Chapter Thirty Four.I was so confused by being awakened suddenly from a deep sleep, and by the light of a lantern flashing in my eyes, that for a few minutes I moved about quite mechanically, getting out of the way of my companions in misfortune, as first Barney, and then Neb Dumlow, obeyed and climbed out on deck.“Now then, look sharp,” cried the same voice, “don’t keep us here all night.”“You go next, my lad,” growled Bob, “and I’ll give you a hyste. Take hold o’ the combings and give me one leg.”I obeyed, in a sleepy stupid way—in fact, if I had been told to jump overboard I think I should have done so then—and as I grasped the combings Bob Hampton seized the leg I lifted as if I had been going to mount a horse, and jerked me right up to where I was seized by a couple of men, thrown down, and then dragged along the deck to the open gangway, where, as I awoke to the fact that there was the black sea all gleaming with yellow scintillations, I suddenly made a desperate effort to escape.“No, no,” I shouted. “Help!”“Hold still, will you?” cried one of the men. “Now then, out with him!”In spite of my struggles they forced me onward, holding on to my wrists the while; and speechless now in my horror, I felt that the next moment I should be plunged into the black water to drown.Those were terrible moments, but they only were those brief spaces of time, for just as I felt that all was over, the man who had just spoken shouted—“Below there! Now then, together, mate,” and they stooped as low as they could, lowering me down, and then snatched their hands away, and I fell what seemed to be a terrific distance, though it was only a few feet, before I was caught by strong arms and lowered into a boat.“There you are, sir. Go aft.”I staggered in the direction in which I was pushed, and dropped on to a thwart, still half-stunned and confused, but sensible enough to understand the words uttered about me, and to see the dull yellow light of the lanterns held by the gangway lighting up a number of drink-flushed faces.“I don’t want chucking down, I tell you,” growled Bob Hampton. “Give’s a hold of a rope and I’ll drop down.”“Yes, you pig,” snarled Jarette, for I knew it was he now who gave orders, and now came full into sight, with the lights showing: his evil-looking face. “It’s rope you want, is it? Hah, for two sous I’d have one round your neck and run you up to the yard-arm. Treacherous lying dog.”Bob Hampton was a big heavy man, but as quickly and actively as a boy he swung himself clear of the men who held him, and lowered himself down.“Stand clear,” he shouted, and the next moment he had dropped down into the boat.“Was you talking ’bout the rope for yourself, Frenchy?—because they keep that round the yard-arm for thieves and pirates, not for honest men.”“Pig—cochon!” yelled Jarette, and there was a flash of light and a sharp report as he fired a pistol to hit the sailor, or perhaps only to frighten us, for no harm was done.“Silence, man, don’t exasperate him,” whispered a voice from close by where I sat, and I knew that if I raised my hand I could have touched Mr Frewen.“All right, sir,” growled Bob, and Jarette spoke now.“Below there,” he cried. “I’m behaving better to you than you all deserve. Some men would have pitched you all overboard to drown. Now then, listen you, Captain Berriman; you can row west and get into the line the packets take, or you can row east and make the coast somewhere, if you don’t get caught in a storm and go to the bottom. But that’s none of my doing, I can’t help that. Now then, push off before I alter my mind and have a bag of ballast pitched through the bottom of the boat. Off with you. Fasten up that gangway, my lads.”“No, no, stop,” cried Mr Frewen, excitedly. “We are not all here,” and I glanced round, but it was too dark to make anything out below where the light of the lanterns was cast outward in quite a straight line, well defined against the blackness below, which looked solid.“Not all there, doctor? Oh, I forgot,” said Jarette. “Wait a minute.”He turned away from the side, and we heard him give some order, which was followed a minute later by a sharp shrill cry, which went through me, and then there was a series of frantic shrieks, which seemed to pierce the dark night air. We could hear a scuffling too, and appeal after appeal approaching the side from somewhere aft.“Silence!” snapped out Jarette, and a sharp smack was followed by a low moan.Then in loud hysterical tones, as if a hoarse frantic woman were appealing, I heard as I sat shuddering there—“No, no, don’t, Captain Jarette. I’ll work with you, and stick to you, and help you always. Don’t do that.”“You—you cowardly, sneaking traitor! Who’d trust you an inch out of his sight? Over with him, lads. No, no, not there. Over with him here.”“Help! Mercy, pray! help! help!” came with frantic shrieks, for the poor fellow evidently did not know of the boat over the side. He felt that he was going to his death, and then he was evidently clinging to something, for there was a pause, and in a hoarse yell we heard him cry—“Don’t kill me, Jarette, and I’ll tell you where the money-chests are stowed.”“You? Why, I know. Over with him!” cried Jarette, and then, uttering shrieks that horrified us, we saw Walters for a moment above the bulwarks in the full light of the lanterns, and then he was pitched outwards, shrieking as he fell, a loud splash and a gurgling noise, which ceased suddenly, telling us where he had gone down.The boat was pushed along in the darkness, and without an order being given.“See him?” said Mr Brymer, in a hurried whisper.“No, sir, not yet,” growled Bob Hampton.Almost at that moment there was a wild shriek for help just by the boat’s side, and Dumlow growled out—“I got him.”Then came a splashing and a repetition of the cry for help, but this time from the bottom of the boat.“What has he done wrong?” said Bob Hampton. “Want us to chuck you in again?”“Oh, help!” cried Walters piteously.“What, have you took him aboard?” said a sneering voice overhead. “Better let him drown. He isn’t worth the biscuit and water he’ll want.”“Oh, only wait!” cried Walters, rising up to his knees.“Wait,” snarled Jarette. “Yes, you cur, I will with one of the shot-guns if you ever come near my ship again. And you, Berriman, and you, Brymer, take my warning; I’ve given you your chance, so take it. If you hang about near here I’ll have the signal-gun loaded and sink you, so be out of sight by daylight. Now push off before you get something thrown over to go through the bottom of the boat.”There was a low whispering close by me, and then I could just make out the doctor’s figure as he stood up.“Stop,” he shouted. “Mr Jarette, we are not all here.”“What? Why, who is left behind?”“Mr Denning.”“The sick passenger?”“And his sister, sir.”“Oh yes, I know, board.”“No, sir, they must come with us. I warn you that Mr Denning’s health is such that he must have medical attendance.”“Oh, I see,” cried Jarette, with a sneering laugh. “You are afraid of missing your job. There, cure the captain. One patient is enough in an open boat.”“If anything happens to him, sir, you will have to answer for his life.”“You are stupid,” sneered Jarette. “You wish to trap me. It would kill the patient to keep him with you, exposed in an open boat. No, Monsieur le docteur, I am too wise—too much of the fox, le renard—to be trapped like that. Push off.”“No, no, sir,” cried Mr Frewen; “for mercy’s sake, sir, let Mr Denning and his sister be lowered down to us.”“But they do not wish to come, monsieur.”“I will not argue with you, sir, or contradict. You hold the power. I only say, for mercy’s sake let that poor suffering invalid and his sister come. We will then push off and leave you to your prize.”Jarette was resting his arms on the bulwark, gazing down at us, no doubt maliciously, but the lights were behind him and at his side, so that his features were in the dark, and as I looked up I could not help thinking how easily any one might have shot him dead and thrown him overboard. But I shuddered at this horrible idea as it flashed through my head, and waited for him to speak.Mr Frewen waited too, but he remained silent, only making a slight movement as if to pass one arm over the bulwarks, though from where I sat I could not quite make out his act.“You heard me, Jarette?” said Mr Frewen, after this painful pause. “You will let your people help Mr Denning and his sister down?”Still the man did not answer, but appeared to be staring hard at the doctor.“Mr Jarette.”“Captain Jarette, doctor. There, you see what a merciful man I am. You do not know that I have been taking aim at you right between the eyes for the last five minutes, and could at any moment have sent a bullet through your head.”“Yes, sir,” said the doctor, calmly; “yes, Captain Jarette, I knew that you were aiming at me.”“Then why did you not flinch and ask for mercy!”“Because I am accustomed to look death in the face, sir, when I am doing my duty, I am doing it now. Mr Denning’s life is in danger. Come, sir, you will let him and his sister join us?”“In an open boat? No.”“Mr Jarette.”“Captain Jarette, doctor,” cried the man, angrily. “Now all of you row and take this mad fellow away, before I am tempted to shoot him.”Bob Hampton uttered a low growling sound as he sought in the darkness for the boat-hook, stood up, and began to thrust the boat from the ship’s side.“No; stop,” cried Mr Frewen, fiercely, “we cannot desert the Dennings like this. Ahoy!—on board there! Mr Denning, where are you?”“Here,” came from one of the cabin-windows aft.“Row beneath that window,” cried the doctor, and the boat was not rowed but dragged slowly there by Bob Hampton, who kept hooking on by the main and mizzen-chains.“Keep off!” roared Jarette fiercely. “Do you hear? Keep off, or I fire.”But Bob Hampton paid no heed to his orders till the boat was beneath one of the round cabin-windows, and then he thrust the boat about six feet from the ship.He had a reason for so doing, and he had hardly steadied the boat when, in obedience to an order from Jarette, something tremendously heavy was thrown over the side, and fell with a loud splash between us and the ship, deluging us with the shower it raised, and making the boat rock.But Mr Frewen paid no heed to that which would have driven a hole through the bottom of the boat, perhaps killed one of its occupants at the same moment.“Are you there, Denning?” he said, in a quick whisper.“Yes.”“Quick, run with your sister to the stern-windows and jump out. For heaven’s sake don’t hesitate. We can pick you up.”“Ay, ay,” growled Bob Hampton.“Impossible! We are both fastened in,” said Mr Denning.“Can you pass through that window?”“No. Save yourselves; you cannot help us now.”“Over with it, my lads. Well out.”We could not see what was heaved over the side, but something else, probably a piece of pig-iron, was thrown over, and fell with a heavier splash, making the phosphorescent water flash and sparkle, so that I could see the light dancing in the darkness for far enough down.Jarette’s savage design was again frustrated, and in spite of our terrible danger no one among us stirred or said a word about the risk.“Do you hear?” cried Mr Denning, from the cabin-light. “Save yourself; the wretch will sink the boat.”“I cannot go and leave you and your sister in this man’s power.”“It is madness to stay. You have done all that is possible. Captain Berriman, order your men to row you out of danger.”“I am not in command,” said the captain feebly.“Mr Brymer, then,” cried Mr Denning. “Quick, they are dragging up something else to throw over.”“I should not be a man, sir, if I ordered the men in cold blood to leave you and your sister,” said Mr Brymer huskily.“But you are risking other lives. Mr Frewen,” cried the young man, “I wish it; my sister wishes it. You must—you shall go.”Mr Frewen uttered a strange kind of laugh.“If I told the men to row away, sir, I do not believe they would go,” he replied. “Answer for yourselves, my lads; would you go?”“’Bout two foot farder,” growled Bob, “so as they couldn’t hit us; that’s ’bout all.”