“Play!” exclaimed Knight and the doctor together in surprised accents.
“I can’t explain,” said Pope. “It is a secret. I must see Vobster first.”
“Vobster’s asleep,” said the doctor. “I’m treating him, and I won’t have him disturbed. But what do you mean by ‘play’?”
“I can’t tell you,” said Pope, with a worried look.
“If Pope has passed his word,” said Knight, with a benignant glance at that gentleman, “you may as well give it up. Wild horses wouldn’t induce him to break his word.”
“And I am almost as much in the dark as you are,” said Pope earnestly.
“Almost!” repeated Mrs. Jardine, in a significant voice. “Was it part of the play to leave Mr. Carstairs and the others on a desert island?”
“And knock Captain Tollhurst down?” added Miss Flack.
“And frighten us all to death?” said Miss Blake, with a laudable attempt to suit her expression to her words.
Mr. Pope smiled wanly, and, to the indignation of the company, edged slowly towards the door and disappeared. Mrs. Jardine and Miss Flack exchanged glances.
“Most mysterious,” said the former.
“Most,” said Miss Flack, with a little shiver.
“We must make the best of it,” said Knight, with an air of pious resignation, as he left Mrs. Ginnell and took a seat next to Miss Seacombe. “Nobody is injured, and the crew seem to me to be unusually civil in the circumstances.”
“Civil!” said Talwyn, starting up. “Civil! There is an armed sentry over Tollhurst’s door, and when I went there just now he ordered me off. When I demurred he asked me whether I wanted one in the ha — ha — bread-basket!”
He looked round indignantly as Maloney, with an odd, spluttering noise, made a dive for the doorway and disappeared.
“How dreadful,” said Mrs. Jardine, turning sympathetically to Talwyn.
“It is,” said Knight. “There are five ladies here, and they all seem to understand the meaning of the word. In my young days—”
“This is no time for flippancy,” retorted Mrs. Jardine, drawing herself up. “It is most serious. I am sure I don’t know what to think. Surely the crew are not going to leave Lady Penrose and Mr. Carstairs on that island to starve?”
“Or draw lots,” said Mr. Peplow, in a sepulchral voice.
Mrs. Jardine swung round in her chair and, putting up her glasses, stared him back into the silence from which he had emerged.
Dinner was a somewhat dreary function that evening, but it was reassuring to find that, so far as the ship was concerned, the usual routine was maintained. The waiters went about their work as though they had never heard of such a thing as a mutiny; and Markham, somewhat paler of face and tighter of lip than usual, presided with his accustomed efficiency.
After the well-lighted saloon and the cheerfulness engendered by a comfortable meal the deck seemed dark and sinister. Even Knight, pacing up and down with Maloney, confessed to a slight feeling of uneasiness as he peered into the darkness and thought of the loneliness of the island beyond.
“We are not a great distance away,” he said, “and to-morrow we’ll have them safe and sound aboard again.”
“Man proposes” — said the doctor comfortably. “Meantime I’ll go and have a look at my patient. I don’t want him to get up too soon, and undo all the good I’ve done him; it might lead to complications.”
With the advent of a bright, clear morning Knight’s misgivings, never very profound, faded away. The air was clean and exhilarating, and in a cheerful mood he paced the deck waiting for the sound of the breakfast bell. One by one most of his fellow-voyagers appeared from below, and after vain speculations as to the state of affairs obeyed the summons of the bell and trooped down to the saloon.
“We seem to be a small party,” said Mrs. Jardine, looking around. “Where’s Sir Edward and Mr. Peplow?”
Knight shook his head. “Overslept themselves, perhaps,” he said, stirring his coffee.
“We were rather late last night,” said Pope, “and perhaps they slept badly. I did.”
It appeared that everybody had slept badly, except those that hadn’t slept at all, and Miss Flack was just in the midst of a harrowing recital of her experiences with insomnia when Mrs. Jardine, with a sharp exclamation, held up her hand.
“What’s that noise?” she demanded quickly. “It sounds like Captain Tollhurst.”
