CHAPTER VIII.THE CHASE.
As theMontpelier bowled upon her way, after Lark had so unceremoniously left his prisoners upon the ice, the giant rubbed his hands with delight, and glancing up at the squared topsails, which were now filled by the northerly breeze, he thus communed with himself:
“It’s all right now. A fair wind, and the craft cleared of all unnecessary rubbish. That’s as it should be—that’s equal rights!”
His eye fell upon the steward as he spoke, when he suddenly remembered that he had another duty to perform before he could experience that intense satisfaction which, in his opinion should be felt by the captain of a newly-acquired ship.
So, he dispatched one of the islanders into the cabin for the “cat-o’-nine-tails,” an old heirloom that had descended to Briggs from a nautical grandsire, who was famed for his dexterous and frequent use of this instrument.
The native soon returned, and, armed with this cruel weapon, the chief mutineer advanced to the mizzen shrouds, to commence the work of punishment.
The Portuguese writhed like a serpent beneath the torture, which was inflicted with an unsparing hand, and his screams rung in unearthly peals through every corner of the ship—thrilling the hearts of the New Zealanders even with the most uncomfortable sensations.
The captain, himself, soon became disgusted with these cries, and, wishing to entertain himself in a more agreeable manner, cut the steward loose, and, by a dexterous movement of his right leg, sent him headlong to the companion-way, ordering him, in a very impolite manner, to go below and prepare his dinner.
“Keep a sharp look-out there, ahead!” he shouted to the man upon the look-out, “and if you see any thing in the shape of a boat, let me know it at once!”
“Ay, ay, sir,” responded the islander, as he peered with redoubled vigilance through the thick fog that covered sky and sea.
With another glance aloft, and a hasty look at the compass, Captain Lark then stepped to the companion-way, with the intention of descending and hastening the movements of his steward. But, he had not quite reached the middle of the staircase, when one of those prolonged and unearthly cries, such as only the wild men of the Pacific isles can utter, broke upon his ear and caused him to start.
“Boat, O-o-o!”
And before the shrill, vibrating voice had quite died away, the captain cleared the entrance of the companion-way with a bound, and ordering the man at the wheel to keep off a couple of points, rushed forward and sprung upon the knightheads.
Yes, there it was, sure enough—a boat lying just a little off the starboardbow, within ten fathoms of the ship, with her oars apeak and her crew looming up like grim phantoms in the fog!
“Ship ahoy!” shouted a deep, stentorian voice, which Lark immediately recognized as that of the hoary-headed Briggs; “isn’t that the Montpelier?”
“No,” promptly answered the mutineer, and, as he spoke, the bows of the ship fell rapidly off, “it’s the Neptune!”
“Blow me, but I know that voice!” retorted the mate. “It’s Tom Lark’s, and—and—ay, may I be swallowed by a shark if the craftisn’tthe Montpelier! My eyes can’t deceive me with regard to a vessel I’ve once sailed in! Pull ahead, Mr. Spooner!”
“Ay, ay, sir,” retorted the second mate, and he ordered his crew to take to their oars.
By this time the ship—which had been kept off a couple of points, thus bringing the wind upon the quarter—had forged ahead so far that the boat was now abreast the main-rigging; and, as the oar-blades of its crew splashed in the water, the mutineer rushed to the waist, and watched the approaching vessel with an anxious eye.
“A pull on the lee-braces, men!” he shouted to the three islanders, who, besides the man at the wheel and the stewardin the cabin, now constituted the crew of the Montpelier. They were all strong men, and, with the assistance of their powerful leader, they soon had the yards properly braced, to agree with the new course of the ship. The latter was now booming along through the water, at the rate of eight knots, with a man at the wheel who understood his business; for the New Zealander, besides his readiness in learning to wield the barbed harpoon, soon acquires a good practical knowledge of seamanship. “White Squall”—so named by his shipmates, on account of his fitful temper—was no exception to the rule, and he handled the spokes like a veteran—keeping the vessel so straight that even a frigate’s quartermaster could not have found fault with his steering. Lark’s tormentor, however, was still dashing along toward the ship, with that peculiar rapidity which characterizes the whale-boat—a craft which, being sharp at both ends, and gracefully and lightly modeled, is especially formed for speed. The boat was pulled with “double-banked oars”—that is, Briggs and his party, who were in the boat, assisted the crew of the second mate, and it soon was not further than seven fathoms from the Montpelier, abreast the mizzen rigging; and the grim-visaged Briggs, with a voice which certainly could not fail to make an impression, was doing his utmost to encourage the men.
