She was on her knees, at the other end of the room. Aye, and it was a
room, a spacious cabin, not a cubbyhole berth I had blundered into; the
lady's own quarters, no less. There was a lamp burning in gimbals, and
its light disclosed to my first startled glance that it was a woman's
room. Aye, to my foc'sle-bred senses the quarters were palatial.
The lady crouched on her knees, with her skirts spread wide, and her
hands hidden behind her back. When first her eyes met mine, I saw she
was fear-stricken. But immediately she recognized me the fear gave way
to relief.
"Oh, I thought it was--" she began. Then she saw the revolver in my
hand, and the fear leaped into her eyes again. Aye, fear, and
comprehension. "That--oh, Boy, what do you mean to do?"
I had been gaping, open-mouthed, too surprised to utter a sound. But
her swift recognition, and her words, brought me to myself. Also, just
then we heard Captain Swope's voice. He was in the saloon, calling out
an order to the steward. We listened with strained attention, both of
us. He told the steward to open the lazaret hatch, and be sharp about
it.
I jerked my thumb over my shoulder, and nodded significantly to the
lady. "Don't be afraid, ma'am," I whispered. "He isn't going to hurt
Newman. He isn't going to hurt anyone--not any more." Oh, the dread
that showed in her face when we heard Swope's voice!
She brought her hands into view, when I spoke. Something she had been
holding behind her back dropped on the deck with a metallic clink, and
she pressed her hands against her bosom.
"You--you mean--" she began.
I nodded again. I really thought I was reassuring her, lifting a load
of care from her heart.
"I'm going out there and get him. Don't be afraid, ma'am. I won't
make a miss of it. He isn't going to hurt Newman, or you, or anyone,
after I've finished. And ma'am, please--will you try and slip for'ard
and tell the men not to mutiny. They'll listen to you, especially when
you tell them the Old Man is dead. They don't want to mutiny,
ma'am--anyway, the squareheads don't--but they're afraid not to. If
you tell them I've killed him, and appeal to them, the sailors will
keep quiet, I know; and they'll make the stiffs keep quiet, too. It
will save some lives, ma'am--for the crowd is coming aft to-night, like
the Old Man plans, and the tradesmen are in the roundhouse, with guns,
waiting for them."
There was anguish in her whispered reply. "Coming aft? No, no, they
must not! It would mean--his death----"
She stopped. We listened. We heard Swope again, out in the saloon.
He was damning Wong for a sluggard, and demanding a lighted lantern
that instant or sooner, or "I'll take a strip off your yellow hide, you
heathen!"
"No, not Newman's death," I answered the lady. I turned, and laid my
hand upon the door knob. My weapon was ready. This was the moment I
must act.
Before I could open the door, I felt the lady's cool fingers upon my
wrist.
"No, no, not that! Not murder!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Boy, you would
not take life--you would not do that!"
I turned and faced her, astonished. Her eyes were but a few inches
distant from mine, now, and to my amazement I read in their expression
not approbation but startled horror. And I could not mistake the
meaning in her voice. She disapproved of my killing Captain Swope.
I was as shocked as she. Here I had been happy in the consciousness I
was playing the hero, I had believed myself cutting a very pretty
figure indeed in the lady's eyes, and, instead--well, my bubble was
pricked. As I looked into the lady's eyes, I could feel my grand
dimensions dwindling in my own eyes. More than that, I began to feel
ashamed. Just why that look in her eyes should shame me, I didn't
know. My education had not progressed to the self-analytic stage. But
shame me it did. I felt mean, vile. I felt, without consciously
reasoning about it, that murdering Yankee Swope would, perhaps, be not
such a noble deed after all. I confronted something that was superior
to the barbarous moral code of my brutal world. I discovered it in the
lady's wide open eyes. It vanquished me. It took from me the feeling
I was doing right.
But I could not surrender thus tamely. Indeed, the need for the deed
remained as urgent.
"But, ma'am, you know I must!" I said. "You know--he will kill him!"
Her little fingers were plucking at mine, which were stubbornly gripped
about the revolver's stock. "I know you must not!" she answered. "You
must not take human life!" It was a commandment she uttered, and I
took it as such. Especially, when she added, "Do you think he would
kill in that fashion?"
That finished me. Aye, she knew how to beat down my defense; her
woman's insight had supplied her with an invincible argument. I
averted my eyes from hers, and hung my head; I allowed her to take the
revolver from my grasp.
