SHE SEES CAPTAIN ROTCH AND MR. NODDER AGAIN
Mr. Bates and the others were a long time in the hold; they found
trouble in getting at the goods they wanted. I cleared the table and
tidied the cabin, hot with thought all the time I worked. If Rotch and
Nodder were truly on the island and we got them into the brig, how
would this amazing venture end?
Meanwhile I held off from Tom; I heard him walking overhead; the scheme
he himself lighted on was sure to prove the best, and I guessed when he
wanted me he would seek me.
At last Bates and the islanders came out of the hold. Tom descended the
steps to talk with them, and I walked out to hear what passed.
‘Captain,’ said Peter Green, ‘ve vhas very glad to exchange mit a
leedle of what ve hov seen. Dere vhas some goodt useful shirts, und ve
find der boots und flannel joost vhat ve’ll be thankful for in a month
or two.’
‘Very well,’ said Tom, who now had himself wholly under control. ‘The
arrangements will stand thus, Mr. Green: I’ll take a three-mile offing
and heave-to till daybreak. You’ll then come off in your whale-boat
with all you’re able to load, and bring some hands to carry our boat
ashore for fresh water. Is the hose still connected with the cascade?’
‘Ay, sir,’ said old Daly.
‘Boats water lying outside the surf?’
‘Dat vhas so,’ said Peter Green.
‘Well, when you’ve victualled and watered us, you’ll bring off the
three men who want to get away.’
‘Vhere vhas you bound to again, captain?’ said Peter Green. ‘Ach, my
memory!’
‘To Cape Town,’ answered Tom, quick in his answer as the report after
the flash. ‘Will that suit them?’
‘Dey vhas very grateful. Und so vhas ve. Der language of dot Captain
Rotch does not always please Governor Glass. He vhas impatient, und
vhas not enough thankful to Gott for his life. But, den, poor doyfil,
he has a wife und shilds at home, und den again he has lost his ship,
mit a goodt deal of property for a hard-verking seafaring man.’
After a little more conversation to this effect the islanders got their
boat alongside, shook hands with us all, and went away. It was hard
upon five o’clock. All day long a light breeze had been blowing. Now
and again the water crisped friskily close off the island, as though
to a down-rush of cold breeze from the giant mountain slopes; but the
spread of air was local, and no break of it came within a mile of the
brig. The sky was pure, cloudless blue--the rich sky of the Antipodean
summer; and the ocean, flowing stately in majestic folds of swell,
was at this hour of a most lovely violet colour. The beautiful tint
of sea and sky was in the atmosphere, and tinged the lofty mass of
mountain to its snow-line. The vapour of the morning had dissolved upon
that eminence. It now stood in naked, lovely grandeur. The westering
sunshine flung a faint, delicate dye of rose upon the snow on its top,
and the same fair tint lived in the line of foam that boiled the length
of the whole base of the bit of solitary land. The white whale-boat
making for the island showed like a melting snowflake, as she rose and
sank upon the blue heave.
‘We’ll head out three miles, Bates,’ said Tom, ‘and then sit down and
talk.’
The maintopsail was swung, and the brig’s jibbooms slowly rounded into
the north. I went to the galley to see to the fire and boil water
for tea. There was nothing in sight--no feather-tip of remote ship’s
canvas--nothing but that mountain of Tristan d’Acunha, now darkening
low down, then strangely glowing out in snow with gleams here and there
as of waterfalls.
The helm was secured. The brig was under topsails and foresail only;
small need for a constant look-out on such a bright, calm, sweet
evening as this. We seated ourselves at the table, but neither Bates
nor Will nor myself broke the silence till Tom spoke.
‘Some wonderful things have happened,’ said he, ‘since the convicts
seized the ship, but nothing so wonderful as those men being on the
island I meant to hide myself in.’
‘It’s God’s doing,’ said the mate.
Tom inclined his head.
‘There’s no doubt of their being the right men, d’ye think, sir?’
exclaimed Will.
‘The _Arab Chief_, my lad, and then Rotch and Nodder! Oh, no doubt,
Johnstone.’
‘You’ll not take it amiss, Butler,’ said the mate, ‘if I ask what
notions you’ve formed--what resolutions may have come into your head?’
‘First, as to receiving them on board,’ said Tom, speaking quietly and
leisurely, though there was a look in his face which put an accent and
meaning into his words that the ear with the eyes closed would not have
caught. ‘I must be out of sight. Glass may come off. I’ll lie up in my
cabin, and sham indisposition. Should Glass come, I’ll talk to him in
my berth. You’ll receive the men and attend to all that needs looking
after until the islanders go and sail’s trimmed. I’ll then show
myself.’ He looked at me as he said this, and smiled.
‘I quite understand,’ said Mr. Bates. ‘You can leave everything to me.’
‘Bates, I would trust you with my life.’ He paused, with his eyes fixed
upon the mate. ‘Afterward, you’re thinking?’ he continued. ‘Well,
that may be as it shall turn out; but I’ve sworn this by my heart, by
that lady there, and by my Maker, that, having them, I’ll not let go
of them, Bates, till they’ve signed a declaration of my innocence and
their own villainy, witnessed by all hands; that, having them,’ he
repeated, with the blood mounting into his face and his eyes glowing
as though he were in a high fever, ‘I’ll keep them on the high seas to
give them time to sign; failing which I’ll hang them at the yardarms of
this brig, though it should come to my going to the South Sea to find
savages for their executioners.’
The fire, the passion, the intensity with which he spoke these words
made his delivery tragically startling and impressive. Bates’s
countenance fell; Will was pale and alarmed; my own spirit was in hot
sympathy with Tom’s--I felt all his rage, and his resolution to give
the two devils the alternative of confessing the truth or of being
hanged worked in me like a strong and flaming drink, and ran my blood
in fire to my very finger-ends.
