THE RETAKING OF THE "STORMY PETREL"
For the whole of that day the natives kept at the sweeps of the long
canoe, one set of rowers relieving the other. The whites were willing to
assist, but Soko said the natives could get along best alone, they
having their own peculiar manner of handling the craft.
The weather remained fair, with only a bit of a breeze blowing, and the
bosom of the ocean was as calm as they could wish. They were soon out of
sight of the island, and then all they could behold was the sky above
and the sparkling waters on every side.
"It must be terrible to be lost on the ocean," remarked Phil, as he
gazed around. "I don't wonder that men go mad, after they have been out
days and days."
"And think of having nothing to eat or to drink," said Dave. "Ugh! it
gives a fellow the shivers to think of it!"
At noon the whole party partook of a lunch, and toward nightfall had
supper. Then the whites went to sleep, and so did half of the natives,
the remaining blacks keeping at the sweeps, guiding themselves by the
stars, now that the sun had gone down.
When the boys awoke they were dismayed to see that a mist covered the
sea.
"Hello! I didn't expect this!" cried the senator's son. "Why, a fellow
can't see a hundred feet in any direction."
"What are the natives going to do now?" asked Dave of Captain Marshall,
who had been awake for some time.
"Soko says they must rest and wait," answered the captain. "He cannot go
ahead, for he knows not in what direction to steer."
"I've got a pocket compass!" cried Phil, bringing it forth. "How odd
that I didn't think of it before."
The captain took the compass and showed it to the native who could speak
English. He had seen such things before, and, after a short talk with
the master of the _Stormy Petrel_, set the others to using the sweeps as
before.
It was about ten o'clock of the forenoon that one of the natives, who
was watching in the bow, uttered a short cry. At once those at the
sweeps stopped pulling.
"What is it?" asked Captain Marshall, quickly.
"Big ship over dare!" announced Soko, a moment later.
All of the whites looked in the direction pointed out, and through the
mist saw a large vessel drifting along, the sails flapping idly against
the masts. The wheel was lashed fast, and nobody was in sight on the
deck.
"The _Stormy Petrel_!" ejaculated Captain Marshall.
"Are you sure?" asked Dave and Phil, in a breath.
"Sure it's the bark," cried Billy Dill. "Say, but this is great luck,
ain't it?" and his face brightened up. "Now we can teach them dirty
mutineers a lesson."
"Dat you ship?" asked Soko.
"It is," answered Captain Marshall. "See here, Soko," he went on, "can I
depend upon your helping me? I will pay you and your men for whatever
you do."
The native shugged his ebony shoulders and then consulted with his
fellow-tribesmen. All decided that they would aid the captain, providing
he would give them each a piece of silver "so big," pointing out the
size of a trade dollar. Captain Marshall agreed on the spot, and
preparations were made for boarding the bark.
"It is queer that nobody is in sight!" remarked Phil, as the canoe drew
closer.
"Somebody is coming on deck now!" cried Dave, in a low tone, and Paul
Shepley appeared, followed by Jasper Van Blott and, close behind him,
one of the sailors.
"Hello! what's this?" sang out the first mate, on catching sight of the
canoe.
"Captain Marshall and the others!" muttered the former supercargo. "Hi!
keep away from here!" he roared.
"Surrender, you villains!" called out the captain. "What do you mean by
running off with my ship in this fashion?"
"You keep off!" warned Paul Shepley, without answering the question.
"Keep off, I tell you!"
"We'll fire on you, if you don't keep off," called the former
supercargo, and he brought forth a big pistol.
"Be careful, cap'n, or somebody will git shot!" whispered Billy Dill.
"Those fellers look like they was des'prit!"
"Don't you dare to shoot!" called out Captain Marshall. "The first man
who fires shall swing from the yardarm!"
The loud talking had brought several sailors to the deck, and they were
followed by the second mate, who stared at the canoe and its occupants
as if he could not believe his eyes.
