As he fell, a scream from Miss Eversley pierced to his dull senses, and he got upon his knees, gasping and rocking, yet still full of the implacable determination to fight. For all his grit he would have been dead but for the girl. He had grasped the legs of one of his assailants; but was too dazed and weakened to put forth his usual strength.
The second man raised the heavy pin for another smite, but it never fell. To the Second Mate, wrestling pointlessly, there sounded a dull thud and a cry. Something fell upon him all of a heap, as it were, and he was brought to the deck upon his side; yet he had not relaxed his somewhat nervous grip upon the man’s legs, so that the fellow came down with him.
For perhaps the half of a minute he held on stupidly while the man struggled violently to get away. Then, almost abruptly, nerve and reasoning-power came back to him, and in the same instant a violent pain smote him between the left shoulder and the neck. He got upon his knees, hurling the dead body of the other man from off his shoulders with the movement.
He was now above his opponent, and at once attempted to capture the fellow’s knife. In this he was not at first successful, with the result that he sustained a second stab, this time slitting open the front of his shirt, and cutting his breast. At that, growing inconceivably furious, he regarded not the knife, but smote the man with his bare fist between the eyes and again below the ear, and so shrewd and mighty were the blows that the fellow died immediately.
Perceiving that the man was indeed dead, the Second Mate got himself upon his feet. He was breathing deeply, and his head seemed full of a dull ache.
He took his gaze from the bodies at his feet, and glanced around. Not two yards distant stood Miss Eversley. She had a revolver in her right hand. At that, the Second Mate understood how he had escaped with his life. Yet he had no thought of thanking her; for the horror in her face warned him not to do anything that might increase her realisation of what she had done. Instead, he made two steps to her, and took her in his arms.
With the feel of his arms about her, she dropped the pistol and broke into violent weeping. And he, having some smattering of wisdom, held his peace for a space.
Presently the extreme agitation of the girl passed off, and she sobbed only at intervals. Later still she spoke.
“I shall never be happy again.”
And still the Second Mate preserved the sweet wisdom of silence.
“Never, never, never!” he heard her whispering to herself.
And so, in a while, she calmed down to quiet breathing. For a space they stood thus, and on the decks all about the little house was silent, save for the occasional pad, pad, of a bare foot, as those without moved hither and thither.
VIII
The day had come and passed, and it was again night.
Within the house things could be seen but dimly, for the lamp was turned no more than a quarter up; and of oil they had no supply beyond the quantity within the lamp itself. Fortunately, there was no immediate need to worry about water; for the water breaker, lashed to the port end of the table, was a quarter full, owing to the Boatswain’s and the Carpenter’s dislike for soap and water.
As for food, an examination of the bread barge in one of the empty lower bunks showed him that there was enough biscuit to keep the two of them crudely fed for some days, provided they were careful. In the food cupboard there was also a half a bottle of ship’s vinegar, about half a pound of ship’s salt port, some sugar in a soup-and-bully tin, and about three pounds of black molasses in a big seven-pound pickle jar; all of these being the usual savings of rations that might be found in the food locker of any other lime-juicer, windjammer in all the seven seas.
He had, aided by the girl, bound up his wounds, which were not sufficiently serious to trouble him with anything more than a constant smarting; and though he had bled a good deal, he was so full of life and vitality that he was scarcely aware of the loss, except that he was abnormally thirsty; which fortunately the water in the breaker enabled him to quench freely. Yet, all the same he held this need somewhat in check, for they must never run short of the precious fluid.
During the day a certain amount of light had driven in between the crevices about the door. Beyond this there had been none, for the ports were all protected by their iron covers. Fortunately, as the Second Mate had discovered, all of them had been fastened on the preceding night, previous to their making a refuge of the house; all, that is, save the one through which they had been attacked. To this fortunate happening it is probable they owed their lives.
In the corner of the house to the right of the door there was a grim mound. The Second Mate had spread a couple of blankets over it to hide its full horror from the eyes of the girl; yet, by this very act, he had made it almost more unbearable than if he had left them in all the stark awesomeness of uncovered death.
Out upon the decks was quietness. Indeed, all through the day there had been but one attempt to molest them, and this the Second Mate had foiled by quickly opening one of the after ports and firing into the thick of the attacking party. In this way he was persuaded that he could have held the house for as long as it pleased him to do so but for the insurmountable obstacle that confronted him in the shape of lack of ammunition. Yet, even as it was, it was plain to him that the repulse he had given them was likely to keep them at a respectable distance—at least for some while. For, out of a crew of sixteen deck hands, six had already been killed and several wounded
In the brief time he had been at the port he had gathered something of the methods they had been about to apply to the felling of the door. They had rigged up a spar on a tackle, so as to form a rough sort of battering ram; yet, in the brief attempt that he had permitted them, the machine had proved unsuccessful, for the suspending had been too long and the rolling of the ship had caused the spar to swing across the after end of the house, in the fashion of a clock pendulum, so that at one moment the business end of the ram was opposed to the door, and another to some portion of the end of the house.
