Chapter Twenty Six.That storm showed no signs though of abating, and we watched on through the night, constantly on the strain, attacked as we were by alarms from below, and the furious assault of the winds and waves. Several times over during the night, when I was suffering from the cold, and faint with hunger and exhaustion, a horrible chilly feeling of despair came creeping over me. I began thinking of home and those there who would be heart-broken if I was lost; but always at these worst times something seemed to happen that took me out of myself, giving me work so particular to do that all my energies were directed to that duty, and in consequence I forgot my own troubles.Twice over, when Mr Brymer came with one or other of the men, Mr Denning expressed a wish to be relieved, and I had to take his arm and help him along under the shelter of the bulwarks to the saloon and the cabin where his sister was waiting anxiously for news, and as we struggled aft, he talked to me as freely as if I had been his brother.“Is there any hope for us, Dale?” he said on one occasion as we rested for a few moments underneath the bulwarks.“Oh yes,” I replied. “Why not?”“I don’t know, I’m not a sailor, but I should not have thought the ship could have kept on long like this without sinking.”I laughed.“Why, she’s a splendid boat,” I said, “and quite strong, and so long as we’ve got plenty of sea-room, we shan’t hurt.”“You’re talking like this to comfort me,” he said.“No; I’m telling you the truth as far as I understand it. Of course I’ve never been out in a storm on the ocean before, but I’ve been in some big ones off the coast round Ireland, where we were always in danger of going on the rocks, which are awful there.”“But the sea comes thundering down on the ship so.”“What of that?” I replied. “The ship’s hollow, and it sounds all the more, but the water is soft, and we go through it or ride over it somehow.”“Ah, you’re too young to know what fear is,” he said sadly.“Oh no, I’m not,” I cried, laughing. “I’ve been awfully frightened several times to-night, but I’m more afraid of Jarette and his gang than I am of the sea.”“You have no sister on board,” he said. “No bitter regrets for letting her come into such danger.”“No,” I said, rather chokingly; “but I’ve got people at home, and it would be very horrid to think I should never see them again.”“Let’s go on,” he said laconically, and I helped him along, choosing the easiest moments till we were in shelter, and then without leaving hold of me he whispered—“Make the best of things to her.”There was a lamp burning in the cabin as we entered, and Miss Denning sprang to our side.“Oh, John,” she cried piteously, “this will be death to you, drenched with the cold sea! Pray, pray, stay in shelter now.”“Nonsense!” he cried; “it does me good, and it’s grandly exciting to fight the storm like this. How are you, little one? Ah, don’t touch me, I’m wet.”“Suffering terribly, John dear. You must stay with me now.”“Tied to your apron, you foolish girl,” he said merrily. “Nonsense! I’m wanted to help. There, I bring you good news. We’ve got all the pirates safely in prison, and as soon as the storm’s over all will be right again.”Miss Denning gave me a piteous, inquiring look.“Yes, that’s quite right, Miss Denning,” I said cheerfully.“But this terrible storm; shall we be wrecked?”“Ships don’t get wrecked out in the open sea,” I replied coolly, “only have their sails blown away, and sometimes lose a spar, or get a boat torn off the davits.”“Then you think we are safe?”“Oh yes, I hope so,” I replied.“Safe? Of course, darling little cowardly sis,” said Mr Denning, kissing her pale cheek very lovingly, and I felt that I had never liked him so well before, never having seen his true nature and affection for his sister.“Now then, Mr Dale and I have to go back on duty to shoot mutineers and pirates, and you are to lie down and trust in our all taking care of you. Try and sleep for a few hours.”“Sleep!” she said reproachfully, “with you exposed to all that danger.”“Yes! Why not? To grow strong, and ready to help me if I want it.”“But, must you go, John?”“Yes, dear,” he said gravely, “I must; but, please God, the worst danger is over, and you will not hinder me from doing my duty like a man, even if I am a weak one.”She held his hand to her cheek, and smiling at me, spoke quite cheerfully.“Come back in about an hour,” she said, “and I will have coffee made with the spirit-lamp, and try and find some biscuits.”“That we will,” cried Mr Denning. “Make plenty, Lena, Mr Brymer and—and the sailors will be glad of some.”She nodded, trying to look cheerful, and we left her, but had not reached the broken companion-way before a door on our right opened, a light was thrown across us, and I felt Mr Denning’s arm twitch. For it was Mr Frewen coming out of the cabin in which Walters had been placed, the one in which Mr Preddle had been kept a prisoner, and as soon as he was outside he carefully locked it.“Not much need for it,” he said to us quietly, “for the little wretch is very weak still. Nice sort of characters you choose for your companions, Dale,” he continued. “How do we know that you have not been contaminated, and are going to rise against us?”“There’s no fear till the storm’s over, Mr Frewen,” I said, laughing, and then, with the two gentlemen keeping perfectly silent, we went forward again, and had nearly reached the forecastle-hatch, when, sounding very feeble and strange, there was the report of a pistol, and we hurried forward to hear shouts of rage coming from below the hatch, and the blows of an axe being used with such effect, that before long whoever wielded it must make a way through.Mr Brymer glanced round at us as we came up, and I saw the barrel of his revolver glistening in the pale light.Then with his face close to the hatch he shouted—“Once more, stop that or I fire!”A shout of derision came from within.“I warn you again!” roared Mr Brymer. “I fired before without trying to hit you, now I shall aim straight. Stop that this moment!”“Fire away! Ready below, lads, I’ll have it off—”The report of the revolver, a hoarse, half-stifled cry from within, and then a yell of rage arose, to mingle with the shrieking of the wind.“I was obliged to fire, Mr Frewen,” said the mate, sharply, “for at any cost we will keep the upper hand now.”No one spoke, and I could not help shivering as I saw the stern looks of the men by me, even Mr Preddle’s round smooth face looking fierce and determined.Mr Frewen was the first to open his lips.“It is a bitter necessity,” he said; “those men must be kept down, but I am obliged to speak now. Brymer, I am a surgeon, and there are at least two wounded men there below, perhaps more. It is necessary for me to go down.”“It is impossible, Mr Frewen. If I give orders for that hatch to be opened, there will be a rush, and even if we remain masters and beat them down, it can only be at the cost of wounding more, perhaps causing death.”“Why not make a truce with them?”“With the men it would be easy enough, but not with their leader, a scoundrel who feels that he is fighting with penal servitude before him, perhaps the halter! But, Mr Frewen, these are no times for being humane. No; that hatch shall not be opened.”“But I will stand ready, after telling the men what I am going to do, and if they will keep away while the hatch is open there can be no rush.”“I think differently, sir,” said Mr Brymer, coldly.“I agree with Mr Brymer, sir,” said Mr Denning, “that it would be madness.”“But you agree with me, Mr Preddle?” cried the doctor, excitedly.“No, I don’t, Mr Frewen,” came in Mr Preddle’s high-pitched voice. “I don’t like men to suffer, but I won’t give my vote for you to go down into that wild beasts’ cage.”Mr Frewen laughed bitterly, and turned to me.“What do you say, fellow-prisoner?” he cried.“I shall vote against Mr Frewen being allowed to go down,” I said sturdily. “We want your help more than they do.”“Bravo! my lad,” cried Mr Brymer.“Well, yes; bravo! then,” said the doctor, sadly. “I am beaten; I give in.”“Thank you, Frewen,” cried Mr Brymer, holding out his hand, which the doctor took frankly. “I am sorry to go against you, but you are too valuable to us here. I am sure that if I let you go down, they would not let you come up gain. Jarette is fox enough to know how your absence would weaken us, and then there is the captain; I place his life as of more value than that of a mutinous crew.”“I’m convinced,” said Mr Frewen. “My desire was to stay, but as a surgeon I couldn’t stand still, knowing that my help was wanted down there.”“You doctors are so greedy,” cried Mr Preddle. “You have two patients as it is, and if we’re going, on like this I’m afraid you’ll soon have some more.”“Yes,” said the doctor, turning to Mr Denning, “I shall have another one. Forgive me for speaking, Mr Denning, but I think you ought to go back to your cabin now and remove your wet things.”“You mean well, sir,” said Mr Denning, courteously, “but I am wanted here.”“Not now, sir,” said the mate. “I think we can manage, and if you would hold yourself in readiness to turn out if we raise an alarm that would be enough.”“I am here, and I have faced so much of the storm and trouble that I will see it through now.”No one attempted to argue with him, and the watch was resumed, with the ship tearing through the water before the storm, for short-handed as we were, Mr Brymer shrank from attempting to alter her course, or riding head to wind.From time to time there was a stir below, and voices rose angrily, but we could always hear Jarette’s shrill utterances, and he generally seemed to calm the men down, or to master them, with the result that the angry sounds ceased and gave place to a low murmuring as if some plan were being discussed. After this had been going on some time, on one occasion Mr Brymer, who had been aft at the wheel with Bob Hampton and had returned in time to hear the talking, shook his head and said to Mr Frewen—“That sounds bad. They’re hatching a new plot against us. It is like having your ship on fire somewhere amongst the cargo in a place where you cannot reach. It goes on smouldering day after day, and you are in the full expectation of its breaking out. You don’t know when, but you are sure that it must come before long.”“I was thinking something of the kind,” replied the doctor.And so was I, though I did not speak. And in addition, I had an idea in my head that I could not work out, and while I was trying I had another idea. The first one was, that if by any means we could catch Jarette, the mutiny would all fall to pieces; but then the job was to catch the rascal, and that puzzled me.It was very close to daylight; and cold, low-spirited, and miserable, I was beginning to think that between the storm and the men below, the poor old Burgh Castle must come to grief, when Bob Hampton came up glistening in his oilskins.“I were to come and say as the lady’s got jorums o’ hot coffee ready, sir, in the captain’s cabin. Mr Denning and Mr Dale’s to go first, and I’m to take the watch till they comes back.”I saw Mr Denning wince and dart a sharp look at the doctor, but the latter did not turn his head, and once more we began fighting our way back, with the ship seeming at times quite to dance on the tops of the waves.But we reached the shelter in safety, and as soon as we were under cover I felt sure that the wind was not so fierce, and said so.