THE PRISONERS.
I have made an attempt at describing the general situation on board the
_America_ while her crew had nothing more alarming to wag their tongues
over than the carrying away of the topmast, but have spent my time in
vain trying to show how they twisted that mishap into the ugliest kind
of an omen.
Previous to the appearance of the supposed ghost, it seemed as if the
conduct of the crew could not be more mutinous unless, indeed, they had
risen with deadly intent against their officers; but now we two came to
understand that the former condition of affairs was as nothing compared
with the present.
Then the men had no more weighty subject for conversation than
something which was really not out of the common, unless one chose
to so twist it in his mind, and there remained ample opportunity for
argument and individual belief.
Now, however, the situation was changed.
There was no opportunity for argument as to what had been seen and
heard, since every man Jack of us could do no less than give the same
evidence.
It was no longer an omen which might be construed equally well to mean
good or evil; but a fact, to which the officers could testify as well
as the men.
When the starboard watch gained the gun-deck, after having been so
soundly rated by the captain, it was as if each man was paralysed with
fear by that mysterious thing which had come upon us.
During many moments no one spoke. Each seemed to be waiting for the
other, and not daring to venture a remark until the conversation had
been opened.
Those of the men whose hammocks were slung well forward clustered aft,
where some of the elder members of the watch were lighting their pipes
preparatory to a smoking-match, when, as we lads knew full well, all
the occurrences of the evening would be discussed.
None of the crew appeared willing to remain in the vicinity of the
forward hatchway, and more than one sat facing aft, lest there might
yet be some horrible thing to be seen in the bow of the ship.
During this time of silence the thought came to me suddenly that
Captain Ropes himself must have been in a certain degree impressed by
the voice, else would he have tried to convince the men that it was
nothing supernatural, instead of railing at them as he did.
The mind of a sailorman can be coaxed into almost whatsoever channel
you will; but it is not often possible to force it.
Simon remained very near my side, and I was truly thankful that he did
so, because it seemed to me as if I really needed close contact with
some human being upon whom I could rely, in order to aid me in warding
off the terrible thing which appeared to threaten all on board.
When the men’s tongues were finally loosened, there was no loud
talking, no angry exclamations, no vehement putting forth of this or
that opinion; all hands were subdued and solemn as though taking part
in some religious service the precise nature of which they did not
understand, and throughout the entire night--for no man so much as
dreamed of turning in--never a voice was raised to a high key.
Even Master Josh, who ordinarily felt bound to make himself heard
from one end of the gun-deck to the other whenever he put forth an
opinion, was as low-voiced as any woman, and failed to assert the
authority which he usually claimed belonged to him by virtue of age and
experience.
I might fill many pages while attempting to describe the scene which
was presented by the starboard watch during the time allotted it below,
and afterward by those of the port watch when they came off duty, and
yet not succeed in portraying the situation as it really presented
itself to Simon and me.
Therefore I will make no further effort at picturing it; but content
myself by saying that it was as fearsome a night as I have ever
experienced, and since that day both Simon and I have been in some
exceedingly painful situations.
There were two facts prominent in the minds of all. First, that some
ghostly visitor had come aboard, and second, that it was necessary for
the safety of all the _America_ be immediately steered on a direct
course for home.
On these two points there was no difference of opinion; but concerning
the outcome many were disposed to take the most gloomy view.
I believe of a verity that a full half of the crew were convinced we
should never see port again; that the ship and all on board were doomed
beyond the shadow of hope.
With such ideas in their minds, the men were in a most dangerous frame
of mind.
But few words were needed to bring about a veritable mutiny, and had a
single one of them offered himself as leader, I have no question but
that an attempt would have been made, within the hour, to force Captain
Ropes to do the bidding of those who should have obeyed him.
One can well fancy how much blood would have been spilled in event
of an uprising, and, bearing this evident fact in mind, it is not
difficult to image the feelings of Simon and myself as we stood betwixt
that most terrible tragedy of the sea--a mutiny--and the approaching
doom foretold by the ghostly visitor.
As I have said, no man occupied his hammock that night, and those who
had not remained on deck during the entire time of darkness sought the
open air with the first dawning of day.
