste it away.”

I felt myself laid down while something was done close to me, and then I was lifted once more and carried out into the warm sunshine, and laid upon the hot boards of the deck.

“Poor laddie,” growled Bob Hampton, “he’s got it badly. Rum world this here, Neb!”

“Orful,” said Dumlow.

“Reg’lar wusser,” said another voice, which I knew to be Blane’s.

“Look sharp there, my lads,” cried Jarette, from somewhere overhead, which must have been the poop-deck. “That one dead?”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

“You’re a liar, Barney Blane.”

“If he’s dead, pitch him overboard.”

“But he arn’t dead, captain,” growled Bob Hampton. “There’s stuff enough in him to make a full-sized sailor yet, and he’s far too good to be chucked over to the sharkses.”

“But Barney Blane said he was dead.”

“Don’t you take no notice o’ what Barney Blane says, skipper,” cried Dumlow. “He dunno chalk from cheese best o’ times, and I know he can’t tell a dead man from mutton.”

“Hear, hear, mate!” cried Bob Hampton. “Haw, haw, haw; we’ll chuck the boy overboard if you like, capt’n; but there’s a kick in one of his hind legs, an’ I see him wink and waggle one ear.”

“Let him lie there a bit till I come round,” cried Jarette. “You go on and clear that cabin.”

“Ay, ay,” cried the three men who were near. “Come on, lads. Here, Barney, go and get that there pannikin o’ water from the breaker, and pour some in the boy’s mouth. What yer go and say he were dead for?”

“Well, mate, I thought as he were. He had enough to ha’ killed a man, let alone a boy.”

“You look sharp, and we’ll pull him and the doctor through, see if we don’t. I don’t think no bones is broke. Them chesties sheltered ’em.”

Then I felt water being trickled into my mouth and some poured over my forehead, while, though I could neither move nor speak, I heard Jarette’s voice giving orders apparently ever so far away.

“Look sharp, lads,” said Bob Hampton, “or Frog-soup ’ll be back and bully us.”

“Must give the jollop purser a drop more,” said Dumlow. “Here, he arn’t dead neither; takes the water down as free as if it were grog. They’ll come right agen, won’t they?”

“Ay, to be sure,” said Bob Hampton. “Now then, heave ahead afore he comes. Rum games these here, messmets.”

“Rum arn’t the right word,” said Dumlow, and then all was perfectly still again, and I lay there wondering what was the matter, and why I couldn’t think as I should, and make out why I was lying there on my back in the hot sun listening to a low moaning sound, and some one close to my ear talking in a muttering tone.

Then there was silence again for I don’t know how long: before there was another low moan, and the voice close by me muttered—

“Oh, for more strength—could have saved—”

The words died out, and I lay there wondering still. Then I felt that people were coming near me, and stopped talking together.

I must have grown a little more sensible then, for I recognised the voices as some one gave me a rude thrust with the foot.

“This boy’s dead enough,” and the words sounded so sharp and cruel that they quite stung me.

“I think he is,” said another voice, which I knew to be that of Walters.

“Oh yes; try him,” said the first speaker, Jarette, I was certain.

And now as I felt some one take hold of my hand and raise my arm, my full senses seemed to come, and with them an intense feeling of pain. It was just as if the lifting of that arm was connected with something within me which had been stopped up, for as the arm was allowed to drop heavily back, and Walters said callously—“Yes; he’s dead enough,” I shouted as loudly as I could—“No, I’m not!” and opened my eyes to stare up at the group on deck.

There was a hearty burst of laughter at this, and I suppose it was partly directed at Walters, who sprang up as sharply as if I had bitten him, and then joined weakly in the laugh.

“Just like him,” he said, with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders. “Shamming again.”

“Come, I like that,” I said faintly. “Why, your life’s all sham.”

He took a step toward me as I lay there, and I thought he was about to kick me, but Jarette laid a hand upon his shoulder.

“Let him be,” he said shortly. “Look here, young Dale, where are you hurt?”

“I suppose I’m not hurt at all,” I said, speaking with a good deal of pain; “if I say I am, he’ll tell you I’m shamming.”