“But you can do no good,” said Mr Denning. “Lena, my child, they have been very brave, and done everything they could; tell them to go now; it is to save their lives.”“Don’t—don’t, Miss Denning,” I shouted, for I could bear it no longer. “There isn’t anybody here but Nic Walters who would be such a cur.”I said the words passionately, feeling a kind of exaltation come over me, and everything was in the most unstudied way, or I should not have said it at all.The words were not without their effect, for they stung Walters to the quick. The moment before he had been lying shivering in the bottom of the boat, but as I spoke he sprang up and cried in a high-pitched, hysterical voice that might have been Mr Preddle’s—“It isn’t true, Miss Denning. I’ve been a treacherous coward and a beast, but I’d sooner die now than leave you to come to harm.”“A pity you didn’t, my lad, before you betrayed us as you did,” said Mr Brymer, in a deep-toned voice.“Ah, yes. Words are no use now,” said the captain slowly.“No! No use now—no use now,” cried Walters wildly. “It is too late, too late,” and before any one could grasp what he was about to do, he leaped over the side into the black water.But not to drown, for the scintillations of the tiny creatures disturbed by his plunge showed exactly where he was, and Bob Hampton only had to lower the boat-hook and thrust it right down as a wild cry came from the cabin overhead. The next minute he had caught the wretched, half-distraught fellow, and dragged him to the surface, where Neb Dumlow seized him and snatched him over the side to let him fall into the bottom of the boat, and thrust his foot upon him to keep him down.“Want to doctor him, sir?” then said Dumlow gruffly.But there was no answer, for our attention was taken up by a savage burst of rage from Jarette, who fired at us unmistakably this time, and a sharp cry came from one of the occupants of the boat.“I warned you,” cried Jarette. “Now row for your lives.”“Yes, in heaven’s name, go,” cried Mr Denning, “you are only adding to our agony.”“No,” cried Mr Frewen, “I will not give up. Brymer—my lads, you will fol—”“Hush,” said Mr Brymer, as there was another flash and a report from Jarette’s pistol. “Of course we will follow, but not now. It would be madness. Wait, man! We will not go far. Use your oars, my lads.”“No, no, I forbid it,” cried Mr Frewen wildly, “and I call upon you men to help me board this ship.”“You are not in command here, sir,” said Mr Brymer sternly. “Take your place. Now, my lads, oars, and give way.”There was another shot from the deck, and one of the men uttered an exclamation as the blades were thrust over the side, dipped, and seemed to lift golden water at every stroke.“Good-bye, and God bless you!” came from the cabin-window, and directly after the same words were spoken by Miss Denning, and I heard Mr Frewen utter a groan.Another shot came from the ship, whose lanterns showed where she lay, while, but for the golden oil the oars stirred on the surface of the water, our boat must have been invisible, though that bullet was sufficiently well aimed to strike the side of the boat with a sharp crack.“That will do. In oars!” cried Mr Brymer, when we were about a hundred yards away.“How can you be such a coward?” I heard Mr Frewen whisper passionately.“No coward, sir,” replied the mate. “I am ready to risk my life in trying, as is my duty, to save those two passengers from harm, but it must be done with guile. It is madness for unarmed men to try and climb up that ship just to be thrown back into the sea.”“Then you will not row right away?” said Mr Frewen, excitedly.“And leave the ship in the hands of that scoundrel? Is it likely?”“I beg your pardon, Brymer,” whispered Mr Frewen, “I did not know what I was saying. I was half mad.”“My dear fellow, I know,” was the mate’s reply in the same tone. “I’m not going to give up, nor yet despair. There’s always a chance for us. That scoundrel may come to his end from a quarrel with one of his men; a ship may heave in sight; or we may board and surprise them, and if we do, may I be forgiven, but I’ll crush the life out of that wretch as I would destroy a tiger. Now just leave me to do my duty, and do yours.”“What can I do?” replied Mr Frewen. “You do not want me to row away?”“No; but I do wish you to attend to our wounded.”“Ah! I had forgotten that,” said Mr Frewen, hastily bestirring himself. “Here, some one cried out when one of those shots was fired, and again I heard an exclamation just now.”“It was Walters who was hit first,” I said, from where I knelt in the bottom of the boat.“Where is he? Somewhere forward?”“No; here,” I said.“Has any one matches? It is impossible to see,” muttered Mr Frewen.“He is hit in the chest, sir,” I said.“How do you know?” cried Mr Frewen. “Is this your hand, my lad? What are you doing?”“Holding my neckerchief against his side to stop the bleeding,” I said in a low voice.“Hah!”It was only like a loud expiration of the breath, as Mr Frewen knelt down beside me, and cutting away Walters’ jacket he quickly examined the wound by touch, and I then heard him tear my neckerchief and then one of his own pocket-handkerchiefs.“Your hand here. Now your finger here, my lad,” he whispered to me. “Don’t be squeamish. Think that you are trying to save another’s life.”“I shan’t faint,” I said quietly. “It doesn’t even make me feel sick.”“That’s right, my boy. Now hold that end while I pass the bandage round his chest.”I obeyed, and there was dead silence in the boat as the doctor busied himself over his patient.“Is he insensible, sir?” I whispered; “really insensible?”“Yes, and no wonder.”“Is it a very bad wound?”“Yes; bad enough. The bullet has passed through or else round one of the ribs. It is nearly out on the other side; I could feel it, but it must stay till daylight. That’s it.—I’ve plugged the wound. He cannot bleed now. Thank you, Dale.”“What for, sir?” I said innocently enough.He did not answer, but busied himself laying Walters down, and then the lad was so silent that a horrible feeling of dread began to trouble me. I was brought back to other thoughts, though, by the doctor’s speaking out of the darkness.“Who else was hurt?” he said.“Neb Dumlow’s got a hole in him somewheres, sir,” said Barney.“Wish you’d keep that tongue o’ yourn quiet, Barney,” growled Dumlow. “Who said he’d got a hole in him, my lad?”“Why, you did,” cried Barney, “and I knowed it without. Didn’t I hear you squeak?”“Well, only just then. It was sharp for a moment, but it’s better now.”“Let me pass you, my man,” said the doctor quietly.“There you are, sir. This way. Neb’s on the next thwart.”“You needn’t come to me, sir,” protested Dumlow. “I’m all light, I tied a bit o’ line round the place. You can give me a pill or a shedlicks powder or something o’ that kind to-morrow if you like.”“Hold your tongue, Neb, and let the doctor tie you up,” growled Bob Hampton. “What’s the use of being so jolly independent? Don’t you take no notice o’ what he says, sir. Dessay he’s got a reeg’lar hole in him.”“Tut tut tut!” muttered Mr Frewen. “What is this,—fishing-line?”“That’s it, sir,” said Dumlow. “It’s right enough, there arn’t no knobs on it, and it stopped the bleeding fine.”“Difficult work here, Dale,” Mr Frewen whispered to me. “One need have well-educated fingers—what surgeons call thetactus eruditus—to work like this in the dark.”“Terrible,” I replied, and I noticed how his voice trembled. For he seemed to me to be doing everything he could to keep himself from dwelling upon those we had left in the ship.“Hurt you, my man?” he said to Dumlow.“Oh, it tingles a bit, sir; but here, stop, hold hard a minute. None o’ them games.”“What games? I don’t understand you.”“No takin’ advantage of a poor helpless fellow as trusts yer, doctor!”“Explain yourself, man.”“Explain myself, sir? How?”“Tell me what you mean.”“I mean, I want you to tell me what you mean, sir.”“To dress your wound.”“Ay, but you’re a-doing of something with that ’ere other hand.”“No, my man, no.”“Arn’t got a knife in’t then?”“Certainly not. Why?”“Dumlow thinks you were going to cut his leg off, sir,” I said, feeling amused in spite of our terrible position.“Course I did,” growled the man. “I’ve been telled as there’s nothing a doctor likes better than to have a chance o’ chopping off a man’s legs or wings, and I don’t mean to go hoppin’ about on one leg and a timber toe, and so I tells yer flat.”“I’m not going to cut your leg off, Dumlow.”“Honour, sir?”“Honour, my man.”“Honour bright, sir?”“On my word as a gentleman.”“Thankye, sir, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather as you said honour bright.”“Well then, honour bright. There, I am not going to do any more to you now; I must dress the wound by daylight.”“Won’t bleed any more, sir, will it?”“Not now.”“That’ll ’bout do then, sir, thank ye kindly.”“You are welcome, my man,” said the doctor, and then, “What is it?” for I had grasped his arm.“I want you to tell me about Walters,” I whispered. “Feel his pulse first.”He turned from me and bent down over my messmate, who lay in the bottom of the boat perfectly motionless.I could not see what he did, but listened attentively, not for the sake of hearing his movements, but so as to hear a sigh or moan from that unhappy lad.“Well?” I said excitedly.“I can tell you nothing yet,” said Mr Frewen, as I thought, evasively.“He—he is not dead?” I gasped; and I fell a-trembling with horror at the idea of one whom I had known vigorous and strong so short a time before, lying there at my feet, robbed of the power of making any reparation for the crime he had so weakly committed, and with no chance for repentance.“I—I say, he is not dead, is he?”I spoke fiercely, for Mr Frewen had not replied; and now I caught and held on by his hand.He quite started, and turned upon me.“I—I beg your pardon, Dale,” he cried. “I was thinking of something else—of those on board that unfortunate ship. It seems so cowardly to leave them to their fate.”“How could we help it, Mr Frewen? What could we do? But tell me about Walters.”“Yes,” he said, drawing a long breath, as if he were making an effort to keep his mind fixed upon the present—“yes, I’ll tell you.”“Then he is dead?” I whispered, with a shudder; and as I looked down into the bottom of the boat, where all was perfectly black, I seemed to see the white face of the lad quite plainly, with his fixed eyes gazing straight at me, full of appeal, and as if asking forgiveness for the past.“No, not dead, Dale,” said Mr Frewen in a low voice. “Be quiet. Don’t talk about it. We have quite enough to depress us without that. I can say nothing for certain in this black darkness, and he may recover.”“Is the wound so very bad?” I asked.“Dangerous enough, as far as I can tell; but he has everything against him, my lad.”“But if he dies?” I exclaimed in horror.“Well?” said Mr Frewen bitterly. “If he were a man, I should say it were the best thing that could happen. He has as a young officer hopelessly dishonoured himself. He can only be looked upon as a criminal.”I could not argue with him, and relapsed into silence, thinking the while of the horror of my messmate’s condition, and asking myself whether it would not have been possible for him to redeem the past, and grow up into a straightforward, honourable man.It was a hard matter to mentally discuss, but as I sat in the darkness that night, with hardly a word spoken by my companions, I forgot all Walters’ bitterness and dislike, and only thought of his being young and strong like myself; and that he had those at home who would be heart-broken if they heard of his death, and would feel his disgrace as bitterly as he must have felt it himself, when all came to be known.“I won’t think it was his nature,” I said to myself. “It was a piece of mad folly. He was won over by that brute of a Frenchman, who, now that he has obtained all he wants, throws over the tool he used, and ends by shooting him. Poor fellow! how could he be such a fool?”I sat on, thinking how bitterly he would have repented his folly, and how his last days must have been spent in the keenest of regret. And it was in this spirit that I bent down over him, to thrust my hand in his breast to feel for the beating of his heart.