‘You’re never in earnest, Butler?’ said the mate in a low voice.
Tom scowled at him.
‘Why, man, consider; put your respectability on one side and reflect.
Those two fellows swore me into jail, into the hulk, into the convict
ship, into long months of association with felons, whose crimes--many
of them--barely stopped short of murder. It is to their training of me
they’ll owe their hanging, if it comes to it. They’ve made a devil of
me. They shall find me a devil.’
Mr. Bates glanced at me somewhat nervously and said: ‘Well, Butler,
first let’s get them: then we shall be sure they’re the men, and when
we’ve got them we must hope they’ll confess.’
‘They’ll not go out of this ship alive unless they confess,’ said Tom.
‘If they confess under terror will their confession help you, sir?’
said Will.
‘Johnstone is the son of a lawyer, Bates,’ said Tom.
‘But there’s good sense in the question, Butler,’ said the mate. ‘They
may swear their confession was a lie, that they were forced into
telling it by your threats to hang them.’
‘The terms of the confession shall provide against that, and every man
in this ship shall witness it. Let them confess; I’ll take my chance of
what may follow.’
‘Will Rotch and the other be free here, Tom?’ I asked.
‘No.’
‘Then we remain short-handed as before?’ said Will.
‘There’s a seaman along with the two--you’ve forgotten him,’ exclaimed
Tom. ‘He’ll make four, and Marian five.’
‘Where do you propose to head when you start?’ exclaimed the mate.
‘North, Bates; I can’t keep you and young Johnstone at sea. Not likely!
You’ll help me to work the brig as far as Soundings; then go ashore
in whatever will take you, along with the yarn that we’ll manufacture
before that time.’
‘What’ll you do?’ said the mate.
‘Oh, keep the sea--keep the sea until Rotch and Nodder confess. Eh,
Marian? This brig’s a tight little home for us, as safe a retreat in
its way as the island, helping us to such an issue of truth or justice
or retribution as we should never be able to work out in Glass’s
settlement. Eh, my brave girl? As lief be here as on a rock; and then
the delights of a devil’s cruise with our two Old Bailey witnesses
under hatches! Why ’twould be like one of our old river and suburban
jaunts--so pretty and lively that we may grieve when the rogues’
confession ends it.’
‘We’ll take Miss Johnstone ashore with us,’ said Bates, ‘when the time
comes for us to go.’
I looked at him with a frown; Tom’s eye was upon me, and he laughed,
but with little merriment.
‘You and Marian’ll never handle this brig alone,’ said Will.
Tom was looking at me, and pretended not to hear him. Bates left the
table to see that all was right with the little vessel. By the time
he returned Tom’s mood had changed. He spoke quietly, and without the
least temper, of the morrow’s arrangements. It was dark by the time the
talk had ended. I lighted the cabin lamp, Will the binnacle lamp, and
Tom and Bates walked the roof of the deck-house in earnest talk. Will
beckoned me out of the cabin to where he was standing, near the wheel,
and said softly: ‘Marian, beware of Tom; he’s been driven mad.’
‘No more mad than you are,’ said I.
‘What does he mean by talking of swinging the two men?’
‘I’ll help him if he asks me,’ said I.
‘And be hanged. This is what comes of following a convict’s fortune. He
speaks of himself as a devil. He talks like one, anyhow. Worst of all,
he’s making you one. There shall be no hanging if I’m here to stop it,
though Butler should pistol me for interfering.’
‘You’re excited, and I’ll not talk with you.’
‘Mustn’t he be mad,’ he exclaimed, careful, however, to keep his voice
sunk, ‘to threaten to sail about with you alone in this brig till the
fellows under hatches, as he calls it, confess? Suppose they make up
their minds to see which will tire first? Besides, how are two of you
to sail a brig of this bulk? Why, his island scheme was beautiful
sanity alongside this last bit of roaring madness.’
‘I’ll ask you to mind your own business,’ I cried. ‘Have you a heart?
Have you any capacity of feeling? Did those two fellows spare Tom?
Look what they’ve brought him to. And shall we not right ourselves
in our own fashion if the chance offers? Wear irons as Tom has,
sweat in forced labour in a convict’s dress, be ruined, degraded,
broken-hearted, yet innocent as Tom is, and imagine the villains who
falsely swore you into ruin, misery, exile, in your power. Would you
damp their pale brows with lavender water, wash their weary feet, offer
them your forgiveness with caresses, promise to plead for them in your
prayers? Chaw! You’re no man, Will!’
I swung on my heels in a passion, and left him.
That evening, until ten or thereabouts, we sat in the cabin. I believed
Tom guessed what was in Will’s mind. The lad had a bright, handsome
face. A little thing would bring his heart into his eyes, and all
that he felt he looked, with colour, with paleness, with wild stares
(as when he came to me after seeing Lieutenant Chimmo murdered), with
a fine light of merriment when he was amused. For the first time I
could recollect, my sweetheart went carefully, and with scarce any
temper, through the story of Rotch’s accusation. He related how he
had punished the man for rudeness to a young lady at a South American
fandango; how he had reported him and lost him his berth for sleeping
whilst on duty, and for other reasons. He exactly described how the
treacherous, shocking conspiracy against him had been worked out and
executed by Rotch, with the help of Nodder; how the holes had been
pierced by Rotch, the auger hidden in his (Tom’s) cabin, the lazarette
entered by Rotch when there was no sort of stores in it at that time
to warrant the visit. He said he never understood why Nodder conspired
against him. He supposed Rotch had tempted the beast with drink, with
an offer of money, and the promise of a mate’s place in the barque, if
he (Rotch) got command. With his eyes fixed upon Will, he drew a few
pictures of his sufferings in jail, and of his life in the hulk.
