"He's heard!" stammered Hovey, pointing. "Guard the door! Get him!"
"Bash in his head an' overboard with the lubber!" growled Sam Hall.
Not one of the others spoke; their actions were the more significant.
Some leaped to the door and barred the exit.
Others started for Harrigan. The latter leaped off his bunk and,
sweeping up a short-legged, heavy stool, sprang back against the wall.
This he held poised, ready to drive it at the first man who approached.
Their semicircle grew compact before him, but still they hesitated, for
the man who made the first move would die.
"You fools!" said Harrigan, brandishing his stool. "Keep off!"
He was thinking desperately, quickly.
"Harrigan," said Hovey, edging his way to the front of the sailors,
"you heard!"
"I did!"
They growled, infuriated. His death was certain now, but they kept back
for another moment, astonished that this man would sign his own
sentence of doom. From marlinspikes to pocketknives, every man held
some sort of a weapon. Garry Cochrane, flattening himself against the
wall at one side, edged inch by inch toward Harrigan.
"I heard it all," said the Irishman, "and until the last word I thought
you were a lot of bluffin' cowards."
"You had your chance, Harrigan," said Hovey, "an' you turned me down.
Now you get what's due you."
The sailors crouched a little as if at a command to leap forward in the
attack. Cochrane was perilously near.
"If I get my due," said Harrigan coolly, "you'll go down on your knees.
Stand back, Cochrane, or I'll brain ye! You'll go down on your knees
an' thank God that I'm with ye!"
"Stand fast, Garry!" ordered Hovey. "What do you mean, Harrigan?"
The Irishman laughed. Every son of Erin is an actor, and now Harrigan's
laughter rang true.
"What should I mean except what I said?" he answered.
"He's tryin' to save his head," broke in Kyle, "but with the fear of
death lookin' him in the eye, any man would join us. Finish him, lads."
"You fool!" said Harrigan authoritatively. "Don't talk so loud, or
you'll have White Henshaw down on our heads. Maybe he's heard that bull
voice of yours already!"
It was a master stroke. The mention of the terrible skipper and the
skillful insinuation that he was one of them, made them straighten and
stare at him.
"Go guard the door," said Hovey to one of his sailors, "an' see that
none of the mates is near. Now, Harrigan, what d'you mean? You'd hear
no word of mutiny when I talked to you. Speak for your life now,
because we're hard to convince."
"We can't be convinced," said Garry Cochrane, "but maybe it'll be fun
to hear him talk before we dump him overboard."
Instead of answering the speaker, Harrigan looked upon Hovey with a
cold eye of scorn.
He said: "I changed my mind. I'm _not_ one of you. I thought the bos'n
was a real captain for the gang, but I'll not follow a dog that lets
every one of his pack yelp."
"I'm a dog, am I?" snarled Hovey furiously. "I'll teach you what I am,
Harrigan. An' you, Cochrane, keep your face shut. I'll learn you who's
boss of this little crew!"
"If you're half the man you seem," went on Harrigan, "this game looks
good to me."
"You lie," said the bos'n. "You turned me down cold when I talked to
you."
"You fool, that was because you said no word outright of wipin' out the
officers an' takin' control of the ship. You sneaked up to me in the
dark; you felt me out before you said a word; you were like a cat
watchin' a rathole. Am I a rat? Am I a sneak? Do I have to be whispered
to? No, I'm Harrigan, an' anyone who wants to talk to me has got to
speak out like a man!"
The very impudence of his speech held them in check for another
precious moment. He whirled the heavy stool.
"If you wanted me, why didn't you come an' say: 'Harrigan, I know you.
You hate Henshaw an' McTee an' the rest. We're goin' to wipe 'em out
an' beach the ship. Are you with us?' Why, then I'd of shook hands with
you, and that would end it. But when you come whisperin' and
insinuatin', sayin' nothin' straight from the shoulder, how'd I know
you weren't sent by Henshaw to feel me out, eh? How do any of you know
the bos'n ain't feelin' you out for the skipper he's sailed with ten
years?"
The circle shifted, loosened; half the men were facing Hovey with
suspicious eyes. They had not thought of this greater danger, and the
bos'n was desperate in the crisis.
"Boys," he pleaded, "are you goin' to let one stranger ball up our
game? Are you goin' to start doubtin' me on his say-so?"
The men glanced from him to Harrigan. Plainly they were deep in doubt,
and the Irishman made his second masterful move. He stepped forward,
dropping his stool with a crash to the floor, and clapped a hand upon
Hovey's shoulder.
"I spoke too quick," he said frankly, "but you got me mad, bos'n. I
know you're straight, an' I'm with you, for one. A man Harrigan will
toiler ought to be good enough for the rest, eh?"
Jerry Hovey wiped his gleaming forehead. The kingdom of his ambition
was rebuilt by this speech.
"Sit down, boys," he ordered. "The last man in the forecastle is with
us now. We're solid. Sit down and we'll plan our game."
The plan, as it developed after the circle re-formed, was a simple one.