“Mr Frewen,” I whispered as I rose, “tell me how you think he is now.”The doctor bent down, and after a little examination, rose again.“There is no difference which I can detect,” he said gravely.“But you will—you will—”“Will what, Dale?” he said, for I had paused.“You will not treat him as if—as if he were a criminal?”“How can I help it? He is one. We have him to thank for our position here, for those two people being left on the ship, at the mercy of those scoundrels.”His whole manner changed as he said this, and his voice sounded full of fierce anger.“Yes,” I faltered, “that’s all true; but you will not be revengeful?”“A doctor revengeful, Dale?” he said quickly.“I don’t mean that,” I said. “I mean, you will do your best to save his life?”“For him to be punished by the law?”“I was not thinking of that,” I said hastily. “I mean, that you will do all you can to cure him, Mr Frewen?”“Why, of course, my lad—of course. Am I not a doctor? I am neither prosecutor nor judge. You have curious ideas about my profession.”“I could not help it, Mr Frewen,” I pleaded. “It is only that I am so anxious for him to recover.”“And do you another ill turn, Dale—betray us once more!”“No, no, it isn’t that.” I cried; “it is only that I should like him to live and be sorry for all this. I believe, after what has taken place to-night, he would be only too glad to come over to our side, and fight for us.”“Perhaps so, if he were well enough; but who would ever dream of trusting him again?”I was silent, thinking as I was how terrible was the slip my messmate had made, and seeing now clearly how it must take years for him to climb back to the position he held when we left the London Docks.“There,” said Mr Frewen at last, “you need not be afraid, Dale. I shall treat him as I would any other patient. A medical man has but one aim when he treats a sick person, a surgeon one who is injured—to make the sufferer well again. That is my duty here, and I shall do it to the best of my ability.”I did not answer, only laid my hand upon his, and he pressed it warmly, holding it for some moments before turning his back to me; and I made out that he rested his arm upon the side of the boat, and sat gazing at the dim lights which showed where the ship lay.For some time no one spoke, and we lay there gently rising and falling on the golden-spangled water. There was not a breath of wind, and the silence was so great that any one could have imagined that the occupants of the boat were asleep.But no one dozed for a moment, only sat or lay there, trying to bear patiently their mental and bodily suffering.It was the captain who broke the silence, toward morning, by saying to the mate—“Have you settled what to do, Brymer?”“Yes,” said the mate, starting. “I can’t quite make out how we are situated till daylight, but unless Jarette has taken them out, we have the boat’s spars and sails. You know how fast she is, and I propose, if we can do so, to—”He stopped short, for Walters moaned piteously till Mr Frewen bent down over him and altered the position in which he lay.“Yes, go on,” said the captain feebly.“I propose hoisting sail in the morning.”“And making for the Cape?”“No, sir; weather permitting, and if we have a sufficiency of provisions and water, I shall keep pretty close to the ship—our ship. I shall keep just out of range of a bullet, and that is all; merely hang about or follow her when she catches the wind, until some other vessel heaves in sight. Captain Jarette is a clever, cunning man, but he has, I think, given us our chance, and we shall hang on to him till a chance comes for seizing the ship again.”“I thought our case was hopeless to-night,” said the captain.“And so did I, for a time, sir,” continued the mate; “but he has over-reached himself in trying to get rid of us—hoist himself with his own petard—if the weather will only favour us now.”Mr Frewen drew a deep breath, which sounded to me as if full of relief, and the mate went on—“It is not too much to expect that if at any time we make an attack now, some of the men will side with us.”“Don’t matter if they don’t, sir,” growled Bob Hampton, in the deepest of deep bass voices. “We’re strong enough, if you’ll only give us a chance.”“All depends on chance, my lads,” said Mr Brymer. “Let’s get the daylight, and see what we have on board.”
I was so confused by being awakened suddenly from a deep sleep, and by the light of a lantern flashing in my eyes, that for a few minutes I moved about quite mechanically, getting out of the way of my companions in misfortune, as first Barney, and then Neb Dumlow, obeyed and climbed out on deck.
“Now then, look sharp,” cried the same voice, “don’t keep us here all night.”
“You go next, my lad,” growled Bob, “and I’ll give you a hyste. Take hold o’ the combings and give me one leg.”
I obeyed, in a sleepy stupid way—in fact, if I had been told to jump overboard I think I should have done so then—and as I grasped the combings Bob Hampton seized the leg I lifted as if I had been going to mount a horse, and jerked me right up to where I was seized by a couple of men, thrown down, and then dragged along the deck to the open gangway, where, as I awoke to the fact that there was the black sea all gleaming with yellow scintillations, I suddenly made a desperate effort to escape.
“No, no,” I shouted. “Help!”
“Hold still, will you?” cried one of the men. “Now then, out with him!”
In spite of my struggles they forced me onward, holding on to my wrists the while; and speechless now in my horror, I felt that the next moment I should be plunged into the black water to drown.
Those were terrible moments, but they only were those brief spaces of time, for just as I felt that all was over, the man who had just spoken shouted—“Below there! Now then, together, mate,” and they stooped as low as they could, lowering me down, and then snatched their hands away, and I fell what seemed to be a terrific distance, though it was only a few feet, before I was caught by strong arms and lowered into a boat.
“There you are, sir. Go aft.”
I staggered in the direction in which I was pushed, and dropped on to a thwart, still half-stunned and confused, but sensible enough to understand the words uttered about me, and to see the dull yellow light of the lanterns held by the gangway lighting up a number of drink-flushed faces.
“I don’t want chucking down, I tell you,” growled Bob Hampton. “Give’s a hold of a rope and I’ll drop down.”
“Yes, you pig,” snarled Jarette, for I knew it was he now who gave orders, and now came full into sight, with the lights showing: his evil-looking face. “It’s rope you want, is it? Hah, for two sous I’d have one round your neck and run you up to the yard-arm. Treacherous lying dog.”
Bob Hampton was a big heavy man, but as quickly and actively as a boy he swung himself clear of the men who held him, and lowered himself down.
“Stand clear,” he shouted, and the next moment he had dropped down into the boat.
“Was you talking ’bout the rope for yourself, Frenchy?—because they keep that round the yard-arm for thieves and pirates, not for honest men.”
“Pig—cochon!” yelled Jarette, and there was a flash of light and a sharp report as he fired a pistol to hit the sailor, or perhaps only to frighten us, for no harm was done.
“Silence, man, don’t exasperate him,” whispered a voice from close by where I sat, and I knew that if I raised my hand I could have touched Mr Frewen.
“All right, sir,” growled Bob, and Jarette spoke now.
“Below there,” he cried. “I’m behaving better to you than you all deserve. Some men would have pitched you all overboard to drown. Now then, listen you, Captain Berriman; you can row west and get into the line the packets take, or you can row east and make the coast somewhere, if you don’t get caught in a storm and go to the bottom. But that’s none of my doing, I can’t help that. Now then, push off before I alter my mind and have a bag of ballast pitched through the bottom of the boat. Off with you. Fasten up that gangway, my lads.”
“No, no, stop,” cried Mr Frewen, excitedly. “We are not all here,” and I glanced round, but it was too dark to make anything out below where the light of the lanterns was cast outward in quite a straight line, well defined against the blackness below, which looked solid.
“Not all there, doctor? Oh, I forgot,” said Jarette. “Wait a minute.”
He turned away from the side, and we heard him give some order, which was followed a minute later by a sharp shrill cry, which went through me, and then there was a series of frantic shrieks, which seemed to pierce the dark night air. We could hear a scuffling too, and appeal after appeal approaching the side from somewhere aft.
“Silence!” snapped out Jarette, and a sharp smack was followed by a low moan.
Then in loud hysterical tones, as if a hoarse frantic woman were appealing, I heard as I sat shuddering there—
“No, no, don’t, Captain Jarette. I’ll work with you, and stick to you, and help you always. Don’t do that.”
“You—you cowardly, sneaking traitor! Who’d trust you an inch out of his sight? Over with him, lads. No, no, not there. Over with him here.”
“Help! Mercy, pray! help! help!” came with frantic shrieks, for the poor fellow evidently did not know of the boat over the side. He felt that he was going to his death, and then he was evidently clinging to something, for there was a pause, and in a hoarse yell we heard him cry—
“Don’t kill me, Jarette, and I’ll tell you where the money-chests are stowed.”
“You? Why, I know. Over with him!” cried Jarette, and then, uttering shrieks that horrified us, we saw Walters for a moment above the bulwarks in the full light of the lanterns, and then he was pitched outwards, shrieking as he fell, a loud splash and a gurgling noise, which ceased suddenly, telling us where he had gone down.
The boat was pushed along in the darkness, and without an order being given.
“See him?” said Mr Brymer, in a hurried whisper.
“No, sir, not yet,” growled Bob Hampton.
Almost at that moment there was a wild shriek for help just by the boat’s side, and Dumlow growled out—
“I got him.”
Then came a splashing and a repetition of the cry for help, but this time from the bottom of the boat.
“What has he done wrong?” said Bob Hampton. “Want us to chuck you in again?”
“Oh, help!” cried Walters piteously.
“What, have you took him aboard?” said a sneering voice overhead. “Better let him drown. He isn’t worth the biscuit and water he’ll want.”
“Oh, only wait!” cried Walters, rising up to his knees.
“Wait,” snarled Jarette. “Yes, you cur, I will with one of the shot-guns if you ever come near my ship again. And you, Berriman, and you, Brymer, take my warning; I’ve given you your chance, so take it. If you hang about near here I’ll have the signal-gun loaded and sink you, so be out of sight by daylight. Now push off before you get something thrown over to go through the bottom of the boat.”
There was a low whispering close by me, and then I could just make out the doctor’s figure as he stood up.
“Stop,” he shouted. “Mr Jarette, we are not all here.”
“What? Why, who is left behind?”
“Mr Denning.”
“The sick passenger?”
“And his sister, sir.”
“Oh yes, I know, board.”
“No, sir, they must come with us. I warn you that Mr Denning’s health is such that he must have medical attendance.”
“Oh, I see,” cried Jarette, with a sneering laugh. “You are afraid of missing your job. There, cure the captain. One patient is enough in an open boat.”
“If anything happens to him, sir, you will have to answer for his life.”
“You are stupid,” sneered Jarette. “You wish to trap me. It would kill the patient to keep him with you, exposed in an open boat. No, Monsieur le docteur, I am too wise—too much of the fox, le renard—to be trapped like that. Push off.”
“No, no, sir,” cried Mr Frewen; “for mercy’s sake, sir, let Mr Denning and his sister be lowered down to us.”
“But they do not wish to come, monsieur.”
“I will not argue with you, sir, or contradict. You hold the power. I only say, for mercy’s sake let that poor suffering invalid and his sister come. We will then push off and leave you to your prize.”
