Mr. Bates and the others were a long time in the hold; they found trouble in getting at the goods they wanted. I cleared the table and tidied the cabin, hot with thought all the time I worked. If Rotch and Nodder were truly on the island and we got them into the brig, how would this amazing venture end?
Meanwhile I held off from Tom; I heard him walking overhead; the scheme he himself lighted on was sure to prove the best, and I guessed when he wanted me he would seek me.
At last Bates and the islanders came out of the hold. Tom descended the steps to talk with them, and I walked out to hear what passed.
‘Captain,’ said Peter Green, ‘ve vhas very glad to exchange mit a leedle of what ve hov seen. Dere vhas some goodt useful shirts, und ve find der boots und flannel joost vhat ve’ll be thankful for in a month or two.’
‘Very well,’ said Tom, who now had himself wholly under control. ‘The arrangements will stand thus, Mr. Green: I’ll take a three-mile offing and heave-to till daybreak. You’ll then come off in your whale-boat with all you’re able to load, and bring some hands to carry our boat ashore for fresh water. Is the hose still connected with the cascade?’
‘Ay, sir,’ said old Daly.
‘Boats water lying outside the surf?’
‘Dat vhas so,’ said Peter Green.
‘Well, when you’ve victualled and watered us, you’ll bring off the three men who want to get away.’
‘Vhere vhas you bound to again, captain?’ said Peter Green. ‘Ach, my memory!’
‘To Cape Town,’ answered Tom, quick in his answer as the report after the flash. ‘Will that suit them?’
‘Dey vhas very grateful. Und so vhas ve. Der language of dot Captain Rotch does not always please Governor Glass. He vhas impatient, und vhas not enough thankful to Gott for his life. But, den, poor doyfil, he has a wife und shilds at home, und den again he has lost his ship, mit a goodt deal of property for a hard-verking seafaring man.’
After a little more conversation to this effect the islanders got their boat alongside, shook hands with us all, and went away. It was hard upon five o’clock. All day long a light breeze had been blowing. Now and again the water crisped friskily close off the island, as though to a down-rush of cold breeze from the giant mountain slopes; but the spread of air was local, and no break of it came within a mile of the brig. The sky was pure, cloudless blue—the rich sky of the Antipodean summer; and the ocean, flowing stately in majestic folds of swell, was at this hour of a most lovely violet colour. The beautiful tint of sea and sky was in the atmosphere, and tinged the lofty mass of mountain to its snow-line. The vapour of the morning had dissolved upon that eminence. It now stood in naked, lovely grandeur. The westering sunshine flung a faint, delicate dye of rose upon the snow on its top, and the same fair tint lived in the line of foam that boiled the length of the whole base of the bit of solitary land. The white whale-boat making for the island showed like a melting snowflake, as she rose and sank upon the blue heave.
‘We’ll head out three miles, Bates,’ said Tom, ‘and then sit down and talk.’
The maintopsail was swung, and the brig’s jibbooms slowly rounded into the north. I went to the galley to see to the fire and boil water for tea. There was nothing in sight—no feather-tip of remote ship’s canvas—nothing but that mountain of Tristan d’Acunha, now darkening low down, then strangely glowing out in snow with gleams here and there as of waterfalls.
The helm was secured. The brig was under topsails and foresail only; small need for a constant look-out on such a bright, calm, sweet evening as this. We seated ourselves at the table, but neither Bates nor Will nor myself broke the silence till Tom spoke.
‘Some wonderful things have happened,’ said he, ‘since the convicts seized the ship, but nothing so wonderful as those men being on the island I meant to hide myself in.’
‘It’s God’s doing,’ said the mate.
Tom inclined his head.
‘There’s no doubt of their being the right men, d’ye think, sir?’ exclaimed Will.
‘The Arab Chief, my lad, and then Rotch and Nodder! Oh, no doubt, Johnstone.’
‘You’ll not take it amiss, Butler,’ said the mate, ‘if I ask what notions you’ve formed—what resolutions may have come into your head?’
‘First, as to receiving them on board,’ said Tom, speaking quietly and leisurely, though there was a look in his face which put an accent and meaning into his words that the ear with the eyes closed would not have caught. ‘I must be out of sight. Glass may come off. I’ll lie up in my cabin, and sham indisposition. Should Glass come, I’ll talk to him in my berth. You’ll receive the men and attend to all that needs looking after until the islanders go and sail’s trimmed. I’ll then show myself.’ He looked at me as he said this, and smiled.
‘I quite understand,’ said Mr. Bates. ‘You can leave everything to me.’
‘Bates, I would trust you with my life.’ He paused, with his eyes fixed upon the mate. ‘Afterward, you’re thinking?’ he continued. ‘Well, that may be as it shall turn out; but I’ve sworn this by my heart, by that lady there, and by my Maker, that, having them, I’ll not let go of them, Bates, till they’ve signed a declaration of my innocence and their own villainy, witnessed by all hands; that, having them,’ he repeated, with the blood mounting into his face and his eyes glowing as though he were in a high fever, ‘I’ll keep them on the high seas to give them time to sign; failing which I’ll hang them at the yardarms of this brig, though it should come to my going to the South Sea to find savages for their executioners.’
The fire, the passion, the intensity with which he spoke these words made his delivery tragically startling and impressive. Bates’s countenance fell; Will was pale and alarmed; my own spirit was in hot sympathy with Tom’s—I felt all his rage, and his resolution to give the two devils the alternative of confessing the truth or of being hanged worked in me like a strong and flaming drink, and ran my blood in fire to my very finger-ends.
