He turned from the Mate and bellowed to the other watch who were coming aft in a body, having been aroused by the noise.
“Now then, my lads! Up forrard with you! Smartly!” And he pulled out his revolver.
They went backward with a surge as he covered them.
“Back into the fo’cas’le! Don’t stir till I tell you!”
The threatening weapon, backed by the determination of the man, overawed them and they went quickly.
“Close that door!” he roared.
It was closed immediately. Then he turned his attention to those around. Miss Eversley was standing near, her cheeks white, but her eyes and nose very red. It was plain to him that she was all of a tremble and like to fall, so that, without more ado, he took her by the shoulders and led her to a seat upon a spar lashed along by the bulwarks.
“Now, don’t faint,” he commanded.
“I’m not going to,” she said soberly.
He left her hurriedly; for the men, having recovered from the effects of the pepper, were gathered in a clump and eyeing him doubtfully. To the right, Pathan had got upon his feet. It is just possible that in another moment they would have been upon him, which would have meant the loosing of the other watch, had he not acted with decision.
“Cyrone and Andy,” he shouted, facing them squarely, “aft with you, and tell the Steward to pass out the irons!”
At the word, Andy started aft to obey. But Cyrone, one of those who had been foremost in the trouble, made no move.
“Cyrone!” said the Second Mate.
The man had done well to understand the dangerous quiet in his tone; but he did not. Instead, with unbounded insolence, he turned to the fellows surrounding him.
“Who for the irons, hey? They for we! I know! I know!” he shouted excitedly, and broke off into an unintelligible jargon of words.
“Cyrone!”
“For to—you go!” shouted the wretch in reply. It was evident that he was depending on the others to back him up.
The Second Mate said no word, but raised his pistol. The men about Cyrone scattered to each side. They had seen the Second Mate’s eyes. In that last moment the fellow himself must have come suddenly into knowledge; for he started back, crying out something in an altered tone.
There was a scream from Miss Eversley, which blent with the sudden crack of the weapon; then Cyrone staggered and fell sideways on to the hatch. There was an instant of strange silence, broken by a dullish thud on the deck behind.
“Jardkenoff, go along with Andy for those irons,” said the Second Mate in a level tone.
At his order the whole of them had started forward like frightened animals.
Jardkenoff ran past him, crying “Yi, yi, Sir!” in a shaking voice.
While they were gone for the irons, the Second Mate bade the others lift the bodies of the Boatswain and Cryone on to the hatch. Then he looked round to discover the cause of that thud upon the deck. He saw that Miss Eversley had fallen forward off the spar onto her face, and at that he hastened to lift her. Fortunately, she had escaped injury, at which unconsciously he sighed relief. Then, taking her into his arms, he carried her to the hatch, singing out to one of the men by name to run aft to bring the Steward with some brandy.
All this while, Pathan, the passenger, had stood in a dazed fashion beside the main-mast. Now, thinking he perceived a chance to steal aft to the temporary safety of his room, he began to sidle quietly away. It was no use, for the Mate’s voice pulled him up short before he had gone a dozen feet.
“You will stay where you are, Mr. Pathan!” was all that he said.
When the irons came, the Steward accompanied them, carrying a glass full of brandy. This, under the eye of the Second Mate, he proceeded to administer. At the same time, the officer was superintending the ironing of Pathan. By the time that this was accomplished, Miss Eversley had begun to come to a knowledge of her surroundings, and presently sat up. Before this, however, the Second Mate had seen to it that Pathan was removed to the lazarette, for he would not have her upset further by sight of the murderer.
As soon as she was strong enough, he gave her his arm and led her aft to her cabin. In the saloon they came upon the Captain’s wife sitting limply in one of the chairs. At their entrance, she started up, and cried out something in a frightened voice. The poor woman seemed demented and quite incapable of rational speech. It was evident that the scene on deck—which apparently she had witnessed—had, in conjunction with her recent loss, temporarily unsettled her mental balance.