Jarette was resting his arms on the bulwark, gazing down at us, no doubt maliciously, but the lights were behind him and at his side, so that his features were in the dark, and as I looked up I could not help thinking how easily any one might have shot him dead and thrown him overboard. But I shuddered at this horrible idea as it flashed through my head, and waited for him to speak.
Mr Frewen waited too, but he remained silent, only making a slight movement as if to pass one arm over the bulwarks, though from where I sat I could not quite make out his act.
“You heard me, Jarette?” said Mr Frewen, after this painful pause. “You will let your people help Mr Denning and his sister down?”
Still the man did not answer, but appeared to be staring hard at the doctor.
“Mr Jarette.”
“Captain Jarette, doctor. There, you see what a merciful man I am. You do not know that I have been taking aim at you right between the eyes for the last five minutes, and could at any moment have sent a bullet through your head.”
“Yes, sir,” said the doctor, calmly; “yes, Captain Jarette, I knew that you were aiming at me.”
“Then why did you not flinch and ask for mercy!”
“Because I am accustomed to look death in the face, sir, when I am doing my duty, I am doing it now. Mr Denning’s life is in danger. Come, sir, you will let him and his sister join us?”
“In an open boat? No.”
“Mr Jarette.”
“Captain Jarette, doctor,” cried the man, angrily. “Now all of you row and take this mad fellow away, before I am tempted to shoot him.”
Bob Hampton uttered a low growling sound as he sought in the darkness for the boat-hook, stood up, and began to thrust the boat from the ship’s side.
“No; stop,” cried Mr Frewen, fiercely, “we cannot desert the Dennings like this. Ahoy!—on board there! Mr Denning, where are you?”
“Here,” came from one of the cabin-windows aft.
“Row beneath that window,” cried the doctor, and the boat was not rowed but dragged slowly there by Bob Hampton, who kept hooking on by the main and mizzen-chains.
“Keep off!” roared Jarette fiercely. “Do you hear? Keep off, or I fire.”
But Bob Hampton paid no heed to his orders till the boat was beneath one of the round cabin-windows, and then he thrust the boat about six feet from the ship.
He had a reason for so doing, and he had hardly steadied the boat when, in obedience to an order from Jarette, something tremendously heavy was thrown over the side, and fell with a loud splash between us and the ship, deluging us with the shower it raised, and making the boat rock.
But Mr Frewen paid no heed to that which would have driven a hole through the bottom of the boat, perhaps killed one of its occupants at the same moment.
“Are you there, Denning?” he said, in a quick whisper.
“Yes.”
“Quick, run with your sister to the stern-windows and jump out. For heaven’s sake don’t hesitate. We can pick you up.”
“Ay, ay,” growled Bob Hampton.
“Impossible! We are both fastened in,” said Mr Denning.
“Can you pass through that window?”
“No. Save yourselves; you cannot help us now.”
“Over with it, my lads. Well out.”
We could not see what was heaved over the side, but something else, probably a piece of pig-iron, was thrown over, and fell with a heavier splash, making the phosphorescent water flash and sparkle, so that I could see the light dancing in the darkness for far enough down.
Jarette’s savage design was again frustrated, and in spite of our terrible danger no one among us stirred or said a word about the risk.
“Do you hear?” cried Mr Denning, from the cabin-light. “Save yourself; the wretch will sink the boat.”
“I cannot go and leave you and your sister in this man’s power.”
“It is madness to stay. You have done all that is possible. Captain Berriman, order your men to row you out of danger.”
“I am not in command,” said the captain feebly.
“Mr Brymer, then,” cried Mr Denning. “Quick, they are dragging up something else to throw over.”
“I should not be a man, sir, if I ordered the men in cold blood to leave you and your sister,” said Mr Brymer huskily.
“But you are risking other lives. Mr Frewen,” cried the young man, “I wish it; my sister wishes it. You must—you shall go.”
Mr Frewen uttered a strange kind of laugh.
“If I told the men to row away, sir, I do not believe they would go,” he replied. “Answer for yourselves, my lads; would you go?”
“’Bout two foot farder,” growled Bob, “so as they couldn’t hit us; that’s ’bout all.”
“But you can do no good,” said Mr Denning. “Lena, my child, they have been very brave, and done everything they could; tell them to go now; it is to save their lives.”
“Don’t—don’t, Miss Denning,” I shouted, for I could bear it no longer. “There isn’t anybody here but Nic Walters who would be such a cur.”
I said the words passionately, feeling a kind of exaltation come over me, and everything was in the most unstudied way, or I should not have said it at all.
The words were not without their effect, for they stung Walters to the quick. The moment before he had been lying shivering in the bottom of the boat, but as I spoke he sprang up and cried in a high-pitched, hysterical voice that might have been Mr Preddle’s—
“It isn’t true, Miss Denning. I’ve been a treacherous coward and a beast, but I’d sooner die now than leave you to come to harm.”
“A pity you didn’t, my lad, before you betrayed us as you did,” said Mr Brymer, in a deep-toned voice.
“Ah, yes. Words are no use now,” said the captain slowly.
“No! No use now—no use now,” cried Walters wildly. “It is too late, too late,” and before any one could grasp what he was about to do, he leaped over the side into the black water.
But not to drown, for the scintillations of the tiny creatures disturbed by his plunge showed exactly where he was, and Bob Hampton only had to lower the boat-hook and thrust it right down as a wild cry came from the cabin overhead. The next minute he had caught the wretched, half-distraught fellow, and dragged him to the surface, where Neb Dumlow seized him and snatched him over the side to let him fall into the bottom of the boat, and thrust his foot upon him to keep him down.
“Want to doctor him, sir?” then said Dumlow gruffly.
But there was no answer, for our attention was taken up by a savage burst of rage from Jarette, who fired at us unmistakably this time, and a sharp cry came from one of the occupants of the boat.
“I warned you,” cried Jarette. “Now row for your lives.”
“Yes, in heaven’s name, go,” cried Mr Denning, “you are only adding to our agony.”
“No,” cried Mr Frewen, “I will not give up. Brymer—my lads, you will fol—”
“Hush,” said Mr Brymer, as there was another flash and a report from Jarette’s pistol. “Of course we will follow, but not now. It would be madness. Wait, man! We will not go far. Use your oars, my lads.”
“No, no, I forbid it,” cried Mr Frewen wildly, “and I call upon you men to help me board this ship.”
“You are not in command here, sir,” said Mr Brymer sternly. “Take your place. Now, my lads, oars, and give way.”
There was another shot from the deck, and one of the men uttered an exclamation as the blades were thrust over the side, dipped, and seemed to lift golden water at every stroke.
“Good-bye, and God bless you!” came from the cabin-window, and directly after the same words were spoken by Miss Denning, and I heard Mr Frewen utter a groan.
Another shot came from the ship, whose lanterns showed where she lay, while, but for the golden oil the oars stirred on the surface of the water, our boat must have been invisible, though that bullet was sufficiently well aimed to strike the side of the boat with a sharp crack.
“That will do. In oars!” cried Mr Brymer, when we were about a hundred yards away.
“How can you be such a coward?” I heard Mr Frewen whisper passionately.
“No coward, sir,” replied the mate. “I am ready to risk my life in trying, as is my duty, to save those two passengers from harm, but it must be done with guile. It is madness for unarmed men to try and climb up that ship just to be thrown back into the sea.”
“Then you will not row right away?” said Mr Frewen, excitedly.
“And leave the ship in the hands of that scoundrel? Is it likely?”
“I beg your pardon, Brymer,” whispered Mr Frewen, “I did not know what I was saying. I was half mad.”
“My dear fellow, I know,” was the mate’s reply in the same tone. “I’m not going to give up, nor yet despair. There’s always a chance for us. That scoundrel may come to his end from a quarrel with one of his men; a ship may heave in sight; or we may board and surprise them, and if we do, may I be forgiven, but I’ll crush the life out of that wretch as I would destroy a tiger. Now just leave me to do my duty, and do yours.”
“What can I do?” replied Mr Frewen. “You do not want me to row away?”
“No; but I do wish you to attend to our wounded.”
“Ah! I had forgotten that,” said Mr Frewen, hastily bestirring himself. “Here, some one cried out when one of those shots was fired, and again I heard an exclamation just now.”
“It was Walters who was hit first,” I said, from where I knelt in the bottom of the boat.
“Where is he? Somewhere forward?”
“No; here,” I said.
“Has any one matches? It is impossible to see,” muttered Mr Frewen.
“He is hit in the chest, sir,” I said.
“How do you know?” cried Mr Frewen. “Is this your hand, my lad? What are you doing?”
“Holding my neckerchief against his side to stop the bleeding,” I said in a low voice.
“Hah!”
It was only like a loud expiration of the breath, as Mr Frewen knelt down beside me, and cutting away Walters’ jacket he quickly examined the wound by touch, and I then heard him tear my neckerchief and then one of his own pocket-handkerchiefs.
“Your hand here. Now your finger here, my lad,” he whispered to me. “Don’t be squeamish. Think that you are trying to save another’s life.”
“I shan’t faint,” I said quietly. “It doesn’t even make me feel sick.”
“That’s right, my boy. Now hold that end while I pass the bandage round his chest.”
I obeyed, and there was dead silence in the boat as the doctor busied himself over his patient.
“Is he insensible, sir?” I whispered; “really insensible?”
“Yes, and no wonder.”
“Is it a very bad wound?”
“Yes; bad enough. The bullet has passed through or else round one of the ribs. It is nearly out on the other side; I could feel it, but it must stay till daylight. That’s it.—I’ve plugged the wound. He cannot bleed now. Thank you, Dale.”
“What for, sir?” I said innocently enough.
He did not answer, but busied himself laying Walters down, and then the lad was so silent that a horrible feeling of dread began to trouble me. I was brought back to other thoughts, though, by the doctor’s speaking out of the darkness.
“Who else was hurt?” he said.
“Neb Dumlow’s got a hole in him somewheres, sir,” said Barney.
“Wish you’d keep that tongue o’ yourn quiet, Barney,” growled Dumlow. “Who said he’d got a hole in him, my lad?”
“Why, you did,” cried Barney, “and I knowed it without. Didn’t I hear you squeak?”
“Well, only just then. It was sharp for a moment, but it’s better now.”
“Let me pass you, my man,” said the doctor quietly.
“There you are, sir. This way. Neb’s on the next thwart.”
“You needn’t come to me, sir,” protested Dumlow. “I’m all light, I tied a bit o’ line round the place. You can give me a pill or a shedlicks powder or something o’ that kind to-morrow if you like.”
“Hold your tongue, Neb, and let the doctor tie you up,” growled Bob Hampton. “What’s the use of being so jolly independent? Don’t you take no notice o’ what he says, sir. Dessay he’s got a reeg’lar hole in him.”
“Tut tut tut!” muttered Mr Frewen. “What is this,—fishing-line?”
“That’s it, sir,” said Dumlow. “It’s right enough, there arn’t no knobs on it, and it stopped the bleeding fine.”
“Difficult work here, Dale,” Mr Frewen whispered to me. “One need have well-educated fingers—what surgeons call thetactus eruditus—to work like this in the dark.”
