Chapter Forty Five.
So much water had been pumped into the hold, that it was now doing the work steadily by soaking in all directions, and making packing-case and bale so saturated that the fire was languishing for want of food.
For my part I fully expected that if we poured in much more the ship would become unsafe; and when I descended into the forecastle and cable-tier in turn, I thought the water would be a couple of feet deep on the floor. But there was no sign of a drop. Saturation had taken up an enormous quantity, but more had gone off into the air turned into steam; and when I went down with Mr Brymer to sound the well, I was astonished to find how small the amount of water was in the ship.
“No fear of our sinking, Dale,” said the mate; and he went on deck again to look at the tremendous clouds of steam rising from the hold.
Before evening the pumping had been allowed to slacken; and as wherever the jet was directed now, the hissing had ceased, it was decided to give up and rest, though everything was laid ready for continuing the fight should it become necessary.
Every one was fagged, but there was so much to do that we could not afford to show it, and we set to work to try and place matters so that we could go steadily on as far as was possible in the regular routine of the ship—no easy matter, seeing that we were so short-handed.
But the cabin arrangements were put straight, and Miss Denning and Mr Preddle did all they could to provide a comfortable late dinner, which, if not hot, was plentiful.
Then Mr Frewen did all he could for his patients, and Neb Dumlow was bandaged and ordered to rest. He said he could not, for there was so much to do. It was not, he said, as if he could have been set to steer, for the ship still lay motionless, merely drifting with the current.
“I can do nothing, sir,” he growled morosely.
“Look here, my lad,” said Mr Frewen, “I have no objection if you wish to provide me with a bit of practice—go on, and I will do my best.”
“Whatcher mean, sir, with yer bit o’ practice?—pouring of physic into me as if I was a cask?”
“No; I meant taking off your leg.”
“Taking off my leg!” cried Dumlow, with so comical a look of disgust on his countenance that I was obliged to laugh; “whatcher want to take off my leg for? Can’t you stop the holes up?”
“I don’t want to take off your leg, my man, and I can stop up the holes as you call it; but you persist in using it, and if you do, the consequences will possibly be that the wounds will mortify, and the leg get into such a state that I shall have to amputate it to save your life.”
“Hear this, Mr Dale!” growled Dumlow.
I nodded.
“That won’t do for me. Timber-toes goes with the Ryle Navy and pensions. They won’t do in the marchant sarvice. All right, doctor; I’m game to do just as you tell me, only let me get about a bit. Couldn’t you put my leg in a sling?”
“Your leg isn’t your arm, Neb,” I cried, laughing.
“Well, sir, who said it were? I knows the diffrens ’tween a fore and a hind flipper.”
“There, that will do, my man,” said the doctor. “Your wound is not a bad one, but in this hot climate it would soon be if neglected.”
The doctor walked away, and the sailor chuckled.
“It’s all right, Mr Dale, I won’t do what the doctor don’t want. Ketch me getting rid of a leg like a lobster does his claw. But I say, sir; I did think, you know, just then, as I might have a hankychy round my neck and hang my leg in it.”
I was called aft soon after, and I saw Dumlow go forward, disappearing amongst the steam, while I went to Mr Frewen and helped him while he dressed Walters’ wound, and was with him afterwards when he went to the captain and Mr Denning, both of whom were certainly easier now.
We had a light in the saloon too, for I had managed to trim the lamp, and Mr Brymer had been busy hunting out ammunition for the guns. This he had found in the forecastle lying in one of the upper bunks, and with it a couple of revolvers, so that once more we were fairly armed. Then it was decided that the boat should be hooked on to the falls, and an attempt made to raise her, but Bob Hampton shook his head.
“Don’t think we can manage her, sir, to-night. To-morrow perhaps I might rig up tackle, and we could get her on deck. She’s too big for them davits. But why not let her hang on behind, as the weather’s fine?”
“And suppose those scoundrels return, sir, what then?” cried Mr Brymer.
Bob Hampton scratched his head.
“Ah, you may well say what then, sir,” he grumbled. “I hadn’t thought o’ that. Don’t think they will come, do you?”
“It is possible. They left in a scare, but if they see the ship still floating they may come back.”
“Then we’d better get a couple o’ pigs o’ ballast ready to heave over, and knock holes in the bottom in case they do come, for we can’t get her hysted to-night.”
“I suppose you are right,” said Mr Brymer in a dissatisfied tone; and, giving the orders, Hampton and Barney Blane went off to get the two big pieces of cast-iron and place them ready for the emergency, though it was fervently hoped that that need might not occur.
Then as the night was clear, and we were so short-handed, it was settled that one man only should take the watch, and every one volunteered, though we were all so exhausted that we could hardly stand. But Mr Brymer settled that.
“I will take the first watch myself,” he said. “All of you go and get some rest so as to relieve me.”
This consultation was held just outside the saloon, and Mr Frewen had just spoken and told Mr Brymer that he ought to have some one to share the watch with him, when a white figure suddenly came up out of the semi-darkness of the cabin, and I gave quite a start.
“You, Miss Denning?” I said.
“Yes. Mr Brymer, our cabin-door is open, and my brother and I have heard every word.”
“Well, my dear young lady,” said the mate pleasantly, “I wish you had heard better news.”
“It was the best you could give us,” she said quietly. “But my brother sends me to say that he has had a long sleep, and that if he is helped to a chair on the upper deck with a night-glass, he could keep the watch himself, and easily give the alarm if it were necessary.”
“But he is not fit to leave alone, Miss Denning,” said the doctor quickly.
“He would not be alone, Mr Frewen,” she replied gently. “I should share his watch.”
“And do you think, my dear child,” cried Mr Brymer, “that we big strong men are going to lie down to sleep, and let you watch for us?”
“Why not?” she said quietly. “You have all risked your lives to save us. It is the least we can do.”
“Yes,” came in Mr Denning’s sharp voice; “we shall keep this watch together, I am strong enough for that. Nothing shall approach the ship, Mr Brymer, without your having warning.”
“He is quite right, Brymer,” said a fresh debater in a faint voice, as no less a person than the captain joined in the discussion. “You are all worn-out. We sick folk have sharp ears, and will keep them well opened.”
“I—I really hardly know what to say,” said Mr Brymer.
I did, for I suddenly started from the spot where I stood, after sniffing suspiciously two or three times, shouting—“Fire!—fire!” For the enemy had evidently been at work insidiously, and had burst its water-chains, and leaped up to attack us again.
We all made a rush for the pump and hose, for the smell of burning was stronger as we reached the steaming hold, I being first. But I felt puzzled, for the steam was dense as ever, and I could only smell the dank, unpleasant, hydrogenous odour of decomposed water, while the smell which had reached the companion-way had been the fresh, sharp, pungent scent of burning wood. The next moment, though, I saw where the danger was, and shouted—
“The galley—the galley!”
We all ran round to the door, for smoke was issuing from the wooden building freely, and a dull light shone out on to the darkness. Then I burst out in astonishment—
“What, Dumlow! You here?”