In spite of the failure of the attackers, the big officer was well aware that with a more perfect appliance, and no ammunition with which to beat them off, they would not be long in forcing the door. And then….
The second night of the imprisonment had come. The Second Mate had gone to the door and was listening; but beyond the pad of a bare foot, or hum of hoarse voices, there was nothing to tell of the watchers about the decks.
For her part, the girl was busying herself clearing away the few eatables from which they had been making a meal. This done, she hesitated a moment, then went over to the Second Mate.
“Let me stay up tonight and watch, Jack. You have not had any sleep, and I have slept most of the day. I could wake you up the moment anything happened.”
The big man put a hand on each side of her shoulders and looked down upon her with a grave half-smile.
“Do, Jack! You can trust me,” she urged.
“Trust you, little girl,” he replied. “Yes, child, with a thousand lives if I had them.”
“Then you will let me stay up and watch?”
He shook his head slowly.
‘There will be no need tonight, at any rate. They cannot get at us without noise. We may both sleep.”
This he said to quiet her entreaties; for he had no intention to allow her to sit alone in the darkness with her thoughts, and that blanket-covered mound, while he slept. More, he wished her to sleep; for he had a project which he hoped to carry out during the hours of darkness.
For a moment she stood looking up at him in the half-light. Then she slipped her hands onto his shoulders.
“Then I will say good night, Jack, for we must save the oil in the lamp.”
The Second Mate stooped and kissed her.
“Good night, Mary,” he said gravely.
“Good night,” she whispered, kissing him in return.
Then she left him and went behind the blanket which he had rigged up before the bunks on the starboard side.
&nbs
p; A space of about two hours passed, during which the Second Mate lay awake listening. Presently, realising that the girl was asleep, he got up and quietly opened the door of the house. He listened a minute and found no one about; then swiftly he carried out each of the dead bodies onto the deck and left them there. He returned to the house and locked the door.
All at once, from outside the door, there rose an outcry. At that, he knew that the dead had been discovered. The outcries sank to a subdued murmur; for there had come fear among the men. Yet from thence onward, the door was never left unguarded day or night.
IX
The morning of the fourth day of their imprisonment dawned, and the Second Mate was awakened by a noise of hammering close against the port on the left side of the door. He jumped from his bunk quietly, and crept softly to the one on his right. He had the revolver in his hand.
Very cautiously he unscrewed the fastening of the iron cover, and glanced out, but could see no one. For a little he listened, and between the blows he caught a murmur of talk some little distance away. Abruptly he recognised Pathan’s voice. At that, quickly but silently, he unscrewed the fastening of the glass and opened it. He thrust his head out and looked to the left.
Close to him, and right in front of the door, stood one of the men. He held the muzzle of a clumsy ship’s musket, the butt resting on the deck. The Second Mate remembered having observed this same antique weapon hanging in the Steward’s pantry. It was evident that they were but poorly supplied with firearms.
Beyond the guard, he made out a couple more of the men fixing a heavy piece of timber across the other port. Evidently they had hit upon this plan of preventing his interfering with their operations. With the two after ports blocked they could do much as they pleased.
Suddenly a sharp exclamation on his right startled the Second Officer. He glanced round. There was Pathan fumbling with his revolver.
Instantly the Second Mate snatched his head in to the shelter of the house. Almost at the same moment there sounded a thunderous bang close to the left. He heard Pathan give a scream of pain breaking off into a blatter of cursing.
At the risk of his life he shoved his head out. Pathan was nursing his right hand, while big tears of pain were running down his cheeks to that strange accompaniment of blasphemy. On the deck, close to his feet, lay the shattered butt of his revolver. The Second Mate twisted to the left for a brief glance. He saw that the guard was sitting upon the deck, rubbing his right shoulder. He looked woefully scared, while near by lay the cumbrous weapon with which he had been armed.
What had happened was now clear to the big officer. The man had fired at the protruding head—but a fraction too late—with the result that the bolt, with which the gun had been loaded, had stricken the passenger’s revolver, destroying it and wounding his hand.
Even as the solution came to the officer, the guard had reached for his gun and scrambled to his feet. In another moment he would have clubbed the Second Mate, but that a bullet sent him twitching to the deck.
The Second Mate turned his pistol upon Pathan. Could he but rid the ship of that fiend, all might yet be well.
Yet, as he pressed the trigger for the second time, his elbow was jogged from within the house. He swore between his teeth and tried another shot, only to be warned by the unsatisfying click of the hammer that his ammunition had come to an end.
He drew away from the port with an angry gesture, and well it was for him that he did so, for one of the two at work upon the port, seeing that the weapon was empty of cartridges, had run at him with a hammer. The blow missed, and the following instant the Second Mate had slammed the covers and fastened up the port.
He turned and found the girl standing by him.
“Do you know,” he said a trifle sternly, “you made me miss Pathan when you touched me. If I had shot that wretch the men would have been glad enough to come to terms.”