Bates listened closely; the worthy fellow was stirred to the heart by
Tom’s simple recital of his wrongs and sufferings. Will’s face flushed
with sympathy and temper as he listened; I see his looks now as he
leaned on the table under the cabin lamp, with his eyes moistening at
intervals. As for me, I sat quiet till Tom had done, though I was half
distracted by the passion and grief, the wrath and wild regrets which
arose as my sweetheart proceeded, until, on his ending with a sob in
his voice and his hands to his brow, I could bear myself no longer,
and, springing up, I flung my arms around him and held him to me with
my lips pressed to his cheek, down which my own tears ran.
‘Curse them!’ cried Will, starting up; ‘they shan’t live for the want
of a hangman, if they don’t confess!’
He made the sentence violent by a strong forecastle oath, and, striking
the table with his clenched fist, walked out of the cabin, talking
loudly to himself out of his overwrought feelings.
The rest of the night passed quietly. Tom bade me go to bed, and I went
to my berth, but not before I had paced the deck for a quarter of an
hour with him. The weather was wonderfully silent, and the darkness
beautiful with stars. The light wind held; the four of us prayed it
would hold till after daybreak, though Tom said the islanders at this
time of the year made nothing of putting out to sea to vessels six or
even eight miles distant. The large black swell rolled soundlessly;
off the ocean no noise came save the low, faint thunder of the surf
whitening afar at the base of the giant shadow. I slept but little;
all the most tragic and startling incidents of this passage of my
life, from the hour when news of Tom’s imprisonment was given to me
at Ramsgate by my aunt, were as naught--were as trifles lighter than
thinnest air--alongside this, our lighting upon Rotch and Nodder in
yonder island, hidden away in the heart of earth’s mightiest stretch of
waters.
The instant I heard a movement on deck I sprang out of my bunk,
apparelled myself for the day, and, going forth, found a streak of
granite-coloured dawn in the east, the night still black and full of
stars over our mast-heads and in the west, and Tom and the others
squaring the yards to a light northerly wind that would directly float
us toward the island.
The sun rose; the day flashed out blue and cloudless to his beam.
Will took the helm, and the island soared directly over our bow, rich
with the morning dyes, to where it vanished in motionless masses of
steam-white vapour. I lighted the galley fire and got breakfast. Having
hove the brig to within a mile and a half of the settlement, we made
a meal on deck, Tom every few minutes levelling the telescope at the
beach where the whale-boat lay.
At about eight o’clock the island boat put off. She came slowly,
floating deep, and looked pretty full of men. When she was midway,
Tom, after talking quietly and earnestly with Bates, withdrew to his
cabin to feign sickness, as had been arranged. On the boat drawing
alongside, I observed that all the people were strangers, saving old
Daly. There were eight men, some of them young. Daly made the ninth.
I had supposed whilst the boat approached that Rotch and Nodder were
amongst the little crowd in her, but no faces answered to theirs, which
I recollected as clearly--the handsome features of Rotch, the red locks
and wall-eye of the curled, sour, drink-sodden carpenter Nodder--as
though I beheld their likenesses.
The boat was handsomely laden with potatoes, pieces of fresh beef,
poultry, eggs, and other produce. Daly came over the side with a little
bright tin can in his hand. He immediately stepped up to me, and with
a quaint old sea-bow and a sea-flourish, said he had taken the liberty
to bring me off a drink of milk; ’twas fresh from one of his own cows
that morning, he assured me. There was no sweeter draught, said he,
than a can of new milk after a few months of salt water. I thanked him
heartily. Of all delicious draughts, the delicatest that I remember
in seventy-seven years was that drink of new milk from the island of
Tristan d’Acunha.
Daly told Mr. Bates that Corporal Glass was still too unwell to come
off; he sent his compliments to the captain, and begged a visit. Bates
answered that the captain was poorly and confined to his bed. Then Daly
brought the islanders up to us and introduced them; two of them were
sons of the corporal, others sons of Cotton, Swain, and Green. Daly’s
own son was a man of about thirty, strong, active, and good-looking,
tinctured with the blood of a mulatto mother. They swiftly discharged
their whale-boat, got the _Childe Harold’s_ quarter-boat, stowed casks
for filling with fresh water, and pulled away for the island.
I went to Tom and gave him the news. He came out of his berth on
hearing the islanders were gone, and walked about the deck, and looked
at the stuff that had been brought off; then went with Bates and Will
into the hold, where they passed up one to another a number of parcels
of clothing till as much was on deck as the provisions which had been
brought off were worth.
It was past one o’clock when the boats put off for the brig. The
whale-boat came along with ours in tow. It was blowing a soft steady
air of wind out of the north; the sky was cloudless; the rippling of
water made you think of a gentle noise of girlish laughter, and the
heave of the swell shouldered in stately volumes out of the west, wide
drawn and round-backed, so that the movements of the brig were like
a pulse. Tom rested the telescope on the bulwark-rail and looked at
the approaching boats. He continued to gaze; I feared the boats would
draw near enough to enable the people to see him. He suddenly turned
to me with a pale face that was yet dark with a frown, and exclaimed:
‘Marian, Rotch and Nodder are there!’ With that he gave the telescope
to Bates, and merely adding, ‘Report when the islanders are gone and
you’ve trimmed for the start,’ he walked to his berth.
My heart now began to beat wildly, and I felt faint and sick with
excitement. Will and Bates looked at me. I said: ‘I’ll withdraw to the
end of the deck-house. Does not my face tell a story?’