“Ay, ay, sir. Practysing up. I got it now, and go ahead to-morrow morning. Stove bothered me a bit at first, but I can work her, and there’ll be hot water and coffee for braxfast in the morning, and soup and taters for dinner. Cooking’s easy enough when you knows how.”
There was a roar of laughter at this.
“Ah, you may laugh, all on you, I don’t keer. This won’t hurt my leg, will it, doctor?”
“No; you can go on with that,” replied Mr Frewen; “but keep seated all you can.”
“Toe be sure, sir. I’ve often seen the cook sitting down to peel the taters and stir the soup.”
“Well, let that fire out now, and get some rest,” said Mr Brymer. “You startled us all.”
Then leading the way back to the saloon, he told Miss Denning that we should all gladly accept her brother’s offer; and it having been arranged that a whistle should give the signal of danger, the poor fellow was carried up on the poop-deck, and left there with his sister, a final look given at the steaming hold, and then the men went forward, and we to our cabins, I choosing for mine the one occupied by Walters, to whom I talked for a few minutes, and then in an instant I was asleep.
Chapter Forty Six.
I said in an instant, for I was talking to Walters one moment, and the next I was fighting the fire over again, and seeing now all kinds of horrible glowing-eyed serpents and dragons, which kept on raising their heads and breathing out flames. And as they reared their heads, they glared at me with their glowing eyeballs, and lifted themselves higher, to try and lick with their fiery tongues the woodwork of the ship.
It was all wonderfully plain, and the worry and trouble were terrible. I held the nozzle, of the hose, and knew that unless I drove them back with a strong jet of water they would destroy the ship at once; but the tube was empty, the pump did not clank, and the hissing creatures rose higher and higher, till they were about to scorch me, when I started into wakefulness, and found that I was lying on my back, bathed in perspiration, and all was perfectly still.
I soon changed my position, and dropped off to sleep again—a calm, restful sleep for a time; but the old trouble returned: there I was standing at the edge of that great steaming gap in the deck, with the fiery serpents darting here and there and dancing up and down. Then they began to make darts at the woodwork, and one greater than all the rest reared itself up to try and reach the main-mast, but sank back again. Then it reared itself up and tried once more, this time reaching higher and higher, till it disappeared in the grey smoke; and directly after I saw that it had reached the mast, and was creeping up it, in one long undulating streak of golden and ruddy fire, which would soon reach the mast-head, if I did not drive it down with the jet of water.
I raised the copper branch, and directed it straight at the fiery monster, but the pump still did not clank, and no water flowed. Instead thereof came a jet of steam—not the visible grey vapour which is really the water in tiny vesicles, but a jet of invisible steam which rushed out of the breach with a shrill whistling sound, and again I awoke with a start to fancy that I was yet dreaming, for the sharp whistling still rang in my ears.
Then I knew what it was—the signal of danger given by Mr Denning or his sister, and, hurrying out of the cabin, I crossed the saloon, and ran out and upon deck to where they were.
“A boat?—the mutineers?” I panted.
“No,” said Miss Denning, excitedly. “The fire has broken out again!”
At the same moment I found that the alarm had been heard forward, for the men were tumbling up from the forecastle, and Bob Hampton’s voice thundered out—
“Ahoy, there! man the pumps. She’s going it again.”
For, on reaching the gap in the deck where the hissing had recommenced, the steam which we had left steadily rising when we went to lie down, then looking of a blackish grey, now appeared luminous, as if some great light were playing about beyond it.
Knowing where the copper branch had been made ready, I made for it at once; but as I picked it up, it was snatched from my hands by some one, whom I could not distinguish till he spoke, and when he did, his voice sounded husky and strange from excitement.
“Ready there?” shouted Bob Hampton, from forward; and none too soon, for there was a flash of light, which turned the steam to ruddy gold, and a dull crackling roar was rising out of the hold.
“Yes; go on there!” shouted Mr Brymer from the other side of the deck. “Who has the branch?”
“I have,” cried Mr Frewen.
Then as my heart beat wildly from excitement, the clanking of the pump began again, and directly after a shrieking and hissing, which, in the darkness of the night, sounded louder than ever. Report after report came too, and with them the steam seemed to be denser than ever. Dark as the night appeared, it was visible enough, and looked so awful and yet grand, lit-up as it was by the fierce burst of fire beneath, that it became hard to believe that it too was not glowing, curling flame, rising up from the hold, and wreathing about the great yards and sails of the main-mast.
I watched it as it rose, fully expecting to see the sails burst into flame; but there it came in heavy folds, dimly-seen here, black in shadow there, and the fiery-looking clouds proved to be only visible vapours, water perfectly harmless, while the real flames caused by the fire having reached something specially combustible, never rose many feet in the hold, and by degrees began to yield to the powerful jet of water Mr Frewen poured down.
“Tell me if I miss any of the worst places, Dale,” he shouted, to make his voice heard above the din of the elemental strife.
I answered that he was doing quite right; and the proof of my words was shown by the gradual darkening of the steam from bright gold to pale yellow, then to orange, bright red, and soon after to a dull glow, which served to show where the danger lay, and this part was so deluged, that in less than an hour the glow died out, and we were in utter darkness.
“Let me take it a bit now,” said Mr Brymer, joining us; and with the hissing and sputtering to guide him, he now continued to pour on the water, talking loudly the while about our alarm.
“I ought not to have lain down,” he said, in tones full of self-reproach. “I might have known that the fire would break out again.”
“Why, we couldn’t have had a better watch kept, Mr Brymer.”
“You are right, my lad,” he replied warmly. “I ought to have thought of that too. Go and tell Mr and Miss Denning that the danger is at an end.”
I hurried off, and mounted to the poop, where Mr Denning sat in his chair, well wrapped in a plaid; and as I approached, Miss Denning’s voice asked quickly—“Who is that?”
“Dale, Miss Denning. I’ve come to tell you that the fire is mastered again.”
I heard her utter a deep sigh, and I believe she began to cry, but it was too dark to see her face.
“How long had it been burning when you whistled?” I asked.
“Not a minute,” said Miss Denning. “We were watching the setting of one of the stars, when all at once there was a dull report somewhere in the hold, and in an instant there was a flash, and great volumes of fire and smoke began to roll up.”
“But it was only lit-up steam,” I said, talking as one experienced in such matters.
“Then there is no more danger?” said Mr Denning.
“No, I think not—at present.”
“Why do you say at present?” cried Miss Denning, eagerly; and she caught my arm.
“Don’t say anything to frighten her, Dale,” said Mr Denning; “she is half-hysterical now.”
“Indeed no, John dear; I am quite calm. Tell us, Alison. It is better to know the worst.”
“I only meant,” I said hastily, “that there is sure to be some fire left smouldering below, where the water will not reach it, and it may break out again two or three times—just a little, that’s all. But we shall watch it better now. No, no,” I cried, “I don’t mean that; because no one could have watched better than you did.”
