Hewas a strange little skipper, Captain Webster, and he asked us aft with some civility, making sundry comments at the insolence of our master, who had the impudence to question his right upon the high seas. We were ushered below and not allowed to remain upon the deck in the hot sun. I saw several men who wore arms, and noticed a gun-rack at the foot of the stairway. But Webster was garrulous and took the trouble to answer no questions. He showed Miss Waters over the cabin, taking her through the forward room, where he had quite a lot of ferns and plants ranged in pots upon a sort of dais. It interested the girl very much to see a miniature greenhouse aboard a ship in mid-ocean, and she spent some time examining the plants. Garnett followed me below and announced that,if we would wait a little, we would have a side of short-ribs to take back for our pains. They were just starting to work upon a couple of hogs as we came aboard. The beer he appreciated very much indeed; as for the papers, he could tell better after he had read them.
As it is always the custom to make presents of whatever vegetables, meat, or other commodity prized by the sailor when deep-water ships are becalmed in company, we showed our appreciation by waiting. I was talking to Garnett and his mate, a tall lanky Scotchman, when a loud noise from forward caused us to listen. There were hoarse cries, deep groans, and above all a steady rush of trampling feet, which told of a desperate struggle. I looked for my charge, Miss Waters, and saw her coming through the cabin doorway, while Webster rushed for the deck. The rest of us followed without delay, and, as we reached the open air, a scene of strife met our gaze. They were after a hog of uncommon size, and the animal was making the fight of his life.
Garnett seized a belaying-pin—his favourite weapon—and his mate grabbed a bar. The next instant they were in the fracas.
Knowing Miss Waters was safe in the saloon, I made my way to the break of the poop to see the scrimmage, and as I did so the animal came racing down the deck.
The cook who had him in charge made the first pass, and ripped the skin of the animal’s neck enough to madden him, and in ten seconds the beast had broken away and was in full career on the lower deck. Men crowded after him, flung themselves upon him, stabbed, fought, and struggled, but the noble beast tore his way clear of all obstacles and dragged the entire watch into the forward cabin, smashing through doors and furniture until it looked as though a cyclone had ripped through the ship. All attempts to seize his legs and trip him were in vain. One man, clasping him boldly about the neck, was carried until scraped off against a bulkhead like a barnacle on a pile. Two men, each holding to his hind legs, weredragged the entire length of the ship amid the cheers of their comrades, who in turn seized their own legs and endeavoured to hold them back. At the turn of the cabin door a dozen more men fell upon the animal and endeavoured by sheer weight to hold him down. The captain coming down the poop steps to see the fracas was struck by the moving mass of men and hog, and he disappeared beneath them, to emerge a moment later covered with blood and glory. For ten minutes the noble animal made his fight, dodging past hatchways, through open doors, and with never less than five, and generally more than fifteen, stout seamen in his wake. Cheered on by the cook and first officer, and spurred to desperation by the curses of the thoroughly indignant captain, the men fought until their clothing was in rags and the perspiration poured from them. The modern game of football would have made a poor showing on that ship’s deck, for, in spite of all massed plays, the pig would gallantly emerge from the pile of rolling seamen, and with a steady “Hough,hough,” raised in battle-cry, charge again and again. For a long time the savage play was kept up until the men looked as though they belonged to the boarding party of a hostile ship. They finally conquered. For their hard-earned victory, the captain rewarded them with the four feet of the hero, about enough meat upon them to satisfy the ship’s cat.
In less than ten minutes afterward, we had a prime piece of pork in our small boat, along with some apples Webster had managed to save, and we were ready for the row back aboard theArrow.
The little skipper of theCountess of Warwickcame to the side and ushered Miss Waters over in a most gallant manner.
“It has given me great pleasure, madam, I might say even delight, to have had the honour of your society upon my ship. You may tell your insolent uncle that I forgive him his trespass upon me this voyage, for this is the day of all days we should be thankful that we are in no worse condition than that in which we find ourselves. I bidyou farewell. It is now time that I let some of my cargo out upon the deck for an airing.”
We shoved off and started back, and in a few moments it seemed that the decks of theWarwickwere crowded with men. I made no comment, for there was little use of calling the girl’s attention to their garb. The ship lay at some distance and the sun was very hot, so I let the men row slowly.
Suddenly the sunshine seemed to grow dimmer. I looked around over the calm ocean, and noticed what looked to be a sort of mist close aboard.
“Aye tank something is going to happen,” said the man rowing the bow oar. “Look, sur, at the ship.”
Turning, I saw the light canvas coming in by the run. The noise of gear sounded distinctly over the water. Then, suddenly, the mist seemed to envelop theWarwick, and as it did so there fell upon my ears a thundering thrashing of flying canvas, and I saw her heel heavily over as she disappeared in the smudge.
“White squall,” I yelled, and swung the boat’s head around to face the wind. “Hold her steady, head to it,” I cried, and at that moment a blast of wind rushed over the sea, pushing up the foam ahead of it like a wall of snow. We had just time to get the boat straightened out to meet it when it struck us.
A storm of flying water swept over us, but the men, bending all their weight to the oars, held the craft head to the wind, while with the rudder I gave what help I could. TheCountess of Warwickhad completely disappeared, and the rush of the wind and sea about us quickly blotted out everything save the ocean close alongside. It blew like the blast from a gun, whirling, whistling over us. Then in less than five minutes down came a deluge of water. The wind was over.
I felt a small hand grasp mine holding the tiller rope. Then I looked into the face of the girl, and her eyes met mine.