“Terrible,” I replied, and I noticed how his voice trembled. For he seemed to me to be doing everything he could to keep himself from dwelling upon those we had left in the ship.
“Hurt you, my man?” he said to Dumlow.
“Oh, it tingles a bit, sir; but here, stop, hold hard a minute. None o’ them games.”
“What games? I don’t understand you.”
“No takin’ advantage of a poor helpless fellow as trusts yer, doctor!”
“Explain yourself, man.”
“Explain myself, sir? How?”
“Tell me what you mean.”
“I mean, I want you to tell me what you mean, sir.”
“To dress your wound.”
“Ay, but you’re a-doing of something with that ’ere other hand.”
“No, my man, no.”
“Arn’t got a knife in’t then?”
“Certainly not. Why?”
“Dumlow thinks you were going to cut his leg off, sir,” I said, feeling amused in spite of our terrible position.
“Course I did,” growled the man. “I’ve been telled as there’s nothing a doctor likes better than to have a chance o’ chopping off a man’s legs or wings, and I don’t mean to go hoppin’ about on one leg and a timber toe, and so I tells yer flat.”
“I’m not going to cut your leg off, Dumlow.”
“Honour, sir?”
“Honour, my man.”
“Honour bright, sir?”
“On my word as a gentleman.”
“Thankye, sir, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather as you said honour bright.”
“Well then, honour bright. There, I am not going to do any more to you now; I must dress the wound by daylight.”
“Won’t bleed any more, sir, will it?”
“Not now.”
“That’ll ’bout do then, sir, thank ye kindly.”
“You are welcome, my man,” said the doctor, and then, “What is it?” for I had grasped his arm.
“I want you to tell me about Walters,” I whispered. “Feel his pulse first.”
He turned from me and bent down over my messmate, who lay in the bottom of the boat perfectly motionless.
I could not see what he did, but listened attentively, not for the sake of hearing his movements, but so as to hear a sigh or moan from that unhappy lad.
“Well?” I said excitedly.
“I can tell you nothing yet,” said Mr Frewen, as I thought, evasively.
“He—he is not dead?” I gasped; and I fell a-trembling with horror at the idea of one whom I had known vigorous and strong so short a time before, lying there at my feet, robbed of the power of making any reparation for the crime he had so weakly committed, and with no chance for repentance.
“I—I say, he is not dead, is he?”
I spoke fiercely, for Mr Frewen had not replied; and now I caught and held on by his hand.
He quite started, and turned upon me.
“I—I beg your pardon, Dale,” he cried. “I was thinking of something else—of those on board that unfortunate ship. It seems so cowardly to leave them to their fate.”
“How could we help it, Mr Frewen? What could we do? But tell me about Walters.”
“Yes,” he said, drawing a long breath, as if he were making an effort to keep his mind fixed upon the present—“yes, I’ll tell you.”
“Then he is dead?” I whispered, with a shudder; and as I looked down into the bottom of the boat, where all was perfectly black, I seemed to see the white face of the lad quite plainly, with his fixed eyes gazing straight at me, full of appeal, and as if asking forgiveness for the past.
“No, not dead, Dale,” said Mr Frewen in a low voice. “Be quiet. Don’t talk about it. We have quite enough to depress us without that. I can say nothing for certain in this black darkness, and he may recover.”
“Is the wound so very bad?” I asked.
“Dangerous enough, as far as I can tell; but he has everything against him, my lad.”
“But if he dies?” I exclaimed in horror.
“Well?” said Mr Frewen bitterly. “If he were a man, I should say it were the best thing that could happen. He has as a young officer hopelessly dishonoured himself. He can only be looked upon as a criminal.”
I could not argue with him, and relapsed into silence, thinking the while of the horror of my messmate’s condition, and asking myself whether it would not have been possible for him to redeem the past, and grow up into a straightforward, honourable man.
It was a hard matter to mentally discuss, but as I sat in the darkness that night, with hardly a word spoken by my companions, I forgot all Walters’ bitterness and dislike, and only thought of his being young and strong like myself; and that he had those at home who would be heart-broken if they heard of his death, and would feel his disgrace as bitterly as he must have felt it himself, when all came to be known.
“I won’t think it was his nature,” I said to myself. “It was a piece of mad folly. He was won over by that brute of a Frenchman, who, now that he has obtained all he wants, throws over the tool he used, and ends by shooting him. Poor fellow! how could he be such a fool?”
I sat on, thinking how bitterly he would have repented his folly, and how his last days must have been spent in the keenest of regret. And it was in this spirit that I bent down over him, to thrust my hand in his breast to feel for the beating of his heart.
“Mr Frewen,” I whispered as I rose, “tell me how you think he is now.”
The doctor bent down, and after a little examination, rose again.
“There is no difference which I can detect,” he said gravely.
“But you will—you will—”
“Will what, Dale?” he said, for I had paused.
“You will not treat him as if—as if he were a criminal?”
“How can I help it? He is one. We have him to thank for our position here, for those two people being left on the ship, at the mercy of those scoundrels.”
His whole manner changed as he said this, and his voice sounded full of fierce anger.
“Yes,” I faltered, “that’s all true; but you will not be revengeful?”
“A doctor revengeful, Dale?” he said quickly.
“I don’t mean that,” I said. “I mean, you will do your best to save his life?”
“For him to be punished by the law?”
“I was not thinking of that,” I said hastily. “I mean, that you will do all you can to cure him, Mr Frewen?”
“Why, of course, my lad—of course. Am I not a doctor? I am neither prosecutor nor judge. You have curious ideas about my profession.”
“I could not help it, Mr Frewen,” I pleaded. “It is only that I am so anxious for him to recover.”
“And do you another ill turn, Dale—betray us once more!”
“No, no, it isn’t that.” I cried; “it is only that I should like him to live and be sorry for all this. I believe, after what has taken place to-night, he would be only too glad to come over to our side, and fight for us.”
“Perhaps so, if he were well enough; but who would ever dream of trusting him again?”
I was silent, thinking as I was how terrible was the slip my messmate had made, and seeing now clearly how it must take years for him to climb back to the position he held when we left the London Docks.
“There,” said Mr Frewen at last, “you need not be afraid, Dale. I shall treat him as I would any other patient. A medical man has but one aim when he treats a sick person, a surgeon one who is injured—to make the sufferer well again. That is my duty here, and I shall do it to the best of my ability.”
I did not answer, only laid my hand upon his, and he pressed it warmly, holding it for some moments before turning his back to me; and I made out that he rested his arm upon the side of the boat, and sat gazing at the dim lights which showed where the ship lay.
For some time no one spoke, and we lay there gently rising and falling on the golden-spangled water. There was not a breath of wind, and the silence was so great that any one could have imagined that the occupants of the boat were asleep.
But no one dozed for a moment, only sat or lay there, trying to bear patiently their mental and bodily suffering.
It was the captain who broke the silence, toward morning, by saying to the mate—
“Have you settled what to do, Brymer?”
“Yes,” said the mate, starting. “I can’t quite make out how we are situated till daylight, but unless Jarette has taken them out, we have the boat’s spars and sails. You know how fast she is, and I propose, if we can do so, to—”
He stopped short, for Walters moaned piteously till Mr Frewen bent down over him and altered the position in which he lay.
“Yes, go on,” said the captain feebly.
“I propose hoisting sail in the morning.”
“And making for the Cape?”
“No, sir; weather permitting, and if we have a sufficiency of provisions and water, I shall keep pretty close to the ship—our ship. I shall keep just out of range of a bullet, and that is all; merely hang about or follow her when she catches the wind, until some other vessel heaves in sight. Captain Jarette is a clever, cunning man, but he has, I think, given us our chance, and we shall hang on to him till a chance comes for seizing the ship again.”
“I thought our case was hopeless to-night,” said the captain.
“And so did I, for a time, sir,” continued the mate; “but he has over-reached himself in trying to get rid of us—hoist himself with his own petard—if the weather will only favour us now.”
Mr Frewen drew a deep breath, which sounded to me as if full of relief, and the mate went on—
“It is not too much to expect that if at any time we make an attack now, some of the men will side with us.”
“Don’t matter if they don’t, sir,” growled Bob Hampton, in the deepest of deep bass voices. “We’re strong enough, if you’ll only give us a chance.”
“All depends on chance, my lads,” said Mr Brymer. “Let’s get the daylight, and see what we have on board.”
