Delphi Collected Works of Edgar Rice Burroughs (Illustrated) (Series Four Book 26)

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  From the cabin companionway Barbara Harding looked upon the disgusting scene. Her lip curled in scorn at the sight of these men weeping and moaning in their fright. She saw Ward busy about one of the hatches. It was evident that he intended making a futile attempt to utilize it as a means of escape after the Halfmoon struck, for he was attaching ropes to it and dragging it toward the port side of the ship, away from the shore. Larry Divine crouched beside the cabin and wept.

  When Simms gave up the ship Barbara Harding saw the wheelmen, there had been two of them, desert their post, and almost instantly the nose of the Halfmoon turned toward the rocks; but scarcely had the men reached the deck than Theriere leaped to their place at the wheel.

  Unassisted he could do little with the heavy helm. Barbara saw that he alone of all the officers and men of the brigantine was making an attempt to save the vessel. However futile the effort might be, it at least bespoke the coolness and courage of the man. With the sight of him there wrestling with death in a hopeless struggle a little wave of pride surged through the girl. Here indeed was a man! And he loved her — that she knew. Whether or no she returned his love her place was beside him now, to give what encouragement and physical aid lay in her power.

  Quickly she ran to the wheelhouse. Theriere saw her and smiled.

  “There’s no hope, I’m afraid,” he said; “but, by George, I intend to go down fighting, and not like those miserable yellow curs.”

  Barbara did not reply, but she grasped the spokes of the heavy wheel and tugged as he tugged. Theriere made no effort to dissuade her from the strenuous labor — every ounce of weight would help so much, and the man had a wild, mad idea that he was attempting to put into effect.

  “What do you hope to do?” asked the girl. “Make that opening in the cliffs?”

  Theriere nodded.

  “Do you think me crazy?” he asked.

  “It is such a chance as only a brave man would dare to take,” she replied. “Do you think that we can get her to take it?”

  “I doubt it,” he answered. “With another man at the wheel we might, though.”

  Below them the crew of the Halfmoon ran hither and thither along the deck on the side away from the breakers. They fought with one another for useless bits of planking and cordage. The giant figure of the black cook, Blanco, rose above the others. In his hand was a huge butcher knife. When he saw a piece of wood he coveted in the hands of another he rushed upon his helpless victim with wild, bestial howls, menacing him with his gleaming weapon. Thus he was rapidly accumulating the material for a life raft.

  But there was a single figure upon the deck that did not seem mad with terror. A huge fellow he was who stood leaning against the capstan watching the wild antics of his fellows with a certain wondering expression of incredulity, the while a contemptuous smile curled his lips. As Barbara Harding chanced to look in his direction he also chanced to turn his eyes toward the wheelhouse. It was the mucker.

  The girl was surprised that he, the greatest coward of them all, should be showing no signs of cowardice now — probably he was paralyzed with fright. The moment that the man saw the two who were in the wheelhouse and the work that they were doing he sprang quickly toward them. At his approach the girl shrank closer to Theriere.

  What new outrage did the fellow contemplate? Now he was beside her. The habitual dark scowl blackened his expression. He laid a heavy hand on Barbara Harding’s arm.

  “Come out o’ dat,” he bellowed. “Dat’s no kind o’ job fer a broiler.”

  And before either she or Theriere could guess his intention the mucker had pushed Barbara aside and taken her place at the wheel.

  “Good for you, Byrne!” cried Theriere. “I needed you badly.”

  “Why didn’t yeh say so den?” growled the man.

  With the aid of Byrne’s Herculean muscles and great weight the bow of the Halfmoon commenced to come slowly around so that presently she almost paralleled the cliffs again, but now she was much closer in than when Skipper Simms had deserted her to her fate — so close that Theriere had little hope of being able to carry out his plan of taking her opposite the opening and then turning and running her before the wind straight into the swirling waters of the inlet.

  Now they were almost opposite the aperture and between the giant cliffs that rose on either side of the narrow entrance a sight was revealed that filled their hearts with renewed hope and rejoicing, for a tiny cove was seen to lie beyond the fissure — a cove with a long, wide, sandy beach up which the waves, broken at the entrance to the little haven, rolled with much diminished violence.