“I could not tell any difference,” said Mr Denning, sadly, as we went right aft, to find the captain’s cabin, right in the stern—the one through whose window I had climbed after my hazardous descent from the rigging—looking bright and cheerful, and hot coffee waiting for us, in company with sweet smiles and cheering words.It was wonderful. One minute I had been ready to give up and think that all was over; the next, as the hot drink sent a glow through me, I was ready to smile back at Miss Denning, and join her in persuading her brother to go to his cabin and change; while the very next minute Mr Brymer came down with a large bottle, and after hastily swallowing a cup of the coffee, he begged for a bottleful to carry up to the men at the wheel.“Is the storm still so bad, Mr Brymer?” asked Miss Denning, as the mate was about to hurry back on deck.“No,” he said emphatically. “It’s one of those gales which blow in a circle, and we’re passing through it. The glass is rising, and in less than an hour I think it will begin to lull.” This was joyful news, and I rose to hurry back so as to take the place of Mr Preddle.“You’ll stay now, John,” I heard Miss Denning say, and he answered her quite passionately.“Don’t tempt me, Lena!” he cried. “I want to stay, but I want also to—there, I will act like a man.”I did not then understand him as I did afterwards, what a strange jealous hatred and dislike there was burning within him as he caught my arm, and held it tightly.“Help me quickly!” he whispered. “Take me back before my weakness masters me, and I break down.”“But if you are so weak?” I said anxiously. “Take me forward!” he whispered angrily. “You cannot understand.”I saw Miss Denning looking wonderingly at her brother as we went out, and again fought our way back to the forecastle-hatch, no easy task with the ship heeling over, and the spray flying as it did; but I felt hardened to it now, and the darkness did not appear so terrible, nor the danger so great, with the warm glow I felt spreading through me. Then I looked at my companion quite wonderingly, as I could just see his pale thin face, for he said quickly in a lull of the wind—“I think I’ve conquered, Dale.”“Conquered? It’s wonderful how brave you have been.”I saw him smile, and then wondered afresh that I could have seen the change in his face. “Why, it’s getting light!” I said joyfully.I was quite right, and as we were in the tropics the change was coming rapidly. But just then we reached the watch, and to my surprise Mr Denning said as well as the rushing wind would let him—“Mr Frewen, Mr Preddle, my sister has hot coffee ready, and will be glad if you can go at once.”I saw Mr Frewen give quite a start, and Mr Preddle regularly jumped, but they were both so surprised that they could neither of them speak, while Mr Denning turned to Bob Hampton.“Your turn must be when they come back,” he said.“Oh, all right, sir, I can wait,” growled Bob—I mean roared—for though there was a momentary cessation in the shrieking of the wind, he spoke as if Mr Denning were by the wheel; and there was no doubt now—we could not see it, nor were we likely to, through the mist and spray, but the sun was rising, and ten minutes after I was gazing at the sea, which was churned up into one chaos of foam.“It’s all over!” yelled Bob, a minute or two later.“What’s all over?” I asked.“The hurry-cane, sir. We’re most through it, and the wind’s beginning to drop.”“But it’s blowing terribly,” I cried.“Ay, sir, it is; but ’nour ago it was blowing ten times as terrible. Why, there was a time when it most shaved my head, and another time when I put my hands up to feel if my ears was cut off. Strikes me as they would ha’ gone if they hadn’t been tied down with the flaps of this here sou’-wester.”“Yes, it’s getting lighter fast,” cried Mr Denning. “But how rough the sea is!”“Ay, sir, she be a bit tossy like,” said Bob; “but this here’s nothing to what it is on a rocky coast. Ah, that’s bad if you like.”“But we’ve had an awful night, Bob.”“Tidy, sir, tidy. Not so bad as it might ha’ been.”“Oh, it couldn’t have been worse!” I cried.“What? Not been worse, sir? Why, where’s your mainmas’ gone by the board, and your fore-mast cut off at the top-mast-head, and your mizzen splintered into matchwood? Why, my lad, this arn’t been nothing. And look yonder, there’s the sun a-coming out, leastwise it’s making the clouds look red-like. We’re coming out of it well. Why, you ought to be proud, Mr Dale, o’ belonging to such a ship as the Burgh Castle. She’s a clipper, if ever there was one built.”“I am proud of her, Bob,” I said, “but I’m not proud of her crew.”“Well, no, sir,” said Bob, rubbing his red nose, which looked wet and shiny now; “they arn’t turned out a werry good lot, but then arter all they might ha’ been worse. You see it’s just like having so much soup as the cook’s made for you, and all as good as can be, till the cook’s mate tilts the lamp aside by a-hitting it with his head, and a drop o’ hyle goes into the soup. That one drop o’ train-hyle spyles all the pot. See what I mean?”“That Jarette is the drop of oil?”“That’s it, sir, and a werry, werry rancid drop he be.”Mr Denning laughed, and I saw him turn his back to the direction in which Mr Frewen had gone.“Tlat!” went Bob Hampton’s lips in a loud smack. “Glad when they gents come back, for I want some o’ your young lady’s hot coffee, bless her! to take the taste o’ the hyle out o’ my mouth.”“You shall have it soon, Hampton, my good brave fellow,” cried Mr Denning, and I saw the weak tears in his eyes, “and you tell my sister that she is to find my little silver flask, and give you some brandy in your coffee.”“Thankye, sir, thankye, that’s very good of you. Why, Mr Dale, sir, you talk of our having a bad night. Tchah!—nothing, lad, nothing. How could it be a werry bad ’un when you have the luck to be shipped aboard a craft with a angel aboard? A angel, that’s what I says, and Neb Dumlow and Barney says the same. We all said it arter the mutiny had begun, and that if we didn’t get the best of old Frenchy somehow we’d eat our heads.—Lie down, will yer?” he roared, as he gave the side of the hatch so fierce a kick that I thought his heavy boot would have gone through.There was a heavy rustling sound, and the grumbling of voices plainly heard now, for the wind was rapidly falling.“That was French Jarette a-listening, sir, for a penny-piece,” whispered Bob, for it was growing possible to whisper now. “Strikes me we arn’t done with him yet, and if I might adwise, I should say as Mr Frewen ought to be sent down below with some of his doctor’s stuff to pyson that chap like you would a rat, for there’ll never be no peace while he’s aboard. Hah!” he continued, smacking his lips. “There’s your sort; here’s Mr Preddle coming back with his face shining and smelling o’ hot coffee like a flower-garding.”Mr Denning turned round sharply, but checked himself as he saw that Mr Frewen was coming too.“Looks like my turn now.”“Miss Denning is waiting to give you some coffee, Mr Hampton,” said the naturalist.“Thankye for the mister, sir, and thank her for the coffee,” said Bob, smiling, and he straddled off, the sloping of the deck as the ship rose and fell and heeled over being apparently of no consequence to him.
That storm showed no signs though of abating, and we watched on through the night, constantly on the strain, attacked as we were by alarms from below, and the furious assault of the winds and waves. Several times over during the night, when I was suffering from the cold, and faint with hunger and exhaustion, a horrible chilly feeling of despair came creeping over me. I began thinking of home and those there who would be heart-broken if I was lost; but always at these worst times something seemed to happen that took me out of myself, giving me work so particular to do that all my energies were directed to that duty, and in consequence I forgot my own troubles.
Twice over, when Mr Brymer came with one or other of the men, Mr Denning expressed a wish to be relieved, and I had to take his arm and help him along under the shelter of the bulwarks to the saloon and the cabin where his sister was waiting anxiously for news, and as we struggled aft, he talked to me as freely as if I had been his brother.
“Is there any hope for us, Dale?” he said on one occasion as we rested for a few moments underneath the bulwarks.
“Oh yes,” I replied. “Why not?”
“I don’t know, I’m not a sailor, but I should not have thought the ship could have kept on long like this without sinking.”
I laughed.
“Why, she’s a splendid boat,” I said, “and quite strong, and so long as we’ve got plenty of sea-room, we shan’t hurt.”
“You’re talking like this to comfort me,” he said.
“No; I’m telling you the truth as far as I understand it. Of course I’ve never been out in a storm on the ocean before, but I’ve been in some big ones off the coast round Ireland, where we were always in danger of going on the rocks, which are awful there.”
“But the sea comes thundering down on the ship so.”
“What of that?” I replied. “The ship’s hollow, and it sounds all the more, but the water is soft, and we go through it or ride over it somehow.”
“Ah, you’re too young to know what fear is,” he said sadly.
“Oh no, I’m not,” I cried, laughing. “I’ve been awfully frightened several times to-night, but I’m more afraid of Jarette and his gang than I am of the sea.”
“You have no sister on board,” he said. “No bitter regrets for letting her come into such danger.”
“No,” I said, rather chokingly; “but I’ve got people at home, and it would be very horrid to think I should never see them again.”
“Let’s go on,” he said laconically, and I helped him along, choosing the easiest moments till we were in shelter, and then without leaving hold of me he whispered—
“Make the best of things to her.”
There was a lamp burning in the cabin as we entered, and Miss Denning sprang to our side.
“Oh, John,” she cried piteously, “this will be death to you, drenched with the cold sea! Pray, pray, stay in shelter now.”
“Nonsense!” he cried; “it does me good, and it’s grandly exciting to fight the storm like this. How are you, little one? Ah, don’t touch me, I’m wet.”
“Suffering terribly, John dear. You must stay with me now.”
“Tied to your apron, you foolish girl,” he said merrily. “Nonsense! I’m wanted to help. There, I bring you good news. We’ve got all the pirates safely in prison, and as soon as the storm’s over all will be right again.”
Miss Denning gave me a piteous, inquiring look.
“Yes, that’s quite right, Miss Denning,” I said cheerfully.
“But this terrible storm; shall we be wrecked?”
“Ships don’t get wrecked out in the open sea,” I replied coolly, “only have their sails blown away, and sometimes lose a spar, or get a boat torn off the davits.”
“Then you think we are safe?”
“Oh yes, I hope so,” I replied.
“Safe? Of course, darling little cowardly sis,” said Mr Denning, kissing her pale cheek very lovingly, and I felt that I had never liked him so well before, never having seen his true nature and affection for his sister.
“Now then, Mr Dale and I have to go back on duty to shoot mutineers and pirates, and you are to lie down and trust in our all taking care of you. Try and sleep for a few hours.”
“Sleep!” she said reproachfully, “with you exposed to all that danger.”
“Yes! Why not? To grow strong, and ready to help me if I want it.”
“But, must you go, John?”
“Yes, dear,” he said gravely, “I must; but, please God, the worst danger is over, and you will not hinder me from doing my duty like a man, even if I am a weak one.”
She held his hand to her cheek, and smiling at me, spoke quite cheerfully.
“Come back in about an hour,” she said, “and I will have coffee made with the spirit-lamp, and try and find some biscuits.”
“That we will,” cried Mr Denning. “Make plenty, Lena, Mr Brymer and—and the sailors will be glad of some.”