Chapter Thirty Five.That daylight seemed as if it would never come, and a more painful and depressing time I never spent, in spite of the glory of the starry heavens, and the beauty of their reflections in the calm sea beneath. It was hard sometimes not to believe that many of the stars had fallen, and were sinking slowly down into the dark, inky black of the ocean, where I could see dots of light travelling here and there, now looking mere pinheads, now flashing out into soft effulgent globes, whose brightness reached a certain point, and then slowly died out.Every now and then too there was a disturbance some little distance down, as if something had suddenly passed along, and caused all the phosphorescent creatures to flash and sparkle, and mingle their lights into a pale lambent blaze, which soon passed away, leaving all still and calm as before, with the tiny stars gliding softly here and there.But the greater part of my attention was taken up by the lights dimly visible on board the ship, where I tried to picture what was going on in the cabin where Mr Denning and his sister were prisoned. Jarette would, I know, have taken possession of the guns, but without doubt Mr Denning would have kept the little revolver which I knew he wore hidden about his person. And, what was more, I knew that he had the stern courage to use it if put to the test, in spite of his weakness.“And if he does use it,” I thought, “it could only be against Jarette.”“If he does,” I said half-aloud, “what a change in the state of affairs it would produce!”“What yer talking about, Mr Dale?” said Dumlow, who was nearest to me of those forward; “not asleep, are you?”“Asleep!—who could go to sleep at a time like this?”“Ah, it’s hard lines, sir,” said Barney Blane, joining. “Such a pity, too, just as we’d found a way of getting along over the cargo! Next thing would have been as we should have took the ship.”“And we’ll do that yet somehow, Barney,” I whispered, for I felt in my heart that Mr Frewen would not rest till some desperate effort had been made to save Mr and Miss Denning.Barney said he hoped we should, if it was only to give him one chance at Jarette.“One charnsh,” growled Dumlow, whose voice sounded as if he were very sore indeed. “I on’y want half a charnsh, my lad; that’ll be enough for me. I don’t brag, but on’y give me half a charnsh, I don’t care if he’s all pistols. I says on’y give me half a charnsh, and the side of the ship close by—”“What’ll you do?—chuck him overboard, mate?”“Ay, that I will, just as if he were a mad cat, and that’s about what he is. Just think of it, our getting that dose as the doctor meant for him. I can’t get over it, and that’s a fact.”The night passed slowly by—so slowly that I felt we must have been roused up quite early, and directly after we had gone to sleep. But at last the golden clouds began to appear high up in the sky, then it was all flecked with orange and gold, and directly after the great sun rolled slowly up over the ruddy water, lighting the ship where she lay not a quarter of a mile off, till the whole of her rigging looked as if the ropes were of brass, and the sails so many sheets of ruddy gold. To us it seemed to give life as well as light, and instead of feeling despairing, and as if all was over, the brightness of that morning made me look eagerly at the ship, and ask myself whether the time had not come for us to make our dash and secure it. For I could not see a soul visible at first, not even a man at the wheel. Then my heart gave a throb, for I could see a white face framed in the little opening of one of the cabin-windows.“It’s Miss Denning,” I said to myself, and I waved my hand, and then felt for a handkerchief to wave that.But I had none, though it did not matter, for my signal had been seen, and a white handkerchief was waved in response.I turned to Mr Frewen, who was bending down over Walters, and was about to point out the face at the window, but it disappeared.“How is he?” I asked.“Very bad,” was the laconic answer, and I could not help shuddering as I looked at the pinched, changed features of my messmate, as he lay there in the bottom of the boat, evidently quite insensible.“I must not move him now,” said Mr Frewen gravely. And turning to Dumlow he was about to offer to dress the wound better now that he could see, but the great fellow only laughed.“It’ll do, sir,” he said. “There’s nothing much the matter. I’m not going to make a fuss over that. It’s just a pill as old Frenchy give me. If it gets worse I’ll ask you for a fresh touch up.”There appeared to be so little the matter with the man that Mr Frewen did not press for an examination, and he joined me in searching the ship with our eyes, but there was no one at the round window.“Can you see any one on board, sir?” I said.“Only one man. But he is evidently watching us.”“Where? I can’t see any one.”“In the main-top.”I had not raised my eyes from the deck, but now as I looked aloft, there was a man plainly enough, and he was, as Mr Frewen said, watching us.Directly after, I saw him descend, and we neither of us had any doubt about its being Jarette.Our attention was now directed to Mr Brymer, who, being in command, had, directly the light made such action possible, begun to see how we poor wretches afloat in an open boat, eight hundred or a thousand miles from land, were situated for water and food, and he soon satisfied himself that our enemy, possibly for his own sake, had been extremely merciful and considerate.For there were two breakers of water, a couple of kegs of biscuit, and a quantity of tins of provision, which had been pitched down anyhow.There was a compass too, and the regular fit out of the boat, spars and two sails, so that if the water kept calm, and gentle breezes sprung up, there was no reason why we should not safely reach land.But we did not wish to safely reach land in that way, and the exaltation in Mr Brymer’s face and tone was due to the power which Jarette had unwittingly placed in our leader’s hands.“He never thought of it; he could not have thought of it,” said Mr Brymer. “Of course in a gale of wind we shall be nowhere, but if the weather is kindly, we can hang about the ship, or sail round her if we like, and so weary him out, that sooner or later our chance must come for surprising him.”“Without any arms,” said Mr Preddle, shaking his head sadly.“We must use brains instead, sir,” replied Mr Brymer. “Jarette mastered us by means of cunning, we must fight him with his own weapons. Dale, I shall have to depend on you to carry out a plan I have ready.”“Yes, sir,” I said eagerly; “what is it?”“That you shall see, my lad. Now then, gentlemen, and my men, we must have strict discipline, please; just as if we were on board ship. The first thing is to rig up a bit of an awning here astern, to shelter the captain and—faugh! it makes my gorge rise to see that young scoundrel here, but I suppose we must behave like Christians,—eh, Mr Frewen?”“You have just proved that you intended to, sir, for you were thinking of sheltering the lad as well as Captain Berriman, when you talked of the awning.”“Well, yes, I confess I was, but I thought of our lad here too. I suppose you will have to lie up, Dumlow?”The big fellow gave quite a start, and then turned frowning and spat in the sea, in token of his disgust.“Me, sir—me lie up!” he growled. “What for?”“You are wounded.”“Wounded? Tchah! I don’t call that a wound. Why, it arn’t bled much more than a cut finger. Me under a hawning! I should look pretty, shouldn’t I, mates?”“Oh, I don’t want to make an invalid of you, my lad, if you can go on.”“Then don’t you talk ’bout puttin’ of me under a hawning, sir; why I’d as soon have you shove me in a glass case.”The bit of awning was soon rigged up, and the captain and Walters placed side by side. Then the little mast was shipped forward, and the tiny one for the mizzen right aft; the sails hoisted ready for use, and also so that they might add their shade; and while this was being done, and the rudder hooked on as well, I saw that some of the men had come on deck and were leaning over the bulwarks watching us, while at the same time I saw something glisten, and pointed it out to Mr Brymer.“Yes,” he said, smiling, “but I’m afraid that he will be disappointed. Do you see, gentlemen?”Both Mr Frewen and Mr Preddle, who were eagerly scanning the ship, turned to look at him inquiringly.“Jarette has the captain’s spy-glass at work, and he is watching us, expecting to see us move off, rowing, I suppose, but I’m afraid he will be disappointed. He did not think he was arranging to have a tender to watch him till he loses the ship. But now all is ready, as they say on board a man-of-war, we will pipe to breakfast.”A tin was opened, and with bread and water served round, but nobody had any appetite. I could hardly touch anything, but I had enjoyed bathing my face and hands in the clear, cool water, while the rough meal had hardly come to an end, and I had placed myself close to Walters, to see if I could be of any use in tending him, when a faint breeze sprang up, making the sails of the ship flap to and fro, and the yards swing and creak, though she hardly stirred. With us though it was different, for giving orders to Bob Hampton to trim the sails, Mr Brymer told me to take hold of the sheet of the mizzen, and he seized the rudder, so that the next minute we were gliding through the water.Jarette came to the side, and seemed to be staring in astonishment at the boot, which he evidently expected to begin sailing right away, but instead was aiming right for the ship, Mr Brymer steering so that we should pass close under the stern.“Keep farther out!” yelled Jarette, as we approached, but no notice was taken, and just then the mate said steadily to me—“Now, Dale, hail Mr Denning. I want to speak to him as we pass.”“Denning, ahoy!” I shouted through my hands. “Mis-ter Den-ning!”“Keep off there, do you hear?” roared Jarette, and I saw the sun gleam on the barrel of a pistol.“Den-ning, ahoy!” I cried again, but I must confess that the sight of that pistol levelled at the boat altered my voice, so that it trembled slightly and I gazed at it rather wildly, expecting to see a puff of smoke from the muzzle.“Hail again, Dale,” cried Mr Brymer. “Never mind his pistol, my lad. It would take a better shot than he is to hit us as we sail.”“Mr Denning, ahoy!” I shouted once more.Bang! went the pistol.“I told you so,” said Mr Brymer coolly, and at that moment I heard a sharp gasp behind me, and saw that a white face was at the little round cabin-window we were nearing.“When we are passing,” said Mr Brymer, “that is, when I say ‘now,’ and begin to run off, tell Miss Denning to be of good cheer, for she and her brother shall not be forsaken. We are going to keep close to the ship till help comes.”“Keep off, you dogs,” snarled Jarette; “you will have it then,” and he fired again.I felt horribly nervous as I thought of the wounds received by Walters and Dumlow, but I drew my breath hard, as I stood up in the boat and tried not to look alarmed, though, as I waited for Mr Brymer’s orders to speak, I knew that I must offer the most prominent object for the mutineer’s aim.And all the while nearer and nearer glided the boat, and I saw Jarette, after cocking the pistol, raise his arm to fire again.“Yah! boo! coward!” yelled Dumlow, and as he shouted, he lifted one of the oars which he had thrust over the side, and let it fall with a heavy splash just as the Frenchman drew trigger, and the bullet went through the sail.“Now,” cried Mr Brymer, ramming down the tiller, and as we glided round the stern I cried—“We are going to stay close by, Miss Denning.”“Keep off!” roared Jarette, and he fired again.“The boat will be kept close at hand to help you and your brother.”“Yes—yes—thank you,” she cried shrilly. “God bless you all! I knew you would not—”“Go,” I dare say she said, but another shot prevented us from hearing the word, and as we sailed round the stern Jarette rushed to the other side, held his left hand to his mouth, and shouted—“Now off with you. Come near this ship again and I’ll sink you—I’ll run you down.”“Hi, Frenchy,” roared Barney, “look out for squalls; we’re coming aboard one night to hang you.”“Silence forward!” cried Mr Brymer, and we were now leaving the ship fast. “Frewen, what does this mean? Where is Mr Den—”The doctor shook his head.
That daylight seemed as if it would never come, and a more painful and depressing time I never spent, in spite of the glory of the starry heavens, and the beauty of their reflections in the calm sea beneath. It was hard sometimes not to believe that many of the stars had fallen, and were sinking slowly down into the dark, inky black of the ocean, where I could see dots of light travelling here and there, now looking mere pinheads, now flashing out into soft effulgent globes, whose brightness reached a certain point, and then slowly died out.
Every now and then too there was a disturbance some little distance down, as if something had suddenly passed along, and caused all the phosphorescent creatures to flash and sparkle, and mingle their lights into a pale lambent blaze, which soon passed away, leaving all still and calm as before, with the tiny stars gliding softly here and there.
But the greater part of my attention was taken up by the lights dimly visible on board the ship, where I tried to picture what was going on in the cabin where Mr Denning and his sister were prisoned. Jarette would, I know, have taken possession of the guns, but without doubt Mr Denning would have kept the little revolver which I knew he wore hidden about his person. And, what was more, I knew that he had the stern courage to use it if put to the test, in spite of his weakness.
“And if he does use it,” I thought, “it could only be against Jarette.”
“If he does,” I said half-aloud, “what a change in the state of affairs it would produce!”
“What yer talking about, Mr Dale?” said Dumlow, who was nearest to me of those forward; “not asleep, are you?”
“Asleep!—who could go to sleep at a time like this?”
“Ah, it’s hard lines, sir,” said Barney Blane, joining. “Such a pity, too, just as we’d found a way of getting along over the cargo! Next thing would have been as we should have took the ship.”
“And we’ll do that yet somehow, Barney,” I whispered, for I felt in my heart that Mr Frewen would not rest till some desperate effort had been made to save Mr and Miss Denning.
Barney said he hoped we should, if it was only to give him one chance at Jarette.
“One charnsh,” growled Dumlow, whose voice sounded as if he were very sore indeed. “I on’y want half a charnsh, my lad; that’ll be enough for me. I don’t brag, but on’y give me half a charnsh, I don’t care if he’s all pistols. I says on’y give me half a charnsh, and the side of the ship close by—”
“What’ll you do?—chuck him overboard, mate?”
“Ay, that I will, just as if he were a mad cat, and that’s about what he is. Just think of it, our getting that dose as the doctor meant for him. I can’t get over it, and that’s a fact.”
The night passed slowly by—so slowly that I felt we must have been roused up quite early, and directly after we had gone to sleep. But at last the golden clouds began to appear high up in the sky, then it was all flecked with orange and gold, and directly after the great sun rolled slowly up over the ruddy water, lighting the ship where she lay not a quarter of a mile off, till the whole of her rigging looked as if the ropes were of brass, and the sails so many sheets of ruddy gold. To us it seemed to give life as well as light, and instead of feeling despairing, and as if all was over, the brightness of that morning made me look eagerly at the ship, and ask myself whether the time had not come for us to make our dash and secure it. For I could not see a soul visible at first, not even a man at the wheel. Then my heart gave a throb, for I could see a white face framed in the little opening of one of the cabin-windows.