Ten minutes later the sun broke out from behind the bank with unabated vigour. TheArrowlay a mile away with some of her lighter canvas hanging from the yards.
“I wonder what uncle will say,” said Miss Waters.
“What he will say will be of small interest,” I answered. “It is more important what he will do. However, let’s hope there was little damage done and that he is still in good humour.”
“I see now why he didn’t think it any too safe,” she said.
“It was the finest squall I ever saw,” I answered, “and it has done more to make me thankful than anything that has happened to me for some years.”
“Perhaps you will enjoy the pork just as much,” she commented, but she let her gaze fall to the bottom of the boat and said no more until we were alongside.
Inthe windjammer, the tropical doldrums are usually the scene of more or less fun. The scupper holes are plugged and a tremendous downpour soon fills the main-deck a foot deep with clean fresh water. The decks of deep-loaded ships are often so much under water that seaweed grows upon them, and they are consequently apt to be clean after the growth is removed. The main-deck’s hatches make a shallow amidships, and all across the broad width the water rolls with the heave of the ship. In the waterways it is often two feet deep.
In this huge tub the sailor takes his semi-annual bath. He does not bathe alone, neither does he overlook any of his belongings. Everything washable, from blankets to breeches, is laid out upon the white deck planks and rubbed with soap. After a foamylather is formed upon the large pieces, he will slide upon them like the small boy does upon ice, his feet gathering up a bow-wave of lather and dirt. Then the wash is dragged into deeper water for a rinsing.
At such times “skylarking,” as it is called, is indulged in freely. The men chase each other about the deck, splashing water and whipping each other upon the naked skin with wet clothes. Sometimes a sailor would be initiated into untying a most complicated knot which some wag would tie in his trouser legs, while a shipmate engaged him in conversation. It is said that, if cleanliness is next to godliness, the sailor’s soul is doomed, but this must surely be a fallacy, as no man can be very filthy who does not have to bathe but once or twice a year.
In the trade-winds’ belts, where the wind is steady and sail is seldom handled from one day’s end to another, many original kinds of amusements are indulged in upon ships whose masters stand for frolics. Checkers and squeaking fiddles, which are a part of all forecastle accessories, are laid aside, andboxing taken up. There are never any gloves, and the test of skill invariably ends in a mix-up in which rules are superfluous and absurd. Dancing is common, and there are few sailors who cannot do a fair trick with the feet, if some one will produce a mouth-organ and play and “pat” for them.
We allowed the usual routine of this sort, and it did the men good, for they were a dirty set at best, much dirtier than American or English seamen. After a good shave all around they presented a passable appearance. Day after day the hot calm continued, and always at sunrise the sails of the English ship were upon the horizon. As we would head the same course to the Cape, this was not remarkable, but somehow the presence of the vessel worried me unaccountably.
Three days later, while it was still calm, we drifted close to her again and Crojack’s comments upon her master’s navigation brought forth a torrent of invective from both Garnett and Webster that would be impossible to equal.
It was now plainly evident the vessel wewere in company with was one of the English prison transports used for carrying convicts from England to the outlying colonies. The passengers aboard this one were to be transported for terms of years varying from five to that of an ordinary lifetime. They were, therefore, dangerous men, and had to be handled carefully. The armed guard of soldiers sent along to keep control were apparently numerous enough to handle them, but I knew well enough that a vessel of that kind should not have a fool for a commander.
“Why is it, Mr. Gore,” Miss Waters said to me as I came aft, “that sailors are so brutal and rough?”
“Are they?” I asked.
“What do you think of the officers of that ship? Are they such as you would term gentlemen by any stretch of the imagination? I’ve read sea-tales, and all of them picture the American captains and mates as brutes. Don’t you think it is so?” And she smiled wickedly.
“I think the man who writes or says allthe American or English officers are brutes is a bit prejudiced,” I answered. “Whatever roughness they have in their natures, though, must certainly have gotten there while they were sailors before the mast. Take that Garnett, for instance. All the deviltry he knows—and he has learned something—he picked up while a sailor before the mast. I’m sorry, however, that you don’t care for sailors.” And I turned away. When I looked aft again, I saw Miss Waters had gone below and I deplored my temper and stupidity. Here I was trying, without doubt, to be civil and attentive to a young woman, and what a mess I made of it. I was a poor lover, though a strong one, and I reasoned that a weaker and less sensitive nature could give me long odds at the game. My solace was my pipe, and while I smoked I felt my spirits return, for the voyage would be a long one. We were only half-way and much might happen yet.
All day the vessels were within hailing distance, and at noontime we saw the guard of six soldiers—there were a dozen or moreon board—taking a gang of convicts out on the main-deck to give them air and exercise.
As darkness came on, a squall of rain, accompanied by a light air, drifted theArrowa mile or more to the eastward. Then it fell calm again and the night was hot and sultry.
I was very nervous that evening. Something oppressed me, and I chafed at the seeming indifference Miss Waters had shown that day for the passion I had been unable to conceal.
On turning in I found it was impossible to sleep, and I lay awake in my bunk thinking thoughts concerning Brown that I afterward tried to forget.
O’Toole’s step sounded loudly on the deck overhead, and the creaking of a brace sheave, when the slight swell made the ship roll, sounded loud and distinct.
It was four bells in the midwatch when I heard an exclamation from the second mate. At first I thought he was talking to the men in his watch, who usually lay, orrather sat, in a group abaft the deck-house during the calm weather. With one on the t’gallant fo’castle as lookout and another at the wheel, there were ten men left with nothing to do but keep awake.