‘You look like a ghost,’ exclaimed Will, ‘and your eyes are like live
coals! Go right away aft, and keep quiet, and take time to screw your
fiddlestrings of nerves into tune. Mr. Bates and I’ll manage better
without you.’
I mounted to the roof of the house and posted myself at the extreme
end. There was a chair there. I placed it so that I could command
a view of the gangway, and there I sat, still very sick and faint,
detesting myself for this weakness, yet excusing myself, too, for
surely never could there happen a moment in a woman’s life more charged
with supreme tragic interest than this.
The two boats drew alongside, the quarter-boat laden with casks of
fresh water. The first to step on deck was Rotch. I knew him instantly.
His face, whilst he stood in the witness-box, giving evidence against
Tom, had burnt itself into my memory. I should have been able then,
as I should be able now, to pick him out in a moment from amongst a
thousand. He sprang into the main-chains and got over the bulwarks
actively. He was dressed in blue cloth and a blue cloth cap with a
naval peak. His face was sallow, as though he was newly recovered from
an illness. He was of Tom’s height, without my sweetheart’s manly
breadth and inimitable sailorly carriage. But he was an exceedingly
handsome man. Many might have thought him handsomer than Tom.
After he had come on board there was some delay. Two or three vigorous
islanders then climbed over the side, and, with much trouble and no
little peril--for the swell hove the boat very high and sank her very
low, whilst the brig leaned heavily away and then depressed her other
rail till you thought she had submerged the line of it--the carpenter
Nodder was lifted through the gangway. He stood with difficulty and
leaned upon an islander’s arm. He was at some little distance from me,
but my sight was good; he seemed ghastly ill, the ghastlier because
of the length of his greasy, carroty locks of hair and the villainous
aspect he took from his deformed eye. He was dressed in old canvas
trousers, an old monkey-jacket, and a fur cap.
I had lost sight of Rotch. Bates spoke to Nodder. Whilst this was
doing, a third fellow came on board; he was John Collins, the seaman
who had been saved with Rotch and the carpenter. He took hold of Nodder
and led him slowly forward and helped him into the forecastle through
the scuttle.
I’ll now tell you what happened as straight-forwardly and briefly as I
can dictate it. The islanders went to work to get the water on board
and stow the casks. They sprang like goats, so fleet were their sure
feet, as mountaineers. Collins came out of the forecastle and helped
them. I walked toward the fore part of the deck-house to observe that
man; he was just a plain, average example of the foremast-hand,
freckled, yellow-haired, a mat of reddish beard upon his throat, big,
silly, wandering eyes; his clothes, duck breeches, flannel shirt, and
old Scotch cap. I drew back, hearing the voice of Rotch, and returned
to my chair.
Presently they had whipped all the water below and were busy in
hoisting the quarter-boat aboard. Whilst this was doing, Rotch came up
the deck-house steps; he looked at the island whilst he mounted the
ladder, and did not observe me till he was on the roof of the house.
He came to a stand very abruptly, and, after staring with many tokens
of astonishment in his posture and looks, lifted his cap. I turned my
head. No doubt he was surprised to find a well-dressed woman sitting on
the deck-house top of that little brig of two hundred tons.
Well dressed I was, as dress then went; to be sure, I had worn my gown
every day during the fortnight we had been on board the _Old Stormy_,
but then it was almost a new dress when I took it off and packed it up
at Woolwich, and it still looked new. I remember that gown very well;
it was of black merino with a velvet cape, long sleeves for which I
had no wristbands, the bodice with an embroidered collar and bound to
the waist by a band. My hat was narrow-brimmed with curled feathers;
this sort of headgear had not long been in fashion when I purchased
the thing. I was without jewelry and other finishing details, but the
fellow Rotch, at a little distance, would detect no omissions; he found
a well-dressed, nay, I may almost call the figure a fashionably-dressed
woman viewing the proceedings of the islanders, and his bearing and
prolonged stare expressed his surprise.
I was unable to look at him; that is, whilst he looked at me. The devil
that was in Tom was in me too. I could have shot the horrid villain
as he stood there. But now, in the corners of my eyes, I beheld him
approaching. I trembled violently; the throbbing of my heart made
me feel ill again. Yet I thought to myself, if the man accosts me I
must answer and be civil. Times are when the human instincts are
preternatural in divination. The contagion of our secret may have
been in the air. Such must be that villain’s conscience that, let him
suspect a trap, no matter how dim and faint his suspicion, he’d fling
himself into the whale-boat while she was still alongside, and Tom
would lose him.
Rightly or wrongly, thus I thought, in the few seconds of his approach;
and now he stood close and was addressing me.
‘May I inquire,’ said he, lifting his cap again, ‘if I have the
pleasure of speaking to the wife of the captain of this brig?’
I knew that my face was of a milky whiteness, my mouth was dry, my
breathing laboured. I answered low and tremulously, ‘I am not the wife
of the captain.’
Do not believe that I was afraid. I was sick and cold and shivered with
the passion I hid. I dared not lift my eyes, lest beholding the dog
with his smile and bland looks I should leap to my feet, spit in his
face, strike and curse him.
‘You are, perhaps, a passenger, madam?’ said he.
I slightly inclined my head, keeping my eyes fastened upon the island.
‘I understand,’ he continued, ‘that this brig’s destination is Table
Bay. It is very fortunate for me that you have called here. Ships’
visits grow scarcer and scarcer, and a man might easily be imprisoned
for a whole twelvemonth in yonder wretched but hospitable little
colony.’
At this instant Will came up the ladder and stood at the head of the
steps, astounded to observe me talking with Rotch.