“Never mind him, boy,” said Jarette, “listen to me. Look here, the game’s up with the officers, and they’re either my prisoners or as good as dead, so there’s nothing more for you to do. Now, I suppose you don’t want me to have you thrown overboard, do you?”

“Of course not.”

“Very well, then; it’s only a change in your captain, and I dare say you can be useful. What do you say to joining me?”

“What, turning mutineer and pirate?” I said boldly.

“Don’t you use ugly words, boy,” he said, with a scowl. “Come, I offer you good terms; will you join us?”

“You don’t want midshipmen,” I said, as I tried to think hard as to what I ought to do under the circumstances.

“How do you know, boy? Join us, and serve under me. It will only be like going on again with your old messmate here, and I dare say I can promote you faster than you would have been under Captain Berriman.”

“But where are we going? What do you mean to do with the ship?”

“What’s that to you? There, I offer you your chance; will you join us?”

“I would if I was you, Mr Dale, sir,” said a familiar voice, and turning my head with difficulty, there was Bob Hampton looking quite frank and honest, and as if there was not such a thing as a mutineer on the face of the earth.

“Why? What for?” I cried, with a catching of the breath which made me raise my hand to my breast.

“’Cause we’re all so jolly together now, sir. You’ll like it same as me and my mates do. Jyne us, sir.”

“All right,” I said, “if—”

“If what?” said Jarette, sharply.

“If you rouse up the doctor and make him tend to me, for I’m afraid I’ve got some broken ribs.”

“Good! We will,” cried Jarette, but to my astonishment Walters suddenly roared out—

“No; don’t trust him. He is a traitor, and he would only play the spy.”

With a good deal of effort I raised myself upon one arm and looked him full in the face, for the pain I suffered and his words roused up in me a furious burst of temper.

“Traitor! sham!” I cried. “You ought to be hung for turning against your captain as you did.”

“Don’t trust him, Jarette; he’d only betray us.”

“If ever I get a chance, I will, if it’s only for the sake of seeing you get your deserts, you miserable hound!” I cried. “No, I’m not fit to be trusted, Jarette,” I cried, now quite beside myself with rage and pain; “and don’t let that miserable cur come near me, or I shall try to do him some mischief.”

“Do you hear, lieutenant?” said Jarette, with a sneering laugh. “Why don’t you go and serve him out for threatening you? He’s about helpless if his ribs are broken, and couldn’t hurt you back.”

“I’m not going to meddle with the miserable, sneaking cur,” he said contemptuously. “And you needn’t banter me; I’ve saved you from being cheated by him.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Jarette, gazing at Walters through his half-closed lids; “I dare say it was all talk, for he wouldn’t have dared to play tricks. But I say, lieutenant, he has got a stouter heart than you have. He’d be too much for you.”

Walters gave him a malicious look, full of angry spite, and as Jarette saw it, there was a complete change in the man. His eyes flashed, his form seemed to dilate, and he looked taller, while I now realised how it was that he had gained so much ascendancy over the men, making them follow and trust him with powers which would possibly land them all in gaol, if no worse fate were in store.

He and Walters were close to me, and I heard what could not have reached the ears of the men.

“Take care, youngster,” he half whispered. “You’ve got a hasty tongue, and it stings sometimes. Mind I don’t turn and sting again. Recollect you’ve committed yourself so deeply that you are mine now; and recollect, too, that I’m captain.”

“Yes, I know,” said Walters, sharply, “but he isn’t to be trusted, and—”

“You hate him,” said Jarette. “Well, I know you do. There, that’s enough. Here, some of you, which cabin is empty?”

“Second one on the left,” cried several.

“Is the door broken by the powder?”

“No; it’s all right,” said Bob Hampton.

“Carry ’em both in,” said Jarette. “Fasten ’em up, and bring me the key. There, youngster,” he continued to me, “I’m sending the doctor with you to set you right.”

I nodded, and then had hard work to keep from shrieking out as two men lifted me and carried me through the companion into the shattered saloon, and then into the cabin on the left, laying me down pretty gently in the cot.