‘You’re never in earnest, Butler?’ said the mate in a low voice.
Tom scowled at him.
‘Why, man, consider; put your respectability on one side and reflect. Those two fellows swore me into jail, into the hulk, into the convict ship, into long months of association with felons, whose crimes—many of them—barely stopped short of murder. It is to their training of me they’ll owe their hanging, if it comes to it. They’ve made a devil of me. They shall find me a devil.’
Mr. Bates glanced at me somewhat nervously and said: ‘Well, Butler, first let’s get them: then we shall be sure they’re the men, and when we’ve got them we must hope they’ll confess.’
‘They’ll not go out of this ship alive unless they confess,’ said Tom.
‘If they confess under terror will their confession help you, sir?’ said Will.
‘Johnstone is the son of a lawyer, Bates,’ said Tom.
‘But there’s good sense in the question, Butler,’ said the mate. ‘They may swear their confession was a lie, that they were forced into telling it by your threats to hang them.’
‘The terms of the confession shall provide against that, and every man in this ship shall witness it. Let them confess; I’ll take my chance of what may follow.’
‘Will Rotch and the other be free here, Tom?’ I asked.
‘No.’
‘Then we remain short-handed as before?’ said Will.
‘There’s a seaman along with the two—you’ve forgotten him,’ exclaimed Tom. ‘He’ll make four, and Marian five.’
‘Where do you propose to head when you start?’ exclaimed the mate.
‘North, Bates; I can’t keep you and young Johnstone at sea. Not likely! You’ll help me to work the brig as far as Soundings; then go ashore in whatever will take you, along with the yarn that we’ll manufacture before that time.’
‘What’ll you do?’ said the mate.
‘Oh, keep the sea—keep the sea until Rotch and Nodder confess. Eh, Marian? This brig’s a tight little home for us, as safe a retreat in its way as the island, helping us to such an issue of truth or justice or retribution as we should never be able to work out in Glass’s settlement. Eh, my brave girl? As lief be here as on a rock; and then the delights of a devil’s cruise with our two Old Bailey witnesses under hatches! Why ’twould be like one of our old river and suburban jaunts—so pretty and lively that we may grieve when the rogues’ confession ends it.’
‘We’ll take Miss Johnstone ashore with us,’ said Bates, ‘when the time comes for us to go.’
I looked at him with a frown; Tom’s eye was upon me, and he laughed, but with little merriment.
‘You and Marian’ll never handle this brig alone,’ said Will.
Tom was looking at me, and pretended not to hear him. Bates left the table to see that all was right with the little vessel. By the time he returned Tom’s mood had changed. He spoke quietly, and without the least temper, of the morrow’s arrangements. It was dark by the time the talk had ended. I lighted the cabin lamp, Will the binnacle lamp, and Tom and Bates walked the roof of the deck-house in earnest talk. Will beckoned me out of the cabin to where he was standing, near the wheel, and said softly: ‘Marian, beware of Tom; he’s been driven mad.’
‘No more mad than you are,’ said I.
‘What does he mean by talking of swinging the two men?’
‘I’ll help him if he asks me,’ said I.
‘And be hanged. This is what comes of following a convict’s fortune. He speaks of himself as a devil. He talks like one, anyhow. Worst of all, he’s making you one. There shall be no hanging if I’m here to stop it, though Butler should pistol me for interfering.’
‘You’re excited, and I’ll not talk with you.’
‘Mustn’t he be mad,’ he exclaimed, careful, however, to keep his voice sunk, ‘to threaten to sail about with you alone in this brig till the fellows under hatches, as he calls it, confess? Suppose they make up their minds to see which will tire first? Besides, how are two of you to sail a brig of this bulk? Why, his island scheme was beautiful sanity alongside this last bit of roaring madness.’
‘I’ll ask you to mind your own business,’ I cried. ‘Have you a heart? Have you any capacity of feeling? Did those two fellows spare Tom? Look what they’ve brought him to. And shall we not right ourselves in our own fashion if the chance offers? Wear irons as Tom has, sweat in forced labour in a convict’s dress, be ruined, degraded, broken-hearted, yet innocent as Tom is, and imagine the villains who falsely swore you into ruin, misery, exile, in your power. Would you damp their pale brows with lavender water, wash their weary feet, offer them your forgiveness with caresses, promise to plead for them in your prayers? Chaw! You’re no man, Will!’
I swung on my heels in a passion, and left him.
That evening, until ten or thereabouts, we sat in the cabin. I believed Tom guessed what was in Will’s mind. The lad had a bright, handsome face. A little thing would bring his heart into his eyes, and all that he felt he looked, with colour, with paleness, with wild stares (as when he came to me after seeing Lieutenant Chimmo murdered), with a fine light of merriment when he was amused. For the first time I could recollect, my sweetheart went carefully, and with scarce any temper, through the story of Rotch’s accusation. He related how he had punished the man for rudeness to a young lady at a South American fandango; how he had reported him and lost him his berth for sleeping whilst on duty, and for other reasons. He exactly described how the treacherous, shocking conspiracy against him had been worked out and executed by Rotch, with the help of Nodder; how the holes had been pierced by Rotch, the auger hidden in his (Tom’s) cabin, the lazarette entered by Rotch when there was no sort of stores in it at that time to warrant the visit. He said he never understood why Nodder conspired against him. He supposed Rotch had tempted the beast with drink, with an offer of money, and the promise of a mate’s place in the barque, if he (Rotch) got command. With his eyes fixed upon Will, he drew a few pictures of his sufferings in jail, and of his life in the hulk.