‘My misfortunes have been overwhelming!’ exclaimed the villain,
speaking in a tone that let me know he preserved his courtesy-smile,
though I never turned my eyes from the island save when I glanced at
Will. ‘My beautiful ship, the _Arab Chief_, a vessel I was as proud of
as a man of his handsome wife, was burned to the water’s edge through
two or three scoundrel seamen broaching the cargo with a naked light.
Our sufferings in the boat were terrible. We put off with barely a
day’s allowance of fresh water and a handful or two of biscuits. The
islanders may have told you in what state they found us. My mate
Nodder is very ill. He injured himself somehow when leaving the ship. I
hope your captain will not be disappointed. He probably counts upon the
help of three working men. I shall be very happy to do my share. I am
sorry to hear that he is not well. Pray, madam, what is his name? The
islanders who were off yesterday did not get it.’
I rose, saying, under my breath, ‘Excuse me. I want to speak to that
young gentleman,’ and walked to Will, panting, as though a poisoned
arrow had pierced me, with an anguish of emotion I could no longer
support.
‘He came and spoke to me,’ I whispered. ‘I must have torn his eyes out
had I listened longer.’
I went down the ladder and stood near the wheel. Mr. Bates stepped over
from the gangway to tell me that he believed the carpenter Nodder was a
dying man. ‘He has only shipped himself for us to bury him,’ said he.
‘He’ll pull no more ropes in this world.’
‘God won’t let him die till he confesses, I hope,’ said I. ‘The villain
Rotch addressed me just now, and has made me sick and mad, Mr. Bates,
with his talk of his beautiful ship, the _Arab Chief_. When will those
islanders let us get away?’
There remained, however, little to be done. They had chocked and
secured the quarter-boat, and were now gathered in a group round the
parcels of clothing they had agreed to take in exchange for watering
us and for provisions. Bates left me to join them. Daly said they were
well satisfied. The old man then told the others to pass the bundles
into the whale-boat. Just over my head stood Rotch talking with Will.
He was speaking of me, asked if I was a relation of the captain, if I
lived at Cape Town, and so forth. He also said, ‘What’s your captain’s
name?’ to which Will responded, as I had, by running down the ladder as
though he had not heeded the inquiry because of some sudden call upon
his attention.
The islanders now went away. Before going, Daly and the others shook
hands with us. The old man-of-war’s man, holding my hand, exclaimed,
‘Bless your pretty face, miss! It calls up my old home to me. Ye’ll
not take an old man’s blessing amiss. May God be wi’ ye, and my prayer
shall go along wi’ ye for your safety.’ He then, with the others,
called a farewell to Rotch, who remained on top of the deck-house,
looking down, and in a few minutes the white whale-boat, with her
simple, hearty, honest crew, was pulling away for the lonely, towering
island.
Mr. Bates bade the new hand Collins ship the gangway. Rotch came down
and looked at the compass that stood before the little wheel; I was
nigh, and he took but a peep on seeing me.
‘Johnstone, take the wheel,’ said the mate, ‘whilst we swing the yards.’
He and Collins walked to the maintopsail brace; Rotch followed and
pulled with them.
They braced the yards fore and aft, and whilst they were belaying the
ropes in the waist I heard Rotch say, ‘This is a taut bowline, isn’t
it, for a northerly wind and an east-by-north course?’ The mate did not
answer.
The brig was at this time under topsails and foresail only and some
fore and aft canvas. The wind had scanted, but blew a weak air; the
breasts of the sails lifted, and the stem of the brig drove ripples
from the bows, and the giant mass of land on the starboard quarter slid
almost imperceptibly into the wake.
‘Collins,’ cried Bates, ‘take the wheel from that young gentleman.’
The mate then stepped up to me, leaving Rotch in the waist, that is,
near the little caboose.
‘Now,’ said he, looking somewhat pale, ‘what’s next to be done?’
‘Call Rotch aft,’ said I; ‘I’ll bring Captain Butler out.’
‘Collins,’ said the mate, ‘keep her just as she goes. Captain Rotch,
will you please step this way into the cabin?’
I went in first; Bates and Will followed. I saw Rotch coming as I
knocked on Tom’s door and entered. My sweetheart stood against his
bunk, one hand gripping the edge of it, and his head inclined forward
in a strained, hearkening posture. His face was colourless, the
expression hard and set; his eyes shone under the shadow of a frown of
fierce determination.
I said, speaking with difficulty, so great was my agitation: ‘The
islanders have left the brig. We have started, and the man’s in the
cabin.’
‘Bates and Will? They must hear and see.’
‘They, too, are in the cabin.’
‘Where’s Nodder?’
‘Lying ill in the forecastle.’
On this he opened the door and went out; I was at his heels. Rotch
stood on the other side of the cabin table, Will at the foot, and near
him Bates; Rotch was at that instant addressing the mate. When he saw
Tom the movement of his lips was arrested as though he had been shot
through the heart. He stared in a sort of gaping way--the expression
is not to be described. Let me call it chilling, benumbing amazement,
with horror and fear, like a sort of life, creeping into it. I had
read of men changing colour under mental tension of an extravagant
kind; I witnessed this now; whilst Rotch looked, gaping, the blankness
of amazement taking a vitality from the incrawling horror, his balls
of sight strained as though he beheld his fate in the form of some
frightful phantom, his complexion changed colour; not from the white
of fear to the crimson of rage; it turned, whilst I looked, into a
sort of dim, blueish purple, as if he had been poisoned. His lips then
moved and he stammered out, in a voice that was half a scream--the
words bursting from him--‘You here!’ The next instant he sprang toward
the door. But Tom stood close to the entrance; with a single stride he
blocked the way, and said, ‘Stand back!’