I was wide-awake when I heard the second mate’s voice again. This time he appeared to hail some one at a distance. Thinking this strange, I listened intently.
Suddenly I heard a low, regular sound. There was no mistaking the noise; it was the regular, rocking sound made by oars in rowlocks, and the swing of the oars was quick.
A man hailed us at no great distance, but I couldn’t make out what he said. Then the oar-strokes grew louder, and I raised myself on my elbow.
All of a sudden O’Toole roared, “All hands! Mr. Gore! Help!” and a rifle-shot rang out sharp and clear, followed by a terrific uproar alongside the ship.
I made a dive to the foot of my bunk and grasped a revolver that lay there on a small shelf. The next instant I burst through thedoor of the forward cabin on to the main-deck.
In the darkness I heard O’Toole’s oaths near the port side amidships. I had no idea what had happened, but through the gloom I made out a crowd of men struggling about an object which I rightly guessed to be the second mate’s red head. Men’s faces appeared by the score coming over the bulwarks, and I realized that we were being boarded.
Then I plunged into the crowd, bawling for the watch to lay aft and help.
The second mate was surrounded by a throng of strange men, and was laying about him with an iron belaying-pin, warding off thrusts from knives and cutlasses.
Before I could reach him a dozen or more set upon me and I backed away, firing chamber after chamber of my revolver at the men nearest to me.
I heard shouts from aft, and Crojack’s hoarse voice from the companionway. Then there was rapid firing from all quarters at once.
Men swarmed over the t’gallant-rail and fired at our men crowding under the fo’castle head.
A tall man in front of me flashed a pistol so close to my face that it almost blinded me and the powder burnt my cheek.
I took deliberate aim at him with my last cartridge and shot him dead. Then they closed in on all sides and bore me to the deck. I felt a knife point at my throat, but the next instant a hand dashed the blade aside and a powerful voice ordered that I be bound hand and foot.
Men crowded about me and upon me. In spite of my struggles, my empty revolver was wrenched from my grasp and a line quickly passed around my body, lashing my arms to my sides.
I saw O’Toole fighting like a demon. Twice a dozen or more men bore him by sheer weight to the deck. But he fought free, as a bulldog in a swarm of rats. Each time he went down, struggling fiercely, and instantly afterward arose, dragging the crowd of men to their feet along with him.
Cutlasses flashed, but there was no chance to use them in the crush. He struck out with both fists, the men clinging to him, and whether belaying-pin or knuckles landed, the man dropped who caught the blow.
It was inspiring to see the red-headed giant fling about him, and I found myself cheering him on.
“On, O’Toole, for ever!” I yelled, almost laughing as he knocked a man over, and he bawled out something in reply, at the same time struggling with renewed vigour.
It was too unequal a fight to last long. A tall man reached over his comrades’ heads and dealt the second mate a heavy blow over the ear with a handspike, and that ended the fight as far as that officer was concerned.
The firing continued on the poop for a few moments longer. Then Crojack’s hoarse cries ceased, and I knew what had happened aft.
A man came forward and gave an order in the deep, strong voice I had noticed before, and the next instant O’Toole and I were dragged aft along the deck and into thecabin. There we were bundled into a heap with Captain Crojack and Brown, both of the latter being wounded.
The old skipper lay panting hard and, although I couldn’t see what he had done on deck, I knew he had made a desperate fight for his ship.
We understood now what had happened, so there was little to be said. I found myself thinking of old Bill Garnett, and wondered if the convicts had killed him and the rest of the officers on his ship. Then the thought of the women on board our vessel flashed through my mind for the first time.
I looked at Crojack and was about to ask him a question, but he read the look in my eyes and turned away his face. I heard him give a deep groan. Then I knew what was to happen.
As the uproar died away forward, the men swarmed into the cabin, and for the first time, by the aid of the cabin lamp, we had an opportunity to get a good look at the convicts’ faces.
All of them were pale from the effects oflong confinement, but their bristling, uncombed hair and beards gave them a fierce appearance. Many of them were blear-eyed and unsteady on their feet from the effects of the rum they had captured.
They had taken their vessel, as we learned by their talk, shortly before midnight. They had planned the affair carefully and had risen in a body, overpowering the guard by sheer force of numbers. After this they had taken their arms, and, after a desperate fight with the crew and after-guard, they were in possession of the ship.
All of them appeared to be rough men, except the man whose powerful and commanding voice I had heard above the general uproar. He was followed everywhere by a few who kept close at either hand, and the way he roared out orders told plainly that he was the leader.
He was a tall, fine-looking young man, and his powerful frame showed in marked contrast to the rest. But it was his face that appeared most different from those of his followers. Every line in it spoke theleader, and every feature, from the fierce, bright eyes to the square, heavy jaw, spoke the man of indomitable spirit and sudden action.
When I first had a good look at him I could hardly believe such a fine-looking man could be a great villain. It was easy to gather from the remarks of his companions, however, that his appearance belied him, and that even the worst of them stood in awe of his passions. Afterward, when I had learned his history, I realized the enormous power for evil that this man was capable of and the great influence he held over nearly all with whom he came in contact.
It was he who had planned the uprising and had taken advantage of the calm weather when he was allowed on deck to communicate with his fellows.
As he entered the cabin where we lay, the men who were ransacking some of the skipper’s lockers desisted, and their shouting and swearing moderated a little. He forced his way through the crowd without noticing any one and strode up to where we lay. Hestopped and gazed at us a few moments, and then, speaking in a low tone to a couple of the ruffians who followed at his heels, he started up the companionway.