As may be expected, Simon and I followed them, for we were not minded
to remain alone on the gun-deck, where it was yet dark, and I looked
forward with dread to the hour when we must go into the hold to carry
the prisoners’ food.
Captain Ropes and his officers must have been well aware of the
dangerous condition of mind into which the men were fallen, for no less
than three paced the quarter-deck constantly, and when an order was
given they took extra care that it should be obeyed promptly, as if
fearing lest the first indication of such delay as might be counted for
insubordination should prove to be the match that exploded a magazine
of fear and passion.
I observed, too, that all the officers carried their side-arms as they
would have done on the eve of an engagement, and they kept vigilant
watch upon every one of us.
As a matter of course, it would have been impossible to prevent the
men from talking among themselves; but I noticed that, when there was
any disposition on the part of the crew to gather into little groups,
some order was given which would necessitate their separation, and much
useless work laid out as if for no other purpose than to keep our time
fully occupied.
It was like unto standing upon the summit of a volcano which threatens
to belch forth flame and death at any instant, and the minutes were to
me as hours.
Then the word was passed from the cook-house that breakfast for the
prisoners had been made ready, and Simon and I went very unwillingly to
take charge of it.
It was evident that even we two lads would not be allowed to loiter in
our work, for Mr. Fernald called sharply after us, as we were going
slowly forward:
“Bear a hand there, lads! There is to be no sodgerin’ this mornin’!”
We quickened our pace, Simon whispering to me, as we did so:
“I wonder if he would step out lively in case it was his duty to go
below alone.”
“He did last night, when all the money in the world wouldn’t have
tempted me to drop through the fore-hatch.”
“That was because he had to do so, or own himself a coward before the
captain.”
“And we are in exactly the same plight,” I said, taking heart as he
grew timid. “While it is a fact that I’m afraid to go below, I’d give
up all my share of prize-money rather than let Mr. Fernald understand
exactly what is in my mind.”
Like all imaginary dangers, this venturing into the hold of the ship
amounted to nothing, and when we were come to the prison, which on
board vessels is called the “brig,” I breathed more freely, for, having
once descended through the hatch where had appeared the apparition,
courage began to return.
The sailors who had acted as guard during the night welcomed our
coming, and went on deck as soon as might be, eager to learn the cause
of the disturbance during the evening previous.
We two lads were now in charge of the Britishers, and, save when they
were taken on deck for exercise, would be held responsible for their
safety until night came once more.
We served out the food as usual, and while doing so it appeared to me
as if one man was presenting himself a second time for the allowance,
whereupon I asked:
“Were you not the third in line when we began to serve breakfast?”
“If I had been you wouldn’t see me here now, because I’d be workin’ my
jaws over the scanty allowance.”
“There is nothing scanty about it,” Simon cried, indignantly. “You are
receiving the same amount of food as does any member of our crew.”
“Well, I’m not grumbling except you are trying to cheat me out of my
portion,” the man said, half apologetically, and without further ado
I handed him a pannikin, for we carried each man’s allowance in a
separate dish, to the end that the stronger might not take advantage of
the weaker, saying to myself as I did so:
“If that fellow has been served, as I fancy, we shall come out short
before all are fed.”
A moment later it appeared that I had wronged the man, for nineteen
pannikins had been passed into the brig, which was exactly the number
necessary if each prisoner was to receive one.
Even with this proof I felt puzzled, for it surely seemed as if one man
had gotten a double allowance, and, without really intending to do so,
I counted the prisoners as they were squatting here or there busily
engaged with the meal.
There were but eighteen.
Again I counted, arriving at the same conclusion.
It did not seem possible one man alone could have escaped, for if such
an opportunity had presented itself, why did not some of the others
take advantage of it? And yet where was this nineteenth prisoner?
On board the ship, as a matter of course.
Therefore, so I argued to myself quickly, if there had been an escape,
it must have occurred after Mr. Fernald searched the ship on the
evening previous, when was heard that strange voice, and yet the door
of the brig was securely fastened, while two men had, supposedly, kept
watch all night.