She nodded, trying to look cheerful, and we left her, but had not reached the broken companion-way before a door on our right opened, a light was thrown across us, and I felt Mr Denning’s arm twitch. For it was Mr Frewen coming out of the cabin in which Walters had been placed, the one in which Mr Preddle had been kept a prisoner, and as soon as he was outside he carefully locked it.
“Not much need for it,” he said to us quietly, “for the little wretch is very weak still. Nice sort of characters you choose for your companions, Dale,” he continued. “How do we know that you have not been contaminated, and are going to rise against us?”
“There’s no fear till the storm’s over, Mr Frewen,” I said, laughing, and then, with the two gentlemen keeping perfectly silent, we went forward again, and had nearly reached the forecastle-hatch, when, sounding very feeble and strange, there was the report of a pistol, and we hurried forward to hear shouts of rage coming from below the hatch, and the blows of an axe being used with such effect, that before long whoever wielded it must make a way through.
Mr Brymer glanced round at us as we came up, and I saw the barrel of his revolver glistening in the pale light.
Then with his face close to the hatch he shouted—
“Once more, stop that or I fire!”
A shout of derision came from within.
“I warn you again!” roared Mr Brymer. “I fired before without trying to hit you, now I shall aim straight. Stop that this moment!”
“Fire away! Ready below, lads, I’ll have it off—”
The report of the revolver, a hoarse, half-stifled cry from within, and then a yell of rage arose, to mingle with the shrieking of the wind.
“I was obliged to fire, Mr Frewen,” said the mate, sharply, “for at any cost we will keep the upper hand now.”
No one spoke, and I could not help shivering as I saw the stern looks of the men by me, even Mr Preddle’s round smooth face looking fierce and determined.
Mr Frewen was the first to open his lips.
“It is a bitter necessity,” he said; “those men must be kept down, but I am obliged to speak now. Brymer, I am a surgeon, and there are at least two wounded men there below, perhaps more. It is necessary for me to go down.”
“It is impossible, Mr Frewen. If I give orders for that hatch to be opened, there will be a rush, and even if we remain masters and beat them down, it can only be at the cost of wounding more, perhaps causing death.”
“Why not make a truce with them?”
“With the men it would be easy enough, but not with their leader, a scoundrel who feels that he is fighting with penal servitude before him, perhaps the halter! But, Mr Frewen, these are no times for being humane. No; that hatch shall not be opened.”
“But I will stand ready, after telling the men what I am going to do, and if they will keep away while the hatch is open there can be no rush.”
“I think differently, sir,” said Mr Brymer, coldly.
“I agree with Mr Brymer, sir,” said Mr Denning, “that it would be madness.”
“But you agree with me, Mr Preddle?” cried the doctor, excitedly.
“No, I don’t, Mr Frewen,” came in Mr Preddle’s high-pitched voice. “I don’t like men to suffer, but I won’t give my vote for you to go down into that wild beasts’ cage.”
Mr Frewen laughed bitterly, and turned to me.
“What do you say, fellow-prisoner?” he cried.
“I shall vote against Mr Frewen being allowed to go down,” I said sturdily. “We want your help more than they do.”
“Bravo! my lad,” cried Mr Brymer.
“Well, yes; bravo! then,” said the doctor, sadly. “I am beaten; I give in.”
“Thank you, Frewen,” cried Mr Brymer, holding out his hand, which the doctor took frankly. “I am sorry to go against you, but you are too valuable to us here. I am sure that if I let you go down, they would not let you come up gain. Jarette is fox enough to know how your absence would weaken us, and then there is the captain; I place his life as of more value than that of a mutinous crew.”
“I’m convinced,” said Mr Frewen. “My desire was to stay, but as a surgeon I couldn’t stand still, knowing that my help was wanted down there.”
“You doctors are so greedy,” cried Mr Preddle. “You have two patients as it is, and if we’re going, on like this I’m afraid you’ll soon have some more.”
“Yes,” said the doctor, turning to Mr Denning, “I shall have another one. Forgive me for speaking, Mr Denning, but I think you ought to go back to your cabin now and remove your wet things.”
“You mean well, sir,” said Mr Denning, courteously, “but I am wanted here.”
“Not now, sir,” said the mate. “I think we can manage, and if you would hold yourself in readiness to turn out if we raise an alarm that would be enough.”
“I am here, and I have faced so much of the storm and trouble that I will see it through now.”
No one attempted to argue with him, and the watch was resumed, with the ship tearing through the water before the storm, for short-handed as we were, Mr Brymer shrank from attempting to alter her course, or riding head to wind.
From time to time there was a stir below, and voices rose angrily, but we could always hear Jarette’s shrill utterances, and he generally seemed to calm the men down, or to master them, with the result that the angry sounds ceased and gave place to a low murmuring as if some plan were being discussed. After this had been going on some time, on one occasion Mr Brymer, who had been aft at the wheel with Bob Hampton and had returned in time to hear the talking, shook his head and said to Mr Frewen—
“That sounds bad. They’re hatching a new plot against us. It is like having your ship on fire somewhere amongst the cargo in a place where you cannot reach. It goes on smouldering day after day, and you are in the full expectation of its breaking out. You don’t know when, but you are sure that it must come before long.”
“I was thinking something of the kind,” replied the doctor.
And so was I, though I did not speak. And in addition, I had an idea in my head that I could not work out, and while I was trying I had another idea. The first one was, that if by any means we could catch Jarette, the mutiny would all fall to pieces; but then the job was to catch the rascal, and that puzzled me.
It was very close to daylight; and cold, low-spirited, and miserable, I was beginning to think that between the storm and the men below, the poor old Burgh Castle must come to grief, when Bob Hampton came up glistening in his oilskins.
“I were to come and say as the lady’s got jorums o’ hot coffee ready, sir, in the captain’s cabin. Mr Denning and Mr Dale’s to go first, and I’m to take the watch till they comes back.”
I saw Mr Denning wince and dart a sharp look at the doctor, but the latter did not turn his head, and once more we began fighting our way back, with the ship seeming at times quite to dance on the tops of the waves.
But we reached the shelter in safety, and as soon as we were under cover I felt sure that the wind was not so fierce, and said so.
“I could not tell any difference,” said Mr Denning, sadly, as we went right aft, to find the captain’s cabin, right in the stern—the one through whose window I had climbed after my hazardous descent from the rigging—looking bright and cheerful, and hot coffee waiting for us, in company with sweet smiles and cheering words.
It was wonderful. One minute I had been ready to give up and think that all was over; the next, as the hot drink sent a glow through me, I was ready to smile back at Miss Denning, and join her in persuading her brother to go to his cabin and change; while the very next minute Mr Brymer came down with a large bottle, and after hastily swallowing a cup of the coffee, he begged for a bottleful to carry up to the men at the wheel.
“Is the storm still so bad, Mr Brymer?” asked Miss Denning, as the mate was about to hurry back on deck.
“No,” he said emphatically. “It’s one of those gales which blow in a circle, and we’re passing through it. The glass is rising, and in less than an hour I think it will begin to lull.” This was joyful news, and I rose to hurry back so as to take the place of Mr Preddle.
“You’ll stay now, John,” I heard Miss Denning say, and he answered her quite passionately.
“Don’t tempt me, Lena!” he cried. “I want to stay, but I want also to—there, I will act like a man.”
I did not then understand him as I did afterwards, what a strange jealous hatred and dislike there was burning within him as he caught my arm, and held it tightly.
“Help me quickly!” he whispered. “Take me back before my weakness masters me, and I break down.”
“But if you are so weak?” I said anxiously. “Take me forward!” he whispered angrily. “You cannot understand.”
I saw Miss Denning looking wonderingly at her brother as we went out, and again fought our way back to the forecastle-hatch, no easy task with the ship heeling over, and the spray flying as it did; but I felt hardened to it now, and the darkness did not appear so terrible, nor the danger so great, with the warm glow I felt spreading through me. Then I looked at my companion quite wonderingly, as I could just see his pale thin face, for he said quickly in a lull of the wind—
“I think I’ve conquered, Dale.”
“Conquered? It’s wonderful how brave you have been.”
I saw him smile, and then wondered afresh that I could have seen the change in his face. “Why, it’s getting light!” I said joyfully.
I was quite right, and as we were in the tropics the change was coming rapidly. But just then we reached the watch, and to my surprise Mr Denning said as well as the rushing wind would let him—
“Mr Frewen, Mr Preddle, my sister has hot coffee ready, and will be glad if you can go at once.”
I saw Mr Frewen give quite a start, and Mr Preddle regularly jumped, but they were both so surprised that they could neither of them speak, while Mr Denning turned to Bob Hampton.
“Your turn must be when they come back,” he said.
“Oh, all right, sir, I can wait,” growled Bob—I mean roared—for though there was a momentary cessation in the shrieking of the wind, he spoke as if Mr Denning were by the wheel; and there was no doubt now—we could not see it, nor were we likely to, through the mist and spray, but the sun was rising, and ten minutes after I was gazing at the sea, which was churned up into one chaos of foam.
“It’s all over!” yelled Bob, a minute or two later.
“What’s all over?” I asked.
“The hurry-cane, sir. We’re most through it, and the wind’s beginning to drop.”
“But it’s blowing terribly,” I cried.
“Ay, sir, it is; but ’nour ago it was blowing ten times as terrible. Why, there was a time when it most shaved my head, and another time when I put my hands up to feel if my ears was cut off. Strikes me as they would ha’ gone if they hadn’t been tied down with the flaps of this here sou’-wester.”
“Yes, it’s getting lighter fast,” cried Mr Denning. “But how rough the sea is!”
“Ay, sir, she be a bit tossy like,” said Bob; “but this here’s nothing to what it is on a rocky coast. Ah, that’s bad if you like.”
“But we’ve had an awful night, Bob.”
“Tidy, sir, tidy. Not so bad as it might ha’ been.”
“Oh, it couldn’t have been worse!” I cried.
“What? Not been worse, sir? Why, where’s your mainmas’ gone by the board, and your fore-mast cut off at the top-mast-head, and your mizzen splintered into matchwood? Why, my lad, this arn’t been nothing. And look yonder, there’s the sun a-coming out, leastwise it’s making the clouds look red-like. We’re coming out of it well. Why, you ought to be proud, Mr Dale, o’ belonging to such a ship as the Burgh Castle. She’s a clipper, if ever there was one built.”
“I am proud of her, Bob,” I said, “but I’m not proud of her crew.”
“Well, no, sir,” said Bob, rubbing his red nose, which looked wet and shiny now; “they arn’t turned out a werry good lot, but then arter all they might ha’ been worse. You see it’s just like having so much soup as the cook’s made for you, and all as good as can be, till the cook’s mate tilts the lamp aside by a-hitting it with his head, and a drop o’ hyle goes into the soup. That one drop o’ train-hyle spyles all the pot. See what I mean?”