They were to wait until the ship was within two or three days' voyage
from the coast of Central America--their destination--and then they
would act. They had secured to their side the firemen and the first
assistant engineer. That meant that they could run the ship safely with
the bos'n, who understood navigation, at the wheel. They would select a
night, and then, on the command of Hovey, the men would take the arms
which they had prepared.
One of the Japanese cabin boys, Kamasura, was a member of the plot. He
would furnish butcherknives and cleavers from the kitchen. Besides
this, there were various implements which could be used as bludgeons;
and finally there were the pocketknives with which every sailor is
always equipped, generally stout, long-bladed instruments. The
advantage of firearms was with the officers of the ship, but apparently
there were no rifles and probably very few revolvers aboard. Against
powder and lead they would have the advantage of a surprise attack.
First, Sam Hall and Kyle were to go down to the hole of the ship and
lead the firemen in their attack upon the oilers and wipers, most of
whom had not been approachable with the plan of mutiny because they
were newly signed on the ship. In this part of the campaign the most
important feature would be the capturing of Campbell, who would be
reserved for a finely drawn-out, tortured death. The firemen had
insisted upon this.
In the meantime Hovey with Flint and the rest would attack the cabins
of Henshaw, McTee, and the mates. Here they depended chiefly upon the
effect of the surprise. If it were possible, Henshaw also was to be
taken alive and reserved for a long death like Campbell. This done,
they would lead the ship to an uninhabited part of the shore, beach
her, and scatter over the mainland, each with his share of the booty.
Harrigan forced himself to take an active part in the discussion of the
plans. Several features were his own suggestion, among others the idea
of presenting a petition for better food to Henshaw, and beating him
down while he was reading it; but all the time that the Irishman spoke,
he was thinking of Kate.
When the crew turned into their bunks at last, he went over a thousand
schemes in his head. In the first place he might go to Henshaw at once
and warn him of the coming danger, but he remembered what the bos'n had
said--in such a case he would not be believed, and both the crew and
the commander would be against him.
Finally it seemed to him that the best thing was to wait until the
critical moment had arrived. He could warn the captain just in time--or
if absolutely necessary he could warn McTee, who would certainly
believe him. In the meantime there were possibilities that the mutiny
would come to nothing through internal dissension among the crew. In
any case he must play a detestable part, acting as a spy upon the crew
and pretending enthusiasm for the mutiny.
With that shame like a taste of soot in his throat, he climbed to the
bridge the next morning with his bucket of suds and his brush, and
there as usual he found McTee, cool and clean in the white outfit of
Henshaw. At sight of the Scotchman he remembered at once that he must
pretend the double exhaustion which comes of pain and hard labor.
Therefore he thrust out his lower jaw and favored McTee with a glare of
hate. He was repaid by the glow of content which showed in the
captain's face.
"And the hole of the _Heron_," he said, speaking softly lest his voice
should carry to the man in the wheelhouse, "is it cooler than the
fireroom of the _Mary Rogers?_"
Harrigan glanced up, glowering.
"Damn you, McTee!"
"The palms of your hands, lad, are they raw? Is the lye of the suds
cool to them?"
Another black glance came in reply and McTee leaned back against the
rail, tapping one contented toe against the floor.
"It was a fine tale you told me yesterday, Harrigan," he said at
length, "but afterward I saw Kate, and she was never kinder. I spoke of
you, and we laughed together about it. She said you were like a horse
that's too proud--you need the whip!"
Harrigan was in doubt, but he concealed his trouble with a mighty
effort and smiled.
"That's a weak lie, Angus. When I was a boy of ten, I would of hung me
head for shame if I could not have made a better lie. Shall I tell you
what really happened when you met Kate? You came up smilin' an'
grinnin' like a baboon, an' she passed you by with a look that went
through you as if you were just a cloud on the edge of the sky. Am I
right, McTee?"
"You've seen her, and she's told you this," exclaimed the captain.
Harrigan chuckled his triumph and went on with the scrubbing of the
bridge.
"No, Angus, me dear, I've not seen her, but when two souls are as close
as hers and mine--well, cap'n, I leave it to you!"
McTee ground his teeth with rage and turned his back on the worker for
a moment until he could master the contorted muscles of his face.
"Tut, McTee," went on the Irishman, "you've but felt the tickle of the
spur; when I drive it in, you'll yell like a whipped kid. Always you
play into me hands, McTee. Now when you see Kate, you'll feel me grin
in the background mockin' ye, eh?"
The banter gave the captain a shrewd inspiration. He leaned, and
catching one of Harrigan's hands with a quick movement, turned it palm
up. It was as he suspected; the palm, though red from the effect of the
strong suds and still scarcely healed after the torment of the _Mary
Rogers_, was nevertheless manifestly unharmed by the labor which it was
supposed Harrigan had performed the day before. The hand was wrenched
away and a balled fist held under McTee's nose.
"If you're curious, Angus, look at me knuckles, not me palm. It's the
knuckles you'll feel the most, cap'n."