The two men spoken to remained behind and sat on the transom near us, holding away from the rest of their fellows and evidently watching us closely, although we were all four fairly wrapped in coils of rope.
I turned my head to see where the leader had gone, and as I saw his head pass the opening of the hatch I noticed his face was reflecting a ruddy glare of light.
A loud exclamation from Brown, who lay staring up through the skylight, made me turn my eyes in the direction he was looking and I saw the lurid glare reflected on the hoisted spanker.
Crojack tried to turn, but was too weak. “It’s theCountess of Warwick,” he gasped, “and these devils intend to stay aboard of us. Is O’Toole dead?” and he tried to look into the face of his second mate.
“He made a great fight,” I answered, “but he got a clip on the head from a handspike.What did these fellows fire their ship for?”
“Just to take this one so no one will recognize them,” answered the old man.
“And us?” asked Brown, “what will they do with us?”
“We’ll have to go the way Garnett went, I guess,” gasped Crojack, “though I wouldn’t mind it so much if it wasn’t for those poor women. Mrs. Waters got a bullet meant for me. She won’t live till morning. Shot through the breast—”
“But Miss Waters?” I managed to get out in a whisper.
“Locked in my stateroom and that tall devil has the key.”
Whatmy thoughts were when I realized the position of the woman I loved I can hardly remember.
I am a plain sailor-man, and, perhaps, a rough one. But I believe my skin is no thicker than most men’s.
Now, when I look back on that time and remember what I went through, I try to think if it would have been any better for the people who look down on me, or if I would have been a better man had I acted differently.
I’m not a man to cry out against the rulings of a fate I’ve fought against with all my power. If I’m looked down upon as an untrustworthy man, I’m willing to take my rating accordingly. I know I’m shunned and called a pirate by some, but I still feel as if I did about what might have been expected from one in my position and condition, and that I was as near right as possible.
I know, also, that Brown acted from as good an impulse as I did, although it may not have been the same. Had old Captain Crojack lived he would have made it plainer to landsmen why we stood together in the part we played. But I don’t mean to say that the honest old fellow would have joined us.
As it was, before eight bells in the morning Captain Crojack was stark and stiff, lying dead where they had left him on the cabin floor. He had received several wounds after Mrs. Waters was shot, while she was clinging to him.
Not a word of complaint about himself had passed his lips. He died the man he had lived, and the deep-water fleet lost one of the best and bravest men that ever trod a quarter-deck.
At eight bells this convict, Benson, who now had command of the ship with a hundred and more men for her desperate crew, came into the after cabin.
There were only the two men left to watch us in there of this gang, and he glanced quickly at them and then at us.
Then he took a key from his pocket, opened the door of the captain’s stateroom, and entered there alone.
In a few moments I heard a piteous cry, followed by the noise of a slight scuffle. Then all was quiet. Something seemed to swell within me as if my whole life or spirit was striving to burst forth from my lashed body. I remember that I suddenly found myself with my mouth open, gasping for breath. Then I strained every nerve and sinew to start my lashings. I saw nothing, but felt a strand of rope give slightly. Steadily I kept the strain until it seemed as if I was losing consciousness. Then I felt the rope part across my chest and I forced one arm free. The next instant the two men were upon me.
They were powerful men. I struggled and fought fiercely in the vain effort to free myself, but the coils wrapped me closely from my shoulders to my ankles. I bent anddoubled and struck out savagely with my free arm. But it was no use.
They pinned me down and soon had another turn around my arm and I lay helpless. One of the villains, however, got his hand too near my mouth and I cut the thumb from it with my teeth as clean as if done with a knife. Then something crashed upon my head and a great flame burned before my eyes. The struggle was over.
When I regained consciousness from the blow, an hour or two afterward, the blood was running from my nose and mouth in a thin stream. A hurricane roared in my ears, but I could see objects distinctly. The red fluid ran down the deck seams and trickled on to O’Toole’s cheek, rousing him as it became cold. I remember watching it with a feeling of indifference, except that I hoped it would continue to run.
Benson came out of the stateroom and stood languidly resting his elbow against the bulkhead. His face wore a devilish smile and his dark eyes looked straight and steadily into mine. His shirt was open at thefront and I recall the smooth white skin of his neck. I watched him closely and hoped he would come near enough to me. If he had, bound and lashed as I was, I should have killed him with my teeth. I was breathing hard, but otherwise I was cool and collected. “You are the mate,” said the convict leader in a low, even tone, still looking me in the eye and smiling.
O’Toole moved his head slightly and I saw that he was aware of what the man was saying.
“I’ll give you three men the choice of joining or leaving,” went on Benson. “You will have to navigate the ship to where we want to go. What is it, stay or leave?”
“Me friend,” said O’Toole in a strained voice, “ye cannot expect me ter spake with th’ rope a-cuttin’ through me. I can’t think av th’ proposition till ye’ll loosen a few turns av th’ gaskets about me wind.”
Whether it was my desire to live in order to revenge myself upon this felon, Benson, or whether it was the thought of staying and doing what I could for the girl, that swayedme most, I leave people to judge for themselves. I will admit that these two ideas were the only ones in my head at the time, but I cannot honestly recall which of them governed me the most. I know that I never wished to live, before or since, with the desire that came upon me at that moment.
Thoughts come rapidly to a man used to emergencies, and I made up my mind what to do before O’Toole had ceased speaking.
