THE QUARTER-BOAT AND ITS FREIGHT.
The silence below was caused simply by the circumstance--a somewhat
unusual one now--of all her friends being _on deck_.
They had recovered complete possession of the half-dismantled ship.
So busy had they all been about the restoration of Mr. Basset, that
they heard nothing of the ribald songs, the wild uproar, and
systematic noise of the crew, who were all clustered forward about
the forecastle and windlass-bitts--a coarse and brutish hilarity
induced by the contents of the brandy jar. Of this they had all
freely partaken; none more so, perhaps, than Pedro Barradas, to
deaden or drown the sense of agony he endured in his wounded arm,
which was now bringing on a species of remorse for the past, and that
emotion he sedulously sought to lull or stifle too.
An unnatural stillness succeeding the uproar which had reigned so
long on deck, attracted, however, the attention of Captain Phillips
and Tom Bartelot; and, as Mr. Basset had now been consigned to the
care of Ethel, they began to confer with the rest about the probable
results of the jar of drugged brandy.
"The scoundrels, I believe, are all asleep, or dead drunk," suggested
Dr. Heriot; "I was not particular to a scruple about the morphia and
belladonna I poured in."
"Then now is our time to retake the ship, and send every one of them
to leeward," said Captain Phillips, starting up from the
cabin-locker. "Look to your pistols, my good friends, and follow me."
The barricades were removed from the cabin-door, and those who had
been so long imprisoned below crept up the companion-stairs, and
peeped out in succession.
Overhead "the blue, wide shell of the sky," as Ossian names it, was
clear and starry, and the waning moon, cold, pale, and white, shone
over the calm, still ocean from the horizon, casting the weird shadow
of the ship far to the westward, over the silvered sea.
The _Hermione_ was almost becalmed, and most fortunately for the
safety of all. Her fore and main courses, with a single neglected
reef in each, hung motionless, like two great tablecloths on a
clothes-line. Unhoisted, the jib and fore-staysail, "lay in a
blessed ruck," as Noah phrased it, each at the foot of the stays.
The driver was brailed up, and its gaff and boom swayed idly to and
fro. The deck was encumbered by spars, yards, bundles of sails,
half-coiled ropes, and much of the debris that had come down from
aloft when the ship broached to on the night of the mutiny, together
with casks, boxes, sacks, empty bottles, and other things which had
been brought out of the hold, one of the hatches of which was still
open; and thus the disordered ship was floating like a log upon the
water, at the mercy of any sudden squall or gale, her abandoned
wheel, revolving some four or five spokes from port to starboard ever
and anon, with an impatient jerk as the rudder grated from side to
side on its iron pintles, though it had been "made fast," in a very
loose fashion, by the steersman.
Near it lay that official, a seaman named William Cribbet, asleep, in
a stupor apparently, so Noah pulled a few fathoms of stout yarn from
his pocket, sprang upon him with an exclamation which was not quite a
benediction, turned him on his face, and in a trice lashed his hands
hard and fast behind his back.
Proceeding forward, they found fifteen or sixteen of the crew lying
about the break of the forecastle, under the long-boat, or near the
windlass-bitts, some on pieces of sail, and others on the bare deck;
but all asleep, or snorting in a state of idiotic intoxication.
Broken in pieces, and scattered about were fragments of the
brandy-jar, the contents of which brought all this to pass.
Each man in succession they tied securely, though one or two
attempted to resist, even when the cold muzzle of a cocked pistol was
pressed against their ears; and others began to threaten and revile
their captors, as the operation of binding roused, and partially
sobered them. At last every man was bound and at their mercy.
"What are we to do with them now, Captain Phillips?" asked Morley.
"Short-handed as we are, we can never work the ship, even dismantled
as she is, and watch and cook for all these villains, too," said Mr.
Foster; "and as for trusting 'em again----"
"Trust them again--cook for them indeed!" exclaimed Captain Phillips;
"cook for a gang of pirates and murderers--feed up what ought to be
hung! It is a mercy from Heaven that no breeze or gale came on ere
this, for we must have foundered then, and all gone to the bottom
together. No, Mr. Foster; I shall neither keep them nor feed them,
but overboard they shall go, every man and mother's son!"
"Drown them, do you mean?" asked Tom Bartelot, with anxious surprise.
"No, for that might cause an unpleasant imputation on us all."
"What then?"
"I mean simply to maroon the whole gang. They shall have a chance
for their worthless lives; but not aboard my ship."
"On an island--there should be several hereabout, that is, if we are
near Madagascar," observed Bartelot.
"No, I shall not wait for the chance of sighting land, but will
sacrifice my good quarter-boat, and with it get rid of them all.
Noah Gawthrop, jump into the quarter-boat and clear the fall tackle.
Mr. Morrison and Mr. Ashton, please to cast off--stand by to lower
away and bring her alongside."