Now it came to me that I might be mistaken, although that was hardly
probable, and beckoning to Simon to come aft with me to such a distance
from the prisoners that the words could not be overheard, I asked him
the question:
“How many prisoners did we take from the _James and Charlotte_?”
“Twelve all told,” he replied. “Eleven came down here, and the captain
went into the cabin.”
“How many came to us from the _Benjamin_?”
“Eight, and they are all here.”
“That should make nineteen,” I repeated half to myself.
“Ay, of course it does. What have you in your head now?”
“Go and count the Britishers.”
“I can do that as I stand here,” and Simon commenced, stopping when he
had ended with eighteen, and beginning over again.
“Is there one missing?” he asked, as if doubting the evidence of his
own senses.
Well, we puzzled over that matter half an hour or more, examining every
portion of the brig without allowing the prisoners to understand what
we were about, and it was impossible to arrive at any other conclusion.
There were but eighteen men in the brig, and yet the prison remained as
it ever had been, so secure that anything larger than a cat could not
have gotten out.
Then we went aft a short distance, to discuss the matter, and Simon
repeated again and again this question:
“What could it advantage a man to escape from the brig, in case an
opportunity presented itself? By so doing he would shut himself off
from taking exercise in the open air once a day, and stand a chance of
getting mighty hungry.”
“Now I am positive that the fellow to whom I spoke took two allowances.”
“How can it avail the man who is free, if there be one outside? With a
guard kept night and day, nothing could be passed out from the brig.”
I failed to answer his question, yet the fact remained that,
apparently, one of the prisoners was missing, and lest we should have
made a mistake in supposing nineteen had been confined in the brig, I
proposed to go quietly on deck and ask some one of the men the same
questions I had asked Simon.
He, however, refused to be left alone, and I did not count him a coward
because of his fears.
What with the apparition and ghostly voice, and the possibility that a
Britisher might be roaming around the hold ready to make an attempt
in case a single sentinel should be left on duty, it was by no means
cheerful to take one’s chances alone.
Those sailors who had been acting as guard during the night left their
muskets, when they went on deck, according to custom, nearabout the
ladder leading to the gun-deck, in case we might need them.
Heretofore the weapons had remained undisturbed, because while the door
of the brig was firmly secured it did not seem as if we had any use for
them.
Now, however, I armed myself with a musket, Simon doing the same, and
once more we retired out of ear-shot for consultation.
There was in my mind a very well-defined idea that we should, without
delay, acquaint the captain of our discovery, and yet I was eager to
first avoid the possibility of a mistake by questioning some of the men
as to the number of prisoners we had taken aboard, lest we be laughed
at for entertaining cowardly fears.
My mind was in such a whirl, what with one thing and another happening
during the past four and twenty hours, that I was not willing to accept
as evidence the fact that the cooks had filled nineteen pannikins with
food.
I suggested as much to Simon, whereupon he declared that nothing would
induce him to remain in the hold alone; but that if I was so eager the
matter be settled at once, he would go on deck, leaving me to stand
guard.
Then I suddenly came to the conclusion that no great harm could be
done, at least during this forenoon when we were keeping careful
watch, and it might be as well that we wait until the prisoners were
taken out for exercise.
The Britishers must have understood that there was something unusual in
the wind, for it had been our custom to pass the time in conversation
with them, whereas we now held ourselves aloof, not even offering to
tell them what the weather might be.
They talked in low tones among themselves for awhile, and finally one
called out:
“What was the rumpus last night?”
“How did you know there was any?” I asked, thinking to learn how much
they had heard.
“A man would need to be both blind and deaf who couldn’t understand
something was wrong when all hands were runnin’ back an’ forth. One of
the officers came down here and searched the hold as if he’d lost his
prize-money.”
“It seems you know more about it than we do, for I could not have said
the hold was searched last night.”
“It may have been that your mate was on a tour of inspection; but
at all events he gave this part of the craft a pretty thorough
overhauling. Did anything go wrong?”
I was not minded that the prisoners should know in what condition was
our crew, lest, if a favourable opportunity presented itself, they
might think it possible to rise against us successfully, although it
would have been a ridiculous notion for eighteen men, unarmed, to
attack one hundred and fifty, with all the weapons on the ship at
their disposal.