“Starboard watch, ahoy!” cried Mr Brymer, cheerily. “How are you, Miss Denning?” but before she could reply the mate was up with us.
“Thank you for keeping watch so well. Any idea what time it is?—we hadn’t been asleep long, I suppose.”
Mr Denning uttered a little laugh.
“It must be close upon morning,” he said.
“Morning? Impossible! What do you say, Miss Denning?”
“I think it must be very near day,” she replied. “It is many hours since you left us.”
“And gone like that!” cried the mate in astonishment. “Ahoy there, Mr Frewen, Preddle,” he shouted, “what time should you think it is?”
“My watch is not going,” replied Mr Frewen; “but I should say it is about midnight.”
“Oh no,” cried Mr Preddle, in his highly-pitched voice; “about eleven at the outside. Do you think we may venture to lie down again?”
“Almost a pity, isn’t it,” said the mate, merrily. “Look yonder—there—right astern.”
“Yes?” said Mr Frewen. “What is that? The moon about to rise?”
“Say sun, and you will be right,” cried Mr Brymer. “Go and lie down if you like, gentlemen; but look yonder too; there is a fleck of orange high up. For my part, I propose a good breakfast.”
“No, no, you cannot be right,” said Mr Frewen, from the main-deck; “but we’ll take our watch now. Mr Denning, will you and your sister go and take yours below?”
“No, not yet,” said Mr Denning.
“Then I must speak as the medical man, and give my patient orders. You ought both to have some sleep now.”
“Wonderful!” cried Mr Preddle, excitedly. For, with the wondrous rapidity of change from night to day so familiar in the tropics, the morning broke without any of the gradations of dawn and twilight. There was a brilliant glow of red, which, as we gazed at it, became gold; and then, dazzling in its brightness, the edge of the sun appeared above the gleaming water, still and smooth as ever; then higher and higher, sending its rays across the vast level, and turning all to gold. It was between us and the sun now one broad patch of light, but not quite all golden glory, for as I looked right away from the poop-deck, with that indescribable feeling of joy in my breast which comes when the darkness of night and its horrors give place to the life and light of day, I felt a strange contraction about my heart—a curious shrinking sensation of dread.
For, far away on that gleaming path of gold, I could plainly see a couple of black specks. Half-stifled with emotion, I caught at Mr Brymer’s arm, and pointed as I looked in his face, and tried to speak, but no words would come.
I must have pointed widely, for he turned quickly, looked in the direction indicated by my finger, and then clapped me on the shoulder.
“Why, Dale, my lad, what’s the matter?” he said. “Did you see a whale?”
At that moment Barney shouted from where he stood forward, unseen for the mist of dimly illuminated steam which lay between us, though his voice was plainly heard, and sent a thrill through all who heard—
“Boat-ho! Two on ’em astarn.”
“Ay, ay!” roared Bob Hampton in a voice of thunder, “lying doo east. It’s Frenchy and his gang come back.”
For a few seconds there was a dead silence, and no one stirred. Then, as if electrified, I ran half-way down the ladder, and leaped the rest of the way, dashed through the saloon to Mr Brymer’s cabin, seized his glass, and ran back with it and up on to the poop-deck.
He gave me a quick look which seemed to say, “Good!”—snatched the glass, brought it to bear upon the two black specks, and then stood motionless, while all present waited breathless for the lowering of the glass again, and the mate’s first words.
For we hoped against hope. The boats might be two sent from some invisible ship to our aid.
All such thoughts were swept away as the mate lowered his glass and nearly threw it to me.
“He’s right,” he said calmly. “They are our boats and men. They must have been somewhere near, and seen the light rising up from the ship, and come back to see what it means.”
“Then all is lost!” said Mr Denning, wildly, as he seized his sister’s hand.
“Oh, no,” replied Mr Brymer, coolly, “by no means. Miss Denning, kindly see what you can do in the way of breakfast for us. Those men cannot be here under an hour, and we shall all be faint. Cheer up. They’re not on board yet.”
The next minute he was on the main-deck, giving his orders.
“They can’t board us,” he said, “but they can cut that boat adrift, and carry her off with all those provisions on board. Now, Mr Frewen, you will help us. Mr Preddle, be ready to come and haul when you are asked, but in the meantime I leave the arms to you. See that they are all loaded and laid ready on the saloon-table, and with the ammunition to hand.”
“Yes, I’ll do that,” he said eagerly; and he was moving off.
“Stop,” cried Mr Brymer. “There is a small keg of powder in the cable-tier, get that in the saloon too; and in the locker in my cabin you’ll find some big cartridges and shot. Everything is there. Do you think you can load and prime the cannon?”
He pointed as he spoke to the small brass gun, used for signalling when going into port. “I never loaded a big one,” said Mr Preddle, “but I used to have a brass one when I was a boy, and I’ve loaded and fired that.”
“It is precisely the same, sir. Have it ready, and a poker in the galley red-hot. Bah! we have no fire.”
“Wrong, sir. Stove’s going, and the kettle nearly on the bile,” growled Dumlow, who had limped up.
“Bravo!” cried the mate. “They have not taken us yet. Off with you, Mr Preddle. Now, Hampton, we must either get that boat on board, or save all we can, and then she must be stove in.”
“Which would be a pity, sir,” said Bob Hampton. “She’s heavy, and we’re few, but I think if you’ll help get out all you can from her, water-breakers and sech, I can slew round the yard, and rig up tackle as ’ll do the job.”
“Right! Up with you! Now, Blane, and you, Dale, have the boat round here to the gangway, and down into her. Mr Frewen, you and I will lower tackle, and have all up we can to lighten her.”
The men cheered, and, as excited as they were, I added my shout, and the next minute we were all at work as ordered by the mate. The boat was soon brought round, made fast, and by the time Barney and I were in, the port-gangway was opened, and tackle lowered, to which we made fast one of the breakers of water, and saw it hauled up. The other followed, and then cases, biscuit-bags, everything heavy was roped together and hauled up on them, till nothing remained but small things that it would have taken too long to collect.
“Now then,” shouted Mr Brymer, “look out!” and there was a creaking and clanging sound as the iron wheel of the tackle used for loading and unloading the cargo spun round, and the falls for running up boats to the davits descended, and were hooked on bow and stern.
“Now then, up with you!” cried the mate; and we seized the rope lowered, and climbed on board.
“Are they close here, sir?” I panted.
“Don’t talk; no. Ready there at the capstan?”
“Ay, ay,” came back.
“Haul away then.”
The rattle and clang of the tackle began, as the men turned with all their might, the catches on either side making sure of every foot they won, and by degrees the heavy boat rose slowly out of the water, and higher and higher, till she was above the bulwarks, when the men cheered, ceased turning, made all fast, and while two of us got hold of the painter and swung the boat’s head round, the crane-like spar, at whose end the iron wheel, hung, was slewed round till the boat was well on board.