With difficulty they persuaded her to go to her room, after which the Second Mate returned to the deck, with the intention of trying to put a little heart into the nonentity whom Fate had placed above him in the scale of authority.
That evening, in the second dog watch, the body of Cyrone was, by his orders, ignominiously dumped over the side without ceremony, and with a piece of rope and holystone attached to his feet.
VI
The following day it was a somewhat cowed lot of men who came aft, at the Second Mate’s bidding, to the funeral of the Boatswain. Nor did his opinion of them, expressed tersely after the body had gone down into the darkness, help to reassure them. He told them that, at the first sign of further insubordination, he would shoot them down like the dogs they were; that, in future, there should be no afternoon watch below, and that work should be continued right through the two dog watches. On learning this, there came a slight murmur, expressive of discontent checked by fear, from the men grouped below the break.
“Silence!” roared the Second Officer, and whipped out a pistol from his side pistol.
Instantly the murmur ceased; for the men, as was the Second’s intention, realised that he would stop nowhere to enforce his commands. And there was still vividly in their minds the execution of Cyrone.
As the men went forward, the First Mate ventured a weak protest against the Second’s measure.
“You’ll have ’em murdering us, Mr. Grey, if you go on like that! Why don’t you speak to ’em nicely?”
The Second Mate looked down upon his superior. At first his glance denoted impatient contempt; but after the first moment an expression of tolerance spread over his features as he took in the other’s almost pathetic weakness of face and figure.
“I believe you read the Bible, Mr. Dunn?”
“I—I—” began the Mate, flushing slightly. “Yes—perhaps I do sometimes. Why?”
“Well, you should know how little use swine have for pearls.”
“You think, then, Mr. Grey—”
“I’m certain. That scum would take kindness for a sign of weakening on our part, and then—”
He made an expressive gesture.
“I wish to God we were home!” said the Mate fervently.
“You cheer up, Mister!” replied the big officer. “If you have any trouble with your lot, don’t stop to talk—shoot!”
“It’s an awful thing to take a life.”
“It’s a necessary thing sometimes. And, besides, you have only to bang on the deck for me, and I’ll be up in a brace of shakes.”
And so, after a few more words of encouragement to the frightened man, the Second left him in charge, and went below for a sleep.
True to his word, the Second Mate kept the mutinous crowd of sailormen hard at it from dawn to dusk. Even the First Mate, inspired by his example and encouragement, made a brave attempt to follow in his wake. As the Second Mate put it, “Sweat the flesh off their bones, and they’ll be too tired to use their dirty brains.” Also, he was the more confident of keeping them in subjection, now that Pathan was safely ironed in the lazarette.
Thus, at last, matters seemed in a fair way to tend to a happy ending of the troubles that had beset them so far. Yet of one person this could not be said; for the mental condition of the Captain’s wife showed no signs of improvement. Fortunately, she was in no way violent and gave little trouble, her state being that of one suffering from melancholia in one of its quiet
er forms.
Then one morning if was discovered she was missing. A search was made through the ship, but without success. She was never found. Evidently the poor creature had crept on deck sometime during the night and gone overboard.
From this, onward, nothing disturbed the monotony of the voyage for many days. The Second Mate kept the crew well in hand, in no way abating rigourous treatment of them, so that did he but raise a hand they jumped to do his bidding.
And now of Miss Eversley. Day by day the girl had found her thought centering on the Second Mate. The horizon of her mind seemed bounded by him. She caught herself watching his least gesture as he paced the poop in his meditative fashion, or gave some order to the crew. Did the First Mate relieve him, so that he could go below for a sleep, the deck seemed strangely empty, the wind chilly, the sea dull and uninteresting. Yet when he relieved the First Mate, how different! Then the wind was warm, the sea full of an everlasting beauty; the deck, nay, the very planks of the deck, companionable.
