hurt by the tone of suspicion in which the skipper's question had been
put. "I am just as helpless as yourselves in this matter. They have
determined to keep me on board to navigate the ship for them; and, with
a malignant ingenuity which would never have occurred to anybody but
Williams, they have also detained Miss Stanhope to act as hostage and
security for my fidelity and good behaviour, informing me that anything
like treachery, or even a mistake on my part, will be visited upon
_her_."
"Poor girl! poor girl!--and poor lad, too, for that matter!" ejaculated
the skipper. "Forgive me, Ned, if for a moment I fancied that you had
been led astray by those scoundrels and tempted to cast in your lot with
them. I might have known better; but this mutiny seems somehow to have
strained my mental faculties until sometimes I almost think they are
stranded and ready to carry away altogether. It is the first time that
anything of the kind ever happened to me; the first time. Ah, well!--
but I must not let these thoughts run away with me; our time together is
short, and I have one or two questions to ask you. And, first of all,
when and where did you land the passengers?"
"We landed them yesterday," answered Ned; "did you not know it? I
thought it would be quite impossible to keep that fact from your
knowledge."
"No, Ned, not quite impossible. I heard the boats lowered, and caught a
few words here and there, which gave me an idea of what was happening;
but we were shut up here with that surly fellow, Carrol, as guard over
us, and he would neither tell us anything nor allow us to so much as
glance out through the side-light to ascertain for ourselves what was
going on. So you landed them yesterday, eh?"
"Yes," said Ned; "on an island exactly one hundred miles due west of
us--"
"Stop a moment," interrupted the skipper; "let me make a mental note of
that. `One hundred miles due west of us;' that is to say, one hundred
miles due west of the island where we are going to be landed. Is that
it?"
Ned nodded.
"Very well," continued the skipper, "I shall remember that. Do you
think you can bear that in mind, Mr Manners?"
"Certainly, sir," answered Manners. "That is an easy thing to
remember."
"Very well," said his superior. "Now go on, Ned, and tell us what the
island is like."
Ned gave as accurate a description as he could of the place,
supplementing it with a careful pencil sketch from memory on a leaf torn
from his pocket-book, showing the island as it would appear to a person
approaching it from the eastward, and winding up with the statement that
he believed it would be possible to distinguish the top of the
mountain--the highest point of the island--from the spot where they
were, on a clear day.
"Thank you, Ned; that is capital," said the skipper, with renewed
animation, as the lad finished his statement and handed over the sketch.
"Now," he continued, "do you know what I mean to do?"
"I fancy I can guess," answered Ned. "Unless I am mistaken, it is your
intention to rejoin the passengers as soon as possible."
"Precisely," agreed the skipper. "You could not have hit it off more
accurately if you had tried for an hour. Yes; these villains are going
to put it most effectually out of my power to do my duty to my owners,
but they shall not prevent me from doing my duty to my passengers.
Manners and I will make our way to that island as soon as ever we can
knock something together to carry us there. Poor souls! I hope they
will manage to keep soul and body together until we can get to them.
After that I flatter myself that matters will not go so very hard with
them after all."
"Quite so, sir," said Ned. "From the moment that Williams announced his
intention of putting you ashore here, the thought has been in my mind
that it would be a good thing for all hands if you could manage to join
Mr Gaunt and his party."
But whilst he said this, the lad could not help smiling at the
unconscious egotism displayed by the skipper in his last remark; Ned's
own private opinion being that, with a man of such inexhaustible
resource as the engineer had proved himself to be, at the helm of
affairs, the little party on the island were likely to get on almost as
well without Captain Blyth as with him. He had, however, far too much
respect for his commander to allow this idea to reveal itself either in
his speech or his manner.
"Very well," said the skipper, in reply to Ned's last remark, "you now
know our intentions, so I will trouble you, Ned--since I understand you
to say that Williams has commissioned you to look out a few things for
us--to look out as good a supply as you can of such things as will
enable us to carry out our plans. We shall want first a small supply of
provisions and water to carry us along until we can get into the way of
foraging for ourselves. Next, we shall want arms and plenty of
ammunition. And, after that, our wants, I think, will be confined to a
few useful and handy tools, and as much rope and canvas, and as many
nails as you can persuade them to spare us. If there is anything else
you can think of which will be likely to be useful, just heave it into
the boat with the rest of the things, will ye?"