There was no doubt of it. The captain’s voice, hard and commanding, sounded from above. Hoarse shouts were heard in reply, and as Knight swung his chair round preparatory to rising a couple of seamen descended the stairway at a bound and, after a wild look around the saloon, dived hastily beneath the table. Mrs. Jardine rose with a faint scream as Talwyn came running down with a rifle.
“Come out!” he shouted. “If you’re not out before I count ten I’ll shoot.”
On the stroke of five the two men came out on all fours, and under orders from Talwyn preceded him upstairs with their arms raised. The ladies, who had risen and huddled together in one corner, looked at each other aghast.
“All right,” said Maloney, finishing his coffee;—” nothing to be alarmed about.
Second act, I expect. You wait down here.”
He bounded up the steps, followed by Knight and Pope, and, gaining the deck, stood meditatively scratching his nose. Tollhurst, with a pistol in his hand, was shouting orders to the red-faced third officer on the bridge; Markham, armed with a rifle, was standing over the fo’c’sle hatch; Peplow and Talwyn, also armed, were pacing the deck. A wounded seaman with his hand clapped behind him was leaning against the side, and a yard or two away Albert, still clutching a small penknife, stood regarding him in nervous triumph.
“That little wiper done it,” said the sailor, as the doctor went towards him. “Crept up behind while I was walking along with my ‘ands up.” (CASTAWAY NOVEL)
“Take him below,” said Tollhurst, in a sharp, quick voice, as he came towards them. “It’s all right, doctor; I’ve retaken the ship.”
CHAPTER XXI
IT was Markham who struck the first blow,” said Tollhurst, as he received the nervous congratulations of the ladies. “He sent the sentry to sleep and then let me out. The rest was quite easy — I looked after that.”
“Sent the sentry to sleep?” murmured Mrs. Jardine.
“Hypnotised him,” explained Miss Flack.
“With his fist,” said Tollhurst, “it’s quicker than the open hand. Markham knows how to use his hands a bit, and he was in a pretty bad temper, too. He’s coming out quite strong. Knight, you had better get hold of something. I don’t think there will be any more trouble, but it is as well to be ready.”
“I’ll borrow Albert’s penknife,” said Knight, scowling. “Or perhaps I can find something in Mrs. Ginnell’s work-basket.”
“It’s nothing to joke about,” said Mrs.
Jardine severely. “We might all have been killed.”
“Or landed on desert islands,” said Miss Flack, with a shiver. “Fancy last night all alone on that little rock, beset by surging seas, I couldn’t sleep for thinking of it, not a wink.”
“It’s all right now,” said Tollhurst confidently. “We’ll soon have them on board again. The bridge is under my orders, and we are on our way back to the island.”
There was a chorus of admiration as all eyes turned on the strong man. Knight, gravely perturbed at this threatened blow to his plans, went moodily outside. The spectacle of Pope doing sentry-go on the deck with his rifle at the slope helped to revive his drooping spirits.
“Halt!” he shouted gruffly. “Ordah-ums — staneasy — stan-dat-ease — You may smoke.”
Pope eyed him scornfully.
“For heaven’s sake leave him alone,” cried Maloney, appearing on deck. “He’s got the darned thing loaded and cocked. If it goes off on his shoulder it’s only the funnel or a cloud that will suffer. If he starts doing pat-a-cake things with it some of u
s will be killed.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” said the other. “But I was only trying to do him a kindness. Surely there’s no need for him to look like a cross between Captain Kidd and Julius Cæsar.”
“It won’t hurt ’em — they’re both dead,” said the doctor impatiently. “Where’s that boy Albert? I’ve put a bit of sticking-plaster on that fool in the foc’s’le, but he will have it that he’s dying and he wants to see Albert to forgive him before he goes.”
He caught sight of the page and beckoned.
“But I don’t want to go if he’s dying, sir,” said the boy, with a scared expression. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I just did my duty, but I’d no idea —— —”
“He’s not dying,” said the doctor, “but he thinks he is, and he says it’ll ease his mind more than anything to see you. Off you go.”
“What about sending an armed escort with him?” inquired Knight, with a glance at Pope.
“Better not,” said the doctor, as the boy went off with lagging steps, “the man’s nerves are quite bad enough as it is. Sudden joy might be fatal.”
He nodded at the indignant Pope, and taking Knight by the arm led him off.
“What are you going to do now?” he inquired, as soon as they were out of earshot. “Seems to me the man-eating Tollhurst has queered your pitch. He has saved everybody, and is now on his way to rescue the victims on the island. It’s his show, not yours. Still it will make it more awkward than ever for Lady Penrose to owe her safety to him.”
“He’s a muddling, officious, interfering ass,” said the offended Knight.
“He’s master of this ship,” remarked Maloney with a grin. “And he’s basking in the sunshine of the ladies’ smiles. They all love a strong man. Did you happen to observe the way Miss Seacombe looked at him? What’s that?”
“Sounds like a dog,” said Knight, with a puzzled air, as faint and distant yelps sounded from below.
The doctor stood listening. “It’s Albert,” he said, with sudden conviction, as the noise, which had now merged into a lusty bellowing, came nearer. “What’s wrong, I wonder?”
“Frightened, I suppose,” replied Knight, as the boy with one sleeve across his streaming eyes came stumbling on deck.
Maloney laughed. “It’s all right,” he said, catching the boy by the arm. “There’s nothing to be scared about. He’s no more dying than you are. He’s been playing on your feelings.”
“Playing!” wailed Albert. “I — I wish he — he had been — playing. I wish he was dying. He — he — he—”
“Well?” said the doctor, after waiting a reasonable time.
“He was laying in — bed when I got down,” continued the boy, “and he s-said it was very k-kind of me to come and see ‘im and now he c-could die peaceful. He said he forgave me for — k-killing ‘im and said he’d like to give me something to r-remember him by, and asked me w-w-what I’d like—”
“And what did you choose?” inquired the doctor with commendable gravity.
“I said I’d have his watch and chain, sir,” replied Albert, breaking out into a torrent of angry sobs, “and he — he — showed me a bit of rope with a kno — kno — knot — in the end of it, and said he — he’d give me that — instead — and he — he — did.”
He moved off to pour his sorrows into the ear of the indignant Markham; Maloney keeping pace with Knight, resumed the interrupted conversation.
“Tollhurst will spoil everything,” said the latter gloomily. “Can’t you get Vobster on his legs again?”
The doctor nodded. “I’m afraid of ructions between him and Tollhurst,” he said slowly. “However, it’s the only thing to be done, and he ought to be waking by now. These guns will go off of themselves if we are not careful.”
He went off to his cabin and, after lingering fondly over his drugs, proceeded to Vobster’s. The skipper was in bed, but his big red face rose up from the pillow at the sound of the opening door, and his eyes blinked owlishly at the visitor.
“How are we?” inquired the latter.
Vobster sat upright and, rubbing his eyes vigorously, tried to collect his scattered faculties. In a mechanical fashion he took the glass the doctor offered, and drained it. After which he shuddered, and, snatching at the top of the sheet, used it as a napkin and tooth-brush combined.
“Now get up and have a wash,” said the doctor, turning on the water. “Give your head a good sluicing. Out with you.”
He helped the other out of bed, and, guiding his heavy feet to the washstand, took up the sponge and began to assist him. A liberal cascade down the spine did more than anything to restore the skipper’s senses. It also restored the gift of speech. Pearls floated through the porthole.
“You’re better,” said Maloney.
The skipper turned an infuriated face on him. “What are you doing?” he spluttered. “What’s it all about? What are you doing in my cabin?”
“Think,” said the other impressively.
The skipper spoke instead. He spoke at some length, using much repetition, as the heathen do.
“Carry your mind back,” said the impassive doctor.” Who was it cut your bonds and carried you off to bed? Who took the gag out of your mouth and put a nice strong whisky and soda there instead?”
Captain Vobster reeled and sat down suddenly on the edge of his bunk.” Good Lord!” he said thickly. “I’d forgotten.”
He grabbed his trousers from the floor and put them on hastily. “What’s happened?” he jerked out as he fastened the braces. “Wait till I get my hands on that bo’sun. Where’s Mr. Carstairs?”
“On the island,” was the reply, “with Lady Penrose and her maid.”
The skipper collapsed again.
“That’s what comes of playing with edged tools,” continued the doctor severely.” There might have been murder done while you were sitting comfortably on your beam-ends unable to prevent it.”
