The discovery of Aaron's loyalty had been immensely heartening to Joel.
If Aaron were loyal, there might be others.... Must be.... Not all men
are false....
He wondered who they would be; he went over the men, one by one, from
mate to humblest foremast hand. Finch and Varde were surely against him.
Old Hooper--he and Aaron were cronies, and the other mates had left
Hooper somewhat out of their movements thus far. Old Hooper might be,
give him his chance, on Joel's side....
Old Hooper, and Aaron. Two. Dick Morrell? A boy, hot with the wonder and
glamor of Mark's tale. Easily swung to either side. Joel thought he would
not swing too desperately to the lawless side. But--he could not be
counted on. What others were there?
Joel had brought his own harpooner from the _Martin Wilkes_. A big Island
black. A decent man.... A chance. Besides him, there were three men who
had served Asa Worthen long among the foremast hands. Uncertain
quantities. Chances everywhere....
But--he must strike quickly. There was no time to sound them out. When
his dinner was brought at noon, his broken bonds would be discovered.
They would be more careful thereafter. Three hours lay before him....
He set himself to listen with all his ears; to guess at what was going on
above decks, and so choose his moment. He must wait as long as it was
safe to wait; he must wait till men's bloods ran less hot after the
crisis of the morning. He must wait till sober second thought was upon
them....
But there was always the chance to fear that Mark might come down. He
could not wait too long....
He could hear feet moving on the deck above his head. The _Nathan Ross_
had run into rougher weather with her change of course; the wind was
stiffening, and now and then a whisk of spray came aboard. He heard Jim
Finch's bellowing commands.... Heard Mark's laughter. Mark and Jim were
astern, fairly over his head.
There were men in the main cabin. The scrape of their feet, the murmur of
their voices came to him. Dick Morrell and old Hooper, perhaps....
It was through these men that Joel's moment came. Finch, on deck, shouted
down to them.... Mark had decided to shorten sail, ease the strain on the
old masts. Joel heard Morrell and Hooper go up to the deck....
That would mean most of the men aloft.... The decks would be fairly
clear. His chance....
He wished he could know where Varde sat; but he could not be sure of
that, and he could not wait to guess by listening. He caught up a blanket
from his bunk, held it open in his hands, drew back--and threw himself
against the cabin door.
It opened so easily that he overbalanced, all but fell. The screws had
been set in punch holes so large that the threads scarce took hold at
all. Joel stumbled out--saw Varde on the cushioned bench which ran across
the stern. The mate was reading, a book from Joel's narrow shelf. At
sight of Joel, he was for an instant paralyzed with surprise....
That instant was long enough for Joel. He swept the blanket down upon the
man, smothering his cries with fold on fold; and he grappled Varde, and
crushed him, and beat at his head with his fists until the mate's
spasmodic struggles slackened. Priss had heard the sounds of combat,
swept out of her cabin, bent above them. He looked up and saw her; and he
said quietly:
"Get back into your place."