Bates listened closely; the worthy fellow was stirred to the heart by Tom’s simple recital of his wrongs and sufferings. Will’s face flushed with sympathy and temper as he listened; I see his looks now as he leaned on the table under the cabin lamp, with his eyes moistening at intervals. As for me, I sat quiet till Tom had done, though I was half distracted by the passion and grief, the wrath and wild regrets which arose as my sweetheart proceeded, until, on his ending with a sob in his voice and his hands to his brow, I could bear myself no longer, and, springing up, I flung my arms around him and held him to me with my lips pressed to his cheek, down which my own tears ran.
‘Curse them!’ cried Will, starting up; ‘they shan’t live for the want of a hangman, if they don’t confess!’
He made the sentence violent by a strong forecastle oath, and, striking the table with his clenched fist, walked out of the cabin, talking loudly to himself out of his overwrought feelings.
The rest of the night passed quietly. Tom bade me go to bed, and I went to my berth, but not before I had paced the deck for a quarter of an hour with him. The weather was wonderfully silent, and the darkness beautiful with stars. The light wind held; the four of us prayed it would hold till after daybreak, though Tom said the islanders at this time of the year made nothing of putting out to sea to vessels six or even eight miles distant. The large black swell rolled soundlessly; off the ocean no noise came save the low, faint thunder of the surf whitening afar at the base of the giant shadow. I slept but little; all the most tragic and startling incidents of this passage of my life, from the hour when news of Tom’s imprisonment was given to me at Ramsgate by my aunt, were as naught—were as trifles lighter than thinnest air—alongside this, our lighting upon Rotch and Nodder in yonder island, hidden away in the heart of earth’s mightiest stretch of waters.
The instant I heard a movement on deck I sprang out of my bunk, apparelled myself for the day, and, going forth, found a streak of granite-coloured dawn in the east, the night still black and full of stars over our mast-heads and in the west, and Tom and the others squaring the yards to a light northerly wind that would directly float us toward the island.
The sun rose; the day flashed out blue and cloudless to his beam. Will took the helm, and the island soared directly over our bow, rich with the morning dyes, to where it vanished in motionless masses of steam-white vapour. I lighted the galley fire and got breakfast. Having hove the brig to within a mile and a half of the settlement, we made a meal on deck, Tom every few minutes levelling the telescope at the beach where the whale-boat lay.
At about eight o’clock the island boat put off. She came slowly, floating deep, and looked pretty full of men. When she was midway, Tom, after talking quietly and earnestly with Bates, withdrew to his cabin to feign sickness, as had been arranged. On the boat drawing alongside, I observed that all the people were strangers, saving old Daly. There were eight men, some of them young. Daly made the ninth. I had supposed whilst the boat approached that Rotch and Nodder were amongst the little crowd in her, but no faces answered to theirs, which I recollected as clearly—the handsome features of Rotch, the red locks and wall-eye of the curled, sour, drink-sodden carpenter Nodder—as though I beheld their likenesses.
The boat was handsomely laden with potatoes, pieces of fresh beef, poultry, eggs, and other produce. Daly came over the side with a little bright tin can in his hand. He immediately stepped up to me, and with a quaint old sea-bow and a sea-flourish, said he had taken the liberty to bring me off a drink of milk; ’twas fresh from one of his own cows that morning, he assured me. There was no sweeter draught, said he, than a can of new milk after a few months of salt water. I thanked him heartily. Of all delicious draughts, the delicatest that I remember in seventy-seven years was that drink of new milk from the island of Tristan d’Acunha.
Daly told Mr. Bates that Corporal Glass was still too unwell to come off; he sent his compliments to the captain, and begged a visit. Bates answered that the captain was poorly and confined to his bed. Then Daly brought the islanders up to us and introduced them; two of them were sons of the corporal, others sons of Cotton, Swain, and Green. Daly’s own son was a man of about thirty, strong, active, and good-looking, tinctured with the blood of a mulatto mother. They swiftly discharged their whale-boat, got the Childe Harold’s quarter-boat, stowed casks for filling with fresh water, and pulled away for the island.
I went to Tom and gave him the news. He came out of his berth on hearing the islanders were gone, and walked about the deck, and looked at the stuff that had been brought off; then went with Bates and Will into the hold, where they passed up one to another a number of parcels of clothing till as much was on deck as the provisions which had been brought off were worth.
It was past one o’clock when the boats put off for the brig. The whale-boat came along with ours in tow. It was blowing a soft steady air of wind out of the north; the sky was cloudless; the rippling of water made you think of a gentle noise of girlish laughter, and the heave of the swell shouldered in stately volumes out of the west, wide drawn and round-backed, so that the movements of the brig were like a pulse. Tom rested the telescope on the bulwark-rail and looked at the approaching boats. He continued to gaze; I feared the boats would draw near enough to enable the people to see him. He suddenly turned to me with a pale face that was yet dark with a frown, and exclaimed: ‘Marian, Rotch and Nodder are there!’ With that he gave the telescope to Bates, and merely adding, ‘Report when the islanders are gone and you’ve trimmed for the start,’ he walked to his berth.
My heart now began to beat wildly, and I felt faint and sick with excitement. Will and Bates looked at me. I said: ‘I’ll withdraw to the end of the deck-house. Does not my face tell a story?’