"Ay, ay, sir, I will," answered Ned. "You may rely upon my doing the
very best they will allow me to do for you. And now, sir, as time
presses, and I may not have a better opportunity, let me say good-bye to
you both. God bless you, Captain Blyth, and you, too, Manners, and may
the day not be far distant when we shall all meet once more in peace and
safety."
"Good-bye, Ned, dear boy," answered the skipper, with deep emotion;
"good-bye, and God bless _you_ and that poor dear girl who shares your
cruel captivity. May He preserve you both, protect you from all evil,
and, in His own good time, accord you a happy deliverance from the
wretches who now hold you in bondage. We have had no time to talk about
yourself and your own plans for the future; but I have no fear for you,
boy. Yours is an old head though it is on young shoulders; and I firmly
believe that by and by you will somehow manage to handsomely give the
rascals the slip and carry off that poor girl with you. Good-bye, my
lad, once more; good-bye and God bless you!"
Ned grasped the outstretched hands which were offered him and, too
deeply moved for speech, wrung them silently, after which he beat a
hasty retreat, and forthwith set himself about the task of providing as
plentiful a supply as he dared of all those articles which the skipper
had enumerated.
Ned had scarcely finished his task when the ship rounded-to under the
lee of the island, which was now discovered to be a small affair of
about three miles long by two miles wide, or thereabouts, its greatest
elevation being perhaps two hundred and fifty feet above the sea-level.
Like the island on which the passengers had been landed, its most rugged
face seemed to be turned to the westward, the eastern side sloping
gradually to the water's-edge, where it terminated in a smooth sandy
beach, upon which a landing might be effected without difficulty. For a
distance of about half a mile inland from the beach the ground was
carpeted with a smooth velvety green-sward, the rest of the island
appeared to be densely wooded.
"That will do!" exclaimed Williams, as he closed his telescope, after a
long and searching examination of the place; "the spot is quite large
enough to enable a couple of men to pick up a living upon it, and I see
no sign of savages anywhere about. Lower away the quarter-boat and
bundle those things down into her. Have you looked out all you think
they will need, Ned?"
"Yes," said Ned, who was most anxious that his collection should not be
subjected to too close a scrutiny--"yes, I think they may perhaps manage
to rub along and make themselves fairly comfortable in time with what I
have put out for them. And, if I may be allowed to offer a suggestion,
I would advise that the landing should be effected as speedily as
possible, for when I was in the saloon just now I noticed that the glass
showed a slight tendency to fall, a warning which ought not to be
neglected in these seas."
"Ay, ay, that's true enough!" ejaculated Williams, in some alarm. "Look
alive with the boat, there, you, Martin tumble the things in, and let's
get the job over as quick as possible."
"No, no," said Ned, "there is no need for _quite_ so much hurry as all
that, and I must beg that you will handle those cases carefully or their
contents will be spoilt or wasted and two human lives placed in
jeopardy, which _you_, Williams, I know, would be the last to wish. If
you have no objection I will superintend the loading of the boat myself,
and whilst that is going forward I hope you will allow Captain Blyth and
Mr Manners to step into the saloon and say good-bye to Miss Stanhope.
It can cause no possible harm, and I am sure the young lady would like
it."
"Very well," said Williams, after a moment's consideration; "I have no
objection. Rogers, let the prisoners' irons be knocked off, and then
send them into the saloon until the boat is ready to take them ashore."
Sibylla was at that moment on the poop affecting to inspect the island
through her own private binocular, but in reality--having overheard
Williams' announcement of his intention to land the two officers there--
watching for an opportunity to say good-bye to the hapless men. Ned,
whose intuition was peculiarly quick and sensitive where this young lady
was concerned, had divined her wishes in an instant, hence the
suggestion he had thrown out; and the moment Sibylla heard that her
desire was to be granted she hastened down into the saloon to await with
a beating heart and swimming eyes the arrival of her two friends.
In a few minutes Captain Blyth and Bob Manners entered the cabin,
accompanied by and apparently in the custody of Rogers, who seemed
undecided whether to go or stay during the progress of the interview.