For I knew the answer to her question. "He" would not creep into the
cabin and shoot Captain Swope. She meant Newman, and I knew that
Newman would scorn to do the thing I planned to do. Kill Swope in fair
fight, with chances equal? Newman might do that. But shoot him down
like a mad dog, when he was unprepared and perhaps unarmed--no, Newman
would not do that. Nor would any decent man.
I passed another milestone in my evolution into manhood, as I stood
there, hangdog and ashamed. I added another "don't" to my list.
She brushed back the hair from my forehead. Oh, there was magic in her
fingers. That gentle stroke restored my pride, my self-respect. It
was a gesture of understanding. I felt now as I felt the first time I
saw the lady, like a little boy before a wise and merciful mother. I
knew the lady understood. She knew my heart was clean, my motive good.
She held up the weapon she had taken from me. "This--is not the way,"
she said. "It is never the way. You must not!"
"I must not," I echoed. "Yes, ma'am; I won't do it now.
But--what--how----"
I floundered and stopped. "What--how," aye, that was it. If I did not
kill Captain Swope what would happen to Newman? That was the question
that hammered against my mind, that sent a wave of sick fear through
me. If I did not kill Swope--then Newman was lost.
"But--I must do something," I added, miserably. "You know what will
happen when the hands come aft. It will be the skipper's excuse;
Newman told me it would. I can't see him butchered without doing
something to prevent it. Why, ma'am, Newman is my friend!"
"He is my life," said she. Her voice was so low I barely caught the
words. "But I would not buy his life with murder; it would lower him
to their level." She swayed, and clutched at my shoulder; I thought
she was falling, and gripped her arm to steady her. But she was not
the swooning kind. Not the lady. She recovered herself instantly.
She clutched my lapels, and laid down the law to me.
"There must be no fighting. The men must not come aft," said she. "If
they do, it will ruin everything. Boy, you must stop them. Deakin
will help you. You must hold them back."
I shook my head. "It's too late," I informed her. "They will not
listen to the parson, or me; they are too afraid."
"But they must be stopped!" she cried.
"Only one man can stop them--and that's Newman, himself," I replied.
"What time have they set?" she asked, quickly.
"Next eight bells," I told her. "We gave the skipper's spy to
understand it was timed for four o'clock in the morning; but the lads
really mean to make the rush at midnight."
"Then we have time," was her verdict. "And you must help me."
She pointed to the deck. My eyes followed her gesture, and for the
first time I examined the floor of the room. The first thing my gaze
encountered was a large carpenter's auger, or brace and bit; the next
thing I saw, was a pattern of holes in the floor. There were two rows
of them, parallel, each about eighteen inches long, and the same
distance apart. The holes overlapped each other, and made a continuous
cut in the deck.
The lady thrust out her hands, palms up, for my inspection. Upon each
palm was a great red blister.
"I was nearly despairing," said she, "I could longer press down hard
enough. But now----"
She did not need to explain. The sight of the holes and the auger told
me enough to set me to work instantly. Aye, I grabbed up the tool and
turned to with a song in my heart and the strength of Hercules in my
arms. There was after all a chance to save my friend, and it depended
in part upon my haste and strength. A chance to save him without
murder.
The lady locked the door, and came and sat down beside me. While I
worked she explained the plot behind the task. She talked eagerly,
without reserve; it helped her, eased her mind, I think, to unload into
my ears.
I was boring my way to Newman. My task was to connect the two rows of
holes already bored through the deck with two other rows; when I was
finished there would be an opening in the deck some eighteen inches
square. A manhole to the lazaret below, where lay Newman.
But this was not all. She told me there was a scheme to free her and
him completely from the captain and the ship. Well, I had guessed
something like that was in the wind; but I did not tell her so. She
said that Mister Lynch was in the plot; aye, this hard bucko, this
"square-shooter," as I had heard him called, was the instigator and
prime mover in the affair. One of the tradesmen was also friendly, and
had brought the lady the tool I was using to cut through the deck.
Wong, the steward, who was the lady's devoted slave, played a very
important part.
The plot was this. We were to get Newman out of the lazaret (she
always called him "Roy" when she spoke of him or to him; and when she
mentioned Swope, it was always with a little hesitating catch in her
voice) through this hole we were making. She had the key that would
release him from irons. Wong had stolen it from the skipper's desk.