‘You look like a ghost,’ exclaimed Will, ‘and your eyes are like live coals! Go right away aft, and keep quiet, and take time to screw your fiddlestrings of nerves into tune. Mr. Bates and I’ll manage better without you.’
I mounted to the roof of the house and posted myself at the extreme end. There was a chair there. I placed it so that I could command a view of the gangway, and there I sat, still very sick and faint, detesting myself for this weakness, yet excusing myself, too, for surely never could there happen a moment in a woman’s life more charged with supreme tragic interest than this.
The two boats drew alongside, the quarter-boat laden with casks of fresh water. The first to step on deck was Rotch. I knew him instantly. His face, whilst he stood in the witness-box, giving evidence against Tom, had burnt itself into my memory. I should have been able then, as I should be able now, to pick him out in a moment from amongst a thousand. He sprang into the main-chains and got over the bulwarks actively. He was dressed in blue cloth and a blue cloth cap with a naval peak. His face was sallow, as though he was newly recovered from an illness. He was of Tom’s height, without my sweetheart’s manly breadth and inimitable sailorly carriage. But he was an exceedingly handsome man. Many might have thought him handsomer than Tom.
After he had come on board there was some delay. Two or three vigorous islanders then climbed over the side, and, with much trouble and no little peril—for the swell hove the boat very high and sank her very low, whilst the brig leaned heavily away and then depressed her other rail till you thought she had submerged the line of it—the carpenter Nodder was lifted through the gangway. He stood with difficulty and leaned upon an islander’s arm. He was at some little distance from me, but my sight was good; he seemed ghastly ill, the ghastlier because of the length of his greasy, carroty locks of hair and the villainous aspect he took from his deformed eye. He was dressed in old canvas trousers, an old monkey-jacket, and a fur cap.
I had lost sight of Rotch. Bates spoke to Nodder. Whilst this was doing, a third fellow came on board; he was John Collins, the seaman who had been saved with Rotch and the carpenter. He took hold of Nodder and led him slowly forward and helped him into the forecastle through the scuttle.
I’ll now tell you what happened as straight-forwardly and briefly as I can dictate it. The islanders went to work to get the water on board and stow the casks. They sprang like goats, so fleet were their sure feet, as mountaineers. Collins came out of the forecastle and helped them. I walked toward the fore part of the deck-house to observe that man; he was just a plain, average example of the foremast-hand, freckled, yellow-haired, a mat of reddish beard upon his throat, big, silly, wandering eyes; his clothes, duck breeches, flannel shirt, and old Scotch cap. I drew back, hearing the voice of Rotch, and returned to my chair.
Presently they had whipped all the water below and were busy in hoisting the quarter-boat aboard. Whilst this was doing, Rotch came up the deck-house steps; he looked at the island whilst he mounted the ladder, and did not observe me till he was on the roof of the house. He came to a stand very abruptly, and, after staring with many tokens of astonishment in his posture and looks, lifted his cap. I turned my head. No doubt he was surprised to find a well-dressed woman sitting on the deck-house top of that little brig of two hundred tons.
Well dressed I was, as dress then went; to be sure, I had worn my gown every day during the fortnight we had been on board the Old Stormy, but then it was almost a new dress when I took it off and packed it up at Woolwich, and it still looked new. I remember that gown very well; it was of black merino with a velvet cape, long sleeves for which I had no wristbands, the bodice with an embroidered collar and bound to the waist by a band. My hat was narrow-brimmed with curled feathers; this sort of headgear had not long been in fashion when I purchased the thing. I was without jewelry and other finishing details, but the fellow Rotch, at a little distance, would detect no omissions; he found a well-dressed, nay, I may almost call the figure a fashionably-dressed woman viewing the proceedings of the islanders, and his bearing and prolonged stare expressed his surprise.
I was unable to look at him; that is, whilst he looked at me. The devil that was in Tom was in me too. I could have shot the horrid villain as he stood there. But now, in the corners of my eyes, I beheld him approaching. I trembled violently; the throbbing of my heart made me feel ill again. Yet I thought to myself, if the man accosts me I must answer and be civil. Times are when the human instincts are preternatural in divination. The contagion of our secret may have been in the air. Such must be that villain’s conscience that, let him suspect a trap, no matter how dim and faint his suspicion, he’d fling himself into the whale-boat while she was still alongside, and Tom would lose him.
Rightly or wrongly, thus I thought, in the few seconds of his approach; and now he stood close and was addressing me.
‘May I inquire,’ said he, lifting his cap again, ‘if I have the pleasure of speaking to the wife of the captain of this brig?’
I knew that my face was of a milky whiteness, my mouth was dry, my breathing laboured. I answered low and tremulously, ‘I am not the wife of the captain.’
Do not believe that I was afraid. I was sick and cold and shivered with the passion I hid. I dared not lift my eyes, lest beholding the dog with his smile and bland looks I should leap to my feet, spit in his face, strike and curse him.
‘You are, perhaps, a passenger, madam?’ said he.
I slightly inclined my head, keeping my eyes fastened upon the island.
‘I understand,’ he continued, ‘that this brig’s destination is Table Bay. It is very fortunate for me that you have called here. Ships’ visits grow scarcer and scarcer, and a man might easily be imprisoned for a whole twelvemonth in yonder wretched but hospitable little colony.’
At this instant Will came up the ladder and stood at the head of the steps, astounded to observe me talking with Rotch.
