CHAPTERXXIX.

CHAPTERXXIX.

To the final council with the boatswain Fidette was admitted. That afternoon I had turned the engine over by hand, and knew that every piece of its mechanism was in place. I realized the danger of further delay, and decided that the break for liberty should be made on the following night.

In the mean time it was necessary to obtain possession of all the arms carried by the ship’s company, although a demand to that effect would certainly arouse suspicion. All the cutlasses that had been placed about the ship for emergencies were quietly gathered up and put under lock in the main cabin. We had no firearms. The only other weapons to be feared were the large knives carried by the members of the crew, which, unfortunately, they knew only too well how to use. We deliberated for an hour or more as to the means of obtaining these, when Fidette offered a suggestion that made it very easy.

“Among the crew,” she began, “is a little old man who was once a scissors grinder. He often sings to himself about the days when he tramped the streets and roads of his native land, bell in hand, in search of knives and scissors to grind. There are several grindstones in the hold. Now, I propose to rig up one of these for himon the main deck, and send word to all members of the crew that they can have their knives ground. Each sailor can be told to put a mark upon his knife so that it can be returned to him. In this way we shall get all these weapons into our possession.”

The idea was so feasible that I adopted it at once.

I confess that I was very anxious about our voyage on the Grand Canal, en route to the open sea. The Caribas would have to pass in plain sight of several hundred Sargasson derelicts. You may say that I knew that the vessels were without armament, that solid shot would not be fired across our bow, and that we ought to have known that we could keep off boarders when well under headway? And yet I was tempted to give up the venture, and to end my days among the Sargassons.

Deep down in my heart I felt shame and mortification at the thought of what my brother Kantoons in Sargasso would think and say of me. Among them the taking away of my own ship would undoubtedly be regarded as theft! My treachery would be looked upon as of the most infamous kind. My name would be posted on the blacklist in the cabin of the Chief Kantoon, and forever held up to universal execration.

With my infamy, poor Fidette’s name would be linked. She was a Sargasson by birth, and to her the forswearing of her people meant much, in sentiment and in fact. She was of the Water Worshipers, and nowhere else on the face of the earth would she find people of her faith! She was deeply religious, and her willingness to follow me into an unknown part of the world, where people dwelt upon solid land (incomprehensible as that appeared to her) was an undeniable proof of her affection.

I was deeply affected by all these thoughts. It was only a few months since the Sargassons had loaded me with honors. The ceremonial by which I had been created Kantoon of the Caribas was one of the most imposingand splendid that had ever been known in Sargasso. These facts only emphasized my ingratitude.

I cannot expect any of my readers to understand the feelings that welled up in my heart, because they have not dwelt among the Sargasson people, and cannot appreciate the high and peculiar sense of honor that there obtains.

In addition to all these pretty sentiments, I was afraid to give up the scheme, having once undertaken it. I feared the treachery of the boatswain! His first overindulgence in rainwater might loosen his tongue and he might divulge my secret. My punishment would be swift. The most merciful end I could expect would be death by drowning; but I have since learned from Fidette that the only treacherous Kantoon she recalls was strapped upon a heavy water butt, which was then rolled about the deck until the body of the condemned was crushed into pulp.

It was too late for me to retreat; I must escape or die in an ignominious manner.

On the morning following our final conference the boatswain found a small grindstone, already mounted, brought it to the deck and set the grinder to work. The old man was delighted. He trod the pedal with all the glee of youth, and as the sparks flew he laughed and sang.

THE KNIFE-GRINDER’S SONG.

The dogfish needs no grinder stout,His teeth are in his head;The whale he takes his molars out,And puts ’em ’side his bed.But the swordfish, heEngages me—His dentist, don’t you see.“Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo”—The wheel sings when I sing.“Too-ra-loo-ra-loo ra loo;Too-ra-loo-ra-bur-r-r-r!”

The dogfish needs no grinder stout,His teeth are in his head;The whale he takes his molars out,And puts ’em ’side his bed.But the swordfish, heEngages me—His dentist, don’t you see.“Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo”—The wheel sings when I sing.“Too-ra-loo-ra-loo ra loo;Too-ra-loo-ra-bur-r-r-r!”

The dogfish needs no grinder stout,

His teeth are in his head;

The whale he takes his molars out,

And puts ’em ’side his bed.

But the swordfish, he

Engages me—

His dentist, don’t you see.

“Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ra-loo”—

The wheel sings when I sing.

“Too-ra-loo-ra-loo ra loo;

Too-ra-loo-ra-bur-r-r-r!”

The air was a quaint one, and recalled the first six bars in “The Boatswain’s Story,” by Malloy. Thewords, however, were Sargasson, and the above translation is very liberal.

The men hardly had to be asked to surrender their knives. They gave them up voluntarily, so anxious were they to have their blades bright and sharp. The weapons were placed in a box that I had prepared for them. In order to delay matters I gave the grinder half a dozen cutlasses from my own cabin that were to be finished before the knives were ground. All day long, almost without a moment’s rest, the old knife-grinder tramped and sang as the rusty steel struck prickly stars from the whirring wheel.

That night the men occupied their new apartments for the first time. They were delighted at the comforts I had prepared for them. They readily divided themselves up into watches and associated themselves together in groups of eight. New bedding had been prepared for all the men. The bunks were filled with the driest and softest sea grass obtainable, thus forming a bed as soft as a hair mattress. I wanted them to sleep well this first night. I had so divided the men that the first watch was composed of thoroughly tractable members of the crew.

The moment night fell the boatswain and I repaired to the boiler room. He soon struck a light with flint and steel, and in a few moments we had the fires aglow. Leaving him in charge for the moment, after seeing that he was thoroughly armed, I returned to the deck and saw that all the ship’s company had retired to their new and sumptuous sleeping apartments.

The ideal existence of the Sargasson sailor is to have plenty of time to sleep and all the food he wants to eat. As I had supposed, everybody had gone to bed except the eight men on watch. I quietly closed the doors of all the compartments and secured them with the heavy padlocks.

I then mustered the watch, and marched them directlyto the furnace room. There I found the boatswain working like a demon to keep the furnaces full of wood and seaweed. The sailors regarded the open mouth of the flaming furnaces with reverential awe. How natural is man’s worship of the elements. As it happened, they were all Sargassons born and bred. They could not possibly understand the purpose for which the fire was burning, but at my command they fell lustily to work under the direction of the boatswain. Carefully fastening the heavy iron door behind me, I ascended to the engine room to watch the steam gauge.

Hours must elapse before I could hope to move the engine, and in the mean time I sought out Fidette, who was sitting at her cabin window, gazing thoughtfully out upon the night.

Only then had she begun to realize the seriousness of the change about to come over her life. She knew also that we had gone so far that in the event of failure, exposure and punishment would be certain. I tried to reassure her. I told her that, if under a sufficient head of steam, the engine did not work, not a man, including the boatswain, would be allowed to escape from the furnace room. I would descend and slaughter every one of them with my own hand rather than expose myself, and especially her, to the punishment that certainly would await us. This was a dreadful thing to say, but I had calmly resolved upon the extinction of these nine members of the crew in case of failure. No questions were ever asked in Sargasso regarding the disappearance of men on ship board, and I could not be expected to account for the missing members of the crew.

As I should have explained, I had filled the boilers with sea water by opening the valves connected with the pumps outside the ship. Careful measurement had shown me that the boilers were all below the water line. After steam was once generated, I knew that the pumps could be utilized to keep the boilers filled.

You can imagine, therefore, with what anxiety I stood in the engine room and watched the slow but sure rising of the steam gauge. I believed a pressure of eighty pounds to the square inch would be required to get under way. The engines were of the most modern triple expansion type. I did not aim at high speed, for I believed that attack would be impossible if I could obtain a headway of ten or twelve miles an hour.

Fidette soon joined me in the engine room. The register now showed twenty-one pounds! I softly rang the bell connecting with the boatswain, and called down through the tube, telling him to redouble the efforts of the men, and acquainting him with the fact that steam was already forming. He replied at once that the men were stuffing the furnaces with wood and pulpy seaweed. But the influence of my words upon him produced immediate results, as shown by the steam gauge. It began slowly to turn upon the disk.

Forty pounds were soon indicated! In another quarter of an hour the pressure had risen to forty-seven! Soon it was fifty, and I felt that in another hour I would be able to make the supreme test.

What would be the result? Would the piston, after having remained for two years stationary in the cylinder, move when the steam pressure was admitted? My life itself depended upon the answer to that question—​if not the lives of Fidette and myself, certainly those of the nine men in the bowels of the ship!

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