MUTINY
"_'Twas on a Black Baller I first served my time_,
Yo ho, blow the man down!
_And on that Black Baller I wasted my prime_,
Oh, give me some time to blow the man down!"
Murad had been forced to ship some of the toughest rascals in Baltimore
in order to complete his crew. They were men who had gotten into
trouble through acts of violence ashore, and were forced to take to
sea. They, too, had heard rumors that Murad was a spy in the employ of
the Barbary powers, but it did not seem to bother them. I am of the
opinion that they meant to seize the vessel before it had sailed out of
sight of the Atlantic coast.
If such was their plan, Mr. Bludsoe, the mate, was their chief
obstacle. He was a fearless, muscular man, and a belaying-pin in his
hand was a deadly weapon. Even in a plain fist fight he was equal to
two of them. He was not overfond of the Egyptian, yet he was the sort
of person who stuck to a task once he had entered on it.
He suspected Steve Dunn and his crowd of an intention to murder the
officers and seize the ship, and told the skipper of his suspicions.
Murad gave orders that we should be mustered before him. We were under
the guns of an American frigate when the orders were issued, and the
crew obeyed promptly.
"You men have far more weapons on your persons than is necessary,"
the Egyptian said smoothly. "In the interest of good fellowship, and
to keep you from slashing and shooting at each other, I desire you to
leave your knives and pistols in my care. Mr. Bludsoe, you will search
the men's berths and bags and bring to me for safe-keeping any weapons
you find!"
I saw sullen glances exchanged by Steve Dunn, Mulligan and other
members of the crew.
"We ain't none of us planning any trouble among ourselves!" said Steve.
"We don't know when this here vessel is going to be boarded by pirates
and we want our weapons handy!"
"Handy they shall be!" said Murad, still smiling. "It would be too bad
to start ill-feeling between you and me by your disobeying this, my
first request. It would bode ill for our voyage. I was once an admiral
in the Sultan's navy. I know how to make men obey orders. I should hate
to have to ask the captain of yonder frigate to send a crew aboard
to help me make my crew obey. Throw down your knives. You have them
sharpened to a point that makes an honest man shiver. My good fellows,
show me what a good crew I have by obeying me--at once!"
His voice rang on the last two words. The men dropped their dirks on
the deck. There was a motion of Steve's hand towards the inside of his
shirt as the skipper stooped to pick up one of the knives, but Murad
seemed to have eyes in the back of his head.
"Look, Mr. Bludsoe," he said, straightening himself swiftly, "Steve
Dunn has a second knife that he wants to give up!"
He pulled a pistol from his pocket. "Give us the hidden knives too,
men! This pistol might go off if I am kept waiting too long!"
Mr. Bludsoe had returned with an armful of weapons. He deposited them
at the skipper's back and went down the line, feeling for dirks. He
found two. Ending his search, he ordered the men to go forward.
In spite of these precautions, the men continued to grow rebellious.
The man who relieved Samuel Childs at the wheel disobeyed orders. When
Mr. Bludsoe scolded him he gave impudence.
After a scuffle, in which several of the loyal members of the crew,
including Samuel Childs and myself, went to Mr. Bludsoe's assistance,
this man, Bryan by name, was put in irons.
"Holystone the decks!" the next order given after this episode, brought
no response from seven members of the crew. They outnumbered the
officers and the loyal sailors. If we had not taken possession of their
arms, we should have been in a bad way. The men came forward towards
the Egyptian.
"Release Bryan if you want us to work!" Steve called.
"I am the master of this ship!" said Murad calmly, "Bryan is in irons
for disobedience. Others of the crew who refuse to obey orders will be
treated as mutineers. You know the punishment for that! Holystone the
decks!"
They folded their arms and stood glowering at the skipper.
"I shall starve them into submission!" Murad said to the mate.
Two days passed. The men stayed forward. The officers made no attempt
to give them orders. Fortunately, the weather remained calm, and the
few of us who were loyal were sufficient to handle the sails. If a
tempest came, we would be in a serious situation.
"They will attack like starved wolves tonight!" said Mr. Bludsoe to
Burke, Ross and myself, "I shall give each of you a pistol. Your own
lives are at stake. Shoot any man of them who comes aft."
The first man who came aft, however, we did not shoot.
I was the first to catch sight of his figure stealing away from the
forecastle. I fear that my voice trembled when I cried:
"Halt! Throw up your hands!"
"It's Reynolds," he said, "Take me to the skipper. I want to throw
myself on his mercy. Intercede for me, lad. I've had my fill of that
gang yonder!"
The captain and mate had joined me. "It's the first break in their
ranks," he said, "and I'll take advantage of the chance to show them
that they can still surrender without being strung up."
He turned to me.
"Give Reynolds biscuits and coffee! He will take the wheel after that,
and if he fails us there we'll----"
He whirled his hand around his neck and then pointed to a yardarm in a
way that emphasized his meaning far more than words could have done.
The surrender of Reynolds led us to hope that others were on the verge
of yielding. We questioned Reynolds as he ate ravenously the food we
brought him. He was whole-heartedly aiding us now, because he knew that
if the mutineers triumphed it would go hard with him.
He said that if we could show the men that we were powerful enough to
conquer Steve Dunn and Mulligan, the ringleaders, the others would be
glad to go back to work.