"Under the mizzen-chains?" asked Morley.
"Yes, round here to the port-side."
This order was promptly obeyed, for anything like freedom became a
luxury now. Quickly the double-sheaved blocks revolved as the davits
swung round and tackles fell; then the boat was speedily made fast by
Noah to the side-chains by the bow-rope.
"Mr. Foster," said Captain Phillips, "get up a gang-cask of fresh
water, and also a few dozen of biscuit from the cabin-locker. More
food or mercy these piratical wretches shall not have from me; and
now let us all bear a hand, for I feel that coolness in the air which
always precedes a breeze; so we have no time to lose. Search and
disarm every man; then chuck them into the boat, and cut it adrift."
The first who was collared and dragged over the side was he whom
Heriot had so peppered with the fowling-piece, that, as Noah said,
"his face looked like plum-duff, with currants, on a Christmas-day."
A sheath-knife was taken from his belt; he was then half-lifted,
half-flung into the boat, where he lay across the thwarts, kicking
and blaspheming, but unable either to resist or pick himself up.
"Who comes next?" asked the captain.
"Cribbet, who was steering."
"Cribbet, who was sleeping rather. Over with him. Who is the next?'
"Badger, the Yankee," replied Foster.
"Give me his pistols," said Phillips, who, with his new purpose, had
resumed his tone of authority.
"Now, airthquakes and sherry-cobbler! wot air yew up to?" he
stammered out. "I say, shipmates--hallo! Vast heaving, yew bloated
Britishers!"
"Heave with a will! In with him--over with him!"
And in a trice this long-legged son of Columbia was sprawling over
the thwarts below.
The idea of cropping Badger's ears actually occurred to Heriot; but
he dismissed it as too barbarous and unworthy, even while remembering
all the man's rascality.
"What son of Old Scratch is this?" asked Morrison, dragging one from
under the gallows-bitts, abaft the foremast.
"Sharkey, with Mr. Basset's revolver in his belt."
"The ugly villain!"
"The murderer of my friend Manfredi, captain," said Heriot, with
mingled sadness and loathing.
"An out-and-out ticket-o'-leaver," added Noah, squirting his quid
into Sharkey's eye, as he was cast into the boat with a lurch that
nearly overset it; "we should lynch him at the yard-arm, captain,
that we should."
"Quaco, the cook, next. Heave ahead, darkey," said Foster.
"Yaas, yaas, Master Foster!" grinned the negro, who was helplessly
intoxicated, and but partially awake.
"Black in heart, and black in face."
"Bolter! Come along, you traitorous scoundrel!"
Mr. Benjamin Bolter, who was more sober than the rest, kicked
vigorously, and nearly fell into the sea, in which case he must have
sunk like a stone, as his arms were tied, and neither friends nor
foes could have saved him; but such were the comments made by the
recaptors of the ship, as the mutineers were flung over the side into
the boat, like so many sacks of wool or flour.
Zuares, who seemed in a perfect stupor, came last. There were taken
from them the revolver, of which Mr. Basset had been deprived, with
his watch and rings, six old brass-barrelled pistols, and about a
dozen sheath-knives.
"Pedro Barradas--where is Pedro?" asked Captain Phillips, suddenly;
"every rascal is in the boat but he."
"He is not on deck, sir," said Mr. Foster.
"Can he have been killed--or has he jumped overboard?"
"Not likely the last--he is too cowardly to die if he can help it."
"Search the bunks forward--lose no time."
"Aye, aye, sir."
There Pedro was found and dragged forth. He offered no resistance,
but moaned heavily, and hung lifeless in their hands.
"Hoist the carrion up, and over with him," said Captain Phillips,
who, though naturally one of the kindest and jolliest of men, seemed,
for the time, to be hardened and pitiless, as he said, "all mercy had
been quite squeezed out of him."
"Stop, if you please," said Heriot, who looked earnestly at Pedro's
eyes, and felt his pulse; "we must not be quite so merciless to them
as they would have been to us."
"What do you mean, doctor?" asked Phillips, impatiently.
"This man is dying," replied Heriot.
"Dying!" repeated all, drawing near.
"Yes--look here," said Heriot.
And certainly Pedro's face, when viewed by the cold, clear light of
the waning moon, presented a most striking and appalling aspect. His
features were regular, even handsome; his black eyes, that nearly met
over the long and well-cut nose, seemed darker now; his tawny hue was
gone, and a death-like tint, as of white marble, had replaced it,
forming a singular contrast to the intense blackness of his beard,
moustache, and curly hair; his lower jaw had fallen, his eyes were
almost closed, his respirations were heavy and uncertain, his pulse
was low and sinking, and he drooped helplessly in the arms of Foster
and Morrison, who had dragged him to the port gangway.
"Are you sure of what you say, doctor?" asked Captain Phillips,
earnestly.
"Quite, sir; ah! these terrible signs are not to be mistaken."