“That Jarette is the drop of oil?”
“That’s it, sir, and a werry, werry rancid drop he be.”
Mr Denning laughed, and I saw him turn his back to the direction in which Mr Frewen had gone.
“Tlat!” went Bob Hampton’s lips in a loud smack. “Glad when they gents come back, for I want some o’ your young lady’s hot coffee, bless her! to take the taste o’ the hyle out o’ my mouth.”
“You shall have it soon, Hampton, my good brave fellow,” cried Mr Denning, and I saw the weak tears in his eyes, “and you tell my sister that she is to find my little silver flask, and give you some brandy in your coffee.”
“Thankye, sir, thankye, that’s very good of you. Why, Mr Dale, sir, you talk of our having a bad night. Tchah!—nothing, lad, nothing. How could it be a werry bad ’un when you have the luck to be shipped aboard a craft with a angel aboard? A angel, that’s what I says, and Neb Dumlow and Barney says the same. We all said it arter the mutiny had begun, and that if we didn’t get the best of old Frenchy somehow we’d eat our heads.—Lie down, will yer?” he roared, as he gave the side of the hatch so fierce a kick that I thought his heavy boot would have gone through.
There was a heavy rustling sound, and the grumbling of voices plainly heard now, for the wind was rapidly falling.
“That was French Jarette a-listening, sir, for a penny-piece,” whispered Bob, for it was growing possible to whisper now. “Strikes me we arn’t done with him yet, and if I might adwise, I should say as Mr Frewen ought to be sent down below with some of his doctor’s stuff to pyson that chap like you would a rat, for there’ll never be no peace while he’s aboard. Hah!” he continued, smacking his lips. “There’s your sort; here’s Mr Preddle coming back with his face shining and smelling o’ hot coffee like a flower-garding.”
Mr Denning turned round sharply, but checked himself as he saw that Mr Frewen was coming too.
“Looks like my turn now.”
“Miss Denning is waiting to give you some coffee, Mr Hampton,” said the naturalist.
“Thankye for the mister, sir, and thank her for the coffee,” said Bob, smiling, and he straddled off, the sloping of the deck as the ship rose and fell and heeled over being apparently of no consequence to him.
Chapter Twenty Seven.A few minutes later Mr Brymer joined us, rubbing his hands.“We shall almost have a calm in an hour, gentlemen,” he said, “and smooth water, with nothing but a long heavy swell before night. I think we may all congratulate ourselves upon what we have done, for we’ve saved the ship.”“Not yet,” said Mr Frewen, pointing at the fore-castle-hatch.“No, not yet, doctor; but we’ve only one enemy to deal with now, and can devote all our attention to him. I think I can relieve two of you gentlemen now. Mr Frewen, will you fight out another hour or two, while these gentlemen go and change, and have an hour or two’s sleep?”“I’ll go and change,” said Mr Denning; “but no sleep to-day.”“Please yourselves, gentlemen; but you must have rest, and be in readiness for a call. Hah! that’s grand; what should we do without the sun?”For as he was speaking, a bright gleam suddenly shot almost level across the spray, which still flew over the waves, and made it flash like a rainbow. It did more, for it sent light and joy into our breasts as Mr Preddle and Mr Denning went aft, meeting Bob Hampton with some boards, a saw, hammer, and nails with which he was soon busily at work strengthening the sides and top of the hatch, nailing down board after board, and only leaving one small opening in case communication should be needed with the prisoners below, who, saving for the light filtering through a small sky-light, and also through the ventilator, were in the dark.An hour later a sort of council of war was held in the captain’s cabin, and it was decided to well nail up the hatch of the cable-tier as well, there being no dread of the men breaking out in other directions on account of the closely-packed-in heavy cargo, much of which consisted, as I said, of machinery—agricultural implements and the like—for the Antipodes. Then arrangements were made as to the men being fed with biscuit and water, just sufficient for keeping them alive, and this starvation policy it was considered would be the means of setting the mutineers thoroughly against their leader, with the probable result that they would open up negotiations, and end by binding Jarette hand and foot and delivering him up. After that, as many as the captain thought could be trusted might be released to assist in navigating the ship, and the rest could be kept in prison.Mr Brymer was quite right about the weather; we sailed right through the circular storm, and long before sunset of what proved to be a very hot day, the ship was gently gliding up one side of a long wave, and after pausing for a moment on the top, gliding down the other, so that it was hard to imagine that we had just passed through so terrible a storm.That evening I asked Mr Frewen to take me with him when he went into Mr Preddle’s cabin to see Walters, and this resulted in his leaving me behind to sit down by where my brother midshipman lay, looking white, or rather grey as ashes.I found him very stubbornly silent with the doctor, who did not seem to think him very bad; and to all the sharp appeals to him to try and sit up, or explain his symptoms, he only gave vent to a piteous kind of groan which worried me a good deal, for I could not help thinking that Mr Frewen was hard, and to put it plainly, rather brutal, to one who had evidently gone through a great deal of suffering, and was now completely prostrate.But certainly it had been rather tantalising, for to everything there was this piteous groan.“Put out your tongue,” said Mr Frewen.“Oh!”“Well, open your eyes.”“Oh!”—long drawn out, and strange.“Surely that does not hurt you, my lad. I want to do you good if I can.”“Oh!”“Are you in pain?”“Oh!”“Does that hurt you?”“Oh!”“Can you feel it if I press your chest?”“Oh!”“Stand a little on one side, Dale; I want to look at his eyes.”I stepped back, feeling very uncomfortable, and Mr Frewen parted the lad’s eyelids gently enough.“Oh!” came more loudly than ever, as Mr Frewen looked closely into first one and then the other eye.Another moan and groan came fast one after the other, sometimes loud and sometimes piteous in the extreme, making me shiver again as I imagined all kinds of horrors.At first Mr Frewen was very gentle in his examination; but as Walters kept on groaning, the doctor seemed to lose patience, and in feeling the patient’s ribs, testing his arms and joints, he was, I thought, unnecessarily rough and harsh.Mr Frewen did not speak out, but kept on uttering little ejaculations; and at last he began to pass his hands over and around Walters’ skull, while I shuddered, and fully expected to hear the broken bone-edges grate together from a fracture.But the doctor let my messmate’s head sink down again, quickly too, for Walters uttered a thrilling moan and let his face hang down away from the doctor, looking so ghastly and strange that I was more horrified than ever in the dim cabin-light.I looked anxiously at the doctor, silently asking him what was the matter; but he only gave me a short nod of the head, and once more directed his attention to Walters, who lay breathing slowly in a catchy, spasmodic fashion, and I was almost about to question Mr Frewen, but he once more bent over the prisoner patient, listening to his breathing.I saw him frown and then lay his hand upon Walters’ side, and then I started, for there came so piteous a groan that I was sure the ribs must have been crushed, and I felt angry with him for not being more sympathetic.“He went against us and played the blackguard,” I thought to myself; “but he has been severely punished, and is down, so it isn’t right to jump upon him.”I felt then that I disliked Mr Frewen, who must be a cold-hearted, brutal kind of man, and I was not surprised at Mr Denning the invalid showing so much dislike to him now.“Yes, he’s very bad,” said Mr Frewen at last, “I shall have to get ready a mixture for him—something pretty strong too.”I was looking anxiously in his eyes as he said this, and then we both looked at Walters, for the poor fellow winced and moaned again.“Yes,” said Mr Frewen to me, but watching his patient the while; “medicine is as a rule very nasty, and the strong mixtures worst of all; but there are cases where you cannot hesitate to administer them, even if they are distasteful; and where you disguise their taste with syrups and essential oils you often do harm instead of good.”“Do you think he is very bad, Mr Frewen?” I said.“Oh yes—very,” was the reply. “Not dangerous!” I whispered.“Yes, decidedly dangerous,” he said, in the same low tone.“Then he ought not to be left?”“Oh yes, better left. He’ll come round. There, I’m going to see how the other prisoners are getting on. I’m afraid that I am badly wanted there.”He stood looking down at the patient with his brow knit, and I noticed a fidgety movement about one of his feet.“Oughtn’t I to stop and nurse him?” I asked.“No; certainly not. He is better alone. This kind of case does not require attention—only time. Come along,” and he went to the door.“All right, Mr Frewen; I’ll come directly,” I said softly.“But I want to fasten the door,” he whispered.“I’ll fasten it when I come out.”“No, that will not do; Mr Brymer said that the door was to be kept fast, and I can’t go away and leave it.”“But I want to talk to him,” I whispered. “Lock me in for a bit.”“And suppose he turns savage with you, and tries to get your weapons?” whispered Mr Frewen, with a smile.“I shan’t let him have them,” I replied. “Besides, he’s weak and ill.”“Humph!—not so very, my lad. There, I’ll lock you in, and come and let you out in a quarter of an hour.”He closed and locked the cabin door sharply, and I stood there thinking what I should say to my old messmate, and feeling how awkward it was now he was in trouble. For he lay there half turned away with his eyes closed, and I heard him moan piteously again while I waited to hear Mr Frewen’s departing step.But it did not come for a few moments. Then I heard him go into the adjoining cabin, and the opening of his medicine-chest quite plainly.“I don’t believe he wants medicine,” I thought. “He must be suffering from some internal injury.” Though as to what part of his body the injury might be in, I had not the slightest idea.There was a loud clink of bottle or glass, and then quite plainly came the setting down of something hard upon a shelf, the sound coming plainly through the opening we had so laboriously made when Mr Preddle was a prisoner in this cabin, and Mr Frewen and I in the next.Then I heard a loud cough. There was a squeaking sound of a cork being thrust into a bottle, and the doctor went out of his cabin, shut the door sharply, and went off, while it was like an electric shock through me, and I stared wildly, for Walters started up, and in a vicious angry voice exclaimed—“Brute! Beast! I only wish—”He stopped short as he vigorously wrenched himself round.“I thought you were gone,” he said blankly. “He told you to come away.”“I stopped to help you,” I said. “I did not like to have you left when you were so bad.”“No, you didn’t,” he cried, with a vicious snarl. “You stopped to play the miserable, contemptible, cowardly spy. It’s just like you, Dale. You always were a beast!”“If you call me a beast, I’ll knock your head off!” I cried, for my temper was rising against him and against myself, for I felt that I had been imposed upon, and horribly weak and stupid in my sympathy for one who was shamming from beginning to end.“It would take a better man than you,” he snarled.“Not it, though you are bigger and stronger,” I cried. “Get up, and I’ll show you.”“Get up,” he groaned, “while I’m so weak and bad that I can’t stir?”“Can’t stir,” I said, as I realised how thoroughly the doctor had read him, and I understood now why Mr Frewen was so indifferent instead of being sympathetic. “Why, there’s nothing the matter with you at all. You can move as well as I can. Get up, sneak!”“Oh!” he groaned, “you’re as great a brute as the doctor,” and he turned up his eyes till only the whites showed, making him look so ghastly in the dim light, that I was ready to fancy I was misjudging him after all.But I recalled his manner and his utterance as soon as he had made sure that the doctor had gone, and thought himself quite alone.“Get up,” I said again, “and leave off this miserable shamming. There’s nothing the matter with you at all.”He groaned again, and it made me feel so angry at the thought of his believing that he could impose upon me again, that I raised my right foot, whose toes seemed to itch with a desire to kick him.“Get up!” I cried angrily again.“I can’t, I can’t!” he groaned.“Get up,” I said, “or I’ll lie down by you and punch your head that way!”“Oh, you coward, you coward!” he moaned.“No, it’s you who are the coward, shamming being injured. Will you get up?”“What,” he snarled, changing his manner again, “to fight with a miserable coward who is armed?”“I’m not armed now,” I cried, snatching the revolver I carried from my belt, and laying it on Mr Preddle’s chest. “Get up, you miserable, cowardly, treacherous, shamming impostor! I’ll give you some physic which will do you more good than the doctor’s.”As I spoke, I gave him a heavy push with my foot.He sprang from the bunk as if he had been suddenly galvanised, made a rush at me, and struck out with all his force, but I darted on one side, and he struck the bulk-head with his fist.“Poor fellow, how weak he is!” I said, as I stood on my guard, and writhing now with bodily as well as mental pain, he came at me looking almost diabolical.I forgot everything the next moment—the nearness of the dangerously wounded captain, and the alarm that would be felt by Miss Denning, and with fists feeling like solid bone I sprang at him in turn. For I was in a strange state of exaltation. My nerves had been stirred by the excitement of the past days. I had been horribly imposed upon, and in place of my pity I now felt something very near akin to hate for my treacherous messmate, whom I had been ready, to forgive everything. I felt as if the most delightful thing in life would be to thrash him till he was in such a condition that he would be obliged to have the doctor to see to him and put him right—if he did not half-kill me instead, for he looked capable of doing it then. But this last did not occur to me, as I made my fists fly at his head, no round-about windmill blows, but straight-out shots right at his face, chest, anywhere I could see a chance to hit, though in the majority of cases I missed him, and received his blows instead.But these did not seem to hurt, only excite me, and give me strength. They were like spurring to a horse; and as I hit out, my tongue was not idle, for I kept on taunting and gibing at him, asking if that one did not make him groan and this one did not need the doctor, while all the time he was perfectly silent, save that as he glared at me and fought savagely I could hear his teeth grinding together. He fought savagely, and so did I, for to use an old school-boy term, my monkey was up, and I was ready to keep on till I dropped.Blows fell fast enough on both, and then we closed and wrestled and went down.Then we were up, and crashing against the bulk-head on one side, then on the other. Then I sent him staggering against the door; anden revanche, as he recovered himself and came on again, he sent me heavily against the ship’s side, where the back of my head gave a sounding rap close to the little circular window.Of course it was a matter of a very few minutes. Boy human nature could not stand a prolongation of such a fierce struggle, even if our muscles were tense as so much elastic wood. And how that time passed I can hardly tell. I was conscious of seeing sparks, and then of Walters’ eyes and gleaming teeth which were very hard to my knuckles. So was his head, and the boards, and cabin-floor; but I fought on, and wrestled and went down, and got up again, and the fighting was soon in perfect silence as far as our lips were concerned, till after one desperate round—the last—I struck out so fiercely with my left, adding to it the whole weight of my body, that Walters fell back over the chest in one corner, his head struck the bulk-head with a sounding bang, and he went down in a sitting position, but in an instant sprang up again, grinding his teeth.The cabin was nearly dark now and my fists were up for the renewal of the contest, for Walters seemed to be about to spring at me; but he drew back, and as quickly as I could grasp what it meant, I heard almost simultaneously the clicking of my pistol-lock, the report, and the crash caused by the sudden wrenching open of the cabin-door.“Hurt?” cried Mr Brymer, as I staggered back, conscious of a sharp stinging pain at the side of my head; and as he spoke he sprang at Walters, wrested the pistol from him, and threw him down.“I—I don’t know,” I stammered as I put my hand to my ear. “Yes, I think so,” for my fingers were wet with blood.“You cowardly, treacherous hound!” cried the mate, with his foot upon Walters’ breast.“I—oh don’t!—help!—I was only defending myself from Dale. I’m weak and hurt, and—”“A cowardly, malingering liar!” cried Mr Frewen, hotly. “He tried to make me believe he was very bad, groaning and wincing, and thinking he had deceived me, but I saw through him all the time.”“No, no, I am bad!” groaned Walters, piteously.“He isn’t,” I said, with my anger against him mastering a sensation of sickness. “He was shamming; I found him out, and we quarrelled and fought, and as soon as he was beaten he caught up the pistol and fired at me.”“It’s all a lie!” shouted Walters, fiercely. “I was so weak and ill that I—”“Jumped up well as I was, and called Mr Frewen a brute and a beast as soon as he was out of hearing.”“And the pistol cocked itself, jumped up into his hand, and then went off and wounded Dale. Is it much, doctor?” said Mr Brymer.“No, only his ear cut, fortunately,” said Mr Frewen, holding a handkerchief to my head. “An inch more and our amiable, treacherous young friend would have had to be tried for murder. Who’s that?”“Me,” growled Neb Dumlow. “Want help, sir?”“No. Go and tell the captain there’s nothing the matter, and Miss Denning that there’s no cause for alarm. Lock up the wild beast, Brymer! I thought he was a little weak and wanted feeding up. Leave him to me, and I’ll feed him down.”Mr Brymer gave a sharp look round, and then closed the door and locked it, while following Mr Frewen into the next cabin, he put a few stitches in my injured ear and then strapped it up.“Feel sick?” he said.“Pretty well,” I said, and I looked dismally at my knuckles.“Like a light, and a glass to see your face?”“Eh? No,” I cried, as I recalled all that had taken place. “Does it look very bad?”“Not half so bad as it will to-morrow,” said Mr Frewen, coolly. “You had a tidy fight then, you two?”“Oh yes; don’t talk about it, please, sir. He made me feel so wild after I found out that he was only shamming.”“Humph! Well, don’t let Miss Denning see you. If you had been knocked about like this in a struggle with those scoundrels under the hatch you would have won her sympathy; but a lad who goes and indulges in fisticuffs till his face looks like a muffin which has tumbled into the slop-basin, can’t show himself in ladies’ society till he has grown well.”“Oh, I say, Mr Frewen!” I cried.“It’s a fact,” he said, laughing at my dismal face.“But can’t you put some stuff on it to make it look better?”“No, nothing,” he said coolly. “I only know of one thing that will help you out of your difficulty,” he continued quietly.“Yes,” I said. “What?”“You must wait till we have another fight with the men forward, and then if you get knocked about, all those bruises will go to the same account.”I was busily bathing my face and hands as he spoke, and then, as I began dabbing myself gently with a towel, there was an alarm from forward which suggested that, though I was getting stiffer and more sore every moment, the time had already come for the doctor’s remedy to be put in force, for there was a pistol-shot followed by several more, and a loud shouting which sounded like cries for help.It was a wonderful change from the previous night as we hurried along the deck to join our friends. The ship rode on an even keel, the night was glorious with stars, and the lanterns shone bright and clear where they were swung. There was no creeping along a few feet at a time, holding on by rope and belaying-pin, with the spray dashing over the side.We could see the group about the hatch standing a little back, for in spite of our defences, the mutineers were making a desperate effort to escape, and were keeping up a steady fire through the top and sides to cover the work of one of their number, who was chopping away at the door to hack out the fastening.As we reached them, Mr Brymer was ready revolver in hand, hesitating as to whether he should fire, for he was husbanding his ammunition, the supply being far from abundant.“It’s getting warm, doctor,” he said as we came up. “What is to be done? I grudge wasting cartridges.”Just then Bob Hampton, who had been right aft, came trotting up.“Who is at the wheel?” said Mr Brymer, sharply.“Blane, sir.”“That will do. Look here, Hampton, the captain saw to the receiving of the powder and cartridges while I was busy over the other portions of the cargo, and he is too weak to be questioned. You joined the mutiny for a time.”“Never, sir, for no time,” growled Bob.“Well, you were with the men, and in their confidence.”“Not a bit on it, sir, arksing your pardon. Frenchy never trusted me a mite; only got all the work out of me that he could.”“Well, well, we will not argue little points,” said Mr Brymer, impatiently, as the chopping and firing went on. “You saw a great deal of what was going on.”“Yes, sir, heaps; I kep’ my eyes open.”“Well, tell me this—what about the powder and weapons? What do you know about them?”“I’ll tell you, sir,” said Bob; “but, begging your pardon, hadn’t you better clap a stopper on this here game?”“How, man?”“Answering them shots, sir.”“I would, but my cartridges are nearly all gone. How did you get these?”“Outer the hold, sir, where they stowed ’em close alongside o’ the blasting-powder. There’s plenty more.”“Can you get them?”“Oh yes, sir. You see, before the mutiny began, Jarette set some one, as I heard afterward, to smuggle all the cartridges and weapons he could out of the cabins and from the captain’s locker.”“Yes, we found out that had been done. Who did they send?”Bob Hampton chuckled.“Why, you know, sir.”“Not Mr Walters?”“If you was to spend all the rest o’ your life, sir, making shots at it, you wouldn’t never get nigher than that.”“The young scoundrel! Then you know where the cartridges are?”“Course I do, sir: under the battened down hatches yonder. Frenchy put ’em there himself, and wouldn’t let no one go nigh ’em, ’cause the fellows were always smoking. I got down to ’em at night when the storm was coming, as you know, and when you want more, there they are,—yer pistols and guns too.”“Oh, that puts quite a different complexion upon our position, Mr Denning. We can fire as much as we like,” cried the mate. “But one word more, Hampton. What about the mutineers? Have they a very large supply of ammunition?”