I saw the light in Benson’s eyes when he turned his gaze toward the second mate. Although the matted beard he wore partly covered the smiling movement of the convict’s mouth, I felt that he had passed sentence on O’Toole at that glance. He remained perfectly quiet, however, and awaited my answer. I know that some people have said that men, such as Crojack, O’Toole, and myself, ought to have given better account of ourselves in a fight where we knew it was almost certain death to be beaten. But we were not story-book heroes. We were just plain sailor-men.
There were only three convicts killed inthe fight and four wounded. Three of these latter had the unmistakable marks of the second mate’s belaying-pin on their heads.
With the exception of the big-shouldered German sailor in my watch, the men had offered no resistance whatever. This one man had made some show of resistance when cornered under the t’gallant fo’castle, but he was quickly overpowered.
O’Toole and myself were strong men, but what did that count for in such a crowd. Crojack and Brown had defended the quarter-deck until they were shot down and overpowered. They were but two against fifty.
I knew that every man of our crew who would not join would walk the plank long before daylight.
There had been no unnecessary noise about it. The deep, sullen murmur of angry voices forward, followed by splashes alongside, told plainer than words what Benson meant to do with us unless we joined him in his crime.
I knew, also, that he would not suspect the feeling I bore toward his poor victimleft in the captain’s cabin, and if I stayed, I might watch for my chance for either rescue or revenge. Even if rescue were out of the question, I felt that nothing could save the villain’s life, should I once again be free.
Therefore, I looked him straight in the eyes and answered:
“I promise to join you for good or bad. Turn me loose and give your orders.”
“And you?” he said, quietly, addressing Brown.
“I’ll follow Mr. Gore in anything,” he answered.
O’Toole gasped, struggled, and half-rose in a sitting posture, crying out:
“My God! Mr. Gore! Mr. Gore! What have ye done? What have ye done?”
Benson opened the door in the bulkhead which separated the fore and after cabins, and instantly three men, who appeared to be his chief followers, entered and cut my lashings and cast me adrift to my ankles. These fellows had evidently been listening and waiting for this.
Then they handed me a sheet of paper and placed pen and ink on the cabin table. I was requested to write that agreement with Benson that stated I joined him of my own free will. This paper was used against me at the trial to prove my piracy. I wrote it and signed it without being threatened in any way.
After that my ankles were freed and Brown was cast loose. He was bleeding slightly from a bullet-hole through his leg, and could scarcely stand from weakness caused by the loss of blood, which had continued for hours.
He was given the paper and pen and he wrote as I had already written.
O’Toole was loosened as far up as his waist and allowed to stand. He avoided our looks, and stood with his gaze bent on a seam in the planking beneath his feet.
His great red head bore a gash above his ear, and the clotted blood made a sickening spectacle. But his spirit was neither bent nor broken.
“’Twould have been better if we was allkilled in th’ scuffle,” he said, in a deep, sad voice. It may have been the roaring in my head from the blow I received, but there was something in his tone that made me think of the low, deep murmur of the sea on a quiet night.
“I’ve lived too long already, but if I’d lived t’ be a hundred I’d never expected to see a thing like that,” and he looked at the paper on the table. “I’ll take the walk on nothin’, me friend, for there ain’t no power you’ve got can make a damned, dirty convict av th’ second mate av this ship.”
At that moment I felt meaner than I would care to own, and I noticed that Brown was busy bandaging his wounded leg. A sudden feeling of shame came over me, and, for an instant, I glanced around the cabin for a weapon to make a last rally. Then my eye fell upon that stateroom door, and I remembered.
Men crowded suddenly through the door of the forward cabin, and O’Toole was led out to his doom.
As I saw him hold his head up, and ahard, determined look settle over his seamed and lined face when he turned away, my voice came back to me, and I called loudly for my captain.
I had learned the villain’s name before this. He had no intention of leaving Brown and myself alone in the cabin, so he turned at my hail and stood in the doorway.
“Give him a chance,” I said. “Don’t do that!” and I pointed forward.
The scoundrel raised his eyebrows and drew a revolver from his belt. He slowly cocked the weapon, while men crowded up on either side.
“If you murder him, I’ll stand by him,” I said, and I began to measure my distance. “You may set him adrift and let him take his chance.”
He was no fool, this Benson, and saw that if he killed us both there would be no one aboard he could depend on to navigate the ship. A vessel adrift is an awkward thing, especially if she is overcrowded with desperate men.
He held his pistol lower and I saw that he was hesitating, so I took my advantage.
“Put him in one of the small boats with grub and water and give him a chance for his life. He don’t know where we are going, and can do no harm even if he is picked up,” I argued.
The pistol went down to his hip.
“I give orders aboard this ship,” he said, “and don’t let me hear from you again. Come on deck and show me what the men would like to do. If it’s convenient I may have it done. You are one of us and have a right to ask questions; but don’t let me hear any orders.”
Some of the men appeared disappointed at the ending of the affair, and I fancy most of them would have been better pleased if their leader had shot me. One heavy-set, short ruffian, who stood at Benson’s side, glared savagely at me as I went on deck.
I looked about me for a sign of a ship, but there was nothing in sight. We were drifting ahead before a light air, so Icouldn’t tell whether theCountess of Warwickhad burned and foundered or been left astern.
The deck about me was crowded with men. I looked to see if there was any trace of the scuffle, and I saw several dark smears on the white planking that told of either the second mate’s belaying-pin or my revolver.