Then Hampton and Barney ran back to the capstan and lowered away, till the boat lay on its side on the deck, when, with a rousing cheer, the gangway was closed, and I felt that I could breathe; for, as I looked over the bulwarks for our enemies, there they were, steadily rowing toward us, but still quite a mile away.
I breathed more freely then, for, in spite of their superior strength, I felt that our position was not unfavourable. The sides of the ship were high and smooth, and, without help from within, the only likely places for our enemies to be able to gain the deck were from under the bowsprit, where I had climbed up, or through the stern-windows. But we had a keen and thoughtful man in command. Mr Brymer soon rendered the stern-windows safe by having the dead-lights over them, while I was sent round to screw up the glazed-iron frame of every circular window. Then our principal vulnerable point was the stay beneath the bowsprit, where he stationed Dumlow, armed with a capstan-bar, which the big sailor prepared to use as a club; the other dangerous points being the chains, where it was possible for a man to climb up by means of a boot-hook.
These places Mr Brymer guarded as well as possible by stationing one or other of his forces ready for their defence, with the understanding that we were to act on our discretion, and run to help in the defence of the part most menaced.
All these arrangements were quickly made, and lastly, the saloon was reserved for our final stand, the cannon being wheeled just inside, pointed so as to sweep the entrance, though I failed to see how it was to be fired if we were driven there, when the red-hot poker was in the stove of the galley.
By this time they were all armed. Miss Denning was back in our citadel, the saloon, where we had all been refreshed with the provisions she had prepared for us. Mr Brymer had begged Mr Denning, too, to go into his cabin, out of the way of danger; but he had flushed up and insisted upon having a chair placed by the cannon, and being furnished with one of the guns and some cartridges.
“I am a good shot,” he said, “weak as I am, and I command a good deal of the bulwarks on either side of the ship.”
So he was placed as he wished, and sat with his gun across his knees, just at the breach of the cannon.
“And I can fire that if it becomes necessary,” he confided to me, as I said good-bye to him before I went to my place.
“How?” I asked,—“with a match?”
“No,” he whispered; “if it comes to the worst, and Jarette and his scoundrels are making for here, I shall put the muzzle of my gun to the touch-hole and fire it.”
“Won’t it blow the priming away?” I said.
“No; it will fire the piece instantly.”
“I hope he will not have to try,” I thought to myself as I ran to Walters’ cabin, and told him of the fight to come.
“And I can’t help,” he moaned. “I wish I could.”
“What, to take the ship?” I said spitefully.
“You know better than that,” he said.
I don’t know how it was, but one minute I was saying that to him spitefully, the next I had hold of his hand and shook it.
“I didn’t mean it,” I said quite hurriedly. “Good-bye, old chap; we’re going to whop them after all.”
I ran out of the cabin with the thought in my mind that I might perhaps be killed.
“And one ought to forgive everybody,” I said to myself, just as Mr Brymer cried—
“Oh, here you are, Dale. Take this gun, and mind, you are the reserve. Be ready to go and help any one who is most pressed. There must be no nonsense now. Shoot down without mercy the first scoundrel who reaches the deck. If it is Jarette, aim at his head or breast; if it is one of the others, let him have it in the legs.”
He hurried to the side then, leaving me with a double-barrelled gun and a handful of cartridges, which, after seeing that the piece was loaded, I thrust into the breast-pocket of my jacket.
“This is a rum way of forgiving one’s enemies,” I said to myself; “but I suppose I must.”
And then I began patrolling the deck as we waited on our defence, with the boats coming on and the insidious enemy within, for the fire was certainly making a little way in the hold.
The boats were only a couple of hundred yards away now. I could see Jarette seated in the stem of one of them, as they came on abreast, making straight for the port-gangway abaft the main-mast; and my breath came thick and fast, for the fight was about to begin, and I felt that we could not expect much mercy at the hands of the leader of the men.
Chapter Forty Seven.
“It’s all over,” I thought to myself; “they’ll take the ship and send us adrift now;” but all the same I knew that the defence would be desperate as soon as Mr Brymer gave the word.
I could see the faces of Jarette and his men now clearly enough in the one boat, while in the other I picked out five men, among whom was the cook, who would have been, I should have thought, the very last to join in so desperate a game, one which certainly meant penal servitude for all, and possibly a worse punishment for the leaders, as death might very probably ensue in the desperate attack upon the ship. But I had no more time for such thoughts. Jarette just then rose up in the stern of the boat he was in, and hailed us.
“Ahoy, there! Open that gangway,” he shouted, “and let down the roped steps.”
Mr Brymer stepped to the bulwarks just opposite the boat.
“Throw up your oars there,” he cried, and the men obeyed, so used were they to his orders.
“Row, you idiots, row!” roared Jarette, and the oars splashed again.
“Stop there, you in the boats,” cried Mr Brymer, “or I give the order to fire.”
“Bah! don’t be a fool, Brymer,” he shouted. “Pull away, my lads; they won’t fire. Hi! there, the rest of you, don’t take any notice of the mate. We saw you were on fire and in danger. We saw the fire and smoke in the night, and came to save you.”
“In the same way as you deserted the ship when you thought she would sink,” said Mr Brymer, tauntingly.
“Pull, my lads, and get aboard,” cried Jarette, so that the men in the other boat could hear; “he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. We’ll put the fire out, and then talk to him.”
Bang! went Mr Brymer’s revolver, fired over the heads of the men in Jarette’s boat, and the Frenchman fell backward into the stern-sheets.
I thought he was killed, and the men ceased rowing.
But Jarette was up again directly.
“Pull, you beasts!” he cried. “You jerked me off my feet. You, there,” he roared to the men in the second boat, “round to the starboard side and board there. No—”
He leaned over the side and said something behind his hand to the men in the other boat, which we could not hear, but we did hear him say—“We must have her. It’s too far to row.”
Those last words enlightened us, telling as they did that the boats had made very little progress, but had drifted with the current just as the ship had, and they could never have been very far away. They must too have supposed the vessel had sunk till they saw the fire renewed, when feeling that they had been premature in forsaking her, they came back, and were no doubt a good deal taken aback by finding us there ready to defy them.
“Now!” shouted Jarette. “Ready? Off!”
The boats came on in spite of two or three shots fired from the deck, and then, with Jarette rapidly returning our fire, they were soon close up and sheltered to a great extent.
Jarette’s boat came right alongside at once in the most plucky manner, urged on as the men were by their leader, who seemed utterly devoid of fear. But the other boat rowed right round by the stern, and its occupants were damped on finding that unless they could mount by the fore or mizzen-chains, there was apparently no means of reaching the deck. They ceased rowing in each of these places, but there were a couple of defenders ready at each halt, and they made no further attempt, but lay on their oars in a half-hearted way, as if waiting for an opportunity to occur.
But meanwhile the fight had begun by the main-chains on the port side, where, with Jarette to cover them with his revolver, the men made a desperate effort to gain the deck, but only to be beaten back each time they showed their heads above the bulwarks, and after five minutes they sat down sullenly and refused to stir.