‘My misfortunes have been overwhelming!’ exclaimed the villain, speaking in a tone that let me know he preserved his courtesy-smile, though I never turned my eyes from the island save when I glanced at Will. ‘My beautiful ship, the Arab Chief, a vessel I was as proud of as a man of his handsome wife, was burned to the water’s edge through two or three scoundrel seamen broaching the cargo with a naked light. Our sufferings in the boat were terrible. We put off with barely a day’s allowance of fresh water and a handful or two of biscuits. The islanders may have told you in what state they found us. My mate Nodder is very ill. He injured himself somehow when leaving the ship. I hope your captain will not be disappointed. He probably counts upon the help of three working men. I shall be very happy to do my share. I am sorry to hear that he is not well. Pray, madam, what is his name? The islanders who were off yesterday did not get it.’
I rose, saying, under my breath, ‘Excuse me. I want to speak to that young gentleman,’ and walked to Will, panting, as though a poisoned arrow had pierced me, with an anguish of emotion I could no longer support.
‘He came and spoke to me,’ I whispered. ‘I must have torn his eyes out had I listened longer.’
I went down the ladder and stood near the wheel. Mr. Bates stepped over from the gangway to tell me that he believed the carpenter Nodder was a dying man. ‘He has only shipped himself for us to bury him,’ said he. ‘He’ll pull no more ropes in this world.’
‘God won’t let him die till he confesses, I hope,’ said I. ‘The villain Rotch addressed me just now, and has made me sick and mad, Mr. Bates, with his talk of his beautiful ship, the Arab Chief. When will those islanders let us get away?’
There remained, however, little to be done. They had chocked and secured the quarter-boat, and were now gathered in a group round the parcels of clothing they had agreed to take in exchange for watering us and for provisions. Bates left me to join them. Daly said they were well satisfied. The old man then told the others to pass the bundles into the whale-boat. Just over my head stood Rotch talking with Will. He was speaking of me, asked if I was a relation of the captain, if I lived at Cape Town, and so forth. He also said, ‘What’s your captain’s name?’ to which Will responded, as I had, by running down the ladder as though he had not heeded the inquiry because of some sudden call upon his attention.
The islanders now went away. Before going, Daly and the others shook hands with us. The old man-of-war’s man, holding my hand, exclaimed, ‘Bless your pretty face, miss! It calls up my old home to me. Ye’ll not take an old man’s blessing amiss. May God be wi’ ye, and my prayer shall go along wi’ ye for your safety.’ He then, with the others, called a farewell to Rotch, who remained on top of the deck-house, looking down, and in a few minutes the white whale-boat, with her simple, hearty, honest crew, was pulling away for the lonely, towering island.
Mr. Bates bade the new hand Collins ship the gangway. Rotch came down and looked at the compass that stood before the little wheel; I was nigh, and he took but a peep on seeing me.
‘Johnstone, take the wheel,’ said the mate, ‘whilst we swing the yards.’
He and Collins walked to the maintopsail brace; Rotch followed and pulled with them.
They braced the yards fore and aft, and whilst they were belaying the ropes in the waist I heard Rotch say, ‘This is a taut bowline, isn’t it, for a northerly wind and an east-by-north course?’ The mate did not answer.
The brig was at this time under topsails and foresail only and some fore and aft canvas. The wind had scanted, but blew a weak air; the breasts of the sails lifted, and the stem of the brig drove ripples from the bows, and the giant mass of land on the starboard quarter slid almost imperceptibly into the wake.
‘Collins,’ cried Bates, ‘take the wheel from that young gentleman.’
The mate then stepped up to me, leaving Rotch in the waist, that is, near the little caboose.
‘Now,’ said he, looking somewhat pale, ‘what’s next to be done?’
‘Call Rotch aft,’ said I; ‘I’ll bring Captain Butler out.’
‘Collins,’ said the mate, ‘keep her just as she goes. Captain Rotch, will you please step this way into the cabin?’
I went in first; Bates and Will followed. I saw Rotch coming as I knocked on Tom’s door and entered. My sweetheart stood against his bunk, one hand gripping the edge of it, and his head inclined forward in a strained, hearkening posture. His face was colourless, the expression hard and set; his eyes shone under the shadow of a frown of fierce determination.
I said, speaking with difficulty, so great was my agitation: ‘The islanders have left the brig. We have started, and the man’s in the cabin.’
‘Bates and Will? They must hear and see.’
‘They, too, are in the cabin.’
‘Where’s Nodder?’
‘Lying ill in the forecastle.’
On this he opened the door and went out; I was at his heels. Rotch stood on the other side of the cabin table, Will at the foot, and near him Bates; Rotch was at that instant addressing the mate. When he saw Tom the movement of his lips was arrested as though he had been shot through the heart. He stared in a sort of gaping way—the expression is not to be described. Let me call it chilling, benumbing amazement, with horror and fear, like a sort of life, creeping into it. I had read of men changing colour under mental tension of an extravagant kind; I witnessed this now; whilst Rotch looked, gaping, the blankness of amazement taking a vitality from the incrawling horror, his balls of sight strained as though he beheld his fate in the form of some frightful phantom, his complexion changed colour; not from the white of fear to the crimson of rage; it turned, whilst I looked, into a sort of dim, blueish purple, as if he had been poisoned. His lips then moved and he stammered out, in a voice that was half a scream—the words bursting from him—‘You here!’ The next instant he sprang toward the door. But Tom stood close to the entrance; with a single stride he blocked the way, and said, ‘Stand back!’