It seemed quite natural to me that I should be brought there, though it was unintentional on Jarette’s part, for the cabin I was in was that apportioned to Mr Frewen, who was now carried in and laid upon a rug which covered a portion of the floor.

“Cheer up, Mr Dale, sir,” said Dumlow, bluffly, for he was one of the men who had helped to carry in Mr Frewen. “They won’t starve yer. If they do I’ll bring you some o’ my wittles and drink.”

“Look here, Dumlow,” I said, “where are the officers and the passengers?”

“Shut up, sir, in their cabins, like precious crocks in a cupboard, that’s where they are; and now you’re just the same, only you’ve got a crack in you somewheres.”

The men all laughed and went out, and shut from my sight the shattered side, and confusion of chests and boxes lying in the saloon. Then I heard the door fastened, and I made an effort and looked over the side of the cot, groaning the while with the pain it gave me, down at poor Mr Frewen, who lay there quite insensible, and I said to myself bitterly—

“Very kind of them to send me a doctor; why, I shall have to doctor him.”

Then for the first time I saw that he was bleeding a little from one side of his head, and this roused me so that I forgot a good deal of my pain; and after feeling my chest and side a little to try and make out where my ribs were broken, and without success, I managed to crawl out of the cot, and got down on my knees by my companion.

“Mr Frewen,” I said; “Mr Frewen,” and I laid my hand on his forehead. “Oh, I say, do, do pray try and speak. Tell me what to do for you.”

There was no reply, and I grew more excited, and as I did, so did my suffering seem to be less, and all my anxiety began to be about him.

“Mr Frewen,” I said. “Can’t you say a word?”

But he made no sign, and, forced by the circumstances to act, I leaned over, turned his head a little more on one side, and found that the hair was all matted together with the blood, which was already drying up.

Then I began to think that the hair ought all to be cut away, the wound bathed and strapped up, and I was about to proceed to do it, when another thought occurred to me.

It was this:—

The bleeding had pretty well stopped, and would, I felt sure, quite stop in a few minutes, so perhaps I should not be acting wisely if I disturbed the injury then, for it might be better if I tried to bring him to his senses, and then he would advise me what to do, and how to do it.

I believe I was in great pain then, but I forgot it for the moment as I looked round and I saw that there was water there, and sponges and towels were close at hand, so without farther hesitation I poured out some of the water into a little basin, and taking a sponge, well bathed his face, after opening the window, for the cabin was suffocating.

I bathed and bathed, and changed the water so as to get it a little cooler, though the rapid evaporation helped me most, and at last, to my great delight, his eyelids began to quiver, and finally he lay there staring at me wildly, and with his face terribly white.

“Mr Frewen, do you know me?” I said.

“Know you?—know you? Yes, of course,” he said hoarsely. “What is the matter?—what has happened?” and his hand went to the back of his head.

“You were hurt when the powder went off,” I said, watching his face eagerly. “Don’t you remember?”

“Yes,” he cried eagerly. “I threw myself back over the barricade with you.”

“And the door and all the boxes and chests were blown in and buried us, I think.”

“Was—was any one killed?” he said huskily.

“I don’t know; I think not,” I replied.

“But don’t you know, boy?” he cried angrily.

“No; I was hurt by the chests the same as you were, and don’t know what happened. It was all like being in a dream till a little while ago.”

“Then you know nothing?” he said excitedly.

“I only have a sort of misty recollection of lying there after the explosion, till I was carried out on deck and laid in the sun.”

Then I told him all about being like in a nightmare, and hearing them talk of throwing us both overboard, only Bob Hampton said we were alive.

“The scoundrel!” he said bitterly.

“Well, I thought it very jolly of him then,” I said, “for if it had not been for him we should have—”

I pointed downward.

“Right to the bottom of the sea,” I added.

“Yes; and you seem to have been hurt.”

“Hurt? I should think I was, horribly,” I cried; “but it don’t seem so bad now, since I’ve been helping you.”

“But the passengers, Dale?” he said excitedly, as he tried to sit up, but sank back with a groan; “have you not heard anything whatever about them?”

I shook my head.