Sibylla detected the fellow's state of indecision in a moment, and at
once helped him to make up his mind.
"Thank you, Mr Rogers," said she, with one of her most radiant smiles.
"Oblige me by placing chairs for the two gentlemen, if you please; and
would you be so kind as to close the door as you pass out--so that we
may not be interrupted, you know?"
"Yes, miss, cert'nly," stammered the bewildered Rogers, nastily
fulfilling her bidding, and as hastily effecting his bungling retreat.
"Oh, Captain Blyth, I am so pleased to see you--and so sorry!" burst out
Sibylla, as she clasped the skipper's hand and gazed tearfully into his
care-worn face. "How you must have suffered all this cruel time, pent
up there in that horrid, _horrid_ place! Do you know, I have tried, oh,
ever so many times, to get permission to go and sit with you and cheer
you up a bit, but those dreadful wretches would not allow it; and at
last Ned--that is--I mean--Mr Damerell said perhaps I had better not
try any more, as my evident sympathy with you might only make them angry
and result in your further ill-treatment. And now they are going to put
you on shore on a wretched desert island--as they did with my poor
sister and Lucille and--and the rest yesterday, and you are come to bid
me good-bye."
"Yes, my dear, yes," said the skipper huskily, "that is just about the
sum and substance of it. But don't you trouble about us, or about your
sister and the rest of them either for that matter. We shall be all
right, never fear. The island yonder, though it is but a small strip of
a place, is not exactly a desert by what I could see of it as I came
aft; there is grass and trees--and, no doubt, water--upon it; and where
such things are to be found it ought to be no very hard matter for a
couple of handy men like Manners here and myself to pick up a living for
a month or two, which is as long as we intend to remain upon it. For,
hark ye, my dear," continued the skipper, sinking his voice to a whisper
of mystery, "the moment that this ship is fairly out of sight we are
going to set to work upon a boat, and as soon as ever she is finished it
is our intention to make sail for your sister's island. Ned has told me
its whereabouts; and if they can only hold out until we reach them they
will be all right afterwards. And, by this day twelvemonth, if all goes
well, we will not only be, all hands of us, back among civilised people,
but we will have half the men-of-war of the British navy scouring the
seas in search of you. Do you think you can manage to hold out for so
long, my dear?"
"I don't know," said Sibylla, somewhat ruefully, "a year is a long time,
isn't it? However," she continued, rather more cheerfully, "I hope we
may not have to wait so long as that; Mr Damerell is wonderfully
clever--as well as brave and gentle--and I know he is always thinking of
some plan of escape, and he speaks so cheerfully and hopefully that I
cannot but believe he will succeed. And if he does not we are still not
absolutely helpless. The mutineers are quite as much in Mr Damerell's
power as we are in theirs, for he says that not one of them possesses
the least knowledge of the science of navigation, and he therefore
believes that, for their own sakes, they will be civil to us both."
"Well, you are a plucky girl to keep up your spirits so well, and no
mistake!" ejaculated the skipper admiringly. "I am glad to see it, and
shall now be able to say good-bye with an easier mind. Keep up your
courage, my dear, and trust in God; He is as well able to take care of
you here as anywhere else, and He will, too, I am convinced. And, after
God, my dear girl, put your trust in Ned; he is a true gentleman and a
brave, clever lad. He will outwit those rascals yet, you mark my word;
and when he gives them the slip he is not the sort of lad to secure his
own safety and run off, leaving you in the lurch, so--"
"Boat's all ready, and waiting, gents, so look alive, please," here
interrupted Rogers, poking his head in at the cabin door, and as hastily
withdrawing it again.
"Well, then, the time has come for us to say good-bye," resumed the
skipper. "I have said pretty nearly all I wanted to say, and the rest
is not of much consequence. I am glad I have had the opportunity for
this little chat, and more glad than I can say to find you so brave and
hopeful. Keep up your courage, my dear young lady; put your trust in
God, and whatever Ted tells you to do, do it at once and without asking
any questions, because whenever the moment for action comes, it will be
suddenly, unexpectedly, and there will be no time to spare for
explanations. And now, good-bye, my dear girl; good-bye, and God bless
you."