A suspicion of the truth had flashed across his mind at the moment when Lark answered his hail, and, as there were many thousands of dollars already belonging to him, as his share of the cargo now in the Montpelier, he did not feel at all inclined to allow the vessel to escape him.
“Oh! you lubberly rascal, you! But there’ll be some fine flogging in that craft when I get aboard of it!” he shouted, as Captain Lark, with a pipe in his mouth, and his loaded pistol in his right hand, although kept out of sight, coolly peered at him over the quarter-rail.
“Nonsense,” replied this individual, blowing a defiant puff of smoke toward the boat. “You’ll never get a chance for that, my jolly mate! Twist me if I don’t think it’s an impudent piece of business—your wishing to boardmyship, when I’m not willing you should!”
“Why, you villain!” roared Briggs, perfectly furious; “youtalk as though the vessel belonged to you. I’ll teach you better manners presently!”
“The craftismine,” retorted the mutineer. “You and Captain Howard have enjoyed her and had the good of her for two years. Now,Itake possession, and I doubt, were the ship alive, that she would not be mightily pleased with her change of owners. That’s equal rights!”
During this conversation, the boat had lessened, another fathom, the distance between it and the ship, and Captain Lark became aware that it was time to show a little resistance.
Accordingly, he ordered the three islanders to arm themselves with harpoons, and take their station at his side—a command which they obeyed with alacrity.
“And now,” said the chief mutineer, leveling his pistol at the head of the second mate, “you’ll have the goodness to tell your men to stop pulling. I do not care to have you any nearer, and the sooner you act according tomydirections, the better will it be for you! If you object, I shall be obliged to send a bullet through your brains; but if, on the contrary, you comply, I shall leave you in unmolested possession of your boat. That’s equal rights!”
But the second mate, who was a brave old fellow, and who, having “seen some fighting” in a frigate during the war of 1812, was familiar with gunpowder as well as with whales, coolly eyed the mutineer, and replied:
“Fire, and be hung to you! You can’t scare me with any such little plaything as that; besides which, I know you are nothing of a marksman, and couldn’t hit the broadside of a frigate, though it were but a few fathoms off! Pull ahead, lads!”
“We’ll see about that!” replied Lark, and, taking deliberate aim, he fired.
The second mate did not utter a word of complaint; but the hand that held the steering-oar dropped bleeding and powerless by his side.
Seizing the implement with his left, however, he still encouraged his men, in a low, stern tone, that denoted his sufferings, and the effort he made to prevent the expression of them.
The next moment, Briggs had taken his place, and, tearing off a piece of the boat flag, the wounded man, with theassistance of the after oarsman, proceeded to wind it about the bleeding hand.
As soon as this task was accomplished, his assistant seized the boat-keg, with the intention of pouring some of the fresh water it contained upon the rag. But, of all the precious elements in this world, that simple but invaluable one, fresh water, is most prized, and hoarded with most scrupulous care, by seafaring men, whose prolonged absence from hospitable shores renders it difficult for them to procure a sufficient supply of the treasure. Hence, it followed that Mr. Spooner very promptly and decidedly pushed aside the keg.
“Not a drop,” said he, “shall be wasted on me. We’ll need that water, badly enough, before we get through with this business!”
Another bullet, at this instant, came whistling toward the boat, and, striking the handle of one of the oars, passed through the sleeve of the mate’s jacket.
“Spring, men, spring!” roared Briggs. “Lay back to your oars with a will, and we’ll be aboard the craft before that big rascal can load and fire again.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” replied Lark, as he proceeded to charge both barrels of his weapon. “Some of you must suffer before you board me, if you succeed in doing that little piece of business at all. I shan’t give you any quarter, as why should I? You wish to boardmyship; I don’t wish you to do so. You insist, and I kill some of you men—that’s equal rights!”
“I’ll teach you equal rights with them cat-o’-nine-tails of mine,” thundered Briggs. “They were made for just such rascals as you are.”
“Ay, ay, excellent,” responded Lark. “I’ve been practicing with ’em, and I like ’em pretty well. Now, then, Driko,” he added, turning to that worthy, “let us see what stuff you are made of. Dart your iron, and pin Briggs.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” responded the swarthy islander.
And, bending back, with his long, lithe figure stretched to its utmost tension, he lifted the barbed weapon, and directed the point toward the heart of the mate.
To say that the latter could stand unmoved before the pointof this deadly instrument, directed by an arm and an eye so unerring as those of Driko, would be to declare that Briggs was more than human. He turned pale, and stood prepared to dodge the harpoon, when it should be thrown, and, viewing his emotion, the men relaxed their exertions a little, in order to turn their glances over their shoulders. Then the glimpses which they caught of the uplifted weapon, which the islander had not yet quite placed to his satisfaction, created considerable confusion.
The oars of two of the men “caught crabs,” and the rest fairly turned around upon their thwarts.
“What are you about, there?” yelled Mr. Spooner, with flashing eyes. “The harpoon isn’t pointed at you; it’s directed at Mr. Briggs!”
A fact which that worthy knew but too well, and which, when it was thus verbally expressed by his brother officer, did not inspire him with any very comfortable sensations. He was now “ducking” his head, and twisting himself about in a manner which would certainly have been deemed ludicrous under different circumstances.
“Whiz-z-z!” came the deadly weapon at last, and down went Briggs, with a suddenness that caused him to tumble over the after oarsman. He had dodged the iron in time, but it had passed close to his ear, just grazing it and severing one of his locks.
“Now then, one good dash, men!” he roared, springing to his feet, “and we’ll be alongside!”
But at that instant, another iron came whizzing from the ship, and the ’midship oarsman fell back with a low groan, as the barbed instrument entered his body.
The horror and confusion resulting from this calamity was such that the exertions of the crew at the oars were entirely suspended for some moments; and it was not until the dying sailor had been carefully placed in the stern-sheets, that any thing like order could be restored.
Then the men again took to their oars, although they were now so far astern of the ship that she was nearly out of sight in the thick fog.
“Never mind, lads!” cried the dauntless second mate. “We’ll be up with ’em yet, for if I ain’t mistaken there’ll bea calm before many hours. The breeze has already fallen away a little.”
And so the men, anxious to avenge their shipmate whose dead face and glazed eyes in the stern-sheets, confronted them, tugged and strained at the oars with redoubled energy.
The breeze, as Mr. Spooner had declared, was gradually dying away, and Captain Lark deemed it necessary to set the top-gallant sails, which he now had an opportunity of doing, as the boat was too far astern at present to give any trouble.
The additional canvas, when the yards had been hoisted, and the sails sheeted home, increased the speed of the ship to such a degree that her pursuers could do but little more than keep her in sight; and when an hour had passed with no better result, the oarsmen became so fatigued by their almost frantic exertions, that the breath came from their lips in short, rapid gasps, while the perspiration rolled in big drops from their foreheads.
It was at this juncture that Lark—who stood upon the round-house rubbing his hands with great glee, and mentally predicting the entire discomfiture of Spooner and his crew—was startled by an exclamation from one of the islanders in the waist. He turned quickly, and was still more startled by the sudden apparition of another boat a few fathoms off the lee beam, and rapidly approaching the ship!
“Ship ahoy!” thundered the voice of Captain Howard; “isn’t that the Montpelier?”
“Up helm! Stand by with your harpoons, men!” roared the mutineer, springing to the quarter-deck with a bound and cocking his pistol.
But, before the vessel could fall off a quarter of a point, the bow of the boat struck her side, and a couple of her crew succeeded, a moment afterward, in grasping the man-ropes.
But Lark’s pistol pointed at the head of one of them, and a harpoon directed at the heart of the other, together with a fierce declaration from the mutineer, that he would shoot the first man that attempted to board him, rather startled the two sailors and caused them to let go their hold.
The captain, however, whose previous suspicions of foul play were now confirmed, darted to the bow with readypresence of mind, and, by means of the boat-hook drew the little vessel under the mizzen-chains before she could drop astern, and ordered his harpooner to secure her with a rope. This was soon done, but, at the same instant, the islanders threw their deadly weapons, which would certainly have done terrible execution, had not the bow oarsman, whose eye had not quitted his enemies for a moment, warded them off by means of the drag—a square, thick piece of wood, with a rope attached to the middle. With an oath of disappointment, the mutineer then ordered the islanders to procure more arms, and leaning far over the rail as he spoke, in order to make his aim sure, he directed his pistol at the captain.
But before he could pull the trigger, the boat-hatchet was hurled at his head with unerring precision, by the same courageous seaman who had foiled the murderous intentions of the dusky islanders. The back of the weapon struck the giant upon the temple with great force, felling him to the deck like an ox. Then, arming themselves with lances, the boat’s crew, headed by their captain, scrambled pell-mell up the ship’s side.
Perceiving the uselessness of resistance, as they were outnumbered by six to three, the New-Zealanders surrendered themselves, and every one of them, not excepting the man at the wheel—who was relieved by the orders of the captain, were ironed and thrust into the run. Tom Lark—CaptainLark no longer—who recovered his senses by the time these little preliminaries had been gone through with, was also secured with handcuffs—there are always plenty of these articles in a whaleship—and placed in the hold to enjoy the company of his fellow-conspirators.
“Ay, ay,” said this interesting character, as he was pushed through the open hatchway, “my prospects have received a sudden check. I haven’t had much opportunity to enjoy my newly acquired property, which is no sooner in my hands than it escapes ’em. That isn’t in the vocabulary of equal rights!”
It was about this time that the man at the wheel, upon casting a careless glance over his shoulder, saw the boat of the second mate, which was faintly distinguishable in the fog astern. He notified the captain, who immediatelyhad the main topsail backed and the ship brought into the wind.
But he felt so much anxiety with regard to his niece and her companions—for Driko had at once informed him of the disposition that had been made of them by the chief mutineer—that he scarcely heeded the boat when it dashed alongside.
The hearty shake of the hand which he received from Mr. Spooner, however, as the old man confronted him, recalled him to himself.
“This has been a bad business,” said the poor fellow, as a contortion caused by the pain in his wounded hand passed over his face. “Tom Block was killed!”
“What!” cried the captain, with a start, “Tom—”
“Ay, ay,” interrupted the mate, “killed by a harpoon thrown by one of the mutineers;” and he then proceeded to give a graphic description of the incident.
“I am sorry—very sorry that this has happened!” cried the captain, with much emotion.
“Shall we hoist the boats?” inquired Briggs, at this juncture.
“Ay, ay, the waist-boat, but not mine,” replied the captain, “for I shall presently go in search of Alice!”
“And what shall we do with the body of Tom Block?”
“Sew it up immediately. We will have the burial as soon as we can.”
Accordingly, as soon as the boat had been hoisted, the corpse was placed upon the carpenter’s bench—palms, twine and needles were procured; a piece of an old sail was wrapped around the lifeless form, which was securely stitched up, after a number of bricks had been placed in the bottom of the shroud. Then the flag was hoisted at half-mast, the gangway plank made ready to receive its burden, and the captain, with an open Bible in his hand, stood ready to read the funeral service. The men mustered at the given signal, and, with uncovered heads, listened respectfully to the words that were read to them from the Holy Book. The chapter was well chosen—well calculated to touch the hearts of those rough men with its simple yet beautiful truths, and when the reader had finished, and the shrouded body, after sliding adown the sloping board, dropped into the water with a dull splash—the crew walked forward with a feeling of consolation that they had not dreamedthey could experience so soon after the death of their shipmate.
“He always did his duty—Tom did!” said an old seaman, “and if he don’t go aloft it won’t be his fault!”