‘Let me go!’ cried Rotch, suddenly recovering the full use of his
lungs. ‘Mr. Bates, help me to signal the island boat. She’s not ashore
yet. That man means to murder me. You’re not going to stand by and
allow him to take my life? Let me go! There’s time to recall the boat.
That man means to take my life. I call upon you to help and save me. I
never suspected this!’
He plunged afresh at the door. I don’t doubt that terror and rage gave
him the strength of two or even three men at that moment; yet Tom met
him as he came, caught him by the throat and hurled him against the
bulkhead from which he had run, driving him against the solid wooden
wall with a crash which you’d think should have beaten him in recoil
senseless upon his face.
‘No violence, no violence, I beg, gentlemen!’ shouted the mate.
‘But a step and I’ll strangle you!’ said Tom, making a single stride
toward Rotch.
‘Collins,’ roared the villain, ‘they’ve brought me into this ship
to murder me! Help! I’m your captain! Quick, Collins! Signal to the
whale-boat! Port your helm for the island----’
Will rushed to the door.
‘Stop where you are!’ he shouted. ‘There’s no murder being done here!
Nobody’s going to be hurt! Keep your luff! If you’re just a little bit
off your course you will be sent to hell!’
‘Marian, Bates, Johnstone,’ exclaimed Tom, pointing at Rotch, ‘that’s
the man you have sometimes heard me name! He is called Rotch--Samuel
Rotch. He was my chief mate aboard the _Arab Chief_. I gave you the
story last night. You saw how I dealt with him just now. It was in that
way I served him at Valparaiso when the toad insulted a lady of my
acquaintance at a dance there. That was the man who slept in his watch
on deck when the sea was thick with shipping. He lost his berth, but
I got him another; and I let him serve under me in the _Arab Chief_,
when he was named as chief mate. You, Rotch!’ He drew a pistol from his
pocket--one of the brace we had found in the brig--and put it upon the
table. For some while he eyed Rotch steadily in silence. I believed he
meant to shoot him. Had he offered, I, standing close beside, should
have struck away the hand that attempted to hinder him.
Rotch looked ghastly. He trembled from head to foot. His hands worked
with a strange, spasmodic motion, as though he would lift and clasp
them in entreaty.
‘You Rotch,’ repeated Tom, after a silence that had lasted at least
a minute--a minute that seemed an hour; ‘we were on very good terms
during the first part of our voyage. I talked to you somewhat freely,
told you of my engagement with this young lady, of my venture in the
barque, and to what extent I had protected it, and I spoke hopefully of
the voyage to you. And all the time you were plotting my ruin. Was it
that you hated me for that little affair at Valparaiso? For reporting
you and losing you a berth? For holding command in a ship which you
supposed you’d obtain charge of if you could get me out of the road?
Surely, you Rotch, these provided but shabby foundations for the heavy
weight of villainy you constructed upon them.’
At this point he picked up the pistol and replaced it in his pocket.
‘What was your scheme? Nodder was second mate and carpenter. What
you promised him, how you bribed him, I don’t know. He’ll tell me
before he dies. But what you did was this: You took an auger from his
tool-chest. You and he pierced the skin and side in the lazarette. You
plugged the inner skin, hid the auger in my cabin--you found it easily
enough afterwards!--took men to listen to the water flowing, brought
them into my berth, searched for the auger, charged me with attempting
to scuttle the ship, and made a prisoner of me. Was this so?’
Rotch stood listening, with his eyes fixed upon the deck. He made no
answer.
‘Marian,’ said Tom, ‘you were present at my trial. You remember how
glibly he gave his evidence and answered questions on his oath. Will he
take his oath now that his story was true? You Rotch, here stands my
friend Bates, who has judged me throughout a wronged man; here stands
Miss Johnstone’s cousin, who believes me innocent; here stands that
Miss Johnstone about whom I have so often talked to you. They hear me.
They will listen to you. Is it true that I attempted to scuttle the
_Arab Chief_?’
Rotch kept silence.
‘Bates, Johnstone,’ continued Tom, ‘you see how it is? He swore it on
the Bible. He made a felon of me. He ruined my life--broke my heart.
He’s mute now. Observe him. Does he fear to speak because I’m armed?’
He whipped the pistol out of his pocket, pointed it down and fired it
into the deck.
‘Now, take courage! Speak! Did I attempt to scuttle the _Arab Chief_,
or was the charge yours and Nodder’s conspiracy against me?’
The man, with an ashen face, now folded his arms, but made no reply,
keeping his eyes still rooted to the deck.
‘Captain Rotch,’ exclaimed Mr. Bates, ‘it’s clear to my mind--it’s
been clear to me all through--that you’ve done this gentleman such
a horrible wrong that no fiend could imagine anything worse or more
cruel! Act the man now and own to it. Clear him, and by so doing
sweeten your own conscience against that call which’ll be coming to you
from God sooner or later. You’ll fare less ill by shelling out than by
keeping silent. Look, man, how you are in our power!’
At these words Rotch lifted his eyes and gazed steadily at Tom. Never
could I have imagined such an expression of hate in the human face. He
gazed, then sank his eyes again, but never spoke.
‘Rotch, you shall have time,’ Tom said. ‘In this brig you remain till
the confession you dictate has been signed by you and witnessed by
those who are in the vessel. Time you shall have. Its duration Mr.
Bates and I will settle. If at the expiration of the time I allow you
refuse to prove me the innocent man you know me to be, then, by the
Eternal God of heaven and justice, I’ll hang you at the yardarm!’