Therefore I refused to answer the question by holding my peace, and,
most likely understanding that there was some good reason for my
silence, the Britishers gave over questioning.
The time had come when a half a dozen or more of our men should come
down to take the prisoners on deck for exercise, and when they arrived
I was resolved to ask that some of them act in our stead while we went
aft for an interview with the captain.
We waited impatiently, Simon and I both puzzling our brains over the
supposed fact that one of the Britishers was missing, at the same time
that we speculated with fear upon the events of the previous evening.
The hours passed, and no one came to our relief.
The unfortunate men, whose only pleasure, I might almost say comfort,
consisted in an hour spent in the open air, began to complain bitterly,
and ask us again and again why the necessary exercise was forbidden
them.
“We have no reason to suppose that you will not be taken on deck,”
Simon said, petulantly, after the question had been asked a dozen
times. “Unless there may be a chance of taking another prize, some of
the crew must surely be here very soon.”
These words of my comrade served to explain to my satisfaction why we
had been left so long alone.
Beyond a question something had come in sight, and the _America_ was
in close pursuit, which would explain why the Britishers were denied
their brief time of comparative liberty.
It seemed to me as if it must be two or three hours past noon, when a
voice from the hatch which led into the hold cried out:
“Here’s your grub, lads! Come up an’ get it!”
Quickly I ran to the foot of the ladder, shouting Mr. Fernald’s name at
the full strength of my lungs, for although it seemed impossible one of
the mates would have performed such a task as bringing food from the
galley, the voice sounded strangely like his.
No reply was received to my outcries, and when I gained the top of the
ladder the gun-deck was deserted.
Nearby the hatchway were the pannikins of food; but I gave no heed
to them as I stood gazing around me, rapidly giving way to fear and
apprehension.
“What’s the matter?” Simon cried, coming hurriedly to the foot of the
ladder.
“That’s what I don’t know. Here are the prisoners’ dinners, and yet no
one has come to relieve us.”
In silence, and like two stupids, I stood at the top and he at the foot
of the ladder, gazing at each other in what was very like terror, and
then, understanding that we were giving the Britishers an exhibition of
cowardice, I said, sharply:
“If they have neglected us, it is no reason why we should not do our
duty. Stand by to take this grub, and I’ll pass it down.”
Simon obeyed, and when all the pannikins were ranged in front of the
brig ready for distribution, I came below, saying to the prisoners as I
did so:
“We don’t count on giving a double portion to any one of you this noon,
so form in line and hold your pannikins in plain sight until all are
delivered.”
[Illustration: “‘WE DON’T COUNT ON GIVING A DOUBLE PORTION TO ANY ONE
OF YOU THIS NOON.’”]
There was in front of the brig a small bar which, on being removed,
gave an aperture sufficiently large to pass in food or water, and
through this the prisoners were served.
As a matter of course, there was one pannikin left after each man had
gotten his portion, and I fancied all the Britishers looked grievously
disappointed because we had thus been careful in the distribution of
food.
“What are we to do with this one?” Simon asked, lifting the remaining
dish.
“I reckon we had better divide what is in it, for it seems much as if
we had been forgotten this day.”
“But surely they count on relieving us for a time.”
“They haven’t done so as yet, and whoever brought the grub was in a
tremendous hurry.”
“What do you suppose can be happening on deck?” the lad asked, in a
whisper, and I, rendered irritable because a similar question was in my
own mind, causing me decided fear, replied, sharply:
“What good can come of our speculating about matters on deck? We have
been set to this work, and should be men enough to take what comes, or
get along on what fails us, without grumbling.”
“It must be they have sighted a Britisher, and are giving chase,” the
lad said, as if trying by thus speaking to persuade himself such was
the case, while I, now become a prey to gloomy fears, said, without
believing what I spoke:
“That must be the reason why whoever brought the grub was in such a
hurry to get on deck again.”
This reply appeared to satisfy Simon; but I was very near to believing
that the _America’s_ crew had broken forth in open mutiny.