He was hot with his failure, or he had not spoken so to her. And she, having but touched him because of the fear which had seized her at his rashness in so exposing himself, burst into crying; for she had been sorely overstrained with the rough happenings of late.
At this his anger left him and he made to comfort her, so, for that morning they sat together, she taking little heed of the various sounds about the house which told him that the fiends outside were preparing to batter down the door. They had covered up the second port immediately after his closing of the cover, so that he had no means of knowing how matters were progressing beyond such as his ears, trained in ship-craft, could tell him.
Very slowly the day passed to its close. He knew that the final struggle was at hand; but he did not by any means consider their chances of life beyond hope; for he knew that the crew had been greatly reduced, so that, could he but avoid the fire of the big musket, he might slay Pathan and put the rest to flight. Yet he had no knowledge but that the house might be their prison for a day or two longer; though, beyond that time they could not hope to stay, for of food they had but little, and less water.
The day had been a fine one, as they could tell by the light which came through the crevices around the somewhat loosely fitting door, and when at last the evening came, the girl went to the door to try to get a look at the sunset.
“Come and look, Jack,” she said suddenly, after a period of silence.
He turned from the water breaker at which he was busy emptying the last few drops.
“What is it, Mary?”
His voice was perhaps a trifle uneasy, for he had made the discovery that there was left only half a pannakin of water. During the last two days of their imprisonment he had been limiting his allowance; for he would not see her stinted, and now, through some mischance, the spigot, which someone had fixed near the bottom of the little cask, had been loosened, and the small quantity of the imperative liquid which had been theirs was all squandered save for the drainings which he had emptied into the enameled mug.
He came across to where she stood. For the moment he was minded not to tell her, then, remembering because of the fiends outside, that a clear knowledge of their position was her due, he told her not only of this matter but of the likelihood of the crisis being near at hand.
When he had made an end, she reached up one hand to his shoulder, then held out the other for the mug. She drew him down to the crevice through which she had been peering.
“See,” she said, “did you ever see such a sunset?” Her voice dropped. “And it may be our last, Jack.” She patted his shoulder as she spoke. “You know, boy, I may only be a silly girl, but I know nothing but a miracle can save us.”
It was the first time she had spoken out so plainly, and he, having nothing to answer, stared out blindly into the dying glory outside.
In a little, perhaps the half of a minute, she drew him back somewhat and held the little mug up before them
“We will drink it together, darling,” she whispered, and bent her hand over and kissed the brim, then handed it to him; but he was not deceived.
“Fair play, little woman. You have drunk nothing.”
He passed it back to her, and she, knowing him, sipped a little, then held it up to him and made him drink from her own hands. He was hideously thirsty, but controlled himself to one gulp only; then took the mug from her and set it down upon the table. For the end was not yet, and she might have need of it ’ere then.
It was almost dark in the berth, for the oil of the lamp was done this long while, the only light they had coming through the crannies about the door.
For a while the two of them stood together. He was deep in pondering as to when the attack would come. Probably as soon as it was dark; for, of course, they could not be absolutely sure that he had no further supply of cartridges.
She for her part was leaning forward, peering through the narrow opening at the red splendour of the sun’s shroud. Once or twice she ran her fingers up and down this crack, as if she would fain enlarge it. Possibly the tips showed outside, for her hands were
very slender; yet, however it may have been, it is certain that one of the devils upon the deck was attracted and crept up on tip-toe. Inside, the girl, staring out, saw something come abruptly between her and the sun. The Second Mate saw it at the same moment, else she had been dead on the instant.
He pushed her from him, out of a line with the crack, and in so doing brought himself almost directly opposite. There came a sudden spurt of flame into the semi-darkness of the house, and a tremendous report up against the door. The girl gave a little scream which almost drowned her lover’s moan of pain, but not quite.
“You are not hurt, dearest?” she cried out loud.
For a moment he did not answer, and in that quick silence she heard a man outside laugh brutally.
The Second Mate had his hand up to his eyes and was very silent. In the dimness of the place she saw that he was swaying upon his feet.
“Jack,” she said in an intense whisper of fear. “Are you hurt?”
She caught his wrist with a gentle hold. Still he did not reply. Beyond the door she heard the murmur of voices, and odd words and fragments of sentences drifted to her uncomprehending brain.
“—for?”
“Fiddlin’ at the door!”
“—bust! The gun’s busted!”
“Thank God!” It was the Second Mate who had spoken, and the girl loosed her hands from his wrists in her astonishment. Then, with a sudden applying of his words to satisfy the desire of her soul—
“You are not hurt, then, dear?”
“A—a little. My eyes—”
“What? Let me see!” But he swung round from her.
“Can you get me some—something for a bandage?” There was a desperate levelness in his tone.
He took two or three uncertain steps across the floor, as if bewildered. She followed him. He took his hands from his face and moved his head from side to side, as if peering about the house. Abruptly, he turned and blundered into her clumsily. She would have fallen, but that he caught and steadied her.
The Ghost Pirates and Other Revenants of the Sea Page 51