When he was out of the lazaret, the situation would be managed by
Mister Lynch. The ship's longboat, in the port skids, was ready for
the water. They planned, said the lady, to launch this boat at night,
in the second mate's watch, and she and Newman were to sail away
together.
For it was no haphazard plan born of desperation after Newman's arrest.
Newman knew all about it. It had kept him occupied this past week; it
was responsible in large measure for the mysterious happenings of the
past week, for Newman's absences, and for the lady's masquerade in
Nils' clothes. She had access to Nils' chest through Wong, who had
charge of it, and she first dressed up in Nils' clothes so that she
might, as she thought, move about at night on deck unobserved. When
she was observed, and taken for a ghost, both Newman and Lynch told her
to continue the masquerade; it helped their business with the longboat,
because it kept spying eyes away from that part of the ship. They had
been provisioning and preparing this boat for a week, working thus in
the night, and by stealth. Another day or two, and they would have
been away.
But the captain's blow this afternoon had jeopardized the entire
scheme. Indeed, it was on the verge of utter ruin. For Newman was in
the black hole in irons, and the crew were preparing to mutiny.
It was this last, the threatened uprising, that terrified the lady. It
would finally ruin their chances of escape, she told me. At all
hazards, we must get Newman out of the lazaret before the sailors'
attack occurred. We must get him forward, she said, so that he might
squelch the mutiny before it began. Oh, Newman could tame Boston and
Blackie, he could tame the stiffs and compose the squareheads; she had
no doubt he could do all that, and instantly. I was not so sure. I
didn't think that anything or anybody could stop the crew--unless it
was killing Swope, which she forbade. But I didn't say so.
And in any event, the immediate thing to do was to release Newman. It
would at least give him a fighting chance. She urged haste, and I
worked like a fiend. It was hard work. The deck planking was three
inches thick, and the number of holes I must bore seemed endless. I
was surprised at the amount of work already accomplished; it did not
seem possible that this slender woman had done the two long rows of
holes. Nor had she, I learned. Wong had bored most of them, during
the odd moments he could slip away unobserved from his work. The
tradesman who furnished the tool had even driven a few. The lady had
done some of the work, as the condition of her hands proved. But my
coming was really providential. She could never have finished the job
on time, and now she knew of the crew's intention, she recognized the
need of haste.
I longed mightily for a saw. Yet I knew I could not have used a saw
had I possessed one. A saw makes a carrying noise. The tool I had was
nearly noiseless. I sweated and wondered, and now and then asked a
question.
I wondered what Lynch would do when the lads came aft. Aye, and I
discovered that this was one reason the lady was so terrified at the
prospect of mutiny. For Lynch, she was certain, would make common
cause with the rest of the afterguard against any uprising forward. He
was helping her and Newman. But he had no interest in helping the
hands. The hands were just hands to him, so much beef to work and
beat. He would never side with the foc'sle against the cabin.
"I have sailed three voyages with Lynch," said she. "He is a hard man,
a cruel man; I have seen him do terrible things to sailors. But he is
also, according to his lights, a just man. His brutality is always for
what he considers the ship's welfare, never for any personal reason.
You know how he has treated you, and Roy, and other men who know and do
their work."
"Fair enough," I admitted.
"When my--my husband tried to kill Roy, that night you and he were
aloft together, he violated James Lynch's very strict code. He
considered that attempt a serious blot upon his honor. He told
him--Angus--as much. He told him he would not have that sort of thing
in his watch. It wasn't regard for Roy that made him say that; it was
just that he thinks it is not right to kill or even hurt a man for
personal reasons, but only when the welfare of the ship is at stake.
And also, I think--well, he--likes me. He is willing to help me. That
is why, a week ago, he came to me and offered his help. He had
discovered what my--my husband really intended doing; I think he
overheard a conversation between my--between Angus and the mate. He
said we were both in danger, I as well as Roy, and that we must leave
the ship.
"Roy suggested the longboat, and he agreed. Roy can navigate, of
course, and there are islands not distant from our present position.
So we have been preparing the boat, and Mr. Lynch planned to launch it
some midwatch when the mate and--and Captain Swope were in their
berths. He hoped to get us away so quietly they would know nothing
about it until hours later."
"But surely Lynch didn't intend staying by the ship? Why, when the Old
Man found out he'd skin him alive!" I exclaimed.
"He said not, and I think not," she said. "He has sailed under my--my
husband for years. He is not like Mr. Fitzgibbon, and the others. He
does not fear my husband. I think Angus fears him. He knows things
that have happened in this ship that my--my husband dare not have told
on shore. He refused when we urged him to come with us; he declared he
would be in no danger, that he could guard himself. I think he can."