‘Let me go!’ cried Rotch, suddenly recovering the full use of his lungs. ‘Mr. Bates, help me to signal the island boat. She’s not ashore yet. That man means to murder me. You’re not going to stand by and allow him to take my life? Let me go! There’s time to recall the boat. That man means to take my life. I call upon you to help and save me. I never suspected this!’
He plunged afresh at the door. I don’t doubt that terror and rage gave him the strength of two or even three men at that moment; yet Tom met him as he came, caught him by the throat and hurled him against the bulkhead from which he had run, driving him against the solid wooden wall with a crash which you’d think should have beaten him in recoil senseless upon his face.
‘No violence, no violence, I beg, gentlemen!’ shouted the mate.
‘But a step and I’ll strangle you!’ said Tom, making a single stride toward Rotch.
‘Collins,’ roared the villain, ‘they’ve brought me into this ship to murder me! Help! I’m your captain! Quick, Collins! Signal to the whale-boat! Port your helm for the island——’
Will rushed to the door.
‘Stop where you are!’ he shouted. ‘There’s no murder being done here! Nobody’s going to be hurt! Keep your luff! If you’re just a little bit off your course you will be sent to hell!’
‘Marian, Bates, Johnstone,’ exclaimed Tom, pointing at Rotch, ‘that’s the man you have sometimes heard me name! He is called Rotch—Samuel Rotch. He was my chief mate aboard the Arab Chief. I gave you the story last night. You saw how I dealt with him just now. It was in that way I served him at Valparaiso when the toad insulted a lady of my acquaintance at a dance there. That was the man who slept in his watch on deck when the sea was thick with shipping. He lost his berth, but I got him another; and I let him serve under me in the Arab Chief, when he was named as chief mate. You, Rotch!’ He drew a pistol from his pocket—one of the brace we had found in the brig—and put it upon the table. For some while he eyed Rotch steadily in silence. I believed he meant to shoot him. Had he offered, I, standing close beside, should have struck away the hand that attempted to hinder him.
Rotch looked ghastly. He trembled from head to foot. His hands worked with a strange, spasmodic motion, as though he would lift and clasp them in entreaty.
‘You Rotch,’ repeated Tom, after a silence that had lasted at least a minute—a minute that seemed an hour; ‘we were on very good terms during the first part of our voyage. I talked to you somewhat freely, told you of my engagement with this young lady, of my venture in the barque, and to what extent I had protected it, and I spoke hopefully of the voyage to you. And all the time you were plotting my ruin. Was it that you hated me for that little affair at Valparaiso? For reporting you and losing you a berth? For holding command in a ship which you supposed you’d obtain charge of if you could get me out of the road? Surely, you Rotch, these provided but shabby foundations for the heavy weight of villainy you constructed upon them.’
At this point he picked up the pistol and replaced it in his pocket.
‘What was your scheme? Nodder was second mate and carpenter. What you promised him, how you bribed him, I don’t know. He’ll tell me before he dies. But what you did was this: You took an auger from his tool-chest. You and he pierced the skin and side in the lazarette. You plugged the inner skin, hid the auger in my cabin—you found it easily enough afterwards!—took men to listen to the water flowing, brought them into my berth, searched for the auger, charged me with attempting to scuttle the ship, and made a prisoner of me. Was this so?’
Rotch stood listening, with his eyes fixed upon the deck. He made no answer.
‘Marian,’ said Tom, ‘you were present at my trial. You remember how glibly he gave his evidence and answered questions on his oath. Will he take his oath now that his story was true? You Rotch, here stands my friend Bates, who has judged me throughout a wronged man; here stands Miss Johnstone’s cousin, who believes me innocent; here stands that Miss Johnstone about whom I have so often talked to you. They hear me. They will listen to you. Is it true that I attempted to scuttle the Arab Chief?’
‘Bates, Johnstone,’ continued Tom, ‘you see how it is? He swore it on the Bible. He made a felon of me. He ruined my life—broke my heart. He’s mute now. Observe him. Does he fear to speak because I’m armed?’
He whipped the pistol out of his pocket, pointed it down and fired it into the deck.
‘Now, take courage! Speak! Did I attempt to scuttle the Arab Chief, or was the charge yours and Nodder’s conspiracy against me?’
The man, with an ashen face, now folded his arms, but made no reply, keeping his eyes still rooted to the deck.
‘Captain Rotch,’ exclaimed Mr. Bates, ‘it’s clear to my mind—it’s been clear to me all through—that you’ve done this gentleman such a horrible wrong that no fiend could imagine anything worse or more cruel! Act the man now and own to it. Clear him, and by so doing sweeten your own conscience against that call which’ll be coming to you from God sooner or later. You’ll fare less ill by shelling out than by keeping silent. Look, man, how you are in our power!’
At these words Rotch lifted his eyes and gazed steadily at Tom. Never could I have imagined such an expression of hate in the human face. He gazed, then sank his eyes again, but never spoke.
‘Rotch, you shall have time,’ Tom said. ‘In this brig you remain till the confession you dictate has been signed by you and witnessed by those who are in the vessel. Time you shall have. Its duration Mr. Bates and I will settle. If at the expiration of the time I allow you refuse to prove me the innocent man you know me to be, then, by the Eternal God of heaven and justice, I’ll hang you at the yardarm!’