“You cowards!” snarled Jarette, savagely. “Do you want to stop afloat in open boats and starve? Now then, once more. Up with you!”
The men rose at his words, but Mr Brymer appeared now above them.
“Sheer off,” he roared, “or we’ll sink the boat.”
Two reports followed this speech, and, to my horror, I saw Mr Brymer fall back heavily on the deck to lie motionless.
“That’s winning, boys,” shouted Jarette, triumphantly. “Now then, all of you follow.”
He made a spring at the boat-hook they had fastened to the chains, and scrambled up, to step on one side crouching down, revolver in hand, sheltering himself, but watchfully ready to fire at either of us who might show, and waiting while his men climbed to him.
While they were climbing out of the boat to his side, Mr Preddle stepped forward gun in hand, to pass it over the bulwark, and hold the men in check; but the barrels were seized, pressed on one side, and a man reached up and struck the naturalist over the head, so that he too went down heavily.
“Here, hi! Mr Dale, you’re in command now,” shouted Bob Hampton. “Barney, doctor, Neb, come and help here.”
We all made a rush to the side to help Bob, and our presence was needed, for man after man had now reached the chains, where they waited for Jarette’s orders to make a rush.
“Here, let me come,” cried Dumlow, limping up with his capstan-bar. “Give me room, and I’ll clear the lot down.”
He swung up his bar to reach over and deliver a sweeping blow, but he was over Jarette, who started up below the bar, and fired right in the big sailor’s face, when he too went down, but not hit. The shock and the whizz of a bullet close to his ear had sufficed to stagger him, so that he tripped over Mr Preddle’s prostrate body, and gave his head a sharp blow on the back.
To all appearances, three of our side were now hors de combat, and I felt that all was over; and to confirm my thought, there was a shout forward in the bows.
I uttered a despairing groan, for it was all plain enough. The second boat had made for the stay beneath the bows, just as Dumlow had been called away with his capstan-bar, and as I looked forward, there, to my horror, dimly-seen through and beneath the ascending steam, were four men who had climbed on board.
“We’re licked, Mr Dale, sir; but hit, shoot, do anything as they come over the side. Do, dear lad, shoot Frenchy, whatever you do. Now then, let ’em have it, for Old England’s sake and sweet home! Here they come!”
Jarette and four men rose up now suddenly in the chains, climbed on to the bulwark, and were about to leap down, and with a desperate feeling of horror, I raised my gun to fire. But there was a rush and a cheer as the men from forward rushed down to us, and I was roughly jostled, my aim diverted; but the trigger was being pulled, and the piece went off loudly.
The next moment blows were being given and taken. Mr Frewen was fighting furiously, and well seconded by Bob and Barney. Jarette and his men were checked, two going down, and to my astonishment they fell from blows given by the four men who had dashed forward.
It was all one horrid confusion, for now one of these men turned on me, and wrested the gun from my grasp, though I tugged at it hard. Then it was pointed and fired at Jarette—not at me—missing him though, but making him lose his foot-hold, and fall with a heavy splash into the sea.
“Hurray!” yelled Bob.
“Give it to ’em,” cried Barney; and I saw Mr Frewen strike one with a revolver in his hand, but using his fist as if he were boxing, and another man went backwards into the boat, while a blow or two from Neb Dumlow’s capstan-bar, which Barney had picked up, sufficed to clear the chains.
I looked over the side for a moment, and saw a man holding out an oar to Jarette, who was swimming; but there was a rush of feet again, and the men who had come over the bows were running back just in time to drive back three more, tumbling them over into the sea, to regain their boat the best way they could.
Then these four, headed by the man who had led them, began to cheer, and came running back toward us, the man who had snatched my gun, and whom I saw now to be the cook, shouting louder than all the rest put together.
“What, are you on our side, then, old Plum Duff?” cried Dumlow, who was now sitting up.
“Seems like it, Neb,” cried the cook. “Here, Mr Dale, sir, load quickly and fire, or they’ll come on again.”
He handed me the gun, and I rapidly opened the breech and slipped in the cartridges, just as firing began from aft, and I saw that Mr Frewen was standing against the companion-way aiming at the boat containing Jarette, which had sheered off after picking up their leader and another man, while now the second boat hove in sight from under the bows, in time for Mr Frewen to send a stinging charge of shot at her crew in turn.
He kept up his practice, while in both boats the men pulled with all their might to get out of range.
But our troubles did not seem over, for hardly had we grasped the fact that the cook and three of the men had snatched at the opportunity to escape from Jarette’s rule, and join us in the defence of the ship, than I saw that which made me shout—
“Fire!—fire!” for the great cloud of steam always rising was swept suddenly towards the starboard side, and the vessel slowly careened over in the same direction.
“Burnt through, and sinking,” I groaned to myself, and then I felt stunned, for Bob yelled out—
“Run to the wheel, Barney, lad. Keep her before the wind.”
The sailor bounded to the ladder, and up on the poop-deck, to spin round the spokes of the wheel; and the next minute, almost before I could grasp what had happened, the sails, which had hung for days motionless, had filled, and we were running free, leaving the two boats and their occupants far behind.
“Thank God!” cried a voice behind me, and I turned to see that it was Mr Frewen, who now ran to the entrance of the saloon, where I saw him grasping Miss Denning’s and her brother’s hands, and I knew he was saying “Saved!”
Directly after he was back with us, who were carefully lifting Mr Brymer, while Mr Preddle lay so motionless that I was afraid he was dead.
Mr Frewen dropped on one knee, and began to examine the mate, while I watched him with intense eagerness, waiting to hear his words.
“It must have been a bad cartridge, or the pistol improperly loaded. It did not pierce the cloth of his cap, and even the skin of the scalp is not broken.”
“Then it will not be fatal?” I said.
“Fatal?—no! There may be a little concussion of the brain. You had better carry him into his cabin, my lads, out of the sun.”
The cook and one of the men who had returned to their allegiance lifted the mate carefully, and bore him toward the saloon, while Mr Frewen now directed his attention to the naturalist.
“I’m not in fit trim for acting as surgeon, Dale,” he said. “I’m bubbling over with excitement; my nerves are all on the strain with the struggle I have gone through. But we’ve won, my lad, thanks to those fellows who came over on our side. Now, Preddle, my good friend, how is it with you? Hah! Only been stunned. A nasty crack on the head though.”
He parted the hair to show me how the head had puffed up into a great lump; but I had hardly bent forward to examine it, as the poor fellow lay sheltered from the morning sun by the shadow cast by one of the sails, when he opened his eyes, looked vacantly about him, and then fixed them on me, and recognising me, a look of intelligence brightened in his gaze, and he said quietly—
“My fish all right, Dale?”
“I—I haven’t been to look at them this morning,” I stammered, hardly able to keep back a laugh.