  “Can you hold her alone for a second, Byrne?” asked Theriere. “We must make the turn in another moment and I’ve got to let out sail. The instant that you see me cut her loose put your helm hard to starboard. She’ll come around easy enough I imagine, and then hold her nose straight for that opening. It’s one chance in a thousand; but it’s the only one. Are you game?”

  “You know it, cul — go to ‘t,” was Billy Byrne’s laconic rejoinder.

  As Theriere left the wheel Barbara Harding stepped to the mucker’s side.

  “Let me help you,” she said. “We need every hand that we can get for the next few moments.”

  “Beat it,” growled the man. “I don’t want no skirts in my way.”

  With a flush, the girl drew back, and then turning watched Theriere where he stood ready to cut loose the sail at the proper instant. The vessel was now opposite the cleft in the cliffs. Theriere had lashed a new sheet in position. Now he cut the old one. The sail swung around until caught in position by the stout line. The mucker threw the helm hard to starboard. The nose of the brigantine swung quickly toward the rocks. The sail filled, and an instant later the ship was dashing to what seemed her inevitable doom.

  Skipper Simms, seeing what Theriere had done after it was too late to prevent it, dashed madly across the deck toward his junior.

  “You fool!” he shrieked. “You fool! What are you doing? Driving us straight for the rocks — murdering the whole lot of us!” and with that he sprang upon the Frenchman with maniacal fury, bearing him to the deck beneath him.

  Barbara Harding saw the attack of the fear-demented man, but she was powerless to prevent it. The mucker saw it too, and grinned — he hoped that it would be a good fight; there was nothing that he enjoyed more. He was sorry that he could not take a hand in it, but the wheel demanded all his attention now, so that he was even forced to take his eyes from the combatants that he might rivet them upon the narrow entrance to the cove toward which the Halfmoon was now plowing her way at constantly increasing speed.

  The other members of the ship’s company, all unmindful of the battle that at another time would have commanded their undivided attention, stood with eyes glued upon the wild channel toward which the brigantine’s nose was pointed. They saw now what Skipper Simms had failed to see — the little cove beyond, and the chance for safety that the bold stroke offered if it proved successful.

  With steady muscles and giant sinews the mucker stood by the wheel — nursing the erratic wreck as no one might have supposed it was in him to do. Behind him Barbara Harding watched first Theriere and Simms, and then Byrne and the swirling waters toward which he was heading the ship.

  Even the strain of the moment did not prevent her from wondering at the strange contradictions of the burly young ruffian who could at one moment show such traits of cowardliness and the next rise so coolly to the highest pinnacles of courage. As she watched him occasionally now she noted for the first time the leonine contour of his head, and she was surprised to note that his features were regular and fine, and then she recalled Billy Mallory and the cowardly kick that she had seen delivered in the face of the unconscious Theriere — with a little shudder of disgust she turned away from the man at the wheel.

  Theriere by this time had managed to get on top of Skipper Simms, but that worthy still clung to him with the desperation of a drowning man. The Halfmoon was rising on
a great wave that would bear her well into the maelstrom of the cove’s entrance. The wind had increased to the proportions of a gale, so that the brigantine was fairly racing either to her doom or her salvation — who could tell which?

  Halfway through the entrance the wave dropped the ship, and with a mighty crash that threw Barbara Harding to her feet the vessel struck full amidships upon a sunken reef. Like a thing of glass she broke in two with the terrific impact, and in another instant the waters about her were filled with screaming men.

  Barbara Harding felt herself hurtled from the deck as though shot from a catapult. The swirling waters engulfed her. She knew that her end had come, only the most powerful of swimmers might hope to win through that lashing hell of waters to the beach beyond. For a girl to do it was too hopeless even to contemplate; but she recalled Theriere’s words of so short a time ago: “There’s no hope, I’m afraid; but, by George, I intend to go down fighting,” and with the recollection came a like resolve on her part — to go down fighting, and so she struck out against the powerful waters that swirled her hither and thither, now perilously close to the rocky sides of the entrance, and now into the mad chaos of the channel’s center. Would to heaven that Theriere were near her, she thought, for if any could save her it would be he.