And so she grew into the knowledge that she loved him, even to the extent of looking forward to her future life as a hideous blank, if he were not to share it; while he—silly man! He would break off his walks to sit and chat with her; but of that which she most desired to hear, not a word. Yet, by his eyes, she guessed that he cared; but for some reason—possibly because she was so much alone—he said nothing.
And so, at last, she might have come to aid him in spanning the gulf that remained between them; but that fate, in its own terrible way, took a hand.
VII
“Mr. Grey! Mr. Grey! Jack! Jack!”
The Second Mate woke with a start and leapt up in his bunk.
Miss Eversley was standing in the doorway of his berth.
“Quick! They’ve killed the First Mate! And they’re coming down—now! Pathan has been let out, and he’s with them!”
Even before she had made an end of speaking, the Second Mate had reached the floor with a bound. He snatched the revolver from under his pillow, and ran into the saloon.
From the doorway, giving into the companion stairs came the sounds of whispering, and the padding of many bare feet descending. He made a quick step to meet them; but the girl caught his arm.
“Don’t, Jack! Don’t!” Then, as he still hesitated: “For my sake—remember! Oh! Is there no place?”
She stopped, for the Second Mate had caught her by the arm and was running her toward the fore part of the saloon. His wits, slightly bewildered by sleep, had flashed instantly to their normal clearness under the stress of her terror. He realised that, for her sake alone, he had no right to throw away his chances of life.
Just as the foremost of the mutineers stepped silently into the dimly lighted saloon, the big officer pushed open the door of the foremost berth on the port side and thrust Miss Eversley in. At the same moment, the man at the other end discovered and gave a yell to announce the fact.
The following instant he lay dead, and the man behind him shared the same end. This caused a temporary hesitation on the part of the attackers, and in that slight interval the Second Officer slipped into the berth after the girl, slammed the door, and locked it.
“Stand to one side,” he whispered to her.
As she did so, he hurled himself at the forward bulkhead of the berth. One of the boards started, and he attacked it again, the noise he was making drowning that of the mutineers in the saloon.
CRASH! The momentum of his effort had made a great breach in the woodwork and taken him clean through into the absolute darkness of the sail-locker beyond.
In a moment he was back. He caught the girl by the wrist and helped her through. Even as he did so there came a loud report in the saloon, and a bullet stripped off a long splinter on the inner side of the door as it came through.
Immediately, the Second Officer raised his weapon, and fired—once—twice. At the second shot there came a sharp outcry from one of those beyond the door, and then three shots in quick reply. They hurt no one, for the big officer had bounded into the sail-locker. He had dropped his emptied weapon into his side pocket, and was helping Miss Eversley over the great masses of stowed sails.
In the half of a minute he whispered to her to stand. An instant he fumbled, and she heard the rattle of a key. Then a square of pale light came in the darkness ahead of her, and she saw that he had opened a trap in the steel bulkhead that ran across the poop.
The following instant she was in darkness; for the huge bulk of her companion completely filled the aperture as he forced himself through. The light came again, and then she saw his head silhouetted against it in the opening.
“Give me your hand,” he whispered, and the moment afterward she was standing beside him on the deck, under the break of the poop.
For an instant they stood there, scanning the decks, but every soul, saving the Helmsman, had joined in the attack. Through the opening behind them came the sound of blows struck upon the door of the berth which they had just quitted. No time was to be lost; for the moment that the brutes discovered that rent in the woodwork of the berth, they would be after them.
A sudden idea came to the Second Officer. He shut down the door of the vertical trap and locked it. The men would search the sail-locker for them, now that it was shift and fastened; while, if he had left it open, they would have been on their track immediately.
“Forrard to the half-deck,” he muttered, and they ran out into the moonlight.
Now the half-deck was a little, strongly built steel deck-house, situated about amidships. It had one steel door on the after end; and once they were in, and this shut, they would be comparatively safe, at least for the time being.