On the starboard hand, amidships, was a heavy plank run out over the topgallant rail, about two fathoms beyond the vessel’s side. Its inner end was lashed fast and a crowd of men with pale faces and rough beards stood near it. That big-shouldered German, who had fought like a man, was being led toward it. Behind him came O’Toole. They were the last to go. Benson meant to leave but little to chance and he intended to leave no witnesses to hang him. I’ve no doubt that he meant to get rid of me in the same manner, after he had used me to take him where he intended to go.
The German sailor halted at the innerend of the plank. His arms were lashed fast to his sides, but his legs were free.
He was lifted or pushed up the steps set against the rail and then he stood on the plank’s end.
“Walk!” came the hoarse order from a lean scoundrel.
The German hesitated and the command was followed by a thrust from a boarding cutlass.
Instead of walking to the end, he turned quickly. The convict’s face was within a couple of feet of the plank.
He looked down on the villain coolly while he measured the distance with his eye. Then he kicked out so fully that the convict dropped as if shot. Both of his eyes were ruined and he never could see well enough afterward to get about the deck alone.
Then the sailor walked slowly out over the side, while several convicts aimed their pistols at him. As he reached the farthest end of the plank he started to turn around. Several reports cracked out, and I saw himsway from the bullet-strokes. Then he fell with a splash and was gone.
O’Toole was led up next. His face was hard set and he walked with a firm step. He reached the steps at the rail and a crowd of men started to push him up.
“Bring him aft!” roared Benson, and the men hesitated.
The leader’s hand went to his belt, but he did not repeat the order.
His short henchman, who had stuck to his side, plunged his heavy-set body into the crowd and reached those nearest the second mate. Three more of the leaders then helped clear the way, while Benson stood there with his pistol out. The arms the convict ship had carried to control her cargo were the principal cause of her loss. A revolver, backed by a man like Benson, was an affair of authority that few men would care to dispute.
O’Toole was led aft to the quarter-deck.
“Bring a boat alongside,” ordered Benson.
Several boats were towing astern, where
“GAZING SILENTLY AFTER US, ADRIFT AND ALONE.”
“GAZING SILENTLY AFTER US, ADRIFT AND ALONE.”
“GAZING SILENTLY AFTER US, ADRIFT AND ALONE.”
they had been dropped by the convicts after they had gained the deck.
One of these, a double-ended craft, was hauled alongside.
There was a breaker of water in the stern-sheets, and several oars lay upon the thwarts. A man was sent below and presently he came back with a bag of ship’s biscuit which he tossed over the side into the boat. O’Toole’s lashings were cast adrift as he stood in the mizzen channels, and he was shoved into her. A man let go the painter, forward, and, before the second mate could turn around, he was adrift and going slowly astern.
I watched him as he stood there in the sunlight, while the breeze, which just ruffled the ocean, made long, dark streaks in the water around his boat. I thought of his past and what a fine mate he had been. Rough man as he was, he appeared grand to me, standing there gazing silently after us, adrift and alone.
The ruffians crowded to the rail and hailed him with jeers and curses.
He remained silent and motionless, with his arms folded and his head bowed slightly forward, until he drifted slowly out of sight.
I tried to bid him farewell, but the words stuck in my throat.
Benson’s voice sounded behind me, and I turned.
The breeze had increased, and I was ordered to lay a course to the southward. After a good deal of bungling I finally had the ship braced sharp up to the southeast trade, which we were now beginning to feel, and when I had a chance to look about me again there was nothing in sight astern save the blue sea and sky.
I amnot going to dwell too long on that cruise under Benson and describe its horrible details; there are enough hard things in the future, without going back into the past. Any one who has a morbid taste for listening to tales of deviltry will have to get someone else to go into the minor incidents of that strange voyage.
As to that convict Benson, I will say that the excesses and mutinies that he overcame and put down with an iron hand showed the power of the man’s character. Had he been a man of principle, a better one never lived to command a ship. Authority was in every tone of his voice and every motion of his hand; but he was a villain and his ship was a floating hell.
When we headed away to the s’uth’ard he had a ship and crew capable of keeping theseas for a couple of months at the least, and the men were ready for any known or unknown crime. Ten of our men had joined.
Benson was not very communicative, but I gathered from his remarks that he had been pretty nearly everything that was bad and very little of anything that was good. He certainly appeared well informed on all subjects. I learned from the men that he was but little over thirty years old and that he had a life sentence against him. Afterward I found out that it was for a desperate attempt upon a Dublin bank, where two officers were killed on surprising the gang of burglars at work.
There were all kinds of wild stories told about him among the men, and, although they were perhaps greatly exaggerated, he certainly appeared equal to any occasion where coolness and nerve were to be depended on.
He gave me orders to head the ship for the coast of Patagonia and drive her to the southward with all possible speed.
The plan that he and his closest followershad worked out was to make a landing on this wild coast and then divide into bands. After doing this they would separate and each band would work out its own salvation.
They had, apparently, nothing to fear from theCountess of Warwick. She had been set on fire, with the survivors of her crew on board, bound securely hand and foot. Then the convicts had taken to the boats with the fixed intention of capturing theArrowand sailing away as peaceable Yankee merchantmen. So far their plans had worked out well.
Six Swedes, two dagos, the cook, and steward, from the crew of theArrow, joined the gang. The rest of our men were forced to go overboard, three alive and the others killed in the fracas when the mutineers came over the side. Gus, a big Swede, who had been in my watch, spoke to me the first night afterward while I stood at the edge of the poop. He was coiling down the foretopsail brace, and the crowd of convicts who had tailed on left him alone to do the work.