"It's those two who're to blame for us not yielding sooner," he
explained. "We had planned twelve hours ago to come out and throw
ourselves on the skipper's mercy, but Mulligan knocked me down when
I suggested it. He thought that he had me cowed, and that I would be
afraid to make any further attempt. He stationed me as a guard at the
forecastle scuttle tonight, while he planned with the others just how
they would attack you. If they could get rid of the skipper and the
mate, they thought it would be easy to bring the others over to their
side. I expect they'll be crawling out very soon to make the attempt."
"Captain," said Mr. Bludsoe, "I think I can end this. There are lads in
that forecastle whom I don't want to see hung for mutiny. They resent
our trying to starve them into submission, and I'm afraid the longer
they go without food, the more desperate they'll become. May I promise
them that if they come forth peacefully and go to work you will take no
steps to enforce the laws against them?"
Murad had been plainly worried by the rebellion. We were out of the
track of American frigates, and we still had a long voyage before us.
If a storm came, the few loyal men would find themselves overtaxed in
managing the vessel, and while they were endeavoring to save the ship,
the mutineers would have an opportunity to do murder.
I could not help wondering, too, whether the Egyptian was not fearful
as to the effect the mutiny would have on his treasure hunt, for the
more I studied him, the deeper became my conviction that he had secured
possession of the rector's secret, and, under the pretext of going
on a trading voyage, was off on a solitary treasure quest. One of my
duties was to keep the cabin clean and tidy, and when opportunity
offered I had poked in chests and cubby-holes to see if I could find
the rector's map of the treasure country. My hurried searches had
failed thus far.
Thoughts kindred to mine must have been running through Murad's mind,
for he consented to Mr. Bludsoe's proposal.
"But I warn you against entering the forecastle!" he said, "Better
talk to them at a distance. Keep them well covered with your pistols.
They've found weapons!"
The mate went forward. I had conceived a strong admiration for him,
and, on an impulse I followed his shadowy figure as it crept along the
starboard side, past the galley, towards the forecastle hatchway. Ross
and Burke, not to be outdone, strung along behind us.
Mr. Bludsoe had reached the forecastle hatch without meeting a person.
I expected to hear him yell his message down the hatchway, which was
open, but instead I saw his black figure leap into the yellow glare
that came up from the forecastle lantern. He had leaped down into the
room.
I crept up to the scuttle, and leaned down the hatchway, cutlass in
hand. I was determined to fight in the mate's defence if necessary,
though I knew that my cutlass, with only a youth's arm behind it, was
a poor weapon against desperate men, even if they were only armed with
dirks.
The men had been standing in the center of the forecastle, and seemed
to have been on the verge of rushing forth to attack us. Reynold's
desertion had not been noted by them, and they had evidently thought
that the person leaping into the room was their sentinel. The mate's
spring, therefore, took them by surprise. They glanced uncertainly up
the ladder, saw the flash of my cutlass, and thought that our entire
force was back of Mr. Bludsoe. It was a reasonable conclusion, for who
would have dreamed that the mate would have done so bold a thing.
Knives flashed. "Here's one of them," Steve cried, "thought he'd
starved the strength out of us, I reckon. We'll show him!"
Bludsoe put his back against the ladder and leveled his pistols at the
most menacing mutineers.
"Men," he said, "I can kill four of you before you down me. There
are others waiting to take care of the rest. Listen--I haven't come
down here to shoot--I'm trying to end this row and save you from the
gallows. Some of you have never been in trouble before. Some of you are
married men. It's no use trying to budge the skipper. You won't get a
bite to eat until you start to work. If you hold out another twelve
hours the chances are some frigate will see our signals and take you to
where you'll get short shrift. Come now, throw down your knives and----"
A heavy boot, viciously aimed, knocked me aside. Its owner jumped
across my body and leapt towards the scuttle.
I saw the huge bulk of Mulligan pass me. He had been out to reconnoiter
and we had passed him in the darkness.
"Look out! Mulligan's behind you!" I cried.
A shot was fired.
I crept in despair towards the hatchway. I was unable to interpret
from the sounds and curses that issued from the forecastle what had
happened, and feared that I should see Mr. Bludsoe trampled upon by
those he had tried to rescue from their own folly. Yet, as I raised my
head to peer down, I heard his voice ring out:
"There's no need for anyone else to pay the price Mulligan has paid.
Down with your weapons!"
Dirks and pistols clattered to the deck. Some of the points of the
knives stuck into the timber. I looked at these shivering blades and
thanked Providence that they had found lodging there instead of in the
mate's breast.
Out they came, sullen but subdued. Mr. Bludsoe drove them aft with his
pistol points.
"Thank you, lad," he said, as he passed me, "I owe my life to you!"
I peered down into the forecastle. Under the smoky lamp lay Mulligan--a
huge, motionless mass. Blood flowed from his temple.
The wind had died; the sun was hidden in haze; the sky darkened; the
barometer fell. "We'll be in the midst of a tempest soon," Samuel
Childs whispered to me, "if the rebels had held out they might have had
the ship at their mercy."
"Call all hands to shorten sail," the skipper said calmly to Mr.
Bludsoe.
The ship was made snug; the sails were furled; the spars, water casks,
and boats were lashed; the hatches were battened down.
Seeing that the men were thoroughly cowed, the skipper passed the word
to the cook to serve them with breakfast. From the galley came the
sound of pots and pans. The peace meal was ready.