Two boats were lowered down, and my two mates and me and the four
sailors was to man 'em. They let down Captain Harness, wounded and half
mad as he was, into one boat, and Mr Wallace the mate into the other;
and then a couple of compasses, and some breakers of water, a bag or two
of biscuit, and a tub of butter were shoved in. Then came the job of
getting the passengers over the side. The men were ordered up first,
and, some wounded, some savage, some weak and disheartened, they were
made to take their places, six of the mutineers keeping guard with
cocked pistols and drawn cutlashes. I believe, though, in spite of
their weapons, that a little English pluck was all that was needed to
save the ship; but no attempt was made, and, trembling and frightened,
the women and children were ordered up, and then the boats were loaded.
"Now, then, down with you, and shove off," says Van Haigh, showing his
cursed white teeth, and pricking at poor Sam Brown with his cutlash,
just out of malice like. And you should have seen Sam's eyes that time!
He never spoke, but it's my opinion if he'd had the chance, he'd have
shaken Van's precious body until the silver rings he was so proud of had
dropped out of his yellow ears. But, as I said before, Sam didn't
speak; he only lays hold of the side rope, and lowers himself into the
boat, already too full; Bill Smith dropping into the other, in spite of
his wound.
"Now you!" roars Van to me, for I was standing hesitating, and I don't
mind saying that a cold chill ran all through me, for just then I heard
the click of his pistol cock, and I knew he was taking aim at my head.
But I mastered myself, and wouldn't turn round; for it was an important
time, and there was much to think about. There was poor Mr Ward, with
his head bound up, held by two of the mutineers; and poor Tomtit, with
his knees to his chin as he sat upon the deck; and of course they
weren't going, for the boats wouldn't hold any more. And there was the
fat passenger, as cried when we left home; and last of all, Miss Bell
and her brother below.
It didn't take me long to make up my mind, for it seemed to me as it
would never do for me and my mates to go and leave them in their
trouble, for maybe they'd be sent afloat in a little boat next, and
wouldn't know how to work her; so, half-expecting every moment to drop
with a bullet through me, I says: "I'm blest, my lads, if I ain't had
about enough of it. While the old skipper was aboard, I did my duty by
him and them as was under him; but now there's a new skipper, I don't
see what call there is for me to go afloat with a set o' lubbers in a
crazy boat. You, Bill Smith, and you, squinty Brown, can do as you
like. Captain Van," I says, turning to him, "if you'll shove that
pistol away, I'll stop aboard."
"Hooray!" shouts half a dozen of the fellows; and I could see Van
looking me through and through with them dark eyes of his; but I don't
think he got much below the skin either, and besides, he was a bit
tickled by me calling him "captain;" so he puts the pistol in his belt,
and the next minute Bill and Sam was aboard again, looking half-puzzled
like. Then the mutineers gave a bit of a cheer, and the passengers
groaned at us; and, to make matters right with them on board, I jumps on
the taffrail and groans again, and calls the poor beggars "swabs"--God
forgive me!--for shoving off in so lubberly a way, with their oars
dipping anyhow, nohow, one after the other in the water, and the boats
not trimmed. It was a cruel trick, but I meant it all for the best;
while, what to do about old Sam, I didn't know, for he was growling and
swearing to himself like some old tiger-cat, and I was afraid he'd show
his teeth and claws every moment; but he kept quiet. As for poor Bill,
he seemed misty and dazed, never speaking, but sitting down on the deck
to lean his head against the side. Then Van seemed more at rest, for,
giving his orders, the men uncocked their pistols, after making-believe
to blow the fat passenger's brains out, and making the perspiration run
down his face, mixed up with tears, for he began to pipe his eye
terribly.
"Lower 'em below," says Van; and the fat passenger saved 'em the
trouble; while, when they were letting down Tomtit, whose hands were
tied, and they were going to let go, they found his legs was already at
the bottom, and then his head disappeared, but only to pop up again the
next moment like a Jack-in-the-box, to see what was going to be done to
the doctor.
"Ain't he a rum beggar?" I says to one of the blood-thirsty devils at
my side, all to make friends, you see; and he laughed, and so did two or
three more, for another of 'em made a cut at the poor chap's head with
his cutlash, to make him bob down the hatchway again, which he did,
though only to come up again, till, finding it wasn't safe, he kept
down, and we didn't see him no more just then. The poor doctor was the
next to take their attention; and, seeing how cut up the poor fellow
was, I'd have given something to have gone and shaken hands with him,
and told him what I felt, and at first I hardly dare look him in the
face.
They lashed Mr Ward's hands behind him, and I saw his lips quiver as he
kept on casting an eye at the cabin-stairs. I knew well enough what he
was thinking about, only I daren't look at him much, for there were
plenty watching me suspiciously enough, and, let alone not wanting to be
knocked on the head, I felt that to do any good for the passengers, I
must throw them as had the upper hand off the scent.
I was leaning against the bulwarks, making-believe to look on, cool as
could be, and screwing my old mahogany phizog into what I meant to be a
grin of delight at our freedom, but I know it must have been about the
sort of screw that a fellow would give when lashed to a gun for a round
dozen.
Mr Ward saw me grinning, and sent such a look at me as made my face
grow as long as a spoon; but that wouldn't do, and I daren't give him
any signal, so I laughed it off, and, pulling out my box and opening my
knife, I goes up to him, and I says in a free-and-easy way, "Have a
chaw, mate?" and made-believe to cut him one.
"You infernal traitorous scoundrel!" he shouted, and in spite of his
lashings he made at me; while, making-believe to have my monkey up, I up
with my knife and made a stroke at him, sending it through his
pilot-coat and into one of the side-pockets, dragging at it, to get it
out again, and keeping it hitched the while, till some of them laid hold
of me by the arm, when, struggling and swearing, I hit out with my left
hand, and caught Mr Ward upon the chest, sending him down upon the
deck, when I tried again to get at him, but they held me fast.
"I'll let him know," I spluttered out; and then Brassey, Van's
right-hand man, gives the order, and three of his mates drags Mr Ward
down the hatchway; when I pretended to be better, and only kept on
muttering and scowling about like a dog that's lost his bone, till ten
minutes after, when I got a pannikin of grog, and sat looking at what
was going on.
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