"Lay hold of the first mutineer, Poole, and drag him down here."
"That's meant for you, Mr Fitz, sir," said the carpenter with a
chuckle, and the men roared again.
Fitz turned upon him, white as ashes, like an angry dog about to bite.
"Silence, you insolent scoundrel!" he shouted.
"What's the meaning of this, Burnett?" cried Poole.
"This, sir," said the lad haughtily, stepping forward to meet him,
laying one hand on his shoulder, and making a desperate snatch at the
revolver; "I seize this schooner in the Queen's name. Now, my lads,
make this boy your prisoner."
Poole clapped the pistol behind him as he shook himself free.
"Look here, sir," he cried; "have you gone mad?"
"Do you hear, men?" cried Fitz, seizing him again. "Forward! You,
Poole, in the Queen's name, surrender!"
Not a man stirred, all standing in a group looking on, some wonderingly,
some thoroughly amused, while the carpenter whispered--
"All right, lads; let them fight it out. Of all the cheek!"
"Did you say, You Poole or You fool?" said the skipper's son quietly;
"because one of us seems to be behaving very stupidly. Take your hand
off my collar. This pistol's loaded in five chambers, and was in six
till I blew the lock off the cabin-door.--Quiet, I tell you, before
there's an accident. Why, you must have gone off your head."
"Did you hear what I said, men?" shouted Fitz furiously. "In the
Queen's name, make this boy your prisoner! Here, you, boatswain, take
the lead here and obey my orders." For that individual had just made
his appearance on deck.
"What's the row, young gentlemen? Here, you, Squire Poole, put away
that six-shooter. If you and Mr Fitz here has fell out, none of that
tommy-rot nonsense. Use your fists."
"Boatswain," cried Fitz haughtily, "I, as an officer, seize this
schooner in the Queen's name."
"What, has she telled you to, sir? I never heared her come aboard."
"No trifling, man. For your own sake, obey my orders. Seize this lad,
and then make sail for the nearest British port."
The boatswain took off his cap and scratched his head, looking at the
boys in a puzzled way, while Poole made no further resistance, but
resigned himself to being held, as he kept the pistol well behind his
back.
"Do you hear me, men?" shouted Fitz, his heart sinking with despair the
while, as he noted the smiling looks of every face before him, and felt
what a miserable fiasco he had made.
"Oh yes, I can hear you, sir," said the boatswain. "I'd be precious
deaf if I didn't; but you're giving rather a large order, taking a lot
on yourself now as the skipper's lying in dock. Any one would think as
you had got a gunboat's well-manned cutter lying alongside, and I don't
see as it is. What was that there shot I heard?"
"I blew the lock off the cabin-door by my father's orders," cried Poole.
"We were locked in."
"Ho!" said the boatswain. "Then this 'ere's been what they used to call
aboard a ship I was in, a hen-coop _de main_. I don't quite exactly
know what it means, but it's something about shutting up prisoners in a
cage. But don't you think, young gentleman, you have been making a big
mistake? But oh, all right--here's the skipper hisself coming on deck."
Fitz turned sharply towards the companion-hatch, to see the head and
shoulders of the skipper as he stood there holding on by the combings,
and swaying to and fro, looking very ill and weak. His voice, too,
sounded feeble as he said huskily, addressing the boatswain--
"Is there any boat alongside, Butters?"
"I arn't seen one, sir," replied the boatswain.
"Any cruiser within sight?"
"No, sir."
"Where's Mr Burgess?"
"Down below, sir. I'm afraid he's got the fever too."
"Tut-tut-tut!" ejaculated the skipper. "There, I needn't ask any
questions. I have heard and seen enough. Mr Burnett, come here. No?
Well, stay where you are. My good lad, have you been too much in the
sun, to begin playing such a silly prank as this? There, no more
nonsense!" he added sternly, and with his voice gathering in force. "It
is evident to me that you don't know what stuff my men are made of. But
I'm too weak to stand talking here. Come and lend me a hand, Poole.
You, my young filibuster, had better come below with me, where you can
talk the matter over like a man. Ha, ha, ha!" he added, with a peculiar
laugh. "There, I'm not angry with you, my boy. I must say I admire
your pluck; but you must see how absurd all this is!"
The midshipman's hands had dropped to his sides, and a strange,
hopeless, bitterly despondent look made his face display so many
incipient wrinkles, the germs, so to speak, of those which in manhood
would some day mark his frank young features.
"It's all over," he groaned to himself; "they are all laughing at me. I
wish I were overboard! What an idiot I have been!"
The laugh was there all ready in the eyes of the crew, and ready to
burst out in a roar, as, thrusting the revolver into his breast, Poole
ran to his father's side, and steadied him as he went back into the
cabin; but not a sound was heard till the way was quite clear and Fitz
stood alone looking wildly about him like some hunted animal seeking a
place of refuge where he might hide. But the lad's choice was limited
to the cook's galley, the cable-tier, and the forecastle-hatch, none of
which would do.
There were only two courses open, he felt, and one was to end his
troubles by going overboard, the other to surrender like a man, obeying
the skipper's orders and following him below--anywhere to be out of
sight of the jeering crew, whose remarks and mirthful shouts he
momentarily expected to hear buzzing about his devoted head. And hence
it was that as soon as the companion-hatch was clear he drew himself up
to his full height--it did not take much doing, for it is very hard work
for a boy to look like a man--and gazing straight before him, walked
haughtily to the cabin-hatch and disappeared.
The men seemed to have been holding their breath; their faces relaxed
into smiles and grins, and the carpenter exclaimed--
"Chips and shavings! Bantams aren't--"
In another moment there would have been a roar of derisive laughter, but
Butters growled out hoarsely and sternly--
"Stand by! D'y' hear? Steady, my lads! None of that 'ere! Grinning
like a set of Cheshire cats! What have you got to sneer at? My word!
My word! And a boy like that! That's what I call genuine British
pluck! What a hofficer he'd make!"
"Ay, ay!" cried the carpenter. "Right you are. All together, lads! He
is the right sort! Three cheers!"
They were given, with the boatswain pining in, and Fitz winced as he
heard them down by the cabin-door; but he was himself again directly,
for there was no jarring note of derision in the sound.