“Didn’t you see anything to suggest that any one was killed and—and thrown overboard?”

“No, Mr Frewen.”

“Go out then and make inquiries, my good lad,” he said piteously; “this suspense is worse than the injury.”

“You forget,” I said quietly.

“Forget? What?”

“That we are prisoners. I couldn’t get out.”

“Yes, yes,” he moaned. “I forgot. My head is all confused and strange. What’s that?”

“Some one knocking gently at the bulk-head,” I whispered, for there were three gentle taps on the wooden partition just opposite to where I was kneeling.

“Then there is some one else a prisoner,” he cried. “Quick, speak to him.”

“Better not speak,” I said; “we may bring in some of Jarette’s gang;” and rising softly, I took out my pocket-knife, and gave three gentle taps with the haft just about the spot where we had heard the sounds.

The moment I had done, two knocks came in answer, and when I had responded in the same way, there was one single one given which I also answered.

“That only stands for some one being there,” said Mr Frewen, with a sigh; “we have no code arranged by which we could communicate.”

“Oh yes, we have,” I said, with a laugh, and, after breaking my thumb-nail, I managed to open out a gimlet fitted in the back of my knife, in company with a button-hook, a lancet, another to bleed horses, a tooth-pick, pair of tweezers, and a corkscrew, all of which had been very satisfactory to look at when I received the knife as a present; but I often had come to the conclusion that the knife would have been better with two more blades instead. But now its time had come, and with a feeling of being able to triumph over a difficulty, I stepped to the bulk-head, feeling rather giddy and strange in the head, but this passed off in the excitement, as I rapidly stuck in the point of the gimlet and began to bore.

The bulk-head was composed of three-quarter inch board, but I kept on boring and boring without apparently getting through, and I drew out the gimlet at last, after boring in as far as I could, and stood looking at the position in dismay.

Just then came a fresh tapping, to which I responded, and then as I listened to the hollow sound I knew what had been wrong. I had been boring through the board just where it was backed by one of the uprights which gave strength to the bulk-head.

The next minute I had bored a hole right through, and on withdrawing the gimlet I could see daylight.

“Who’s that?” I whispered, with my lips to the tiny hole, and placing my ear to the orifice I heard for answer—

“Me, Mr Preddle. Who are you?”

“Dale and Mr Frewen,” I answered.

“What does he say?” asked Mr Frewen.

“Says he is so glad, sir.”

“Thank him, and ask him about the passengers, whether any one is hurt.”

I whispered the question through the hole, and listened for the answer.

“Captain Berriman and Mr Brymer both wounded again in the struggle, when the men rushed into the saloon after the explosion. Now shut up in their cabins.”

“But the passengers; ask him about the passengers,” whispered Mr Frewen.

I asked, and the answer came back—

“No one hurt.”

I saw Mr Frewen close his eyes at this, and his lips moved as I felt sure in prayer.

“Yes?” I whispered back, as Mr Preddle said something which sounded all buzz, buzz, buzz.

“I say, what will those wretches do with us?”

“I don’t know.”

“Will they kill us and throw us overboard?”

“No,” I whispered through. “If they had meant that, they would have done it at once. But don’t talk any more now.”

“Buzz, buzz, buzz.”

“What say?”

“Buzz, talk, buzz, buzz.”

I opened my penknife, for I knew that the reason why Mr Preddle’s words sounded so buzzy, was that a lot of little bits of wood were sticking up through the hole left by the gimlet. And so it proved, for after a little cutting all the words sounded clearly enough, and he promised to wait till I had attended to Mr Frewen’s injuries before asking any more questions.

“Yes,” he said, “I’ll wait; but when one is in prison, and can talk to the prisoners next door, it does seem to do one good.”

I had just knelt down to see to Mr Frewen’s head, when I heard my name pronounced again.

“Yes,” I cried impatiently, “what is it?”

“Only a word,” said Mr Preddle.

“Quick, then.”

“You were out on the deck some time, weren’t you?”

“Yes; a long time,” I replied impatiently. “Why?”

“Could you see how my poor fishes were getting on?”