“I forgot. I went myself,” he said. “Of course. But I couldn’t find the bellows. You haven’t taken them, have you?”
“No,” I said gently, thinking that he was wandering in his mind.
“How tiresome! That water wants aerating badly.”
“Bellers, sir?” growled Dumlow, who was looking on; “I took ’em to make the kittle bile, and didn’t have no time to put ’em back ’cause of the boats coming.”
“Ah, the boats,” cried Mr Preddle, excitedly. “Jarette knocked me down.”
“And he got knocked down hisself, sir. Reg’lar one for his nob,” said Dumlow.
“Then we won, Dale?”
“Oh yes, we’ve won,” I cried, “and the boats are a couple of miles away.”
“Let me examine your head again,” said Mr Frewen.
“What, for that!” cried the naturalist. “Oh, it’s nothing—makes me feel a little giddy and headachy, that’s all. But I think I’ll go and sit out of the sun for a bit. Why, we’re sailing again.”
“Yes,” I cried; “there’s a beautiful breeze on, and we’ve left the beaten enemy behind, and—”
Flip-flip-flap-flap-flop!
The wind had ceased as suddenly as it had come on.
“Well, sir,” said Bob Hampton, a short time later, “I never ’spected to see you get to be skipper dooring this voyage.”
“Oh, don’t talk nonsense, Bob,” I cried. “Look—they’re coming on again as fast as they can row.”
The old sailor shaded his eyes and looked aft at the two boats, which the men were tugging along with all their might, taking advantage of our being becalmed to try and overtake us and renew their attempt.
“Yes, there they are, bless ’em!” cried Bob. “Well, sir, as skipper o’ this here ship, with all the ’sponsibility depending on you, o’ course you know what to do.”
“No, I don’t, Bob,” I cried. “How can a boy like I am know how to manage a full-rigged ship?”
“Tchah! You’ve been to sea times enough, and a ship’s on’y a yacht growed up. Besides, there’s no navigating wanted now as there’s no wind.”
“But the boats!” I cried. “Look at the boats.”
“Oh, I see ’em, my lad; well, that means fighting, and I never knowed a boy yet as didn’t know how to fight.”
“We must try to beat them off, Bob,” I said, ignoring his remark.
“Nay, not try—do it, sir; and you, being skipper, of course ’ll give ’em a startler to show ’em what’s waiting for ’em, if they try to board again.”
“What do you mean, Bob?” I cried.
“Well, come, I like that, sir,” he said, with a laugh; “there have you got the little signal-gun loaded and primed, and the poker all red-hot and waiting, and i’stead o’ having it run to the gangway, set open ready to give ’em their startler, you says you don’t know what to do?”
“Would you do that, Bob?” I said anxiously.
“No; but you would, sir, being skipper, and wanting to save the ship, what’s left o’ the cargo, and all aboard.”
“But it might sink them.”
“And jolly well serve ’em right—a set of piratical sharks. Ahoy, Barney!—you aren’t to stop at that there wheel now; the skipper wants you to lend a hand with the gun.”
Barney ran up to us, and the gun was dragged to the open gangway, ready for the mutineers, as they still rowed on.
“Neb, old lad,” cried Bob, “give a hye to the red-hot poker, and when I cries ‘Sarvice!’ out you runs with it, and hands it to me.”
“Ay, ay,” growled Dumlow, in his deepest bass.
“It’s all right, Mr Dale, sir,” whispered Bob. “You can’t hit ’em with that thing if you try ever so; but it’ll splash up the water, and scare the lot on ’em so that old Frenchy ’ll have no end of a job to get ’em to come on.”
I felt better at that, and waited for the attack. Mr Frewen was back with us, and Mr Preddle too. Mr Denning was also in his old place with his gun; and as the men, including the four who had joined us, were armed with the weapons they had brought from the boat, they made a respectable show.
“But do you think we can trust those men?” I whispered to Bob.
“Trust ’em, my lad?” he replied, with a chuckle. “You jest may. They knows it would be all over with ’em if once Frenchy got ’em under his thumb again. Don’t you be scared about them; they’ll fight like gamecocks.”
“If we could only get the wind again,” said Mr Frewen, who looked anxious.
“Is there any chance of it, Bob?” I asked.
“Can’t say, sir. Maybe we shall get a breeze; maybe we shan’t. But never mind; we’ll raise a storm for them in the boats, in precious few minutes too. She’s charged all right, arn’t she, sir?”
“Oh yes,” said Mr Preddle. “I rammed the cartridge well home, and primed the touch-hole with powder.”
“Then I should not wait long,” said Mr Frewen, anxiously. “It will perhaps make the scoundrels keep off.”
“’Zactly, sir. Mr Dale here’s skipper now, and he’ll give the order directly.”
“No, no,” I said; “Mr Frewen, you take the lead.”
“I am only the doctor,” he replied, with a smile, which made me feel that he was laughing at me. But the boats were coming on so fast that something had to be done, and in my excitement I cried—
“Now, Bob. Time!”
“Ay, ay, sir,” he shouted, going down on one knee to point the little gun. “Sarvice!”
There was a growl from forward, and Neb Dumlow came limping from the galley, along the narrow piece of deck, by where the steam still rose, and flourishing a red-hot poker, hurried to our side.
“Cap’en o’ the gun says— Stand well from behind; keep alongside, ’cause she kicks. One moment. I can’t get no better aim. Now, sir, ready!”
“Fire!” I cried; and I felt in agony, but had faith in Bob Hampton’s words.
Down went the hot poker. There was a flash, a fizz, and a puff of smoke from the touch-hole, and that was all. No, not all, for a puff of wind followed that of smoke, and the ship began to glide onward again, while the men gave a cheer, and Barney ran to the wheel.
“Saved once more,” cried Mr Frewen.
“Yes, sir, and them too. But beg pardon, sir,” growled Bob Hampton; “I mean you, sir,—Mr Preddle, sir,—are you sure as you loaded the gun?”
“Yes, quite. With one of these cartridges,”—and he went to a box, out of which he took one with the ball fitted in its place by means of a couple of tin bands.
“That’s right, sir; but did you ram it home?”
“Yes, hard.”
Bob Hampton thrust in the rammer and felt the cartridge.
“Yes, sir; seems right. Perhaps the powder’s old and damp.”
“No; I think it was perfectly dry.”
“Humph!” growled Bob; and then an idea seemed to strike him.
“Beg pardon, sir,” he cried; “would you mind showing me how you shoved the cartridge in?”
“Like this,” cried Mr Preddle, eagerly, stooping down to apply the cartridge to the mouth of the little brass gun.
“Sure you did it like that, sir?”
“Yes; certain.”
“Then no wonder it didn’t go off. Why, that’s the way to sarve one o’ them breeches-loaders. You don’t put a cartridge ball first into the muzzle of a gun.”
“Why, no!” cried Mr Preddle, colouring like a girl. “How stupid!”
“And we shall have a job to unload her,” growled Bob.