This said, he strode to the after end of the cabin, and opening the door of the last berth on the port side, he cried out, ‘Walk in here!’
Rotch raised his head and slowly looked around him. A wonderful change had happened in the man’s countenance. He was bloated and swollen. Parts of his face were livid, and parts a ghastly white. His eyes had a strained appearance and seemed to project. I once saw a man tumble down in a fit near my house at Stepney, and Rotch’s face reminded me of that man’s when they turned him over and lifted his head.
‘Walk into this berth!’ cried Tom.
This time the villain obeyed. He moved slowly, supporting himself by the table as he went. He entered the little cabin, and Tom shut the door and locked it.
‘He’s as much astounded as frightened,’ said Bates. ‘Surely he’d have thought to meet any one down here sooner than you. Where would he reckon you are, Butler, if not across the seas? Not afloat and in charge of a smart little brig, anyhow.’
‘Tom,’ said I, ‘he’ll hang rather than confess. He looked at you with a horribly malicious, wicked eye.’
My sweetheart came to the table and leaned upon it to breathe and rally. He was very pale, but his eyes glowed with the light of a savage satisfaction, and his general expression was one of sullen, wrathful exultation. The hour was now about four o’clock. We had made no mid-day meal. I asked Tom if I should get some dinner for the little company of us.
‘Aye,’ said he; ‘but first I want a word with our new hand. Take the wheel from him, Will, and send him in.’
The man Collins entered, dangling his Scotch cap. He was scared; the pistol report had no doubt frightened him heartily. The wheel stood right in front of the house, the door and little windows were open, and the man would need to be deaf not to hear what had passed.
‘What is your name?’ said Tom.
‘John Collins, sir.’
‘What was your rating aboard the Arab Chief?’
‘Able seaman, sir.’
‘I’m master of this little brig till I find an owner for her,’ said Tom. ‘We’re going to work her north so as to get Great Britain handy aboard, should any of us turn sick of the sea and want to go ashore. We’re not bound to the Cape, as you’ve been led to believe. It’s all the same to you, I suppose?’
‘I’d rather make a straight passage home, of course,’ answered the man.
‘We’re not pirates, as what you’ve been listening to might lead you to fear. You can cheer up, my lad, reckon that you’ve got a good berth, and that all will go well with you. See here, now: I commanded the Arab Chief when Rotch was her chief mate and Nodder second and carpenter. Those two scoundrels swore that I attempted to scuttle her to defraud the insurance offices; they brought me before the court and got me sentenced to a term of transportation. I happen to be here in this brig off the island of Tristan d’Acunha when they, along with you, are sent aboard me as shipwrecked men wanting to get away. This is the act of God, Collins! Collins, it’s a large and beautiful mercy shown to a broken-hearted man, and an opportunity he’s been made too much of a devil by Rotch to despise. Before my two villains leave this brig they sign a confession, declaring that their charge against me was a shocking, horrible lie; that they themselves made the holes in the barque and hid the auger in my cabin. Rotch is the bigger villain; the other’s an illiterate, drunken scoundrel. Rotch shall have time granted him if he——’
‘Tom,’ I interrupted, ‘Collins wants to speak.’
I had been watching the fellow whilst my sweetheart addressed him, and observed his face take a sort of colour and grow full of meaning. Tom arrested his speech. Collins, twisting his Scotch cap in both hands, exclaimed:
‘Captain, it’s come upon me now! I had a sort o’ fancy o’ ’t whilst I stood a-listening. You’ll be the party meant, and I’ll just give you what’s in my head whilst I’ve got it. I was at the wheel one night from ten to twelve, about a fortnight afore we was burnt out of the ship.’
‘You mean the Arab Chief?’ said Mr. Bates.
‘Oh yes!’ I cried wildly. ‘For God’s sake, don’t interrupt him, Mr. Bates!’
‘Well, as I says,’ continued the man, after a pause and a slow, unintelligent stare at me, ‘I was at the wheel. Nodder, he had charge of the deck. He’d been drinking. I’ll say here that that there Nodder was never off drinking. I don’t believe he was sober two hours together down to the moment when we was burnt out. He gives me a certain course to steer by. ’Twarn’t the course the chap I’d relieved had named. The capt’n—that’s Rotch—comes up, looks into the binnacle, calls Nodder, and hazes him for being off his course. Nodder gives it him back. I reckon that the capt’n had taken a drop too much himself. They clenches fists, and snorts all kinds of insults at each other. Nodder says: “I’ll gibbet ye yet for a bloody conspirator against an honester man than ever slept in your fired skin. ’Twas you who put me up to that job. I ha’n’t had no peace since, and where is my fifty pounds?” Here Rotch whispers through his teeth and takes him by the arm, and falls a-shoving of him out of my hearing. And still Nodder sings out whilst t’other was a-shoving: “I’ll gibbet ye yet. The lie was yourn, the whole b’iling of it was yourn. Who hid the auger? Who told me to spin that yarn to the crew about the capt’n coming for’ards to ask me to lend him an auger?”’
Tom struck the table a furious blow with his clenched fist.
‘Tell us all you know, Collins,’ I cried.
‘Why,’ said he, picking up his cap and fastening a nervous eye on Tom, ‘that’s pretty nigh all I do know. They shut up arter this and went below for a drink, then walked the deck. Capt’n Rotch seemed to make nothen of my overhearing him, as though ’twasn’t a business the likes of me was going to trouble his head over. And he was right. I don’t recollect mentioning what I’d heard except once, about a week afore we was burnt out, when there was some trouble over the starboard watch’s allowance of sugar; then I tells one of my mates that the capt’n and Nodder had got some dirty secret between them, and that each seemed in t’other’s power. But nothen was made of this, and then comes the fire. It whips into my head whilst I stood a-listening to ye just now, and, capt’n, I’ve told ye the truth.’