In another moment the parting was over, and the two men stood at the
gangway, beneath which the boat was lying loaded and manned, and only
waiting for them to step into her before shoving off for the shore.
Young Manners at once went down the side and seated himself in the gig's
stern-sheets, and Captain Blyth prepared to follow him. As he stood on
the rail, however, he turned and faced the men, who had all gathered in
the waist to witness his departure, and raised his hand for silence; a
signal which was instantly obeyed.
"Just a word or two before we part for ever, men," he said. "You have a
noble ship under your feet, and you are doubtless flattering yourselves
that when you have once fairly rid yourselves of my presence, your
troubles--whatever they may be--will all be at an end. You are
mistaken, however. Until you and I are parted your crime is not
irreparable; it is even now not too late for you to repent and make
restitution, and so stave off the punishment which _must_ follow the
consummation of your wickedness. You have a noble ship under you feet,
I say; and you probably think that in her you can defy the law, and
laugh to scorn the idea of capture. But, men, whether you believe it or
not, _there is a God_ whose power is great enough to overturn your best
planned schemes in a moment, and think not that He will allow your sin
to go unpunished, or your plans for future crime to prosper. At the
moment when you least expect it--when you are feeling most secure--His
vengeance will fall upon you as a consuming fire. In His hands I leave
you."
And turning his back upon the mutineers, Captain Blyth quietly descended
the side-ladder, seated himself alongside Manners, and gave the order to
shove oh.
CHAPTER TEN.
REFUGE HARBOUR.
Captain Blyth's valedictory speech was not without its effect upon some
at least of the mutineers, who regarded each other with startled eyes,
which dumbly but plainly asked the question:
"Is what we are doing worth the risk?"
Williams--who, it need scarcely be said, was one of the hardened ones
upon whom the skipper's words produced no impression--saw plainly what
was passing in the minds of the others, and hastened to annul the effect
produced.
"That was a very clever speech of the old man's--very clever," he
remarked sardonically. "There was only one fault about it, and that was
that he didn't speak the truth. He spoke of our seizure of the ship as
a crime. Well, maybe it is, according to the law, but we all know by
this time that the laws are made in favour of the rich and against the
poor; and we know, too, that law is not justice. For my own part, when
I perform an act of justice I don't feel very particular about whether
what I am doing is legal or illegal, if it is _just_ it is quite
sufficient to satisfy my conscience. The law, shipmates, is nothing--is
no safe guide for a man's conscience, for we know that many a wrong,
cruel, and unjust act is still perfectly legal--more shame to those that
have the making and the powers of the laws in their hands. If you and I
had been dealt with _justly_ instead of merely legally, the money that
bought this ship and cargo would have gone into our pockets as wages for
the toil and hardship, the suffering and danger that we have been daily
exposed to, instead of going as profit into the pockets of the
merchants. Therefore I maintain that in seizing this ship and her cargo
we have acted with strict justice, inasmuch as that we have merely taken
possession of what ought in justice to have been ours at the outset--we
have repaid ourselves a portion of the wages that we have been defrauded
of during the many years that we have followed the sea. Why, mates, is
it fair, or reasonable, or just, to ask a man to risk his life every
day, as we do, for _three pounds a month_? Why, if our wages were
_three pounds a day_ it would not be too much. Reckon that up, you Bill
Rogers, for all the years you've been following the sea, and how much
will it amount to? Why, a precious sight more than your share of this
ship and her cargo. But, lads, we've agreed to have our dues, and we'll
have them, too, every penny of them; and if our only way of getting them
is by turning pirates, why let the blame rest with those who have driven
us to it. Justice is our right, and we will have it, let who will
suffer for it, and upon that point we are all agreed. Aren't we,
shipmates?"
"Ay, ay, of course we are--certainly, give us justice--give us our just
rights, we want no more," murmured the men in response to Williams'
appeal.
"There is only one thing I should like to know," remarked one man
timidly, "and that is, how we are going to manage without murder if
we're going into the pirating business?"
"Ha! is that you, Tom?" remarked Williams satirically. "You are a
cautious one, _you_ are; don't want to run your neck into a noose, eh?
