The Fate of the Mutineers
Presently most of the men who had been left in the stockade, having
taken to the boats and the little sloop, came on board. Fury,
disappointment, and despair were written on their faces as they
gathered in the waist awaiting the orders that were not forthcoming.
"Aren't you going to weigh and chase 'em, Cap'n?" shouted one, with
more zeal than discretion.
"Send away the long-boat, and we'll soon overhaul them," suggested
another.
"With this sea running?" replied Captain Jeremy at length. "You
would never make head way. Trust me and wait."
The crew could scarce believe their ears. Was the Captain overcome
by the strain of the last few days? His pensive attitude seemed
incomprehensible.
Yet Captain Jeremy was outwardly cool and collected as, glass in
hand, he followed the course of the disappearing _Neptune_.
She was now on the bar, tossing, pitching, and rolling in the heavy
breakers, for already the sea outside was running high and breaking
over the shoals in one continuous field of snow-flecked foam. Yet
the errant brig held slowly and truly on her course 'twixt the
shallows that threatened her at half a cable's length to starboard
and larboard.
She stood out close hauled on the larboard tack, the wind being due
north, till she reached the bend in the channel that ran parallel
with the shore. Here, being smartly handled, she turned and ran dead
before the wind, her hull being lost to view from our decks by the
intervening reef.
Instantly there was a scramble aloft, Captain Jeremy and I, with
nearly a dozen men, gaining the main top, while the shrouds were
alive with the discomfited crew as they watched from their lofty
point of vantage the rapidly receding brig.
I glanced at Captain Jeremy. In spite of his coolness, I fancy his
anxiety increased as the _Neptune_ ran before the wind.
"Sink me," I heard him mutter, "she's hauling to the wind!"
This was indeed the case, but even as she did so she struck the
fatal reef. The next instant she broached to, the rollers making
clean breaches over her hull, and almost immediately her masts went
by the board.
Then I understood, though imperfectly. Captain Jeremy, by altering
the position of the clump of trees, had created a false landmark,
and the _Neptune_ had fallen into the trap.
"There's an end to the treasure, anyway," exclaimed one of the men.
"There won't be as much as a plank or a copper nail left ere night."
Having witnessed the destruction of the mutineers, Captain Jeremy
descended to the deck and ordered the bos'n to pipe all hands. Then,
mounting the poop, he faced the dejected men.
"My lads," he exclaimed in ringing tones, "I'll deceive you no
longer. There is no need for discontent or vain regrets, for not one
pennyworth of treasure is aboard yon craft. The whole of it is now
lying in the storehouse on shore!"
For a full twenty seconds there was a lull or absolute silence; the
men seemed unable to grasp the full significance of the words. Then,
as the meaning dawned upon them, a roar of cheering burst from a
hundred throats.
"If you pause to consider," continued the Captain, "you will see
that I acted for the best, even though I had to practise a mild
deceit on most of you. Knowing that the rogues on the _Neptune_ were
in league with that villain Slater, I purposely caused the treasure
chests, filled with stones, to be conveyed on board their craft. You
will remember that at no time did I say the treasure was in those
chests, but the rascals jumped at the bait. By so doing they have
served a double purpose: we shall be troubled by them no more, and
the loss of the _Neptune_ has relieved me of a great load of
anxiety. How say you? What would they at home say if they saw me
bringing back two ships, when I set sail with one only? I also see a
way whereby those of you who were shipped as slaves aboard the
_Neptune_ can return to your homes, or, if you will it, be set
ashore at any port we touch, with your full share of the spoil of
the captured buccaneer."
"I have also another proposal to make. By their mutinous conduct
those aboard the _Neptune_ would have forfeited their share in the
_Madre_ treasure had they lived, so that the amount to be
distributed amongst the remaining members of the original crew of
the _Golden Hope_ is considerably increased. Now, I am going to set
aside the amount of those forfeited shares and divide it amongst
you, irrespective of rank, or whether ye be the men who left Poole
in the _Golden Hope_ or those who joined us off the _Neptune_; for
'twas by the hearty efforts of all hands here that we were enabled
to lay hands on the treasure. Now, lads, I thank you one and all. It
only remains to load up our precious cargo, get the ship ready for
sea, and yo-ho! for old England."