"Hello, Captain Marshall!" sang out Bob Sanders. "I am mighty glad you
have come."
"Then you are not in this mutiny, Sanders?"
"Not by a jugful! They tried to buy me up, but I wouldn't consent.
Podders, Diski, and McNabb are not in it, either."
"I am glad to hear it. Sanders, take control of the ship until I get
aboard."
"He will do nothing of the kind!" yelled Jasper Van Blott, and was about
to turn on the second mate, when the latter hit him a blow in the ear,
sending him headlong to the deck.
"McNabb! Podders!" called the second mate. "Grab Mr. Shepley!"
The sailors called upon understood, and before the first mate could
turn, one tar had him from behind, so that he could not raise his arms.
Then the other seized a pistol and, turning, faced the crew with the
weapon.
The turn of affairs had been so sudden that Shepley and Van Blott were
taken completely by surprise, as were likewise the sailors who had sided
with the rascals, and, for the moment, none of them knew exactly what to
do. In the meantime the canoe bumped alongside of the _Stormy Petrel_,
and, catching hold of a trailing rope thrown overboard by the sailor
named Diski, Captain Marshall hauled himself to the deck, followed by
Billy Dill and the boys.
"Do you surrender?" demanded the captain, striding up to the first mate,
revolver in hand.
"Ye-yes!" burst out Shepley. "It's--it's all a mistake, Captain
Marshall--all a mistake!"
"I reckon it was!" answered the captain, grimly. "What about you, Van
Blott?" And he turned on the former supercargo, who was struggling to
his feet.
"I suppose I've got to give in," muttered Jasper Van Blott.
"And what about you men?" demanded Captain Marshall, turning his stern
eyes on the portion of the crew that had mutinied.
"We're with you, cap'n," said one, humbly. "Mr. Shepley led us into
this, without us knowin' what we was a-doin'. Ain't that so, mates?"
"That's so," said the others, humbly.
"Are you willing to obey me, after this?"
"Yes! yes!" came in an eager chorus.
After this a long talk took place, and Jasper Van Blott and Paul Shepley
were placed in irons and conducted to a closet in the bow of the ship,
used for the storage of oil and lanterns. The place was given a rough
cleaning, and then the pair were locked inside, Captain Marshall putting
the key in his pocket. Both of the prisoners wanted to protest, but the
master of the _Stormy Petrel_ would not listen.
"You can do your talking later, when I have time to listen," said he.
"Just now I have other matters to attend to."
From Bob Sanders and the three loyal sailors Captain Marshall got a
fairly accurate account of the mutiny. He was told that Jasper Van
Blott had done his best to get all hands to join in the plot. The former
supercargo was the prime mover in the affair, and the first mate was a
coward and had been little more than his tool. The sailors who had gone
in had done so rather unwillingly, and, after thinking the matter over,
Captain Marshall decided to read them a stern lecture and then forgive
them.
It was now no longer necessary for the natives to take the whites to
Sobago Island, and, after a brief consultation, Soko and his men were
paid off and given some presents, and then, the mists rising, the canoe
was headed back for Yam-kolo Island. It was the last that Dave and his
friends saw of these black men, who had proven so friendly.
With the first mate in irons, Bob Sanders was advanced to fill his
place. This left the position of second mate vacant, and, after a
consultation with the boys, the master of the _Stormy Petrel_ offered
Billy Dill the position, and he accepted gladly.
"I always kind o' wanted to be a mate," said the old tar. "I'm tickled
to death!" And his face showed it.
With the lifting of the mist a stiff breeze came up, and preparations
were made for continuing the voyage to Nanpi. It was found that the last
storm had slightly disabled the rudder, which accounted for the fact
that the bark had not made greater headway on her trip. But additional
parts were on board, and by nightfall the damage was made good, and then
the _Stormy Petrel_ answered her helm as well as ever.
"And now for Sobago Island!" cried Dave, to his chums. "I hope I have no
more trouble in finding Mr. Dunston Porter!"