“It’s Miss Denning,” I said to myself, and I waved my hand, and then felt for a handkerchief to wave that.
But I had none, though it did not matter, for my signal had been seen, and a white handkerchief was waved in response.
I turned to Mr Frewen, who was bending down over Walters, and was about to point out the face at the window, but it disappeared.
“How is he?” I asked.
“Very bad,” was the laconic answer, and I could not help shuddering as I looked at the pinched, changed features of my messmate, as he lay there in the bottom of the boat, evidently quite insensible.
“I must not move him now,” said Mr Frewen gravely. And turning to Dumlow he was about to offer to dress the wound better now that he could see, but the great fellow only laughed.
“It’ll do, sir,” he said. “There’s nothing much the matter. I’m not going to make a fuss over that. It’s just a pill as old Frenchy give me. If it gets worse I’ll ask you for a fresh touch up.”
There appeared to be so little the matter with the man that Mr Frewen did not press for an examination, and he joined me in searching the ship with our eyes, but there was no one at the round window.
“Can you see any one on board, sir?” I said.
“Only one man. But he is evidently watching us.”
“Where? I can’t see any one.”
“In the main-top.”
I had not raised my eyes from the deck, but now as I looked aloft, there was a man plainly enough, and he was, as Mr Frewen said, watching us.
Directly after, I saw him descend, and we neither of us had any doubt about its being Jarette.
Our attention was now directed to Mr Brymer, who, being in command, had, directly the light made such action possible, begun to see how we poor wretches afloat in an open boat, eight hundred or a thousand miles from land, were situated for water and food, and he soon satisfied himself that our enemy, possibly for his own sake, had been extremely merciful and considerate.
For there were two breakers of water, a couple of kegs of biscuit, and a quantity of tins of provision, which had been pitched down anyhow.
There was a compass too, and the regular fit out of the boat, spars and two sails, so that if the water kept calm, and gentle breezes sprung up, there was no reason why we should not safely reach land.
But we did not wish to safely reach land in that way, and the exaltation in Mr Brymer’s face and tone was due to the power which Jarette had unwittingly placed in our leader’s hands.
“He never thought of it; he could not have thought of it,” said Mr Brymer. “Of course in a gale of wind we shall be nowhere, but if the weather is kindly, we can hang about the ship, or sail round her if we like, and so weary him out, that sooner or later our chance must come for surprising him.”
“Without any arms,” said Mr Preddle, shaking his head sadly.
“We must use brains instead, sir,” replied Mr Brymer. “Jarette mastered us by means of cunning, we must fight him with his own weapons. Dale, I shall have to depend on you to carry out a plan I have ready.”
“Yes, sir,” I said eagerly; “what is it?”
“That you shall see, my lad. Now then, gentlemen, and my men, we must have strict discipline, please; just as if we were on board ship. The first thing is to rig up a bit of an awning here astern, to shelter the captain and—faugh! it makes my gorge rise to see that young scoundrel here, but I suppose we must behave like Christians,—eh, Mr Frewen?”
“You have just proved that you intended to, sir, for you were thinking of sheltering the lad as well as Captain Berriman, when you talked of the awning.”
“Well, yes, I confess I was, but I thought of our lad here too. I suppose you will have to lie up, Dumlow?”
The big fellow gave quite a start, and then turned frowning and spat in the sea, in token of his disgust.
“Me, sir—me lie up!” he growled. “What for?”
“You are wounded.”
“Wounded? Tchah! I don’t call that a wound. Why, it arn’t bled much more than a cut finger. Me under a hawning! I should look pretty, shouldn’t I, mates?”
“Oh, I don’t want to make an invalid of you, my lad, if you can go on.”
“Then don’t you talk ’bout puttin’ of me under a hawning, sir; why I’d as soon have you shove me in a glass case.”
The bit of awning was soon rigged up, and the captain and Walters placed side by side. Then the little mast was shipped forward, and the tiny one for the mizzen right aft; the sails hoisted ready for use, and also so that they might add their shade; and while this was being done, and the rudder hooked on as well, I saw that some of the men had come on deck and were leaning over the bulwarks watching us, while at the same time I saw something glisten, and pointed it out to Mr Brymer.
“Yes,” he said, smiling, “but I’m afraid that he will be disappointed. Do you see, gentlemen?”
Both Mr Frewen and Mr Preddle, who were eagerly scanning the ship, turned to look at him inquiringly.
“Jarette has the captain’s spy-glass at work, and he is watching us, expecting to see us move off, rowing, I suppose, but I’m afraid he will be disappointed. He did not think he was arranging to have a tender to watch him till he loses the ship. But now all is ready, as they say on board a man-of-war, we will pipe to breakfast.”
A tin was opened, and with bread and water served round, but nobody had any appetite. I could hardly touch anything, but I had enjoyed bathing my face and hands in the clear, cool water, while the rough meal had hardly come to an end, and I had placed myself close to Walters, to see if I could be of any use in tending him, when a faint breeze sprang up, making the sails of the ship flap to and fro, and the yards swing and creak, though she hardly stirred. With us though it was different, for giving orders to Bob Hampton to trim the sails, Mr Brymer told me to take hold of the sheet of the mizzen, and he seized the rudder, so that the next minute we were gliding through the water.
Jarette came to the side, and seemed to be staring in astonishment at the boot, which he evidently expected to begin sailing right away, but instead was aiming right for the ship, Mr Brymer steering so that we should pass close under the stern.
“Keep farther out!” yelled Jarette, as we approached, but no notice was taken, and just then the mate said steadily to me—
“Now, Dale, hail Mr Denning. I want to speak to him as we pass.”
“Denning, ahoy!” I shouted through my hands. “Mis-ter Den-ning!”
“Keep off there, do you hear?” roared Jarette, and I saw the sun gleam on the barrel of a pistol.
“Den-ning, ahoy!” I cried again, but I must confess that the sight of that pistol levelled at the boat altered my voice, so that it trembled slightly and I gazed at it rather wildly, expecting to see a puff of smoke from the muzzle.
“Hail again, Dale,” cried Mr Brymer. “Never mind his pistol, my lad. It would take a better shot than he is to hit us as we sail.”
“Mr Denning, ahoy!” I shouted once more.
Bang! went the pistol.
“I told you so,” said Mr Brymer coolly, and at that moment I heard a sharp gasp behind me, and saw that a white face was at the little round cabin-window we were nearing.
“When we are passing,” said Mr Brymer, “that is, when I say ‘now,’ and begin to run off, tell Miss Denning to be of good cheer, for she and her brother shall not be forsaken. We are going to keep close to the ship till help comes.”
“Keep off, you dogs,” snarled Jarette; “you will have it then,” and he fired again.
I felt horribly nervous as I thought of the wounds received by Walters and Dumlow, but I drew my breath hard, as I stood up in the boat and tried not to look alarmed, though, as I waited for Mr Brymer’s orders to speak, I knew that I must offer the most prominent object for the mutineer’s aim.
And all the while nearer and nearer glided the boat, and I saw Jarette, after cocking the pistol, raise his arm to fire again.
“Yah! boo! coward!” yelled Dumlow, and as he shouted, he lifted one of the oars which he had thrust over the side, and let it fall with a heavy splash just as the Frenchman drew trigger, and the bullet went through the sail.
“Now,” cried Mr Brymer, ramming down the tiller, and as we glided round the stern I cried—
“We are going to stay close by, Miss Denning.”
“Keep off!” roared Jarette, and he fired again.
“The boat will be kept close at hand to help you and your brother.”
“Yes—yes—thank you,” she cried shrilly. “God bless you all! I knew you would not—”
“Go,” I dare say she said, but another shot prevented us from hearing the word, and as we sailed round the stern Jarette rushed to the other side, held his left hand to his mouth, and shouted—
“Now off with you. Come near this ship again and I’ll sink you—I’ll run you down.”
“Hi, Frenchy,” roared Barney, “look out for squalls; we’re coming aboard one night to hang you.”
“Silence forward!” cried Mr Brymer, and we were now leaving the ship fast. “Frewen, what does this mean? Where is Mr Den—”
The doctor shook his head.