  Since she had come to believe in the man’s friendship and sincerity Barbara Harding had felt renewed hope of eventual salvation, and with the hope had come a desire to live which had almost been lacking for the greater part of her detention upon the Halfmoon.

  Bravely she battled now against the awful odds of the mighty Pacific, but soon she felt her strength waning. More and more ineffective became her puny efforts, and at last she ceased almost entirely the futile struggle.

  And then she felt a strong hand grasp her arm, and with a sudden surge she was swung over a broad shoulder. Quickly she grasped the rough shirt that covered the back of her would-be rescuer, and then commenced a battle with the waves that for many minutes, that seemed hours to the frightened girl, hung in the balance; but at last the swimmer beneath her forged steadily and persistently toward the sandy beach to flounder out at last with an unconscious burden in his mighty arms.

  As the man staggered up out of reach of the water Barbara Harding opened her eyes to look in astonishment into the face of the mucker.

  CHAPTER IX. ODA YORIMOTO

  ONLY four men of the Halfmoon’s crew were lost in the wreck of the vessel. All had been crowded in the bow when the ship broke in two, and being far-flung by the forward part of the brigantine as it lunged toward the cove on the wave following the one which had dropped the craft upon the reef, with the exception of the four who had perished beneath the wreckage they had been able to swim safely to the beach.

  Larry Divine, who had sat weeping upon the deck of the doomed ship during the time that hope had been at its lowest, had recovered his poise. Skipper Simms, subdued for the moment, soon commenced to regain his bluster. He took Theriere to task for the loss of the Halfmoon.

  “An’ ever we make a civilized port,” he shouted, “I’ll prefer charges ag’in’ you, you swab you; a-losin’ of the finest bark as ever weathered a storm. Ef it hadn’t o’ been fer you a-mutinyin’ agin’ me I’d a-brought her through in safety an’ never lost a bloomin’ soul.”

  “Stow it!” admonished Theriere at last; “your foolish bluster can’t hide the bald fact that you deserted your post in time of danger. We’re ashore now, remember, and there is no more ship for you to command, so were I you I’d be mighty careful how I talked to my betters.”

  “What’s that!” screamed the skipper. “My betters! You frog-eatin’ greaser you, I’ll teach you. Here, some of you, clap this swab into irons. I’ll learn him that I’m still captain of this here bunch.”

  Theriere laughed in the man’s face; but Ward and a couple of hands who had been shown favoritism by the skipper and first mate closed menacingly toward the second officer.

  The Frenchman took in the situation at a glance. They were ashore now, where they didn’t think that they needed him further and the process of elimination had commenced. Well, it might as well come to a showdown now as later.

  “Just a moment,” said Theriere, raising his hand. “You’re not going to take me alive, and I have no idea that you want to anyhow, and if you start anything in the killing line some of you are going to Davy Jones’ locker along with me. The best thing for all concerned is to divide up this party now once and for all.”

  As he finished speaking he turned toward Billy Byrne.

  “Are you and the others with me, or against me?” he asked.

  “I’m ag’in’ Simms,” replied the mucker non-committally.

  Bony Sawyer, Red Sanders, Blanco, Wison, and two others drew in behind Billy Byrne.

  “We all’s wid Billy,” announced Blanco.

  Divine and Barbara Harding stood a little apart. Both were alarmed at the sudden, hostile turn events had taken. Simms, Ward, and Theriere were the only members of the party armed. Each wore a revolver strapped about his hips. All were still dripping from their recent plunge in the ocean.

  Five men stood behind Skipper Simms and Ward, but there were two revolvers upon that side of the argument. Suddenly Ward turned toward Divine.

  “Are you armed, Mr. Divine?” he asked.

  Divine nodded affirmatively.

  “Then you’d better come over with us — it looks like we might need you to help put down this mutiny,” said Ward.

  Divine hesitated. He did not know which side was more likely to be victorious, and he wanted to be sure to be on the winning side. Suddenly an inspiration came to him.

  “This is purely a matter to be settled by the ship’s officers,” he said. “I am only a prisoner, call me a passenger if you like — I have no interest whatever in the matter, and shall not take sides.”

