Harry Blew is in the hold, Bill Davis beside him.
They are standing on the bottom-timbers on a spot they have selected for
their wicked work, and which they have had some difficulty in finding.
They have reached it, by clambering over sandal-wood logs, cases of
Manilla cigars, and piles of tortoise-shell. Clearing some of these
articles out of the way, they get sight of the vessel's ribs, and at a
point they know to be under the water-line. They know also that a hole
bored between their feet, though ever so small, will in due time fill
the barque's hold with water, and send her to the bottom of the sea.
Davis, auger in hand, stands in readiness to bore the hole; waiting for
the first officer to give the word.
But something stays the latter from giving it, as the former from
commencing the work.
It is a thought that seems to occur simultaneously to both, bringing
their eyes up to one another's faces, in a fiance mutually
interrogative. Blew is the first to put it in speech.
"Dang me, if I like to do it!"
"Ye've spoke my mind exact, Mr Blew!" rejoins Davis. "No more do I."
"'Tan't nothing short of murder," pursues the chief mate. "An' that's
just why I an't up to it; the more, as there an't any downright
needcessity. As I sayed to them above, I can see no good reason for
sinking the ship. She'd sail right out, an' we'd never hear word o' her
again. An' if them to be left 'board o' her shud get picked up, what
matters that to us? We'll be out o' the way, long afore they could go
anywhere to gi'e evidence against us. Neer a fear o' their ever findin'
us--neyther you nor me, anyhow. I dare say, Davis, you mean to steer
for some port, where we're not likely to meet any more Spaniards. I do,
when I've stowed my share o' the plunder."
"Yes; I'm for Australia, soon's I can get there. That's the place for
men like me."
"There you'll be safe enough. So I, where I intend goin'. And we'll
both feel better, not havin' a ugly thing to reflect back on. Which we
would, if we send these three poor creeturs to Davy's locker. Now, I
propose to you what you heerd me say to the rest: let's gi'e them a
chance for their lives."
"And not do this?"
As he puts the question, Davis points his auger to the bottom of the
ship.
"There an't no need--not a morsel o' good can come from sinkin' her.
And not a bit harm in lettin' her slip."
"What will the others say?"
"They won't know anything about it--they can't unless we tell 'em. And
we won't be the fools to do that. As I argied to them, with the wind
off-shore, as 'tis now, she'll scud out o' sight o' land long afore
daylight. Bill Davis! whatsomever the others may do, or think they're
doin', let's me an' you keep our consciences clear o' this foul deed.
Believe me, mate, we'll both feel better for't some day."
"If you think they won't know, I'm agreed."
"How can they? There an't none o' them to see what we do down here.
'Taint likely there's any listener. Gie a knock or two wi' the mallet!"
The ship's carpenter obeying, strikes several blows against an empty
water-cask, the noise ascending through the open hatch. He suspends his
strokes at hearing exclamations above; then screams in the shrill treble
of female voices.
"You see they're not thinking o' us," says the mate. "Them Spaniards
are too busy about their own share o' the job. They're gettin' the
girls into the boat."
"Yes; that's what they're doing."
"Sweet girls both be. An't they, Davis?"
"Ay, that they are; a pair of reg'lar beauties."
"Look here, shipmate! Since we've settled this other thing, I want to
say a word about them too, and I may's well say it now. Gomez and that
land-lubber, Hernandez, are layin' claim to them, as if they had a
right. Now they haven't, no more than any o' the rest o' us. Some
others may have fancies, too. I confess to havin' a weakness for the
one wi' the copper-coloured hair, which is she as Gil Gomez wants to
'propriate. I made no objection to his takin' her into the boat. But
soon's we get ashore, I intend to stan' out for my rights to that little
bit o' property, which are just as good as his. Do you feel like
backin' me?"
"Hang me, if I don't! I'm myself a bit sweet upon the dark 'un, and
have been, ever since settin' eyes on her. And though I've said
nothing, like yourself, I wasn't going to give that point up, before
having a talk about it. You say the word--I'll stan' by you. And if it
comes to fightin', I'll make short work with that bandy-legged chap
Hernandez, the one as wants her. We can count on Jack Striker on our
side; and most like the Dane and Dutchman; La Crosse for certain.
Frenchy don't cotton to them Spaniards, ever since his quarrel with
Padilla. But, as you say, let's go in for the girls, whether or not.
You can claim the light-haired. I'm for the dark one, an' damned if I
an't ready to fight for her--to the death!"
"As I for the other!" exclaims the ex-man-o'-war, in eager serious
earnest.
"But what's to be done after we go ashore?" asks Davis. "That's what's
been bothering me. We're about to land in a strange country, but where
these Spanish chaps will be at home, speakin' the lingo, an'll so have
the advantage of us. There's a difficulty. Can you see a way out of
it?"
"Clearly."
"How?"
"Because the girls don't care for eyther o' the two as are layin' claim
to them. Contrarywise, they hate 'em both. I've knowd that all along.
So, if we get 'em out o' their clutches--at the same time givin' the
girls a whisper about protectin' them--they'll go willin'ly 'long wi'
us. Afterwards, we can act accordin' to the chances that turn up. Only
swear you'll stan' by me, Bill, an' wi' Striker to back us, we'll bring
things right."
"I'm bound to stan' by you; so'll Jack, I'm sure. Hark! that's him,
now! He's calling to us. By God, I believe they're in the boat!"
"They are! Let's hurry up! Just possible them Spaniards may take it
into their heads--. Quick, shipmate! Heave after me!"
With this, Blew holds out the lantern to light them up the hatch, both
making as much haste to reach the deck as if their lives depended upon
speed.