When the applause that greeted the termination of Captain Jeremy's
speech had subsided, a number of men, headed by Tom Cherry, elbowed
their way through the dense crowd of their delighted comrades.
"Cap'n," exclaimed Cherry, "I've a favour to ask you."
"Say on," replied Captain Jeremy.
"Me and my mates here," said the sturdy seaman, "want to take the
long-boat and row out to yon wreck. Maybe some of the poor chaps are
still aboard."
"Nay," answered the Captain, a flush of anger overspreading his
bronzed features. "They are but mutinous dogs; let them perish."
"They were our comrades, an', though it shames me to say it, my
brother's son is with them," Cherry said doggedly. "If we pick 'em
up we can send 'em off in the sloop, and they won't harm us any
more."
"A boat would never live in such a sea," observed Captain Jeremy,
with a sweep of his arm in the direction of the bar, where the
breakers were tumbling in white, confused masses, for it was now
blowing hard outside. Yet our Captain was certainly turning aside
from his hard purpose.
"We are willing to take the risk, sir," pleaded the seaman
earnestly. "I've not been brought up on the coast of Kent for
nothing."
"Then go. But, mind you, one condition I make. Should you bring that
murderous villain Ned Slater back alive, I'll run him up to the
yardarm."
Tom Cherry touched his forelock and turned away, followed by his
eight comrades. The long-boat was already alongside; so, tossing a
mast and sail, an empty beaker, and a coil of grass rope into her,
the dauntless men dropped over the side of the _Golden Hope_ and
pushed off.
"You are quite certain of the channel, I hope, Cherry?" shouted
Captain Jeremy.
"Yes, sir; and besides, there's enough water over the shoals for
us."
"Not with this tumble outside; so be careful, and keep to the
smoothest water."
"More food for the sharks," I heard a seaman say, as he watched the
boat gather way.
Hoisting a mere rag of sail, the daring rescuers headed for the
open, the boat speeding under the pressure of the howling wind,
while Tom Cherry steered her adroitly to meet each threatening
comber. At one moment we could see nearly the whole of the boat's
bottom boards, as she climbed an immense wall of water; at another,
only her long, lean quarters and stern, as she slid down the far
side of the safely passed crest.
Once more we manned the rigging, and with eager eyes and
apprehensive looks followed the hazardous fortunes of our humane
comrades as they turned and ran down before the wind towards the
wreck.
From my swaying perch on the main top--for even in this usually
sheltered harbour a heavy "gush" caused the _Golden Hope_ to roll
sluggishly--I had great difficulty in keeping the boat within the
field of my telescope. The men had now stowed sail, and under oars
were backing slowly towards the shattered _Neptune_, the figure of
Tom Cherry being clearly distinguishable as he stood, steering oar
in hand, keeping the boat's stern to the towering crests.
By this time the after part of the _Neptune_ had completely
disappeared, and the waist was fast breaking up under the relentless
blows of the resistless breakers; yet through the cloud of spray
that dashed over the fo'c'sle I could see the forms of some half a
dozen helpless creatures hanging on to the frail protection afforded
by the weather rail.
The men in the long-boat were now rowing their hardest to keep to
windward of the wreck. They were evidently paying out the beaker by
the grass warp in the hope of establishing a communication 'twixt
the two craft. It was a life-or-death struggle with the
elements--English courage and brawn pitted against the combined
action of wind and sea. Which would win?
Suddenly a heavy rain squall came on, bearing down the crested waves
with its weight, and obliterating everything within a quarter of a
mile of us.
When the squall passed, a groan of dismay burst from our lips. As
far as the eye could see, there was nothing but a chaos of angry sea
and sky. Both the wreck and the gallant long-boat had vanished.