“I had to join, Mr. Gore,” said he in a whisper, “but if there’s a way out let me know, den. I go wid you. A man only lives once. I radder be a live pirate dan a dead admiral, but if dere’s a chance, I go wid you an’ take de chance.”
“Is there any other man who will stand by us?” I asked.
“Aye tank dere’s de cook. He fight if dere’s a show.”
“He’s enough. Let him speak with me the first chance he gets,” I said.
Benson saw we were close together and probably talking, so he came up.
“I say, Gore,” said he, “this is a fine night for a run. How much do we do an hour?”
“About seven and a half knots,” I answered.
“Will this wind hold for a long time, long enough for us to make a good many miles toward Patagonia?”
I said I thought it was the trade and would hold for a couple of weeks, whenwe might expect to run out of it in the latitude of the River Plate.
“Well, Gore,” said he, “you seem to be a capable sort of fellow, and I like you. It isn’t every man I like, now I tell you. If you do the square thing and get us to the southward of the river, not too far, but far enough so we can make a good get-away from the ship, I’ll not forget you.”
“I appreciate my position thoroughly,” I answered, “and also your commendation, but what’s to become of me when we get down to where you want to leave the ship? Do I get a fair show on the beach, or am I expected to stick to the vessel?”
“Well, you will go with me, if you do the right thing. I’m a square man to deal with.”
I have always been suspicious of the man who proclaims his honesty to the world. I never knew a really honest man to say he was square. But this fellow’s tone and manner was so like that of many a shipping merchant I had had dealings with, I almost laughed.
Benson saw the glimmer of my smile in the moonlight and evidently thought me pleased with the prospect, for his tone was even more conciliating as he went on.
“If there’s anything of value in the ship, of value which can be turned into ready money, understand, let me know about it,” he went on. “We will go halves on whatever you can turn to account. There don’t seem to be much that we could take ashore with us except the nautical instruments, and I suppose they would excite suspicion if we tried to sell them.”
“We might bond the ship,” I said, “by taking her into Buenos Ayres, and then make a quick get-away to the southward. If you are a good hand at forgery you might get out some kind of papers that would pass at the custom house long enough for us to get the money and clear out.”
“No, there’s too many of us. The rest could not be kept under long enough for any such deal. You see that we don’t get too close to the river. We must take our chances with the little we have.”
“Do you mean to sink her?” I asked.
“No, burn her,” he said, “and do you think it would be best for all of this crowd to get ashore at once?”
I saw his hideous meaning. The fellow was making it pretty clear that I was never to get ashore at all. There was every prospect of the large majority of the convicts remaining aboard, for Benson certainly never meant that half a hundred men should be turned loose upon South America to tell of their happenings. Just how he intended to dispose of the mass was the question.
“We have six boats,” I said, “and they will hold every one aboard easily, if the weather isn’t too rough.”
“A ship will always sink after she is burned, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Yes, if she is burned deep enough,” I answered.
“Well, she will be burned deep enough and the weather will be very rough. We will need all the boats to carry what stuff we can pick up.”
“What do you mean to pick up?” I asked.
“Now, I say, Gore, you must know that men can’t live without money. The first sail we sight you will report to me. It’s probable that all vessels going this way carry something of value, isn’t it?”
I said I thought it was.
“Well, then, we must take what we can get and not take too much trouble asking about the ownership. You get your share, you see, and I expect you to give a good account of yourself in a fracas. You’re a stocky built fellow and put up a good fight the day we took you. Now you must show what you can do taking the other fellow in turn.”
“I see,” I said, “I reckon I’ll do my share.”
“If it wasn’t for the risk, I would like to keep cruising along indefinitely,” said Benson. “Life is very pleasant aboard a fine ship, especially when one has a wife and good crew.”
I would have jumped him then andthere if Johnson had not come up at the moment. I turned my face to windward and gazed out over the ocean sparkling in the moonlight, and wondered how I managed to control myself. The grim horror of the ship passing along over that sparkling sea like some great black spectre in the night was almost unbearable. Like a great, black, ghostly shadow she slid along over the smooth sea, not a light burning aboard her and her crew of villains resting easily in the warm air. I tried to keep my thoughts from Benson and his deviltries, and wondered if there really were an intelligent power governing the universe, and if so, why these things could happen. And yet I knew they were happening elsewhere continually and it was the part of man to bear them as best he might.
I drilledenough active men aside from the men of theArrow, and divided them into watches for a crew; so I managed to keep canvas on the ship and get about all there was out of her in regard to speed. The weather was perfect, and there was no call to do much else than steer and tend the braces. A few of the convicts had been to sea before, and these I used for work aloft. As soon as Brown’s leg was well enough to allow him to stand on deck he relieved me as far as attending to the steering.
I worked out the ship’s position every day at noon, and Benson would pick it off carefully on a chart pinned to the cabin table. But we were never alone together a moment. The four men who acted as Benson’s lieutenants were always at hand, and the heavy-set short villain, Johnson, was always on deck when his master was below.
Brown and I seldom had a chance to speak to each other. A score of eyes were upon us all the time when we were on deck, on the lookout for any act of treachery. I could see by Brown’s look of inquiry that he was trusting to my knowledge of seamanship to get us out of the difficulty. Once he came near me and asked: “What’s the chance?” But that heavy-set devil, Johnson, saw him speak to me, though he couldn’t hear what was said, and he came up to us with a string of oaths and ordered Brown forward.