This said, he strode to the after end of the cabin, and opening the
door of the last berth on the port side, he cried out, ‘Walk in here!’
Rotch raised his head and slowly looked around him. A wonderful change
had happened in the man’s countenance. He was bloated and swollen.
Parts of his face were livid, and parts a ghastly white. His eyes had
a strained appearance and seemed to project. I once saw a man tumble
down in a fit near my house at Stepney, and Rotch’s face reminded me of
that man’s when they turned him over and lifted his head.
‘Walk into this berth!’ cried Tom.
This time the villain obeyed. He moved slowly, supporting himself by
the table as he went. He entered the little cabin, and Tom shut the
door and locked it.
‘He’s as much astounded as frightened,’ said Bates. ‘Surely he’d
have thought to meet any one down here sooner than you. Where would
he reckon you are, Butler, if not across the seas? Not afloat and in
charge of a smart little brig, anyhow.’
‘Tom,’ said I, ‘he’ll hang rather than confess. He looked at you with a
horribly malicious, wicked eye.’
My sweetheart came to the table and leaned upon it to breathe and
rally. He was very pale, but his eyes glowed with the light of a savage
satisfaction, and his general expression was one of sullen, wrathful
exultation. The hour was now about four o’clock. We had made no
mid-day meal. I asked Tom if I should get some dinner for the little
company of us.
‘Aye,’ said he; ‘but first I want a word with our new hand. Take the
wheel from him, Will, and send him in.’
The man Collins entered, dangling his Scotch cap. He was scared; the
pistol report had no doubt frightened him heartily. The wheel stood
right in front of the house, the door and little windows were open, and
the man would need to be deaf not to hear what had passed.
‘What is your name?’ said Tom.
‘John Collins, sir.’
‘What was your rating aboard the _Arab Chief_?’
‘Able seaman, sir.’
‘I’m master of this little brig till I find an owner for her,’ said
Tom. ‘We’re going to work her north so as to get Great Britain handy
aboard, should any of us turn sick of the sea and want to go ashore.
We’re not bound to the Cape, as you’ve been led to believe. It’s all
the same to you, I suppose?’
‘I’d rather make a straight passage home, of course,’ answered the man.
‘We’re not pirates, as what you’ve been listening to might lead you
to fear. You can cheer up, my lad, reckon that you’ve got a good
berth, and that all will go well with you. See here, now: I commanded
the _Arab Chief_ when Rotch was her chief mate and Nodder second and
carpenter. Those two scoundrels swore that I attempted to scuttle her
to defraud the insurance offices; they brought me before the court
and got me sentenced to a term of transportation. I happen to be here
in this brig off the island of Tristan d’Acunha when they, along with
you, are sent aboard me as shipwrecked men wanting to get away. This
is the act of God, Collins! Collins, it’s a large and beautiful mercy
shown to a broken-hearted man, and an opportunity he’s been made too
much of a devil by Rotch to despise. Before my two villains leave this
brig they sign a confession, declaring that their charge against me was
a shocking, horrible lie; that they themselves made the holes in the
barque and hid the auger in my cabin. Rotch is the bigger villain; the
other’s an illiterate, drunken scoundrel. Rotch shall have time granted
him if he----’
‘Tom,’ I interrupted, ‘Collins wants to speak.’
I had been watching the fellow whilst my sweetheart addressed him, and
observed his face take a sort of colour and grow full of meaning. Tom
arrested his speech. Collins, twisting his Scotch cap in both hands,
exclaimed:
‘Captain, it’s come upon me now! I had a sort o’ fancy o’ ’t whilst I
stood a-listening. You’ll be the party meant, and I’ll just give you
what’s in my head whilst I’ve got it. I was at the wheel one night from
ten to twelve, about a fortnight afore we was burnt out of the ship.’
‘You mean the _Arab Chief_?’ said Mr. Bates.
‘Oh yes!’ I cried wildly. ‘For God’s sake, don’t interrupt him, Mr.
Bates!’
‘Well, as I says,’ continued the man, after a pause and a slow,
unintelligent stare at me, ‘I was at the wheel. Nodder, he had charge
of the deck. He’d been drinking. I’ll say here that that there Nodder
was never off drinking. I don’t believe he was sober two hours together
down to the moment when we was burnt out. He gives me a certain course
to steer by. ’Twarn’t the course the chap I’d relieved had named. The
capt’n--that’s Rotch--comes up, looks into the binnacle, calls Nodder,
and hazes him for being off his course. Nodder gives it him back. I
reckon that the capt’n had taken a drop too much himself. They clenches
fists, and snorts all kinds of insults at each other. Nodder says:
“I’ll gibbet ye yet for a bloody conspirator against an honester man
than ever slept in your fired skin. ’Twas you who put me up to that
job. I ha’n’t had no peace since, and where is my fifty pounds?” Here
Rotch whispers through his teeth and takes him by the arm, and falls
a-shoving of him out of my hearing. And still Nodder sings out whilst
t’other was a-shoving: “I’ll gibbet ye yet. The lie was yourn, the
whole b’iling of it was yourn. Who hid the auger? Who told me to spin
that yarn to the crew about the capt’n coming for’ards to ask me to
lend him an auger?”’
Tom struck the table a furious blow with his clenched fist.
‘Tell us all you know, Collins,’ I cried.
‘Why,’ said he, picking up his cap and fastening a nervous eye on Tom,
‘that’s pretty nigh all I do know. They shut up arter this and went
below for a drink, then walked the deck. Capt’n Rotch seemed to make
nothen of my overhearing him, as though ’twasn’t a business the likes
of me was going to trouble his head over. And he was right. I don’t
recollect mentioning what I’d heard except once, about a week afore we
was burnt out, when there was some trouble over the starboard watch’s
allowance of sugar; then I tells one of my mates that the capt’n and
Nodder had got some dirty secret between them, and that each seemed in
t’other’s power. But nothen was made of this, and then comes the fire.