The lady clenched her hands, and her voice broke a little, as she
disclosed the anxiety that was wrenching her soul.
"But now--I don't know what he will do. If we can free Roy in time; if
we can stop trouble forward! Then I know Mr. Lynch will keep his
promise; he will lock up Angus and the mate, get them out of the way
somehow, until Roy and I have left the ship. But if the men rise
before we have gone--then he will think his duty is to the ship. He
will not think of us, and my--my husband will do what he wishes. Do
you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am. But we have until midnight, or after, and it's just a
little past two bells, now. Ten minutes more, ma'am, and I'll have
this hole open."
But it took a little longer than ten minutes. Three bells struck while
I was still whittling and digging at the caulking in the seams with my
sheath knife. But the echo of the big ship's bell forward had hardly
died away when I carefully, ever so carefully, lifted up and laid back
the cut-away section of the deck. I had left the caulking at one end
nearly intact, so the solid piece laid back like a trap-door.
The lady and I knelt by the side of the hole and peered down into the
littered darkness. We could make out, dimly, heaps of barrels and
boxes. A damp, chill air rushed up into our faces, carrying with it
the sound of a scurrying rat, and another sound which made the lady
gasp and tremble, and caused me to grind my teeth with rage. It was a
long, drawn-out sigh, the moan of a man in agony of flesh or spirit.
It was Newman's voice. Mingling with it, and following it, came the
low, demoniac chuckle of Captain Swope.
Lying flat and craning my neck into the hole, I saw, far over on the
other side of the ship, the flicker of a lantern upon boxes. I
immediately drew back, got to my feet, and extinguished the lamp in the
gimbals. Then I snatched a blanket from the steward's bunk, and spread
it across the hole. That done, there was no danger of light or draught
betraying us to the man below.
I asked orders of the lady, and discussed ways and means with her. It
was decided at once that I should go below and effect Newman's
release--and she gave me the small key that the Chinaman had filched.
I was the stronger and more active, and could more easily make my way
about in the dark, cluttered lazaret; besides, her work lay above.
Swope was evidently pleasuring himself by viewing and taunting his
helpless prisoner; he must be drawn away from this amusement.
She could not go on deck herself, she said; Fitzgibbon was up there,
and would see her--and she was supposed to be locked in her room. But
she would send Wong on deck with a message to Mister Lynch; she would
have Lynch sing out for the captain's presence on the poop. When the
captain responded to the hail, I was to accomplish my task. I was to
bring Newman to this room. What happened then depended upon
chance--and Lynch. Newman and I must get forward, some way, and quiet
the men; Lynch would take care of Swope. She had a fine faith in the
second mate, had the lady.
I had never been in the lazaret, the task of breaking out stores having
usually fallen to the stiffs. But from foc'sle gossip I knew it was a
big storeroom, comprising the whole 'tweendeck beneath the cabin space.
The _Golden Bough_, like most clippers of her day, sometimes carried
emigrant passengers, and had need of a spacious lazaret.
The lady sketched the lay of the land for me. The hatch to the lazaret
was in the saloon floor, well aft, on the starboard side. Wong was
more familiar than any man with the lazaret's interior, and he had
decided the deck should be cut through from this room, rather than at
any other point. This, said the lady, was because farther aft, on this
side of the ship, a strong room occupied the lazaret space (aye, the
same strong room which so tickled the fancy of some of my shipmates!).
The Chinaman had planned with foresight; he had even disposed stores
below to convenience and shield the man who played rescuer. When I
dropped through the hole, the lady told me, I would find myself in a
narrow alleyway, walled with tiers of beef casks and other stores; if I
followed this alleyway I would come to the lazaret hatch, near where
Newman was secured.
She thought I should wait until I heard the captain leave the lazaret.
But to this I demurred. The success of the scheme might well depend
upon the leeway of a moment's time. The ship's noises, always present
in a ship's hold, would cover any slight noise I might make. Truth to
tell, that sound of Newman in pain had thrown me into a fever of
impatience to get to his side; and I suspect it rendered the lady less
cautious, too.
"God bless you, Boy--and, oh, be careful," she whispered.
I drew back the blanket, and lowered my body into the opening. I hung
by my hands an instant, and felt her draw the blanket over my head as
she covered the hole again. Then I let go, and dropped.