But his attention was directly after taken up by the management of the ship, for the wind held on, and by night we had left the boats down below the horizon line, invisible to us even from the mast-head.
That proved an anxious time, for the wind sank soon after sunset, and a careful watch had to be kept, both for the boats, and against our enemy the fire, which kept on showing that there was still some danger in the hold.
The next morning dawned with the boats in sight again, and their crews were evidently straining every nerve to overtake us, for it was once more a dead calm.
We were more hopeful though, for a couple more applications of the hose had pretty well extinguished the fire; the cannon had been unloaded and properly charged; and, best of all, Mr Frewen’s patients were all better, and Mr Brymer sufficiently well to sit up in a chair, and be brought on deck to take his place as captain, to my intense relief.
The cook had quietly gone to his galley, and then acted as steward as well, so that while the boats were still miles away, we had the best breakfast we had been provided with for many days. And, after this, quite ready for our enemies, and well furnished with weapons, we waited their coming.
I obtained a glass from the captain’s cabin, my principal officer telling me to keep it as long as I liked, on condition that I kept reporting to him the state of affairs on deck.
“Everyone is very kind,” he said sadly; “but I spend a great many anxious hours here, longing to hear how things are going on, and if it were not for Miss Denning, my position would be ten times worse.”
I hurried out with the glass, focussed it on the boats, and watched the men for long enough. The forces had been equalised by four men being sent out of Jarette’s boat to take the places of the men who had returned to their allegiance, and, as I watched them, I could see that as they slaved away at the oars, their leader kept jumping up with a pistol in his hand, to throw himself about wildly, stamping, gesticulating, and pointing to the ship, as if he were urging the crews on.
I was not the only one who used a glass, for there was nothing to do now but wait for the coming attack; and as I had been watching for some time with the glass on the rail, one eye shut, and the other close to the glass, I suddenly ceased, for my right eye felt dazzled by the glare of the sun, and I found that Mr Frewen was close beside me.
“Well, Dale,” he said, “who will get tired first—these scoundrels of attacking us, or we of trying to beat them off?”
“They will,” I said decisively, as I closed my glass and tucked it under my arm. “We’ve got nothing to do but wait; they’ve got to row miles in this hot sun, and then they have to fight afterwards. They can’t help having the worst of it.”
“Yes; they have the worst of it,” he said, smiling.
“And it strikes me they’d be very glad to— Hurray! here’s the wind again.”
For the surface of the sea was dappled with dark patches, and long before the boats could reach us, we were sailing gently away, certainly twice as fast as their crews could row.
It is astonishing what effect those gentle breezes had upon our spirits. I found myself whistling and going to the galley to ask the cook what there was for dinner, and I found him singing, and polishing away at his tins, his galley all neat and clean, and the dinner well in progress.
“Well, mutineer,” I said; “anything good to-day?”
“Oh, I do call that unkind, Mr Dale, sir, and it isn’t true. Didn’t I show you as soon as I could that I wasn’t one of that sort?”
“Well, yes, you sneaked back when you thought your side was going to be beaten.”
He looked at me fiercely, but smiled the next moment.
“Plain Irish stoo to-day, sir, made out of Noo Zealand mutton, for I found the onions. There’s plenty of ’em. You don’t mean what you said, sir. Just you have a pistol stuck in one of your ears, and be told that you’re not to be a cook and a slave any more, but to join the adventurers who are going to live in a beautiful island of their own, where it’s always fine weather, and if you don’t you’re to be shot. Why, of course I joined ’em, same as lots more did. Any fellow would rather live in a beautiful island than have his brains blown out.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said shortly. “I wouldn’t on Jarette’s terms.”
“No, sir, you wouldn’t,” said the cook; “but Mr Walters would.”
As he spoke he lifted the lid off one of his pots, and gave the contents a stir round.
“Smell that, sir? There’s nothing on Jarette’s island as’ll come up to that. But, between ourselves, I don’t believe he knows of any island at all such as he talked about to the men, till he’d gammoned them or bullied them over. Hah!” he continued, tasting his cookery; “wants a dash more pepper and a twist of salt, and then that stuff’s strong enough to do the skipper and Mr Denning more good than all the doctor’s stuff. Young Walters, too; he’s very bad, isn’t he?”
“Terribly.”
“Sarve him right. Wonderful island indeed! This galley’s good enough island for me. You didn’t mean that, Mr Dale, sir. I got out of the scrape as soon as I could, and so did those other three lads as come aboard with me; and we’ll all fight jolly hard to keep from getting into it again. I believe that some of the others would drop the game, and be glad to get back on board, if they weren’t afraid of Frenchy, as we call him. That man’s mad as a hatter, sir.”
“That’s a true word, cookie,” growled Bob Hampton. “You smell good, mate, but I wish you’d keep your door shut. It makes me feel mut’nous, and as if I wanted to turn pirate and ’tack the galley.”
“Wind going to hold good, Bob?” I said, moving off.
“Arn’t seen the clerk o’ the weather this mornin’, sir, so can’t say.”
“Jarette’s mad—Jarette’s mad,” I repeated to myself as I left the galley, and found Mr Preddle, with his head very much swollen and tied up in a handkerchief, blowing away into the water where his fish still survived.
“I shall get some of them across after all,” he said, with a nod.
“I hope so,” I replied; and after a look at the far-distant boats—mere specks now—I went on aft to have a chat with Mr Denning, who lay on a mattress in the shade, with his sister reading to him; but there was his loaded gun lying beside him, to prove that it was not yet all peace. I stopped to sit down tailor-fashion on the deck and have a chat with them both, feeling pleased to see how their eyes lit-up, and what smiles greeted me; and somehow it seemed to me then that they felt toward me as if I were their younger brother, and they called me by my Christian name quite as a matter of course.
“If the wind would only keep on!” Miss Denning said.
“Or if Mr Preddle would only use those bellows of his on the sails,” said her brother, smiling.
“Why, you’re ever so much better,” I said quickly, “or you wouldn’t joke like that.”
“Yes,” he said with a sigh, “I feel better. Mr Frewen’s doing me good, or else it’s this lovely soft, warm air.”
“Oh, we shall have him running ashore in New Zealand like a stag, Miss Denning,” I cried, getting up.
“Don’t go yet,” she said.
“I must,” I cried. “I want to stop, but Mr Brymer uses me now as his tongue and fists. I have to give all his orders to the men.”
I went to where the mate was seated, received his orders, had them executed, and then met Mr Frewen coming out of Walters’ cabin.
“Oh, there you are, Dale,” he cried. “Go in and talk to that poor wretch for a few minutes. You must try and cheer him up, or he’ll die, as sure as I’m here.”
“Oh, I say, don’t tell me that,” I cried. “I don’t like him, and I think he behaved horridly, but I don’t want him to die.”
I hurried into my messmate’s cabin, and found him lying there so ghastly and strange-looking that I shivered, and began to move on tip-toe.
“Come and sit down a minute, Dale,” he said in a weak voice; and I at once seated myself close to his bunk.