“Ay, ay,” responded another, “there’s a good deal of satisfaction in that idea, although it’s hard to lose a chum so sudden-like. I’ll miss him mighty bad—I will—as we always messed together—eating out of the same pan and using the same knife and fork.”
“Thatishard,” responded the old tar, “but after you’ve lost as many chums as I have, you won’t think so much of a matter of this kind.”
Further conversation was now prevented by the voice of the captain ordering the men to wear ship, and as soon as this task had been accomplished, two men were posted upon the knightheads to keep a good look-out.
This duty, however, was soon rendered almost unnecessary, by a dead calm, which fell upon the sea before the vessel had advanced a mile upon her new course. The sails hung motionless upon the yards, and a feeling of unaccountable drowsiness stole over the weary helmsman. He could scarcely keep his eyes open, and it was only the presence of the captain, who, with rapid and impatient strides was walking the quarter-deck, that prevented him from indulging in sleep.
“Mr. Spooner,” said the skipper, addressing the second mate, who was near the companion-way bathing his wounded hand in cold water, “I can’t endure this fearful suspense much longer. I shall have my boat manned immediately after supper, and shall go in search of Alice!”
“Hadn’t you better wait until morning?” said the old man. “We are at the least about four leagues from the ice, by this time, and then in the darkness of the night—it is getting dark even now—coupled with this fog, you won’t stand much chance of finding your niece.”
“I can’t endure this suspense. I should lose my senses before morning! Imustlook for her, and that as soon as possible!”
“Supper is ready, sir!” cried, at this moment, the Portuguese steward, Joseph, thrusting his head through the companion-way.
Joe had escaped the handcuffs by a plausible tale, in which he made it appear that he had no hand in the conspiracy to take the ship, and had exhibited the red stripes upon his back, stating that Lark had flogged him because he rebelled against his measures. Howard, who was not of a suspicious nature, credited this story; but the steward fearing that the prisoners in the run—or if not they, the young harpooner, Harry Marline, and his friend Stump—(in case they should ever be picked up)—would eventually betray him, had resolved to make his escape from the ship as soon as possible.
The helmsman, whose drowsiness has been noticed, had been drugged by the Portuguese, who had presented him with a glass of drugged liquor soon after he took his position at the wheel. The consequence was that, by the time the decks were deserted by the officers and crew—who had gone below to get their suppers—the steersman’s head dropped upon his breast and he fell into a deep slumber.
The next moment the steward—who, under pretense of going to the locker for a certain dish, had contrived to make his way stealthily to the deck—glided to the waist-boat, cautiously glancing around him to make sure that he was not observed, quickly severed with his knife the lashings and also the falls. Then he pushed the vessel overboard, and making his way to the captain’s boat, he sprung into it, severed the rope that held it to the ship, and seized the steering-oar.
“Free!” he muttered, exultingly, as he rapidly sculled the craft away from the Montpelier, and gave the other boat a shove with his foot, “me clear of dis vessel at last, and me soon be picked up by some other ship, for de Ochotsk Sea is full of ’em. De cap’n can no come after me,” he added, glancing toward the waist-boat, which was drifting off with the current. “He! he! he! me serve ’em fine trick. Good idee dat, to cut adrift Spooner’s boat, so dey no can catch me. Dey hang me, sure, if dey did!”
As he spoke he redoubled his exertions, and he was soon so far from the Montpelier that he would have been completely shrouded by the fog from the gaze of any person on deck. The boats were not missed until half an hour afterward. The captain was the first to perceive the loss, which overwhelmed him with astonishment, indignation, and grief. The helmsmanwas awakened and questioned, but he could throw no light upon the subject; and it was not until many hours afterward—when the prolonged absence of the steward from the cabin began to be remarked—that any definite conclusions began to be formed.
“Ay, ay,” said Briggs, in his blunt way, “I alwaysdidsuspect that fellow; and now I feel certain that he has deserted the ship, and that he cut away the other boat to prevent us from catching him!”
“It is a terrible loss,” replied the captain, with a groan—“the loss of those boats, at the present moment; for we have not another in the ship, and so have no means of going in search of Alice. God help her! God help the poor girl!”