“Well, sir, that I can’t say. I know Jarette always kep’ his pockets jam-full, but I don’t know nothing about the others.”The chopping was still going on while this discussion took place, and shot after shot was fired, evidently in a blind fashion, as if the man who used the revolver was unable to take an aim at any one, and merely fired to keep us away from the hatch; but now all at once we were startled by a sharp jingling of glass, and the violent swinging of one of the lanterns, which had been struck by a bullet.“That was the result of some one aiming,” cried Mr Denning, sharply.“If they don’t do any more damage than that it won’t matter,” said Mr Preddle.“Look here, Brymer,” whispered Mr Frewen, speaking now after carefully watching the dimly-seen hatch for some minutes, “it strikes me that if you let them go on firing for a little longer they will be forced to surrender.”“For want of ammunition?” said the mate.“No; for want of air. That ventilator will not carry off the foul gas from the firing.”“But the holes they are making will,” said the mate. “If it were not so dark you would see that the smoke is curling out from several little holes.”Mr Frewen took a step forward; there was a sharp report, and he staggered back. “Flit?” cried Mr Preddle, excitedly. “Yes, but not hurt,” replied Mr Frewen. “The bullet struck my collar, and it was like something giving me a violent jerk.”“Change positions every one,” said Mr Brymer in a low voice. “Hampton, the lanterns. Let them both down, and put them in the galley.”Bob Hampton ran to one line by which they were hoisted up, I to the other; and as I was lowering mine down, I heard a shot, and a whizz like a bee flying over my head.“Quite time that was done,” said the mate, as the two lighted lanterns were taken by Bob and carried to the galley. But the door was fast, and it was not until after a good deal of dragging and wrenching that it was pulled open, I holding the two lights, while Bob tugged.Bang! went a revolver again, and a shot whizzed by my companion’s ear, and stuck into the side of the galley.“Look sharp, Hampton; they can see you, man!” cried Mr Brymer. “Throw something over the lights.”“Done it, sir,” cried Bob, as the door yielded, and I stepped forward to get the lanterns in, when, as Bob opened the door widely, and the light flashed in, he uttered a yell, and nearly dropped the lanterns, for there before us in the corner of the galley stood, or lay back, a ghastly-looking figure which at first sight seemed to me like the body of one of the mutineers who had been shot. But as I stood trembling and holding up one light, the white face moved and the eyes blinked.“What’s the matter?” cried Mr Brymer, loudly. “Go and see, Mr Frewen.”The doctor took a few steps and joined us, saw the figure, and said sharply—“Another prisoner?”“No, sir; can’t he; ’cause he’s fastened hisself in,” replied Bob. “Why, matey, what are you doing here? I thought you was a ghost.”“Why, it’s the cook!” I exclaimed.“Cooky it is, sir,” said Hampton. “Here y’are, mate; we’ve brought you a light.”The lanterns were thrust in, the door shut, and we hurried back, discussing our discovery, but this was checked by the firing from the hatch, while the blows from an axe threatened to make short work of the door and the boards that had been nailed across.“What’s to be done?” said Mr Preddle, mildly. “Hadn’t you better speak to them, Mr Brymer?”“I feel as if I can only speak by deputy,” he replied, and he raised his pistol,—“by this. But I don’t like firing until the last extremity.”“I’ll speak to them,” said Mr Frewen.“Very well; but get well out of reach. They will not be so merciful as we are.”Mr Frewen went round to the bow-side of the hatch, and shouted loudly to those in the forecastle, with the result that the chopping ceased, and after a few moments’ delay Jarette’s voice was heard.“You surrender then, eh?” he shouted. “Look sharp and knock off these boards.”Mr Brymer could not help laughing aloud, and a pistol was fired in his direction.“Stop that!” shouted Mr Frewen. “Look here, my men, if you hand out your weapons through the top of the hatch, and promise not to attempt to escape, food and water shall be passed down, and you shall receive fair treatment till we get into port.”“Do you hear, my lads?” cried Jarette, loudly. “And when we get in port they’ll hand us over as prisoners. What do you—there, I’ll say it for you,” he continued hastily. “No, no, no! And now listen to me, all you who can hear. You can’t sail into port without us, and you are only proposing a truce because you are growing frightened.”“Indeed!” said Mr Frewen, coolly.“Yes, indeed, doctor. I know your voice. Now you take my advice—you and those two passengers. Get back to your cabins, and perhaps I’ll forgive you. We can come on deck now whenever we like, and we’re masters here. If you don’t do as I say, look out, for I warn you I can cover all of you with my pistol, and if I couldn’t I’d sink the ship before you should hold her again.”“Then you refuse to surrender?” cried Mr Frewen. “Harkye, my lads, below there; don’t let this madman lead you on to your ruin. Will you surrender?”“Silence below there!” shouted Jarette. “I’ll give him his answer. There!”He fired, evidently aiming in the direction of Mr Frewen’s voice, for the bullet whizzed over the doctor’s head; when, without waiting for orders, Mr Preddle fired back, and his shot was followed by a sharp ejaculation, suggesting that some one had been hit; but directly after we heard a little talking, and several shots were fired at us, but without effect.“There,” said Mr Brymer, “we have done our duty by them, we must now do it by ourselves.”“If we could only master that one man,” said Mr Frewen in the little council of war which followed, “we could manage.”“Hadn’t you better order the hose to be laid on, Mr Brymer, sir,” said Bob Hampton, “and drown ’em out like rats?”“It would be punishing the weak with the guilty and strong, my lad,” said Mr Brymer. “I am loth to proceed to extremities.”“Werry well then, sir, smoke ’em out as you would rats. I dessay the doctor has got some brimstone.”“Yes, I have, Hampton,” said Mr Frewen; “but, you see, these are men, not rats.”“That’s a true word, sir.”“You would not like to kill them all in cold blood, my man?”“No, sir, that’s a butchery sort o’ way; but I’m ready to give ’em a wopses’ nest squib to bring ’em to their senses.”“Out of their senses, man!” cried Mr Frewen, impatiently. “It means death, I tell you—wholesale murder. The men, I repeat, are not rats.”“Well, sir, they’re behaving like ’em, and there’s no gammon about it now. They’re desprit; Jarette’s worked ’em up; and they’ve got the judge to face if we take ’em into port. Strikes me it’s our lives or theirn; but you knows best. I was thinking about the young lady.”Just then the chopping began again, and Mr Brymer raised his pistol and fired.The chopping ceased, and there was a burst of loud talking. Then all was still for hours, while a careful watch was kept until morning.
A few minutes later Mr Brymer joined us, rubbing his hands.
“We shall almost have a calm in an hour, gentlemen,” he said, “and smooth water, with nothing but a long heavy swell before night. I think we may all congratulate ourselves upon what we have done, for we’ve saved the ship.”
“Not yet,” said Mr Frewen, pointing at the fore-castle-hatch.
“No, not yet, doctor; but we’ve only one enemy to deal with now, and can devote all our attention to him. I think I can relieve two of you gentlemen now. Mr Frewen, will you fight out another hour or two, while these gentlemen go and change, and have an hour or two’s sleep?”
“I’ll go and change,” said Mr Denning; “but no sleep to-day.”
“Please yourselves, gentlemen; but you must have rest, and be in readiness for a call. Hah! that’s grand; what should we do without the sun?”
For as he was speaking, a bright gleam suddenly shot almost level across the spray, which still flew over the waves, and made it flash like a rainbow. It did more, for it sent light and joy into our breasts as Mr Preddle and Mr Denning went aft, meeting Bob Hampton with some boards, a saw, hammer, and nails with which he was soon busily at work strengthening the sides and top of the hatch, nailing down board after board, and only leaving one small opening in case communication should be needed with the prisoners below, who, saving for the light filtering through a small sky-light, and also through the ventilator, were in the dark.
An hour later a sort of council of war was held in the captain’s cabin, and it was decided to well nail up the hatch of the cable-tier as well, there being no dread of the men breaking out in other directions on account of the closely-packed-in heavy cargo, much of which consisted, as I said, of machinery—agricultural implements and the like—for the Antipodes. Then arrangements were made as to the men being fed with biscuit and water, just sufficient for keeping them alive, and this starvation policy it was considered would be the means of setting the mutineers thoroughly against their leader, with the probable result that they would open up negotiations, and end by binding Jarette hand and foot and delivering him up. After that, as many as the captain thought could be trusted might be released to assist in navigating the ship, and the rest could be kept in prison.
Mr Brymer was quite right about the weather; we sailed right through the circular storm, and long before sunset of what proved to be a very hot day, the ship was gently gliding up one side of a long wave, and after pausing for a moment on the top, gliding down the other, so that it was hard to imagine that we had just passed through so terrible a storm.
That evening I asked Mr Frewen to take me with him when he went into Mr Preddle’s cabin to see Walters, and this resulted in his leaving me behind to sit down by where my brother midshipman lay, looking white, or rather grey as ashes.
I found him very stubbornly silent with the doctor, who did not seem to think him very bad; and to all the sharp appeals to him to try and sit up, or explain his symptoms, he only gave vent to a piteous kind of groan which worried me a good deal, for I could not help thinking that Mr Frewen was hard, and to put it plainly, rather brutal, to one who had evidently gone through a great deal of suffering, and was now completely prostrate.
But certainly it had been rather tantalising, for to everything there was this piteous groan.
“Put out your tongue,” said Mr Frewen.
“Oh!”
“Well, open your eyes.”
“Oh!”—long drawn out, and strange.
“Surely that does not hurt you, my lad. I want to do you good if I can.”
“Oh!”
“Are you in pain?”
“Oh!”
“Does that hurt you?”
“Oh!”
“Can you feel it if I press your chest?”
“Oh!”
“Stand a little on one side, Dale; I want to look at his eyes.”
I stepped back, feeling very uncomfortable, and Mr Frewen parted the lad’s eyelids gently enough.
“Oh!” came more loudly than ever, as Mr Frewen looked closely into first one and then the other eye.
Another moan and groan came fast one after the other, sometimes loud and sometimes piteous in the extreme, making me shiver again as I imagined all kinds of horrors.
At first Mr Frewen was very gentle in his examination; but as Walters kept on groaning, the doctor seemed to lose patience, and in feeling the patient’s ribs, testing his arms and joints, he was, I thought, unnecessarily rough and harsh.
Mr Frewen did not speak out, but kept on uttering little ejaculations; and at last he began to pass his hands over and around Walters’ skull, while I shuddered, and fully expected to hear the broken bone-edges grate together from a fracture.
But the doctor let my messmate’s head sink down again, quickly too, for Walters uttered a thrilling moan and let his face hang down away from the doctor, looking so ghastly and strange that I was more horrified than ever in the dim cabin-light.