I don’t think I slept more than a few hours during the first days of that cruise. At times my blood would rush to my head and I would find that I could stand it no longer. A dozen times I started up from my bunk and made ready for the end. I had no weapon except a sailor’s sheath-knife, but I knew that if I once could get within reach of Benson nothing could save his life. But I knew that if I killed him it would leave the girl to the mercy of the common crowd. This thought would make me so weak at times that the sweat wouldrun down my face and neck, and I would get so dizzy that I could scarcely stand. I was as near being crazy as a sane man could possibly get.
Every idea as to wrecking the ship, should it come on to blow, I worked and studied over. As to running the vessel off her course by false reckoning, I had to give that over as absolutely useless. Benson was not a man one could deceive easily, and he knew a compass as well as I did. I might get a hundred miles out in a week or two, without his seeing the error, but a hundred miles one way or the other would not count for anything in the middle of the South Atlantic Ocean. We could get no nearer help in that way.
There was nothing to do but carry on and trust in Providence that we would be overhauled on suspicion, though there was but little hope of this happening on an American merchantman. I tried to calculate O’Toole’s chances of being picked up. All alone in the middle of the ocean, and under an equatorial sun. I knew there was butlittle hope for him. And even if he should be picked up he would not be able to give the slightest clue to our whereabouts or destination.
Studying and planning all sorts of desperate schemes I passed the first week. Then I determined to put off action until a favourable moment.
The weather remained fair and the lumpy little trade clouds flew merrily past our skysail trucks.
Benson took care that Miss Waters did not appear on deck often, for the temper of the men was not such that he could trust them. More than once there were mutterings concerning the life aft.
I dreaded this very much, for if the men once took charge, the horror of the conditions would be more than bearable. It would mean that both Brown and myself would be forced to go out in a futile fight against odds which could not be overcome.
One evening I managed to get near the cook without being noticed. The moke gave me a look and I spoke.
“Is there any way you can thin the crowd down?” I asked.
“What yo’ mean, sir?” he answered, with a grin.
“You know,” I said. “Hasn’t Gus spoken to you?”
“Yaassir, dat he has.”
“There’s rat-poison by the box in the fore-hold,” I said.
It was a wild and grotesque idea, but it shows the straits we were put to when we even considered such a thing. It would not do to have anything happen to Benson or his mate Johnson until the men forward were thinned out. Further consideration of the scheme showed its futility, for it would be impossible to carry out anything so destructive, owing to the different watches and messes. I was sorry I had spoken, for it put an idea into the moke’s head which well-nigh proved fatal to all.
One day shortly afterward the men complained of their food and took occasion to flog the cook for not providing better.
The poor fellow was haled to the mainrigging and his hands made fast to the sheer-pole, his feet just clearing the deck. Then every man of the complaining crowd took a few whacks at his bare back with a stiff piece of ratline stuff. He made no outcry, but fell fainting to the deck when cut down. When he came around again I saw the white of his eye and noticed the peculiar gleam, which boded no good for some one.
Two days later we passed the Argentine steamer, from Buenos Ayres to Liverpool. She was one of those new screw vessels, and the absence of the big side paddle-boxes made her look very shipshape. She was going along about ten knots and her decks were crowded with passengers. Now and then a white dress fluttered in the breeze.
As we drew near Benson came to me.
“How fast do we go, Mr. Gore?” said he.
TheArrowwas heeling down and tearing along steadily now under everything we could put on her, for the trade wassteady and held perfectly fair at east-southeast.
“I believe we are going a bit faster than the steamer,” I ventured.
An ugly gleam lit up his dark eyes. I saw what he meant before he spoke, for he was most ignorant of seamanship and all things concerning a vessel.
“If you can catch her, lay us up alongside,” he said, “for we have particular business aboard her.” And he called to Johnson and some others who were standing aft.
I tried to explain that although we were going much faster than the steamer it would be absolutely impossible to board her, but he could not or would not see it.
“We can only go one way,” I said, “and to try to catch him would simply make us absurd. He would only have to head up into the wind and we would come aback all standing, stopping dead. Then he would only have to get a mile or so to windward and come down upon us. We could notpossibly get out of his way in time and he could run us down easily.”
As it was certain the steamer would not stop for us, the affair would only have a bad ending, perhaps complicating matters still more. For that reason I was not overkeen to do anything foolish. The steamer drew up so quickly on our weather beam that Benson was forced to give up any idea of trying his villainy upon her. It showed plainly, however, that he would stop any sailing ship he might see, and there was much to be hoped from this. My evident desire not to board a ship would be of good stead to me when the right time came. I could use it to advantage. There would be vessels in sight soon now, for we were nearing the latitude of the river at a ten-knot rate.
It was while the men were all engrossed watching the liner that the cook took the opportunity for revenge. He had managed to get below and procure enough rat-poison to kill a dozen ship’s companies. This hemixed with the dinner for all hands, sparing none.
One of the men who started to eat noticed the taste and called attention to it while the rest waited suspiciously, remembering the affair of the flogging. Soon the fellow was nauseated and the men broke forth in a fury.
The moke was haled forward. Gus, who had been seen talking to him, was also brought up. Then they were told to eat, and some of the mess food was placed before them. There were cries for Brown and myself and a gang of rascals came tumbling aft for us.
Benson met them at the edge of the poop with his revolver drawn, and Johnson came up behind him with a double-barrelled gun. A tall fellow who was in Benson’s confidence stood near the after companionway and laid two pistols upon the deck within reach of both his hands.
“What do you want?” asked Benson, sharply.
“We want the mate and the young fellow,” said the spokesman of the gang, and the rest took up the cry.