Chapter Thirty Six.“We want a long calm,” said the mate that evening, as we lay on the glassy sea.“You will have it,” said Captain Berriman, and so it proved.We saw the enemy, as he was called by all, pacing up and down the poop-deck hastily, and scanning the offing with a spy-glass, as if in search of approaching vessels or of clouds that promised wind, but neither came, dark night fell once more, and Mr Brymer ordered the oars out and we were rowed round to the other side of the ship, from which position we could see a light faintly shining from the little round cabin-window where we knew Miss Denning to be.Mr Frewen had been carefully attending Walters; Dumlow had declared he was “quite well, thank ye,” and the captain was lying patiently waiting for better days, too weak to stir, but in no danger of losing his life; and now Mr Brymer and the two gentlemen sat together talking in a low voice, and at the same time treating me as one of themselves, by bringing me into the conversation.It was a weird experience there in the darkness, with the only sounds heard the shouts and songs of the ship’s crew, for they were evidently feasting and drinking.“And thinking nothing of to-morrow,” said Mr Preddle, sadly.“No, sir, and that is our opportunity,” said Mr Brymer. “Let them drink; they have plenty of opportunity, with the cases of wine and the quantity of spirits on board. We could soon deal with them after one of their drinking bouts; but the mischief is that Jarette is a cool, calculating man, and sober to a degree. He lets the men drink to keep them in a good humour, and to make them more manageable. He touches very little himself.”“What do you propose doing?” said Mr Frewen, suddenly. “We must act at once.”“Yes; I feel that, sir,” replied Mr Brymer, “but can either of you suggest a plan?”They both answered “No.”Then Mr Frewen spoke out—“There is only one plan. We must wait till toward morning, and then quietly row close to the ship, climb on board, and make a brave attack, and hope to succeed.”“Yes,” said Mr Preddle, “and if we fail we shall have done our duty. Yes, we must fight.”“But you’ve got nothing to fight with,” I said, for no one spoke now.“Except the oars,” said Mr Preddle.“Why, you couldn’t climb up the ship’s side with an oar in your hand,” I cried. “Look here, wouldn’t it be best for one of us to get on board in the dark, and try to get some guns or pistols?”“Will you go and try, Dale?” said Mr Brymer, eagerly. “That was what I meant.”I was silent.“You are right,” he said sadly; “it would be too risky.”“I didn’t mean that,” I said hastily; “I was only thinking about how I could get on board. I don’t mind trying, because if he heard me and tried to catch me, I could jump over the side, and you’d be there waiting to pick me up.”“Of course,” cried Mr Brymer. “I know it is a great deal to ask of you, my lad, and I would say, do not expose yourself to much risk. We should be, as you say, ready to pick you up.”“I don’t see why he shouldn’t go,” drawled Mr Preddle. “One boy stole the arms and ammunition away, so it only seems right that another boy should go and steal—no, I don’t mean steal—get them back.”“Will you go, Mr Preddle?” said the mate.“If you like. I’ll do anything; but I’m afraid I couldn’t climb on board, I’m so fat and heavy, and, oh dear! I’m afraid that all my poor fish are dead.”At any other time I should have laughed, but our position was too grave for even a smile to come upon my face. Instead of feeling that Mr Preddle was an object to excite my mirth, I felt a sensation of pity for the pleasant, amiable gentleman, and thought how helpless he must feel.“You will have to go, Dale,” said Mr Brymer.“Yes,” said Mr Frewen; “Dale will go for all our sakes.”“When shall he go?” said the mate; “to-morrow night, after we have thrown Jarette off his guard by sailing right away?”“It would not throw him off his guard,” cried Mr Frewen, excitedly. “The man is too cunning. He would know that it was only a ruse, and be on the watch. Dale must go to-night—at once. Who knows what twenty-four hours may produce?”“Exactly,” said Mr Preddle.“I quite agree with you,” replied the mate; “but I did not wish to urge the lad to attempt so forlorn a hope without giving him a little time for plan and preparation.”“I’m ready,” I said, making an effort to feel brave as we sat there in the darkness. “I don’t think I could do better if I thought till to-morrow night.”“How would you manage?” said the mate.“I know,” I said. “I’m not very strong, but if you made the boat drift under the ship’s bows, I could catch hold of and swarm up the bob-stay easily enough. Nobody would see me, and if I got hold quickly, the boat could go on round to the stern, and if anybody was on the watch he would think you were trying to get to the Dennings’ window.”“Some one would be on the watch,” said the mate; “and that some one would be Jarette.”“And he would think as Dale says,” exclaimed Mr Frewen, “that is certain.”“Oh yes, I must go to-night,” I said, with a bit of a shiver. “It would be so cruel to Miss Denning to keep her in suspense, and thinking we were not trying to help her.”A hand touched my arm, glided down to my wrist, and then a warm palm pressed mine hard.“Then you shall go, Dale,” said Mr Brymer, firmly. “Keep a good heart, my lad, for the darkness will protect you from Jarette’s pistol, and you can recollect this, we shall be close at hand lying across the stern ready to row along either side of the ship if we hear a splash. That splash would of course be you leaping overboard, and you must remember to swim astern to meet the boat.”“And what is he to do when he gets on board, sir?” said Mr Frewen. “Make for the Dennings’ cabin at once?”“No,” I said sharply. “That’s just where I shouldn’t go. Some one would be sure to be watching it. I should try and find out which was the cabin Jarette uses, for the arms would be there, and then I should tie some guns—”“And cartridges,” whispered Mr Preddle, excitedly.“Oh yes, I shouldn’t forget them. I’d tie ’em together and lower them down out of the window. He’s sure to have the captain’s cabin, and the window will be open, ready.”“Bravo!” cried Mr Preddle. “Oh dear! I wish I was a boy again.”“And the best of the fun will be,” I continued excitedly, “old Jarette will never think anyone would go straight to his cabin, and be watching everywhere else.”“Then you think you can do this?” said Mr Frewen, eagerly.“Oh yes, I think so, sir.”“I’d better come with you, my lad,” he continued.“No; that would spoil all. A boy could do it, but I don’t believe a man could.”“He is right, Frewen,” said the mate. “Then understand this, Dale, you will have to act according to circumstances. Your object is to get weapons, which you will hang out so that we can get hold of them; perhaps you will be able to lower them into the boat and then slide down the rope you use. But mind this, you are not to try and communicate with the Dennings.”“What?” said Mr Frewen, angrily.“It would be fatal to our success,” said the mate, firmly. “Now, Dale, you understand, guns or revolvers, whichever you can get.”“Yes, sir, I know.”“Then how soon will you be ready?”“I’m ready now.”“Hah!” ejaculated Mr Frewen, and my heart began to go pat pat, pat pat, so heavily that it seemed to jar against my ribs, while a curious series of thoughts ran through my brain, all of which were leavened by the same idea, that I had been playing the braggart, and offering to do things which I did not dare.
“We want a long calm,” said the mate that evening, as we lay on the glassy sea.
“You will have it,” said Captain Berriman, and so it proved.
We saw the enemy, as he was called by all, pacing up and down the poop-deck hastily, and scanning the offing with a spy-glass, as if in search of approaching vessels or of clouds that promised wind, but neither came, dark night fell once more, and Mr Brymer ordered the oars out and we were rowed round to the other side of the ship, from which position we could see a light faintly shining from the little round cabin-window where we knew Miss Denning to be.
Mr Frewen had been carefully attending Walters; Dumlow had declared he was “quite well, thank ye,” and the captain was lying patiently waiting for better days, too weak to stir, but in no danger of losing his life; and now Mr Brymer and the two gentlemen sat together talking in a low voice, and at the same time treating me as one of themselves, by bringing me into the conversation.
It was a weird experience there in the darkness, with the only sounds heard the shouts and songs of the ship’s crew, for they were evidently feasting and drinking.
“And thinking nothing of to-morrow,” said Mr Preddle, sadly.
“No, sir, and that is our opportunity,” said Mr Brymer. “Let them drink; they have plenty of opportunity, with the cases of wine and the quantity of spirits on board. We could soon deal with them after one of their drinking bouts; but the mischief is that Jarette is a cool, calculating man, and sober to a degree. He lets the men drink to keep them in a good humour, and to make them more manageable. He touches very little himself.”
“What do you propose doing?” said Mr Frewen, suddenly. “We must act at once.”
“Yes; I feel that, sir,” replied Mr Brymer, “but can either of you suggest a plan?”
They both answered “No.”
Then Mr Frewen spoke out—
“There is only one plan. We must wait till toward morning, and then quietly row close to the ship, climb on board, and make a brave attack, and hope to succeed.”
“Yes,” said Mr Preddle, “and if we fail we shall have done our duty. Yes, we must fight.”
“But you’ve got nothing to fight with,” I said, for no one spoke now.
“Except the oars,” said Mr Preddle.
“Why, you couldn’t climb up the ship’s side with an oar in your hand,” I cried. “Look here, wouldn’t it be best for one of us to get on board in the dark, and try to get some guns or pistols?”
“Will you go and try, Dale?” said Mr Brymer, eagerly. “That was what I meant.”
I was silent.
“You are right,” he said sadly; “it would be too risky.”
“I didn’t mean that,” I said hastily; “I was only thinking about how I could get on board. I don’t mind trying, because if he heard me and tried to catch me, I could jump over the side, and you’d be there waiting to pick me up.”
“Of course,” cried Mr Brymer. “I know it is a great deal to ask of you, my lad, and I would say, do not expose yourself to much risk. We should be, as you say, ready to pick you up.”
“I don’t see why he shouldn’t go,” drawled Mr Preddle. “One boy stole the arms and ammunition away, so it only seems right that another boy should go and steal—no, I don’t mean steal—get them back.”
“Will you go, Mr Preddle?” said the mate.
“If you like. I’ll do anything; but I’m afraid I couldn’t climb on board, I’m so fat and heavy, and, oh dear! I’m afraid that all my poor fish are dead.”
At any other time I should have laughed, but our position was too grave for even a smile to come upon my face. Instead of feeling that Mr Preddle was an object to excite my mirth, I felt a sensation of pity for the pleasant, amiable gentleman, and thought how helpless he must feel.
“You will have to go, Dale,” said Mr Brymer.
“Yes,” said Mr Frewen; “Dale will go for all our sakes.”
“When shall he go?” said the mate; “to-morrow night, after we have thrown Jarette off his guard by sailing right away?”
“It would not throw him off his guard,” cried Mr Frewen, excitedly. “The man is too cunning. He would know that it was only a ruse, and be on the watch. Dale must go to-night—at once. Who knows what twenty-four hours may produce?”
“Exactly,” said Mr Preddle.
“I quite agree with you,” replied the mate; “but I did not wish to urge the lad to attempt so forlorn a hope without giving him a little time for plan and preparation.”
“I’m ready,” I said, making an effort to feel brave as we sat there in the darkness. “I don’t think I could do better if I thought till to-morrow night.”
“How would you manage?” said the mate.
“I know,” I said. “I’m not very strong, but if you made the boat drift under the ship’s bows, I could catch hold of and swarm up the bob-stay easily enough. Nobody would see me, and if I got hold quickly, the boat could go on round to the stern, and if anybody was on the watch he would think you were trying to get to the Dennings’ window.”
“Some one would be on the watch,” said the mate; “and that some one would be Jarette.”
“And he would think as Dale says,” exclaimed Mr Frewen, “that is certain.”
“Oh yes, I must go to-night,” I said, with a bit of a shiver. “It would be so cruel to Miss Denning to keep her in suspense, and thinking we were not trying to help her.”
A hand touched my arm, glided down to my wrist, and then a warm palm pressed mine hard.
“Then you shall go, Dale,” said Mr Brymer, firmly. “Keep a good heart, my lad, for the darkness will protect you from Jarette’s pistol, and you can recollect this, we shall be close at hand lying across the stern ready to row along either side of the ship if we hear a splash. That splash would of course be you leaping overboard, and you must remember to swim astern to meet the boat.”
“And what is he to do when he gets on board, sir?” said Mr Frewen. “Make for the Dennings’ cabin at once?”
“No,” I said sharply. “That’s just where I shouldn’t go. Some one would be sure to be watching it. I should try and find out which was the cabin Jarette uses, for the arms would be there, and then I should tie some guns—”
“And cartridges,” whispered Mr Preddle, excitedly.
“Oh yes, I shouldn’t forget them. I’d tie ’em together and lower them down out of the window. He’s sure to have the captain’s cabin, and the window will be open, ready.”
“Bravo!” cried Mr Preddle. “Oh dear! I wish I was a boy again.”
“And the best of the fun will be,” I continued excitedly, “old Jarette will never think anyone would go straight to his cabin, and be watching everywhere else.”
“Then you think you can do this?” said Mr Frewen, eagerly.
“Oh yes, I think so, sir.”
“I’d better come with you, my lad,” he continued.
“No; that would spoil all. A boy could do it, but I don’t believe a man could.”
“He is right, Frewen,” said the mate. “Then understand this, Dale, you will have to act according to circumstances. Your object is to get weapons, which you will hang out so that we can get hold of them; perhaps you will be able to lower them into the boat and then slide down the rope you use. But mind this, you are not to try and communicate with the Dennings.”
“What?” said Mr Frewen, angrily.
“It would be fatal to our success,” said the mate, firmly. “Now, Dale, you understand, guns or revolvers, whichever you can get.”
“Yes, sir, I know.”
“Then how soon will you be ready?”
“I’m ready now.”
“Hah!” ejaculated Mr Frewen, and my heart began to go pat pat, pat pat, so heavily that it seemed to jar against my ribs, while a curious series of thoughts ran through my brain, all of which were leavened by the same idea, that I had been playing the braggart, and offering to do things which I did not dare.