“No, I couldn’t,” I said gruffly, for my temper was as sore as my body just then, and Mr Preddle irritated me; he did seem so girlish and weak.

“Now, Mr Frewen,” I said, “tell me what to do to your head.”

“Leave it alone,” he said, smiling, “or no, perhaps you had better do something to it; I shall be better and stronger, and I want all my strength now.”

“To help get back the ship?” I said.

“Yes, of course. Now then, my lad,” he continued, “you must think that you are a surgeon’s mate or dresser.” I nodded.

“You will not mind?”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Then go to that drawer, and you will find scissors, lint, bandages, and strapping.”

I went to the drawer, and there, neatly arranged, were the articles he had described, in company with many more.

“Now get water, sponge, and towel,” he said, and this I did.

“Now go to work and cut away the hair, so that you can see what damage is done.”

“But I’m afraid—”

“What?”

“Of hurting you.”

“Then set that aside, boy,” he said, smiling. “A surgeon must take all the care he can, but he must not be afraid of hurting his patient. Go on.”

It was not quite my first surgical experiment, for I had bound up cut fingers before then, and once roughly tended to the broken arm of a school-fellow, who had fallen in climbing a tree, though my attention merely consisted in laying the arm straight and bandaging it with a woollen comforter, while the doctor was fetched; but all the same I felt very hot, nervous, and uncomfortable, as, in following out Mr Frewen’s instructions, I cut away the hair, bathed the place, and told him exactly what I saw, horrible as it was.

“Pooh!” he said, with a little laugh. “A mere scratch. Why, if it were a patient I was attending—you, for instance—I should say you were making a miserable fuss about nothing.”

“But it is very bad, sir,” I said. “Why, you were quite insensible.”

“Yes, Dale, that was the contusion. One of the chests must have been driven against my head like a square shot. Well, there’s one comfort, the skull isn’t cracked. Now cut some strips of that plaister, and place them across and across.”

I followed out his instructions, and ended by laying some lint over the wound and securing all with a neatly sewn on bandage.

He turned very pale twice over as I was busy, and, in obedience to a whisper, I took down a bottle and measured out some of its contents, afterwards administering the dose in water.

“Not pleasant stuff, Dale,” he said, smiling feebly, “and it’s rather hard lines, as you lads would call it, for a doctor to have to take his own stuff; but you see I have a nasty crack, and if I had not been a particularly thick-headed sort of fellow, I’m afraid I should not have wanted another.”

“What is that you have taken?” I asked. “Only ammonia—sal volatile—a capital stimulus when faintness comes on. There, I’m better now, and I dare say I shall do. I can examine you now. Ribs broken, eh?”

“I thought so, sir.”

“And I’m sure you are wrong, my lad. If your ribs, or even one rib, had been fractured, you could not have gone on working for me like that. You would have been in agony.”

“Well, it does hurt pretty tidily, sir.”

“Perhaps so, Dale, but not to the extent it would under those circumstances. There, I’m better now. Help me to sit up.” I helped him, and he turned ghastly.

“Feel faint, sir?” I said.

“Horrible, Dale, but I will master it. This is no time for giving way like a young lady in a hot room. There, that’s better. Nothing like making a fight for it. Come.”

“Oh no; I’m not very much hurt, sir,” I cried. “Wait till you are easier.”

“Come closer,” he said firmly. “Off with your jacket, and open the neck of your shirt.”

I obeyed him unwillingly, and making another determined effort to master the faintness from which he suffered, he carefully examined my chest and side, giving me such intense pain the while that I too felt sick, and would gladly have prescribed for myself a draught of the medicine he had taken.

“There,” he cried at last, “that’s perfectly satisfactory. No ribs broken, Dale, but you had a tremendous blow there from the nearest box. It’s a wonder that we were not killed.”

“Then I shan’t want strapping or bandaging, sir?”

“No; I’ll give you some arnica to bathe the place with. You’ll have some terrible bruises all up your side, but that will be all. Now then, my lad, that we have repaired damages, the next thing is to see what we can do for other people.”

“Yes, and about re-taking the ship,” I said excitedly, though I could not then see the slightest chance of success.

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