  “Yes you will,” said Mr. Ward, in a low, but menacing tone. “You’re in too deep to try to ditch us now. If you don’t stand by us we’ll treat you as one of the mutineers when we’re through with them, and you can come pretty near a-guessin’ what they’ll get.”

  Divine was about to reply, and the nature of his answer was suggested by the fact that he had already taken a few steps in the direction of Simms’ faction, when he was stopped by the low voice of the girl behind him.

  “Larry,” she said, “I know all — your entire connection with this plot. If you have a spark of honor or manhood left you will do what little you can to retrieve the terrible wrong you have done me, and my father. You can never marry me. I give you my word of honor that I shall take my own life if that is the only way to thwart your plans in that direction, and so as the fortune can never be yours it seems to me that the next best thing would be to try and save me from the terrible predicament in which your cupidity has placed me. You can make the start now, Larry, by walking over and placing yourself at Mr. Theriere’s disposal. He has promised to help and protect me.”

  A deep flush mounted to the man’s neck and face. He did not turn about to face the girl he had so grievously wronged — for the life of him he could not have met her eyes. Slowly he turned, and with gaze bent upon the ground walked quickly toward Theriere.

  Ward was quick to recognize the turn events had taken, and to see that it gave Theriere the balance of power, with two guns and nine men in his party against their two guns and seven men. It also was evident to him that to the other party the girl would naturally gravitate since Divine, an old acquaintance, had cast his lot with it; nor had the growing intimacy between Miss Harding and Theriere been lost upon him.

  Ward knew that Simms was an arrant coward, nor was he himself overly keen for an upstanding, man-to-man encounter such as must quickly follow any attempt upon his part to uphold the authority of Simms, or their claim upon the custody of the girl.

  Intrigue and trickery were more to Mr. Ward’s liking, and so he was quick to alter his plan of campaign the instant that it became evident that Divine had elected to join for
ces with the opposing faction.

  “I reckon,” he said, directing his remarks toward no one in particular, “that we’ve all been rather hasty in this matter, being het up as we were with the strain of what we been through an’ so it seems to me, takin’ into consideration that Mr. Theriere really done his best to save the ship, an’ that as a matter of fact we was all mighty lucky to come out of it alive, that we’d better let bygones be bygones, for the time bein’ at least, an’ all of us pitch in to save what we can from the wreckage, hunt water, rig up a camp, an’ get things sort o’ shipshape here instid o’ squabblin’ amongst ourselves.”

  “Suit yourself,” said Theriere, “it’s all the same to us,” and his use of the objective pronoun seemed definitely to establish the existence of his faction as a separate and distinct party.

  Simms, from years of experience with his astute mate, was wont to acquiesce in anything that Ward proposed, though he had not the brains always to appreciate the purposes that prompted Ward’s suggestions. Now, therefore, he nodded his approval of Squint Eye’s proposal, feeling that whatever was in Ward’s mind would be more likely to work out to Skipper Simms’ interests than some unadvised act of Skipper Simms himself.

  “Supposin’,” continued Ward, “that we let two o’ your men an’ two o’ ourn under Mr. Divine, shin up them cliffs back o’ the cove an’ search fer water an’ a site fer camp — the rest o’ us’ll have our hands full with the salvage.”

  “Good,” agreed Theriere. “Miller, you and Swenson will accompany Mr. Divine.”

  Ward detailed two of his men, and the party of five began the difficult ascent of the cliffs, while far above them a little brown man with beady, black eyes set in narrow fleshy slits watched them from behind a clump of bushes. Strange, medieval armor and two wicked-looking swords gave him a most warlike appearance. His temples were shaved, and a broad strip on the top of his head to just beyond the crown. His remaining hair was drawn into an unbraided queue, tied tightly at the back, and the queue then brought forward to the top of the forehead. His helmet lay in the grass at his feet. At the nearer approach of the party to the cliff top the watcher turned and melted into the forest at his back. He was Oda Yorimoto, descendant of a powerful daimio of the Ashikaga Dynasty of shoguns who had fled Japan with his faithful samurai nearly three hundred and fifty years before upon the overthrow of the Ashikaga Dynasty.