‘This should be taken down,’ said Bates.
‘Can you write, Collins?’ asked Tom.
The man, with a grin, answered ‘No.’
‘Give Collins a glass of grog,’ said Tom.
I mixed a draught, and the man drank our health. Tom then said:
‘Collins, will you dictate to this lady the yarn you’ve just spun us?’
‘Willingly, sir.’
‘I thank you,’ said Tom.
He then bade me procure writing materials whilst he and Bates went to the forecastle to look at Nodder. I told Collins to sit, and wrote down just as he talked. I felt heartily grateful to the man; here, now, was a piece of valuable testimony in Tom’s favour; this sailor, when he told his story, did not even know the name of the man he was addressing; and then, how could he have invented that stroke about the auger and that other point which had made Tom strike the table—I mean the statement that Captain Butler had asked Nodder for the loan of the auger?
I was so pleased that, guessing he might be hungry, I put before him the best cold meal I could hastily collect, and made him drink some wine. Indeed, I waited upon him as though this poor, plain, silly-eyed sailor had been Tom himself. I asked many questions about Rotch and Nodder. He had nothing very ill to say of Rotch; Nodder he called a drunken, bungersome nughead. (He was of Somersetshire.)
When he had finished eating he relieved Will. I told my cousin to see to the galley fire and laid the cloth for a late dinner, and whilst I was thus busy, Tom and Bates, talking together very earnestly, came along the deck and entered the cabin. I showed my sweetheart what I had taken down; he said: ‘Let the man put his mark here, and the three of you witness it whilst I hold the wheel.’
Bates read the deposition aloud, and then Collins made a cross, and we signed our names. This was a precious document. I would not have parted with it for all I was worth. I put it carefully away in the desk we had found in the cabin I occupied, and then returning I eagerly asked Tom what he had to tell me about Nodder.
‘He’s a surly, stubborn hound,’ said he; ‘very ill, and, in my opinion, dying. We lighted the forecastle lamp; we found him lying in the dark and groaning now and again. I stood apart while Bates spoke to him. Bates asked him how he did. He answered, with an oath, that he felt very low. Bates long-windedly put further questions to him. He then said: “D’ye know what brig you’re aboard of?” “The Old Stormy, ain’t it?” says Nodder. “Yes,” says Bates; “and d’ye know who her captain is?” “No,” answers the carpenter. “He’s Captain Butler,” says Bates, “who was in command of the Arab Chief, that you and Rotch charged him with attempting to scuttle.” The man lay silent a bit, and then said: “I don’t believe it.” “Rotch does,” said Bates; “he’s locked up, and Captain Butler means to hang him if, after a given time, he doesn’t confess that you and he conspired together to ruin him.” Here Nodder, who had been lying on his back all this while, sat up and said: “There’s no Butler in this ship. I heered him sentenced, and he was lagged for fourteen year.” On this I stepped out of the eyes of the forecastle, where I had stood unobserved, and coming under the lamp, where he could see me plainly, I said: “D’ye know me? Your memory should be as good as Rotch’s.” The scoundrel looked, shut his eyes, looked, blinked and looked again, cursed awhile, and lay back. I’d made up my mind to head on a new tack with this fellow—that is, to trim him differently from my handling of Rotch. I said quietly: “Nodder, you’re a sick and a dying man. How did you serve me who never injured you? You ruined me, made a convict of me, broke my heart. You were a tool in Rotch’s hands, and I believe you’d have undone the mischief before we reached England had you found courage. Rotch was the villain, you were his instrument.” He now turned his head to look at me, and lay like a corpse with his eyes fastened upon my face. I couldn’t swear that he had his mind, that he clearly understood; the fright and wonder of seeing me stirred the mud in his soul and thickened his brain. Still I talked on. I told him that I had Rotch under lock and key, and should hang him if he didn’t confess. I repeated what Collins had told me. I then said that my enemy was Rotch; that he was the man I meant to get at and punish. “If you’ll dictate the truth to me,” said I, “tell us the full story of the diabolical plot, and sign it, that your signature may be witnessed, I’ll let you go. If you live to get north, I’ll put you ashore, and you shall be no more troubled, unless you are willing to turn Queen’s evidence so as to help me to bring Rotch to his trial.” This was, in effect, what I said. I spoke quietly, even kindly. Like Rotch, he made no answer; he lay looking at me, and when I had done, still looked; and I waited for him to speak. Bates implored him to confess. The fellow, silent as a ghost, turned over in his bunk and gave us his back. But it was early times. I was resolved not to threaten him. After waiting, I said to Bates, “We’ll go.” As we passed through the hatch, he called out in his harsh, hideous voice, though feebly enough: “Won’t you send me a drop of sperrits? I don’t want nothin’ to eat.” “You shall be attended to,” said I, and we came away.’
‘What hopes of him have you?’
‘He may be brought to confess.’
‘Would his unsupported confession suffice, Tom?’
‘Suffice for what?’
‘To obtain a full pardon.’
He looked at me gravely, then, with a slight smile, said: ‘We’ll think of the navigation of the brig for the present, and talk of full pardons by-and-by.’