"Then, how long do you think he may live?"
"Till midday to-morrow--certainly not until midnight."
"In that case," said Captain Phillips, turning to the others, after a
pause, during which much reviling and growling were heard alongside,
"we must temper justice with mercy. Our own safety requires that we
must rid ourselves of those rascals; but this one, although the worst
and leader of them all, may remain on board, and die at his leisure.
Stow him away in the bunks, Foster; and, doctor, give him a touch of
your skill."
"If he lives?"
"He shall be hanged at Port Louis, and, if he dies, why then he
becomes what he would have made each one of us--food for Jack Shark."
Morrison and Foster carried Pedro back into the forecastle, and
deposited him in one of the most comfortable bunks--one of those
farthest from the cutwater and heel of the bowsprit, and there, soon
after, Heriot came to attend him.
"Now in with the gang-cask and the biscuits," said Captain Phillips;
"look alive about it, Foster. I feel a puff of wind, so we must soon
attend to the ship; throw them in a couple of oars, they can unlash
one another when sober, and pull whichever way they please. Now, cut
off the painter, Noah, and set the mutinous spawn adrift."
Promptly as the captain could have wished Noah cast-off the painter;
but the boat still clung close to the mizzen-chains, and jarred--on
the principle of attraction--against the vessel's side.
"Take a boot-hook, Noah, and shove her clear off the counter," said
Morrison, looking over the side. "By the way the rudder hangs, there
is a strong current running here, and that will soon drift her clear
of the ship."
The boat, with its as yet helpless load of ruffianism, was soon
shoved astern of the _Hermione_, and, as Morrison foretold, it
rapidly drifted away on the starboard quarter.
"Oh, imagine what those fellows may--nay, must--endure, when they all
become sober after so many days and nights of almost ceaseless
intoxication!" said Heriot, looking after the boat with very little
commiseration in his eye or voice, as it rose and fell on the long
glassy rollers that glittered in the full sheen of the waning moon,
whose disc was dipping now at the horizon, and sending from thence a
path of dazzling light across the ocean. "Sea and sky will be round
them," continued the doctor. "As the ballad says:
'Water, water everywhere,
Yet not a drop to drink!'"
"Aye, yer honour; the contents o' that 'ere gang-cask won't last 'em
long," said Noah with a grin.
"The poor wretches will go mad!" said Morley, who thought of his own
sufferings on the wreck.
"Mad?" repeated Noah.
"Yes; and drink each other's blood, perhaps. I have read of such
things."
"And I've heard of such things, many times, in forecastle yarns; but
as for men positively eating one another----"
"They may do so, and welcome, Noah," interrupted Captain Phillips,
who was surveying, with increasing wrath, the disordered and
dilapidated state of his once beautiful ship, the pride of his
owners, and the pet of his heart.
Already half-sobered, or becoming aware of their situation, some of
the crew began to shout and hail the ship, particularly Badger.
"Lookey har, capting! Halloo, yew Britishers!" he cried, again and
again; but the hail became fainter as the boat drifted steadily away,
first out of the fading line of moonlight, and then on the face of
the sea, which darkened as the moon went down, and the stars shone
sharp and clear.
"A breeze is coming fast," said Captain Phillips, cheerfully, as he
took the wheel. "Now, gentlemen, our only real foremast-man is Noah,
so we must all become A.B.'s, and work together, and with a will!
Dr. Heriot and Mr. Ashton, set those head-sails; up with the jib and
staysail; haul taut and belay. That will do. Now set the driver;
haul out and sheet home; ease off those starboard tacks; coil up and
belay everything that is loose or adrift on deck. We have hard work
before us, and our lives yet depend upon how we perform it."
"Give me the wheel, Captain Phillips," said Tom Bartelot. "You have
your whole ship to look after."
"Thank you, Captain Bartelot."
"Our course----" began the latter.
"Matters little to-night, or for the remainder of the morning; only,
not knowing our whereabouts, we must keep a bright look-out.
To-morrow's observations will let us know all."
"Ah, we're in latitudes now where Admiral Fitzroy's storm-drums,
cones, barometers, jigamarees, and all them sort o' things ain't no
use," said Noah; "it's Heaven's own blessed stars does the business
o' nights--here we read 'em as if they were a pictur' book."
The wind came puff after puff, till the breeze grew fine and steady.
The fore and main courses soon filled and swelled out; the leach of
each sail formed a complete arc, and the once slack sheets became
taut, while the reef-points pattered as the ship rose and fell on the
rolling sea.
Once again the _Hermione_ walked through the waters, while the first
rays of the coming sun began to play along the edge of the horizon,
and on the clouds above, in tints of gold and crimson; and far astern
she left the drifting quarter-boat, with its freight of yelling and
raving wretches, to their fate, perhaps their death, upon the sea.
By mid-day it could not be discerned, even with the aid of the most
powerful glass on board.