Abruptly, as they ran, there came a muffled outcry, and they knew that the door to the berth had been broken down They reached the half-deck, and, while Miss Eversley sprang over the washboard, the officer ran to slip the hood which held the door back. Even as he reached up his hand there came a shout from the poop. They were discovered.
There came a thudding of rapid feet, and he saw the whole remaining crew of the boat tumbling hurriedly down the ladder on to the main-deck. At that critical instant he found that the hook was jammed. He riddled at it a moment; but still it refused to come out of its eye.
The running men were halfway to him, howling like wild beasts, and brandishing knives and belaying-pins. In desperation he caught the edge of the door, put one foot against the side of the house, and tugged. An instant of abominable suspense; then the hook gave, parting with a sharp crack. Through the very supremeness of his effort, he staggered back a couple of paces; before he could regain the door to shut it, a couple of the men who had outstripped the others, leaped past him and into the half-deck, with a cry of triumph.
He heard Miss Eversley scream; then the third man was upon him. The Second Mate tried to slam the door in his face, but the fellow jammed himself in between the door and side of the doorway. At that the big officer caught him by the chin and the back of the head, and plucked him into the half-deck by sheer strength. Then he brought the door to, and slipped the bolt, just as the rest of the men outside hurled themselves against it.
From the girl there came a cry of warning; and, in the same instant, the loud clang of some heavy missile striking the door by his right ear. He whirled round just in time to receive the united charge of the three he had imprisoned with himself in the deck-house.
Fortunately there was a sufficiency of light in the berth; for the lamp had been left burning by the former occupants when they left to join the attack on the after-guard.
Two of the men had their knives. The third stooped and made a grab for the iron belaying-pin which he had just thrown at the officer. Him the Second Mate made harmless by a kick in the face; then the other two were upon him.
He snatched at the knife-hand of the man to the right, and got him by the wrist; tried to do the same to the other and missed. The fellow dodged, rushed in and slashed the Second Mate’s shirt open from the armpit to the waist, inf
licting a long gash, but the next instant was hurled across the berth by a terrific left-hand blow.
The Second Mate turned upon the man whose wrist he had captured. His fingers were hurting intolerably, for the fellow was tearing at them with the nails of his loose hand so that they were bleeding in several places. He caught the wretch by the head, jammed the left arm under his chin, and leaned forward with a vast effort. There was a horrid crack, and the man shuddered and collapsed.
There came a little gasp of horror from the girl, who was crouched up against the corner by the starboard side. The Second Mate turned upon her.
“Turn your face to the bulkhead, and stop your ears,” he commanded.
She shivered and obeyed, trembling and striving to stifle back a tumult of sobbing which had taken her.
The officer stooped and removed the knife from the hand of the dead man. Upon the door behind him sounded a perfect thunder of blows. Abruptly, as he stood up the glass of the port on the starboard side was shattered, and a hand and arm came into the light.
The Second Mate dodged below the line of the bunkboard. There was a loud report and a bullet struck somewhere against the ironwork. He ran close up to the bunk, still keeping out of sight, then rose upright with a sudden movement and grasped the pistol and the hand that held it, leaned forward over the bunk, and struck with his knife a little below the arm. There came a howl of pain from outside and the body fell away from the port, leaving the loaded pistol in the Second Mate’s grasp.
Not a moment did he waste, but slammed-to the iron cover over the port and commenced to screw up the fastening. It was stiff, so that he had to take both hands to it, and because of this he placed the revolver down upon the bedding of the bunk.
This came near to causing his death, for, suddenly, as he wrestled with the screw, a hand flashed over his shoulder and grabbed the weapon. Instinctively the Second Mate dodged and swung up a defending arm. He struck something. There was a sharp explosion close to his head, and then the clatter of the falling weapon.
By this he had got himself about and saw that the two whom he had temporarily disabled were upon him. Before he could defend himself, one of them struck him with the iron belaying-pin across his head. It sent him staggering to the floor.
The Ghost Pirates and Other Revenants of the Sea Page 50