“Want some water?”
“No,” he said sadly; “I want nothing now, only for you to promise me something.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t write, but I want you to promise me when you get home to go to my father and mother, and of course they’ll know everything from the papers; but I want you, my messmate, to tell them I was not quite such a wretch as I seem to have been.”
“Oh, never mind about that now,” I said. “Get well, and go and tell them yourself.”
“No,” he said calmly; “I shall not get well. I could see it in Mr Frewen’s eyes. I’m very glad now. If I got well, of course I should have to be tried and punished, and be a convict. I should deserve it, but the judge and lawyers would be very hard, and I don’t want them to try me.”
“Oh, come, Walters, old chap,” I cried in a choking voice, “don’t take it like that.” And I caught his hand in mine, and felt him press it feebly, as his face lit-up with a pleasant smile, which made him look quite changed.
“Yes,” he said, quite cheerfully, but almost in a whisper, “I must take it like that now. Old Jarette aimed too well.”
He lay looking straight out of the bright cabin-window; while I tried to speak, but found no words would come. I knew that the wind had dropped again, for the ship had grown steady once more; but I forgot all about the approaching boats, and could only sit holding Walters’ hand, and watching his altered face.
“Yes,” he said at last, “Jarette aimed too straight, Dale, old fellow, it has all been a mistake. I was a weak, conceited fool, and thought every one was against me, when it was all my fault. I know it now. Any fellow can make himself liked if he only tries—no, without trying, if he’ll only go straight and act like a man. But somehow I couldn’t. I got jealous of you, and wild because people made so much of you. And I said you hated me, and did all you could to make things worse, but it wasn’t true, Dale, old fellow. It was all my fault.”
“Yes, yes; but that’s all over, old chap,” I said huskily. “You’ll get well, and do your bit of punishment, and make a fresh start.”
He looked at me with a smile on his poor wan face, and I never realised before how good-looking he was. And then I shuddered, for he said quietly—
“Yes, I shall make a fresh start—somewhere else.”
“Walters!” I whispered.
“Yes, somewhere else,” he repeated. “It was all wrong; and just when I was at my worst, that wretch, who had been watching me and reading it all, came to me, and, as if he were some evil spirit, kept on day after day, laughing and jeering at me, till he regularly worked round me like the snake he is, and flattered, and planned, and talked of the future, till in my weak, vain folly I drank it all in. For I was weak, and he was strong; and at last, though I didn’t know it then, I was his slave, Dale, and ready to do every bit of villainy he wished. But there, I need not tell you any more. I only want you, knowing all you do, to go to my poor old father and mother and tell them everything—how it all happened. It will be better than for them only to know it from the papers. They will understand then how it was I went wrong so quickly, right to the bitter end.”
“No,” I cried; “you shall go and confess it all yourself.”
He laughed gently.
“Oh no. I’m glad Jarette aimed so straight, Dale. It was the kindest thing he could do. It’s all over now. Can’t you see it’s best?”
“No,” I said more firmly. “It would be best for you to get well, and prove in the future as a man, that you have repented your weakness as a boy.”
“Yes, perhaps,” he said, after a long pause; “but it is not to be so. I’m not going to be tried here, Dale, where no one can tell everything, and understand how weak I was, and how, from the first day, I bitterly repented giving that man such power over me. I’m going to be judged there, Dale, where everything is known.”
He closed his eyes as he spoke, and I was going to steal away, but his grasp tightened on my hand.
“Don’t leave me, Dale,” he whispered. “You’ll promise all this, won’t you?”
“If it is necessary,” I said; “but you—”
He opened his eyes, and looked at me, smiling gently, and I ceased speaking, for I knew that my words were not true as I sat beside him all through that hot day waiting.
Mr Frewen came in from time to time, but he said little, and Walters appeared to be dozing for the most part.
“Better stay,” Mr Frewen whispered; and then in answer to my questioning look, he shook his head, and I knew that it was all over.
It was close upon sundown, and the interior of the cabin was filled with an orange glow when Mr Frewen came in again.
Walters seemed to be fast asleep, quite free from pain, and breathing easily.
“You must be terribly faint, my lad. You have had nothing,” the doctor whispered.
“Yes, I have,” I replied. “Bob Hampton brought me a biscuit and some soup, and Miss Denning brought me some tea just now.”
“Heaven bless her!” he muttered. Then in a quick whisper—“We shall have to call you up presently, my lad.”
“Why?”
“The enemy are closing in. They’ll make a desperate fight of it this time, and every help we can muster is necessary. Eh! Want me?” he said, as there was a tap on the door.
He went out, and I was thinking whether I could withdraw my hand without waking Walters, so as to get out on deck and help, when he opened his eyes and looked round quickly as if he wondered where he was.
Then he saw me and smiled.
“Don’t forget, Dale,” he whispered. “Now I want Miss Denning.”
He loosened my hand, and I went out to find her waiting close by the door.
“Walters wants to see you, Miss Denning,” I said, and she bowed her head and crept silently into the ruddily-lit cabin, and knelt down by where Walters lay.
“Yes,” he said, holding out his hands. “Thank you. But you tell them—how sorry—they will listen—to you.—Now—‘Our Father’—”
Helena Denning’s voice took up the words and went on in a low appealing murmur, and as I looked wildly in Walters’ face, I saw his lips moving till she uttered the words—“and forgive us our trespasses—”
Then his lips became motionless, his gaze fixed on the golden glory in the heavens, and I started wildly to my feet, for at that moment there was a tremendous roar. The heavily-charged cannon had been fired, and I knew that the enemy were close at hand.
I gave one glance at Miss Denning, who knelt there now, crouching low, with her face buried in her hands, and then ran on deck ready to help repel the attack.
For there were the two boats close into the port-gangway, and the men in them frantically gesticulating and waving their hands.
“Don’t—don’t fire,” one of the men yelled. “We give in.”
“Yes, yes; give in,” came in a wild chorus.
“The beggars surrender, sir,” cried Bob Hampton, who was on his knees re-charging the cannon. “But get that there poker ready again, Neb. We’ll hit ’em next time if they don’t.”
“Ahoy!” cried Mr Brymer, through a speaking-trumpet. “One boat come forward; but if there is any treachery, we’ll show no mercy to any one there.”
“Treachery?” shouted a man pitifully, as the first boat was slowly rowed in. “We’re all spent, sir. There arn’t a drop o’ water. Give us all a drink first, and then shoot us if you like.”
“Where’s Jarette?”
“Here, in the bottom, sir, tied neck and heels. He went stark mad last night, and bit and fought till we had to tie him down under the thwarts.”
“Water—water!—for heaven’s sake, water!” came in a piteous chorus, as the second boat rowed slowly in.
“Is it real or a trick?” said Mr Brymer, in a whisper.
“Real enough,” said Mr Frewen. “The men are suffering horribly, and—oh! look! There’s no subterfuge there,—that man—Jarette. He is dead!”