It whips into my head whilst I stood a-listening to ye just now, and,
capt’n, I’ve told ye the truth.’
‘This should be taken down,’ said Bates.
‘Can you write, Collins?’ asked Tom.
The man, with a grin, answered ‘No.’
‘Give Collins a glass of grog,’ said Tom.
I mixed a draught, and the man drank our health. Tom then said:
‘Collins, will you dictate to this lady the yarn you’ve just spun us?’
‘Willingly, sir.’
‘I thank you,’ said Tom.
He then bade me procure writing materials whilst he and Bates went to
the forecastle to look at Nodder. I told Collins to sit, and wrote
down just as he talked. I felt heartily grateful to the man; here,
now, was a piece of valuable testimony in Tom’s favour; this sailor,
when he told his story, did not even know the name of the man he was
addressing; and then, how could he have invented that stroke about the
auger and that other point which had made Tom strike the table--I mean
the statement that Captain Butler had asked Nodder for the loan of the
auger?
I was so pleased that, guessing he might be hungry, I put before him
the best cold meal I could hastily collect, and made him drink some
wine. Indeed, I waited upon him as though this poor, plain, silly-eyed
sailor had been Tom himself. I asked many questions about Rotch and
Nodder. He had nothing very ill to say of Rotch; Nodder he called a
drunken, bungersome nughead. (He was of Somersetshire.)
When he had finished eating he relieved Will. I told my cousin to see
to the galley fire and laid the cloth for a late dinner, and whilst I
was thus busy, Tom and Bates, talking together very earnestly, came
along the deck and entered the cabin. I showed my sweetheart what I had
taken down; he said: ‘Let the man put his mark here, and the three of
you witness it whilst I hold the wheel.’
Bates read the deposition aloud, and then Collins made a cross, and we
signed our names. This was a precious document. I would not have parted
with it for all I was worth. I put it carefully away in the desk we
had found in the cabin I occupied, and then returning I eagerly asked
Tom what he had to tell me about Nodder.
‘He’s a surly, stubborn hound,’ said he; ‘very ill, and, in my opinion,
dying. We lighted the forecastle lamp; we found him lying in the dark
and groaning now and again. I stood apart while Bates spoke to him.
Bates asked him how he did. He answered, with an oath, that he felt
very low. Bates long-windedly put further questions to him. He then
said: “D’ye know what brig you’re aboard of?” “The _Old Stormy_, ain’t
it?” says Nodder. “Yes,” says Bates; “and d’ye know who her captain
is?” “No,” answers the carpenter. “He’s Captain Butler,” says Bates,
“who was in command of the _Arab Chief_, that you and Rotch charged
him with attempting to scuttle.” The man lay silent a bit, and then
said: “I don’t believe it.” “Rotch does,” said Bates; “he’s locked
up, and Captain Butler means to hang him if, after a given time, he
doesn’t confess that you and he conspired together to ruin him.” Here
Nodder, who had been lying on his back all this while, sat up and
said: “There’s no Butler in this ship. I heered him sentenced, and he
was lagged for fourteen year.” On this I stepped out of the eyes of
the forecastle, where I had stood unobserved, and coming under the
lamp, where he could see me plainly, I said: “D’ye know me? Your memory
should be as good as Rotch’s.” The scoundrel looked, shut his eyes,
looked, blinked and looked again, cursed awhile, and lay back. I’d made
up my mind to head on a new tack with this fellow--that is, to trim him
differently from my handling of Rotch. I said quietly: “Nodder, you’re
a sick and a dying man. How did you serve me who never injured you? You
ruined me, made a convict of me, broke my heart. You were a tool in
Rotch’s hands, and I believe you’d have undone the mischief before we
reached England had you found courage. Rotch was the villain, you were
his instrument.” He now turned his head to look at me, and lay like a
corpse with his eyes fastened upon my face. I couldn’t swear that he
had his mind, that he clearly understood; the fright and wonder of
seeing me stirred the mud in his soul and thickened his brain. Still I
talked on. I told him that I had Rotch under lock and key, and should
hang him if he didn’t confess. I repeated what Collins had told me.
I then said that my enemy was Rotch; that he was the man I meant to
get at and punish. “If you’ll dictate the truth to me,” said I, “tell
us the full story of the diabolical plot, and sign it, that your
signature may be witnessed, I’ll let you go. If you live to get north,
I’ll put you ashore, and you shall be no more troubled, unless you are
willing to turn Queen’s evidence so as to help me to bring Rotch to
his trial.” This was, in effect, what I said. I spoke quietly, even
kindly. Like Rotch, he made no answer; he lay looking at me, and when I
had done, still looked; and I waited for him to speak. Bates implored
him to confess. The fellow, silent as a ghost, turned over in his bunk
and gave us his back. But it was early times. I was resolved not to
threaten him. After waiting, I said to Bates, “We’ll go.” As we passed
through the hatch, he called out in his harsh, hideous voice, though
feebly enough: “Won’t you send me a drop of sperrits? I don’t want
nothin’ to eat.” “You shall be attended to,” said I, and we came away.’
‘What hopes of him have you?’
‘He may be brought to confess.’
‘Would his unsupported confession suffice, Tom?’
‘Suffice for what?’
‘To obtain a full pardon.’
He looked at me gravely, then, with a slight smile, said: ‘We’ll think
of the navigation of the brig for the present, and talk of full pardons
by-and-by.’