I looked anxiously at the doctor, silently asking him what was the matter; but he only gave me a short nod of the head, and once more directed his attention to Walters, who lay breathing slowly in a catchy, spasmodic fashion, and I was almost about to question Mr Frewen, but he once more bent over the prisoner patient, listening to his breathing.
I saw him frown and then lay his hand upon Walters’ side, and then I started, for there came so piteous a groan that I was sure the ribs must have been crushed, and I felt angry with him for not being more sympathetic.
“He went against us and played the blackguard,” I thought to myself; “but he has been severely punished, and is down, so it isn’t right to jump upon him.”
I felt then that I disliked Mr Frewen, who must be a cold-hearted, brutal kind of man, and I was not surprised at Mr Denning the invalid showing so much dislike to him now.
“Yes, he’s very bad,” said Mr Frewen at last, “I shall have to get ready a mixture for him—something pretty strong too.”
I was looking anxiously in his eyes as he said this, and then we both looked at Walters, for the poor fellow winced and moaned again.
“Yes,” said Mr Frewen to me, but watching his patient the while; “medicine is as a rule very nasty, and the strong mixtures worst of all; but there are cases where you cannot hesitate to administer them, even if they are distasteful; and where you disguise their taste with syrups and essential oils you often do harm instead of good.”
“Do you think he is very bad, Mr Frewen?” I said.
“Oh yes—very,” was the reply. “Not dangerous!” I whispered.
“Yes, decidedly dangerous,” he said, in the same low tone.
“Then he ought not to be left?”
“Oh yes, better left. He’ll come round. There, I’m going to see how the other prisoners are getting on. I’m afraid that I am badly wanted there.”
He stood looking down at the patient with his brow knit, and I noticed a fidgety movement about one of his feet.
“Oughtn’t I to stop and nurse him?” I asked.
“No; certainly not. He is better alone. This kind of case does not require attention—only time. Come along,” and he went to the door.
“All right, Mr Frewen; I’ll come directly,” I said softly.
“But I want to fasten the door,” he whispered.
“I’ll fasten it when I come out.”
“No, that will not do; Mr Brymer said that the door was to be kept fast, and I can’t go away and leave it.”
“But I want to talk to him,” I whispered. “Lock me in for a bit.”
“And suppose he turns savage with you, and tries to get your weapons?” whispered Mr Frewen, with a smile.
“I shan’t let him have them,” I replied. “Besides, he’s weak and ill.”
“Humph!—not so very, my lad. There, I’ll lock you in, and come and let you out in a quarter of an hour.”
He closed and locked the cabin door sharply, and I stood there thinking what I should say to my old messmate, and feeling how awkward it was now he was in trouble. For he lay there half turned away with his eyes closed, and I heard him moan piteously again while I waited to hear Mr Frewen’s departing step.
But it did not come for a few moments. Then I heard him go into the adjoining cabin, and the opening of his medicine-chest quite plainly.
“I don’t believe he wants medicine,” I thought. “He must be suffering from some internal injury.” Though as to what part of his body the injury might be in, I had not the slightest idea.
There was a loud clink of bottle or glass, and then quite plainly came the setting down of something hard upon a shelf, the sound coming plainly through the opening we had so laboriously made when Mr Preddle was a prisoner in this cabin, and Mr Frewen and I in the next.
Then I heard a loud cough. There was a squeaking sound of a cork being thrust into a bottle, and the doctor went out of his cabin, shut the door sharply, and went off, while it was like an electric shock through me, and I stared wildly, for Walters started up, and in a vicious angry voice exclaimed—
“Brute! Beast! I only wish—”
He stopped short as he vigorously wrenched himself round.
“I thought you were gone,” he said blankly. “He told you to come away.”
“I stopped to help you,” I said. “I did not like to have you left when you were so bad.”
“No, you didn’t,” he cried, with a vicious snarl. “You stopped to play the miserable, contemptible, cowardly spy. It’s just like you, Dale. You always were a beast!”
“If you call me a beast, I’ll knock your head off!” I cried, for my temper was rising against him and against myself, for I felt that I had been imposed upon, and horribly weak and stupid in my sympathy for one who was shamming from beginning to end.
“It would take a better man than you,” he snarled.
“Not it, though you are bigger and stronger,” I cried. “Get up, and I’ll show you.”
“Get up,” he groaned, “while I’m so weak and bad that I can’t stir?”
“Can’t stir,” I said, as I realised how thoroughly the doctor had read him, and I understood now why Mr Frewen was so indifferent instead of being sympathetic. “Why, there’s nothing the matter with you at all. You can move as well as I can. Get up, sneak!”
“Oh!” he groaned, “you’re as great a brute as the doctor,” and he turned up his eyes till only the whites showed, making him look so ghastly in the dim light, that I was ready to fancy I was misjudging him after all.
But I recalled his manner and his utterance as soon as he had made sure that the doctor had gone, and thought himself quite alone.
“Get up,” I said again, “and leave off this miserable shamming. There’s nothing the matter with you at all.”
He groaned again, and it made me feel so angry at the thought of his believing that he could impose upon me again, that I raised my right foot, whose toes seemed to itch with a desire to kick him.
“Get up!” I cried angrily again.
“I can’t, I can’t!” he groaned.
“Get up,” I said, “or I’ll lie down by you and punch your head that way!”
“Oh, you coward, you coward!” he moaned.
“No, it’s you who are the coward, shamming being injured. Will you get up?”
“What,” he snarled, changing his manner again, “to fight with a miserable coward who is armed?”
“I’m not armed now,” I cried, snatching the revolver I carried from my belt, and laying it on Mr Preddle’s chest. “Get up, you miserable, cowardly, treacherous, shamming impostor! I’ll give you some physic which will do you more good than the doctor’s.”
As I spoke, I gave him a heavy push with my foot.
He sprang from the bunk as if he had been suddenly galvanised, made a rush at me, and struck out with all his force, but I darted on one side, and he struck the bulk-head with his fist.
“Poor fellow, how weak he is!” I said, as I stood on my guard, and writhing now with bodily as well as mental pain, he came at me looking almost diabolical.
I forgot everything the next moment—the nearness of the dangerously wounded captain, and the alarm that would be felt by Miss Denning, and with fists feeling like solid bone I sprang at him in turn. For I was in a strange state of exaltation. My nerves had been stirred by the excitement of the past days. I had been horribly imposed upon, and in place of my pity I now felt something very near akin to hate for my treacherous messmate, whom I had been ready, to forgive everything. I felt as if the most delightful thing in life would be to thrash him till he was in such a condition that he would be obliged to have the doctor to see to him and put him right—if he did not half-kill me instead, for he looked capable of doing it then. But this last did not occur to me, as I made my fists fly at his head, no round-about windmill blows, but straight-out shots right at his face, chest, anywhere I could see a chance to hit, though in the majority of cases I missed him, and received his blows instead.
But these did not seem to hurt, only excite me, and give me strength. They were like spurring to a horse; and as I hit out, my tongue was not idle, for I kept on taunting and gibing at him, asking if that one did not make him groan and this one did not need the doctor, while all the time he was perfectly silent, save that as he glared at me and fought savagely I could hear his teeth grinding together. He fought savagely, and so did I, for to use an old school-boy term, my monkey was up, and I was ready to keep on till I dropped.
Blows fell fast enough on both, and then we closed and wrestled and went down.
Then we were up, and crashing against the bulk-head on one side, then on the other. Then I sent him staggering against the door; anden revanche, as he recovered himself and came on again, he sent me heavily against the ship’s side, where the back of my head gave a sounding rap close to the little circular window.
Of course it was a matter of a very few minutes. Boy human nature could not stand a prolongation of such a fierce struggle, even if our muscles were tense as so much elastic wood. And how that time passed I can hardly tell. I was conscious of seeing sparks, and then of Walters’ eyes and gleaming teeth which were very hard to my knuckles. So was his head, and the boards, and cabin-floor; but I fought on, and wrestled and went down, and got up again, and the fighting was soon in perfect silence as far as our lips were concerned, till after one desperate round—the last—I struck out so fiercely with my left, adding to it the whole weight of my body, that Walters fell back over the chest in one corner, his head struck the bulk-head with a sounding bang, and he went down in a sitting position, but in an instant sprang up again, grinding his teeth.
The cabin was nearly dark now and my fists were up for the renewal of the contest, for Walters seemed to be about to spring at me; but he drew back, and as quickly as I could grasp what it meant, I heard almost simultaneously the clicking of my pistol-lock, the report, and the crash caused by the sudden wrenching open of the cabin-door.
“Hurt?” cried Mr Brymer, as I staggered back, conscious of a sharp stinging pain at the side of my head; and as he spoke he sprang at Walters, wrested the pistol from him, and threw him down.
“I—I don’t know,” I stammered as I put my hand to my ear. “Yes, I think so,” for my fingers were wet with blood.
“You cowardly, treacherous hound!” cried the mate, with his foot upon Walters’ breast.
“I—oh don’t!—help!—I was only defending myself from Dale. I’m weak and hurt, and—”
“A cowardly, malingering liar!” cried Mr Frewen, hotly. “He tried to make me believe he was very bad, groaning and wincing, and thinking he had deceived me, but I saw through him all the time.”
“No, no, I am bad!” groaned Walters, piteously.
“He isn’t,” I said, with my anger against him mastering a sensation of sickness. “He was shamming; I found him out, and we quarrelled and fought, and as soon as he was beaten he caught up the pistol and fired at me.”
“It’s all a lie!” shouted Walters, fiercely. “I was so weak and ill that I—”
“Jumped up well as I was, and called Mr Frewen a brute and a beast as soon as he was out of hearing.”
“And the pistol cocked itself, jumped up into his hand, and then went off and wounded Dale. Is it much, doctor?” said Mr Brymer.
“No, only his ear cut, fortunately,” said Mr Frewen, holding a handkerchief to my head. “An inch more and our amiable, treacherous young friend would have had to be tried for murder. Who’s that?”
“Me,” growled Neb Dumlow. “Want help, sir?”
“No. Go and tell the captain there’s nothing the matter, and Miss Denning that there’s no cause for alarm. Lock up the wild beast, Brymer! I thought he was a little weak and wanted feeding up. Leave him to me, and I’ll feed him down.”
Mr Brymer gave a sharp look round, and then closed the door and locked it, while following Mr Frewen into the next cabin, he put a few stitches in my injured ear and then strapped it up.
“Feel sick?” he said.
“Pretty well,” I said, and I looked dismally at my knuckles.
“Like a light, and a glass to see your face?”
“Eh? No,” I cried, as I recalled all that had taken place. “Does it look very bad?”
“Not half so bad as it will to-morrow,” said Mr Frewen, coolly. “You had a tidy fight then, you two?”