Well, you are quite right, shipmate, quite right. But you need not
trouble yourselves, any of you, there will be no murder. I have a plan
whereby we can avoid all unpleasantness of that kind, and still make
ourselves perfectly secure, and I will explain that plan to you in due
time, but not now; there are more important matters claiming my
attention at this moment. Where is Ned? Here, Ned, bring out the chart
and spread it upon the capstan-head, and you, lads, go to your
stations."
Upon which the men retired, their torpid consciences silenced, and
themselves more than half convinced of the righteousness of their
actions. As for Ned, he muttered to himself as he went off to get the
chart:
"Clever fellow--very; a regular sea-lawyer! Wonder who he is, and what
he was before he took to the sea? Shall have all my work cut out to get
to windward of _him_."
Ned soon returned with the chart, which he spread open upon the capstan-
head as desired, when Williams and Rogers approached and regarded the
document with looks of the profoundest wisdom.
"A queer-looking spot, isn't it?" remarked Williams to his companion,
indicating with a rapid motion of his finger the entire area of ocean
lying between Celebes, New Guinea, and the northern coast of Australia.
"Very queer!" assented Rogers, with a solemnity in keeping with the
subject.
Whereupon the pair once more inspected the chart for several minutes
with the same look of preternatural wisdom as before, to Ned's intense
but covert amusement.
"Very well," said Williams at length, as though he had finally settled
some knotty point to his complete satisfaction. "Now then, Ned, where
are we?"
Ned placed his finger on a blank part of the chart and answered, "Just
there."
"Yes," agreed Rogers, profoundly, "that's the very identical spot."
Williams glanced at Rogers with a broad smile of amusement, fully aware
that the latter understood a chart about as well as he understood
Sanscrit, and then turned to Ned with the remark:
"Now the next place we want, Ned, is a good harbour where the ship can
ride it out safely in all weathers, where we can heave her down, if need
be, to clear the weeds and barnacles off her bottom, and where we can
build stores and what not."
"Ah!" remarked Ned. "That is a place which has yet to be found."
"Yes, of course, we know that," assented Williams sharply. "The
question is, where ought we to look for it? Of course you understand it
must be a place quite out of the regular track of ships, and not likely
to be visited."
"In that case," said Ned, "I know of no better place to search than our
present neighbourhood. You see that the sea all round the spot where we
now are is marked `Unknown,' which means, of course, that very few ships
navigate these waters, and I fancy that such can scarcely be said of
many other parts of the ocean except such as lie pretty close to the
North and South Poles."
"Very well," said Williams, "in this matter we must trust to you, and we
will therefore search this `unknown' part of the sea. You know best how
it should be done, so give your orders, and I will see that they are
carried out."
"In that case," said Ned, "my advice is this. The wind is still
westerly, and a favourable opportunity is therefore afforded for the
prosecution of our search to the eastward. Now, from our main-royal-
yard a man can see very nearly twenty miles--far enough, at all events,
to make out any land at that distance suitable for your purpose. I
would propose, then, that we should work a traverse to the eastward,
sailing, say, one hundred miles on north by east a half east course, and
then wearing round and sailing two hundred miles on a south by east a
half east course. This will enable us to examine a strip of sea two
hundred miles wide, whilst our northerly and southerly tracks will never
be so far apart but what we _must_ sight any land which happens to lie
within that two-hundred-mile-wide belt. I would continue the search for
say two hundred or two hundred and fifty miles to the eastward; and
then, if you fail to find what you want, we must return and begin a
systematic search to the westward, unless indeed you feel inclined to
take the risk of venturing into better known waters. At night I would
heave the ship to, with her canvas so balanced that she will make no
headway; and in this way, I think, we may manage to pretty thoroughly
explore the proposed track."
"Yes," said Williams thoughtfully, "that seems a very good plan. What
do _you_ think of it, Rogers?"
"Capital!" observed Rogers approvingly; "couldn't be better. If there's
any islands about we're bound to find 'em that way."
The man spoke in a tone of such thorough conviction that Williams turned
and scrutinised his face, as though wondering whether, perchance, the
fellow really happened to dimly understand the matter about which they
were talking, but the stolid features revealed nothing; so turning away
again with a quick smile, he said: