It would have been an ugly fall for the lieutenant, for according to the
wholesome custom observed by most mechanics, the carpenter had turned
the damaged hatchway into a very pleasant kind of pitfall, such as the
gentle mild Hindoo might have dug for his enemy the crafty tiger, with
its arrangements for impaling whatever fell.
In this case Chips had all the ragged and jagged pieces of plank
carefully stuck point upwards, with a couple of augers, a chisel or two,
and a fair amount of gimlets and iron spike-like nails, so that it would
have been impossible for his officer have fallen without receiving one
or two ugly wounds.
Just in the nick of time, however, Jack Brown, the boatswain, darted
forward and gave the lieutenant a tremendous push, which sent him clear
of the opening in the deck, but in a sitting position under the bulwark,
against which his head went with a goodly rap.
"Mutiny, by Jove!" he roared, in astonished fury. "Marines, fix
bayonets! Run that scoundrel through."
"Beg your honour's pardon," began Jack Brown, offering his hand to
assist the astonished commander to rise.
"It's a lie, sir! How dare you say it was an accident?" cried the
lieutenant, struggling up and readjusting the handkerchief tied round
his injured head, and his cocked hat over that. "It's mutiny, sir, rank
mutiny. You struck your officer, sir, and you'll be shot. Corporal,
take this man below. In irons, sir, in irons."
"But your honour would have gone through the hole squelch on to the
lower deck," growled Jack Brown in an injured tone.
"Silence, sir," roared the lieutenant. "Corporal, do your duty."
"All right, corpy, I'm coming," said the boatswain, as the marine laid
his hand upon his arm. "But the skipper may fall overboard and drown
hisself next time, afore I gives him a helping hand."
"Mutiny! mutiny!" cried the lieutenant. "Do you hear, Mr Leigh? The
ship's crew are in open mutiny, and uttering threats. Fetch my pistols,
sir," he cried, drawing his sword. "Cut down the first man who utters
another word. Do you hear, Mr Leigh? Quick! my pistols!"
"If you please, your honour," began Billy Waters, pulling his forelock
and giving a kick out behind.
"Si-lence!" roared the lieutenant. "Here, marines, come on my side.
I'll cut down the next man who dares to speak. Have you got the
pistols, Mr Leigh?"
Of course there was no answer.
"I say, have you got my pistols, Mr Leigh?" cried the lieutenant again.
Still there was silence, and in his fury the lieutenant thrust the
bandage up from over his inflamed eye, and tried to see what was going
on.
Truth to speak, he was as blind as an owl in broad sunshine; but in his
irritable frame of mind he would not own it, even to himself, and
pushing the bandage higher he tilted off his cocked hat, which fell with
a bang on the deck, and in trying to save his hat he struck himself on
the jaw with the hilt of his sword, and dropped that in turn, to fall
with a ringing noise on the whitened planks.
"Confusion!" he exclaimed as the corporal picked up hat and sword in
turn, and handed them to the irate officer, whose temper was in no wise
sweetened by this last upset. "Ha! thank you, Mr Leigh, you are very
polite all at once," he cried sarcastically, as he stared at the
corporal, who stood before him drawn up stiff as a ramrod, but
representing nothing but a blurred figure before the inflamed optic of
the lieutenant. "Well, sir! Now, sir! perhaps you will condescend to
give some explanation of your conduct. Silence, there! If any man of
this crew dares to speak I'll cut him down. Now, Mr Leigh, I call upon
you for an explanation."
No answer, of course.
"Do you hear what I say, sir?"
The corporal did not stir or move a muscle.
"Once more, sir, I demand why you do not explain your conduct," cried
the lieutenant.
The corporal drew himself up a little tighter, and his eyes were fixed
upon the bright blade quivering in the lieutenant's hand.
"Speak, sir. It's mutiny by all the articles of war," roared the
lieutenant, taking a step forward, seizing the corporal by the collar,
and presenting at his throat the point of the sword.
"Mind my eyes, your honour," cried the corporal, flinching; "I ain't Mr
Leigh."
"Where is he then?" cried the astonished lieutenant.
"Your honour won't cut me down if I speak?" said the corporal.
"No, no," said the lieutenant, lowering the point of his sword; "where
is Mr Leigh?"
"Ain't come aboard, sir."
"Not come aboard? Here, Waters!"
The gunner trotted forward, pulled his forelock and kicked out his right
leg behind.
"Where is Mr Leigh?"
The gunner pulled his forelock again, kicked out his left leg, and as he
bobbed his head, his pigtail went up and came down again flop between
his shoulders as if it were a long knocker.
"I say, where is Mr Leigh? You mutinous scoundrel, why don't you
speak?"
"Honour said you'd cut me down if I did."
"Rubbish! Nonsense! Tell me, where is Mr Leigh?"
"Don't know, your honour."
"Don't know, sir? What do you mean?"
"Please your honour, we'd found tracks, as we thought, of the smugglers'
lugger, and then Mr Leigh lost us. No; I mean, your honour, we lost
him. No, he lost--I say, Tom Tully, my lad, which way weer it?"
Tom Tully grunted, gave his trousers a hitch, and looked at the
lieutenant's sword.
"Well, sir, do you hear?" cried the lieutenant; "how was it?"
"Stow all cuttin's down," grumbled Tom Tully, putting his hand behind so
as to readjust the fall of his pigtail.
"Will--you--speak--out--you--ras-cal?" cried the lieutenant.
"Don't know, your honour," growled Tom Tully; "only as Muster Leigh went
off."
"There, I thought as much!" cried the lieutenant. "Deserted his men,
and gone off."
"Please your honour, I don't think as--"
"Silence!" cried the lieutenant, so fiercely that Billy Waters gave up
the young officer's defence, and shut his teeth together with a loud
snap like that of a trap.
"All hands 'bout ship!" cried the lieutenant. "He'll be coming back
presently, and signalling for a boat to fetch him off, but he shall come
on to Portsmouth and make his report to the admiral."
The great mainsail swung over to the other side, and the breeze
favouring, the squaresail was set as well, and the _Kestrel_, so late
helpless on shore, began to skim over the surface of the water at a
tremendous rate, while the lieutenant, having given his orders as to
which way the cutter's head should be laid, went down to the cabin to
bathe his painful eye, having told one of the men to bring him some warm
water from the galley.
The man he told happened to be Tom Tully, and as he stood by, ready to
fetch more if it should be wanted, the bathing seemed to allay the
irritation, so that the commander grew less angry, and condescended to
ask a few questions. Then he began to think of the _Kestrel_ having
been ashore, the state of her deck about the fore-hatchway, and the late
encounter, all of which he would have to minutely describe to the
admiral if he ran into harbour to report Hilary Leigh's evasion.
Then, as he grew more comfortable, he began to think that perhaps, after
all, the young man had not run off. Furthermore, as he owned that he
was an indefatigable young officer, he came to the conclusion that
perhaps Leigh might have discovered further traces of the smugglers,
and, if so, it would be wrong to leave him in the lurch, especially as a
good capture might be made, and with it a heap of prize-money.
"And besides, I'll give fifty pounds to run up against that scoundrel
who led me into that trap."
A little more bathing made the lieutenant see so much more clearly,
mentally as well as optically, that he went on deck and repeated his
former orders of "'Bout ship," with the result that the _Kestrel_ was
once more gently gliding along off the cliff-bound stretch of land where
Hilary Leigh had fallen into strange hands.