“Oh yes; don’t talk about it, please, sir. He made me feel so wild after I found out that he was only shamming.”
“Humph! Well, don’t let Miss Denning see you. If you had been knocked about like this in a struggle with those scoundrels under the hatch you would have won her sympathy; but a lad who goes and indulges in fisticuffs till his face looks like a muffin which has tumbled into the slop-basin, can’t show himself in ladies’ society till he has grown well.”
“Oh, I say, Mr Frewen!” I cried.
“It’s a fact,” he said, laughing at my dismal face.
“But can’t you put some stuff on it to make it look better?”
“No, nothing,” he said coolly. “I only know of one thing that will help you out of your difficulty,” he continued quietly.
“Yes,” I said. “What?”
“You must wait till we have another fight with the men forward, and then if you get knocked about, all those bruises will go to the same account.”
I was busily bathing my face and hands as he spoke, and then, as I began dabbing myself gently with a towel, there was an alarm from forward which suggested that, though I was getting stiffer and more sore every moment, the time had already come for the doctor’s remedy to be put in force, for there was a pistol-shot followed by several more, and a loud shouting which sounded like cries for help.
It was a wonderful change from the previous night as we hurried along the deck to join our friends. The ship rode on an even keel, the night was glorious with stars, and the lanterns shone bright and clear where they were swung. There was no creeping along a few feet at a time, holding on by rope and belaying-pin, with the spray dashing over the side.
We could see the group about the hatch standing a little back, for in spite of our defences, the mutineers were making a desperate effort to escape, and were keeping up a steady fire through the top and sides to cover the work of one of their number, who was chopping away at the door to hack out the fastening.
As we reached them, Mr Brymer was ready revolver in hand, hesitating as to whether he should fire, for he was husbanding his ammunition, the supply being far from abundant.
“It’s getting warm, doctor,” he said as we came up. “What is to be done? I grudge wasting cartridges.”
Just then Bob Hampton, who had been right aft, came trotting up.
“Who is at the wheel?” said Mr Brymer, sharply.
“Blane, sir.”
“That will do. Look here, Hampton, the captain saw to the receiving of the powder and cartridges while I was busy over the other portions of the cargo, and he is too weak to be questioned. You joined the mutiny for a time.”
“Never, sir, for no time,” growled Bob.
“Well, you were with the men, and in their confidence.”
“Not a bit on it, sir, arksing your pardon. Frenchy never trusted me a mite; only got all the work out of me that he could.”
“Well, well, we will not argue little points,” said Mr Brymer, impatiently, as the chopping and firing went on. “You saw a great deal of what was going on.”
“Yes, sir, heaps; I kep’ my eyes open.”
“Well, tell me this—what about the powder and weapons? What do you know about them?”
“I’ll tell you, sir,” said Bob; “but, begging your pardon, hadn’t you better clap a stopper on this here game?”
“How, man?”
“Answering them shots, sir.”
“I would, but my cartridges are nearly all gone. How did you get these?”
“Outer the hold, sir, where they stowed ’em close alongside o’ the blasting-powder. There’s plenty more.”
“Can you get them?”
“Oh yes, sir. You see, before the mutiny began, Jarette set some one, as I heard afterward, to smuggle all the cartridges and weapons he could out of the cabins and from the captain’s locker.”
“Yes, we found out that had been done. Who did they send?”
Bob Hampton chuckled.
“Why, you know, sir.”
“Not Mr Walters?”
“If you was to spend all the rest o’ your life, sir, making shots at it, you wouldn’t never get nigher than that.”
“The young scoundrel! Then you know where the cartridges are?”
“Course I do, sir: under the battened down hatches yonder. Frenchy put ’em there himself, and wouldn’t let no one go nigh ’em, ’cause the fellows were always smoking. I got down to ’em at night when the storm was coming, as you know, and when you want more, there they are,—yer pistols and guns too.”
“Oh, that puts quite a different complexion upon our position, Mr Denning. We can fire as much as we like,” cried the mate. “But one word more, Hampton. What about the mutineers? Have they a very large supply of ammunition?”
“Well, sir, that I can’t say. I know Jarette always kep’ his pockets jam-full, but I don’t know nothing about the others.”
The chopping was still going on while this discussion took place, and shot after shot was fired, evidently in a blind fashion, as if the man who used the revolver was unable to take an aim at any one, and merely fired to keep us away from the hatch; but now all at once we were startled by a sharp jingling of glass, and the violent swinging of one of the lanterns, which had been struck by a bullet.
“That was the result of some one aiming,” cried Mr Denning, sharply.
“If they don’t do any more damage than that it won’t matter,” said Mr Preddle.
“Look here, Brymer,” whispered Mr Frewen, speaking now after carefully watching the dimly-seen hatch for some minutes, “it strikes me that if you let them go on firing for a little longer they will be forced to surrender.”
“For want of ammunition?” said the mate.
“No; for want of air. That ventilator will not carry off the foul gas from the firing.”
“But the holes they are making will,” said the mate. “If it were not so dark you would see that the smoke is curling out from several little holes.”
Mr Frewen took a step forward; there was a sharp report, and he staggered back. “Flit?” cried Mr Preddle, excitedly. “Yes, but not hurt,” replied Mr Frewen. “The bullet struck my collar, and it was like something giving me a violent jerk.”
“Change positions every one,” said Mr Brymer in a low voice. “Hampton, the lanterns. Let them both down, and put them in the galley.”
Bob Hampton ran to one line by which they were hoisted up, I to the other; and as I was lowering mine down, I heard a shot, and a whizz like a bee flying over my head.
“Quite time that was done,” said the mate, as the two lighted lanterns were taken by Bob and carried to the galley. But the door was fast, and it was not until after a good deal of dragging and wrenching that it was pulled open, I holding the two lights, while Bob tugged.
Bang! went a revolver again, and a shot whizzed by my companion’s ear, and stuck into the side of the galley.
“Look sharp, Hampton; they can see you, man!” cried Mr Brymer. “Throw something over the lights.”
“Done it, sir,” cried Bob, as the door yielded, and I stepped forward to get the lanterns in, when, as Bob opened the door widely, and the light flashed in, he uttered a yell, and nearly dropped the lanterns, for there before us in the corner of the galley stood, or lay back, a ghastly-looking figure which at first sight seemed to me like the body of one of the mutineers who had been shot. But as I stood trembling and holding up one light, the white face moved and the eyes blinked.
“What’s the matter?” cried Mr Brymer, loudly. “Go and see, Mr Frewen.”
The doctor took a few steps and joined us, saw the figure, and said sharply—“Another prisoner?”
“No, sir; can’t he; ’cause he’s fastened hisself in,” replied Bob. “Why, matey, what are you doing here? I thought you was a ghost.”
“Why, it’s the cook!” I exclaimed.
“Cooky it is, sir,” said Hampton. “Here y’are, mate; we’ve brought you a light.”
The lanterns were thrust in, the door shut, and we hurried back, discussing our discovery, but this was checked by the firing from the hatch, while the blows from an axe threatened to make short work of the door and the boards that had been nailed across.
“What’s to be done?” said Mr Preddle, mildly. “Hadn’t you better speak to them, Mr Brymer?”
“I feel as if I can only speak by deputy,” he replied, and he raised his pistol,—“by this. But I don’t like firing until the last extremity.”
“I’ll speak to them,” said Mr Frewen.
“Very well; but get well out of reach. They will not be so merciful as we are.”
Mr Frewen went round to the bow-side of the hatch, and shouted loudly to those in the forecastle, with the result that the chopping ceased, and after a few moments’ delay Jarette’s voice was heard.
“You surrender then, eh?” he shouted. “Look sharp and knock off these boards.”
Mr Brymer could not help laughing aloud, and a pistol was fired in his direction.
“Stop that!” shouted Mr Frewen. “Look here, my men, if you hand out your weapons through the top of the hatch, and promise not to attempt to escape, food and water shall be passed down, and you shall receive fair treatment till we get into port.”
“Do you hear, my lads?” cried Jarette, loudly. “And when we get in port they’ll hand us over as prisoners. What do you—there, I’ll say it for you,” he continued hastily. “No, no, no! And now listen to me, all you who can hear. You can’t sail into port without us, and you are only proposing a truce because you are growing frightened.”
“Indeed!” said Mr Frewen, coolly.
“Yes, indeed, doctor. I know your voice. Now you take my advice—you and those two passengers. Get back to your cabins, and perhaps I’ll forgive you. We can come on deck now whenever we like, and we’re masters here. If you don’t do as I say, look out, for I warn you I can cover all of you with my pistol, and if I couldn’t I’d sink the ship before you should hold her again.”
“Then you refuse to surrender?” cried Mr Frewen. “Harkye, my lads, below there; don’t let this madman lead you on to your ruin. Will you surrender?”
“Silence below there!” shouted Jarette. “I’ll give him his answer. There!”
He fired, evidently aiming in the direction of Mr Frewen’s voice, for the bullet whizzed over the doctor’s head; when, without waiting for orders, Mr Preddle fired back, and his shot was followed by a sharp ejaculation, suggesting that some one had been hit; but directly after we heard a little talking, and several shots were fired at us, but without effect.
“There,” said Mr Brymer, “we have done our duty by them, we must now do it by ourselves.”
“If we could only master that one man,” said Mr Frewen in the little council of war which followed, “we could manage.”
“Hadn’t you better order the hose to be laid on, Mr Brymer, sir,” said Bob Hampton, “and drown ’em out like rats?”
“It would be punishing the weak with the guilty and strong, my lad,” said Mr Brymer. “I am loth to proceed to extremities.”
“Werry well then, sir, smoke ’em out as you would rats. I dessay the doctor has got some brimstone.”
“Yes, I have, Hampton,” said Mr Frewen; “but, you see, these are men, not rats.”
“That’s a true word, sir.”
“You would not like to kill them all in cold blood, my man?”
“No, sir, that’s a butchery sort o’ way; but I’m ready to give ’em a wopses’ nest squib to bring ’em to their senses.”
“Out of their senses, man!” cried Mr Frewen, impatiently. “It means death, I tell you—wholesale murder. The men, I repeat, are not rats.”
“Well, sir, they’re behaving like ’em, and there’s no gammon about it now. They’re desprit; Jarette’s worked ’em up; and they’ve got the judge to face if we take ’em into port. Strikes me it’s our lives or theirn; but you knows best. I was thinking about the young lady.”
Just then the chopping began again, and Mr Brymer raised his pistol and fired.
The chopping ceased, and there was a burst of loud talking. Then all was still for hours, while a careful watch was kept until morning.