“What d’ye mean?” demanded the skipper with a faint attempt at bluster.
“We both know,” replied the other calmly, “and out of pure good nature I’m going to try and get you out of a mess that the master of a ship ought never to have got into.”
Captain Vobster compressed his lips, and, putting on his coat, buttoned it with painstaking care.
“Tam is not to blame, mind,” continued the doctor, holding up a finger. “He thought the orders came from you. Somebody took advantage of his innocence and carried the joke a little further, that’s all.”
“Who’s been carrying on?” inquired the skipper, with a groan.
“Second officer,” replied Maloney. “At least, he was until this morning, and then Captain Tollhurst retook the ship and drove the men below. He is in command now.” The skipper took a deep breath, so deep and so heavy that the doctor turned instinctively and soused the sponge again.
“Drop it!” yelled the skipper, recovering. “Command! I’ll soon show him who is in command aboard this ship.”
“Go easy,” counselled the doctor, catching him by the arm as he seized the handle of the door. “Remember that Tollhurst thinks this is all serious. He got rather a mauling yesterday, and the last he saw of you you were tied up hand and foot by your own men. Take my advice: go up and take command as though nothing had happened. Don’t attempt to disarm anybody, and don’t discuss things. Pretend that they are doing it for their own amusement, if you like. Laugh at them.”
The skipper nodded, “I believe you’re right,” he said slowly, and, opening the door, made his way above. Arrived on deck, he paused, and, after the immemorial custom of shipmasters, glanced aloft before proceeding towards the bridge. Captain Tollhurst, a picturesque figure in white flannels, with a revolver thrust in his sash, stepped hastily towards him.
“Glad to see you again, cap’n,” he said significantly.
“Thankee,” returned the skipper, continuing his leisurely progress.
Tollhurst eyed him in astonishment. “Rather curious times,” he remark
ed.
“Ay, ay,” said the other. He glanced out of the tail of his eye at Peplow, who came up carrying a shot-gun at the trail, and smiled broadly. Peplow glanced in pained amazement at Tollhurst.
“You seem amused,” said the latter stiffly.
“Don’t mind me,” replied the skipper indulgently as Miss Flack and Mrs. Jardine came out of the drawing-room and took up a position behind Tollhurst. “So long as you are happy and amused, that’s everything.”
“Amused? Do you think we are doing this for fun?” demanded Tollhurst stiffly.
“I thought so,” said the skipper, looking puzzled. “It’s been a game all along, hasn’t it? A little change from deck-quoits and things of that sort?”
He beamed upon them in a paternal fashion, and placing his hand on the rail mounted slowly to the bridge. Mr. Peplow, blushing painfully, went below and divested himself of his gun; Tollhurst in an unobtrusive fashion removed the pistol from his sash and slipped it into his pocket.
“He’s gone crazy,” he said, referring to Captain Vobster.
Mrs. Jardine exchanged glances with Miss Flack. “I wonder whether Captain Vobster is right,” she said musingly. “The whole thing is a mystery to me. It’s very curious.”
“Very,” echoed Miss Flack. “I thought just now that Captain Tollhurst had saved us all, but of course if it was only a game — Did you understand it was a game, Captain Tollhurst?”
“I don’t know what he is talking about,” replied Tollhurst, grinding his teeth.
“Makes us all look so ridiculous,” said Knight, who had just joined the group. “I am so thankful now that I didn’t succumb to temptation and convert myself into a portable armoury. Freddie’s aspect was absolutely terrible.”
“If it’s a game,” said Talwyn, with chilly emphasis, “I shall be glad to know who is responsible for it. I shall also be glad to know Carstairs’ opinion of it — when he returns.”
He placed his hand on Tollhurst’s arm and the pair disappeared into the smoke-room. Seamen appeared from below in ones and twos and went about their work. Mr. Tarn, making a belated appearance, was observed to be in close and confidential intercourse with Captain Vobster. Judging by his wriggling he appeared to be undergoing a somewhat stiff cross-examination; but it was evident from the wink he bestowed upon Mr. Biggs on his return that he had survived it.
Works of W. W. Jacobs Page 96
