Bad Weather.
When the second mate reached the deck the wind had freshened still
more. In the southwest a low lying bank of slate colored cloud was
slowly diffusing itself over that quarter of the heavens.
Under its lower edge, was a coppery hued, wind streaked border, that
glistened in a dull way.
"The barometer is falling," remarked Rucker as he prepared to go below.
"We're going to have a nasty spell, I guess. You might take a double
reef in that jib if it gets worse. If there's any shortnin' of sail
beyond that, call the captain."
In his walk to and fro the second mate's thoughts reverted to Ralph
occasionally and he took pains later on, to ask Neb if the boy had had
anything to eat.
"Nuttin' but braid an' water, suh. Capn's orders."
"It's a shame," thought Duff. "The lad's sick, so I don't reckon he's
hungry; but he ought to have something more strengthening than that. I
wonder what kind of a hole this sweat box is?"
But as the weather grew worse, Mr. Duff's attention was necessarily
given entirely to the management of the vessel when on watch, and
during his hours off, he usually slept away his fatigue.
The storm that gradually rose lasted, with varying fury, for three
days. The Curlew proved herself a stanch and buoyant craft, easily
controlled and as stiff under sail as a two decker.
It was well for all hands that this was so, for the cyclone was a
dangerous one, being a stray tempest from that center breeding place of
storms, the West Indies. On the second day the two strong men who were
required to steer had to be lashed to the wheel. Great combers
occasionally swept the decks from bow to stern. After one of these the
little schooner would rise, staggering not unlike a drunken man, the
brine pouring in torrents from the scuppers, and the very hull
quivering from the shock of the impact of those tons of water.
The hatches were battened down and after the first day Captain Gary
never left the deck. He had food and drink brought to him, as he swung
to the weather shrouds, where he at times lashed himself, to avoid
being washed overboard.
He was the coolest man on the ship, never losing either presence of
mind or a certain lightness of spirits, totally unlike the apparently
ungovernable fury that possessed him when crossed by any one under his
authority. His slight figure and gloved white hands seemed endowed
with muscles of steel; he was, to all appearance, impervious to fatigue
or fear.
"He's a sailor, right," exclaimed Duff one day to Rucker, after Gary
had brought the schooner unscathed through a mountainous wave that had
threatened to overwhelm everything. "I will say this for him, he knows
how to handle a ship."
"I should say!" declared the first mate. "There ain't his ekal
nowhere. I've sailed with him and I know."
When the weather moderated and the schooner, after being tidied up, was
plunging along with a double reefed fore and single reefed mainsail,
and every one was breathing freely, Duff again thought of Ralph.
"Poor fellow," said he to himself, "it's been tougher on him than any
of us. He must have thought we were going to Davy Jones any time these
three days."
Not long after this he saw Long Tom bearing away a covered tin dish
from the galley, and hastened to join the boatswain.
"Is that the kid's grub?" he demanded, taking off the lid and surveying
the contents. "Tis, eh? Well, see here, Bludson, I call it a crying
shame. Bread and water still! Heave ahead. I am going to see what
kind of a place this sweat box is."
The boatswain would have remonstrated, but Duff ordered him on
peremptorily. He led the way therefore to a trap door in the floor of
the men's quarters in the forecastle.
Passing through this with a lighted lantern they pushed forward into
the very bow of the vessel, where a small space--three cornered--was
walled in. Inside was a form crouched in a corner.
The whole area was a mere closet, not only pitch dark within, but
several feet below water level and with but a couple of inches of
planking between a prisoner and the swashing, gurgling billows outside.
"Ralph," called Duff, "are you all right, my lad?"
"Here, boy," said Tom, setting down the tin vessel, "wake up and eat a
bite. Mayhap cap'n will let you out before long. He's in a good humor
today."
But Ralph did not move. Duff raised him in his arms.
The boy was insensible, either from fright, exhaustion, or the lack of
suitable food. The mate's anger rose within him like a torrent.
"This is simply brutal!--it is infamous. Lead the way out of here,
bos'n; or--stay! Go to Captain Gary and say that Mr. Duff wants him to
come here right away."
"It's as much as my life's worth, sir."
"Go on I tell you!" Duff was white to the lips, "D'ye want to see
murder done? This lad's life is at stake, I say."
While Tom went off grumbling, the second mate bathed Ralph's face with
water from a jug he found, and chafed his hands.
"Poor fellow! If I lose my job and am put here with him, I will speak
out. The boy hasn't had a decent thing to eat since he came aboard."
Presently the flicker of Tom's lantern was seen again. The captain was
behind him, and in no good humor over the message he had received.
The dash and swirl of water outside was incessant and deafening.
"Mr. Duff," said Gary in his most grating tones, "who gave you the
authority to interfere with my designs regarding this insolent
youngster?"
[Illustration: "Mr. Duff," said Gary in his most grating tones, "who
gave you the authority to interfere with my designs regarding this
insolent youngster?"]
Duff's first reply was to bring Ralph's pale, inanimate face under the
light.
"Captain Gary," said he, "I profess to be a man--not a brute. I
recognize your authority, but when I see murder about to be done--it's
time to say something."
The captain looked around as if to find a weapon wherewith to strike
his subordinate down, while in his eye shone a dull spark. He did not
look at Ralph, but controlled himself by a mighty effort.
"Of course," he was able to say at last, "if the kid is in any danger,
that alters the state of the case. But I dare say he is shamming."
"Shamming! Look at his eyes; feel of his pulse."
The captain declined these offices. He bit his nether lip instead and
regarded Duff in a peculiar way, as the latter continued his efforts to
resuscitate the boy.
"We have no ship's doctor on board as you know," said Gary. "However,
take him to a bunk in the men's quarters and tell the cook to make him
some broth. He'll come round; then we will see how he behaves. Do you
understand, Mr. Duff?"
"Aye, aye, sir. Give the boy a chance and I think he will come out all
right."
Here Ralph showed signs of animation. He twisted himself as if in
pain, then muttered:
"If he beats me I--I--shall--kill him! Shan't I--grandpa? You
drove--me--away--cause I wouldn't--cause I--wouldn't----" He became
unintelligible for a moment, but finally burst forth with feeble energy
again. "Let him starve me--shut me up--but--let him keep his hands
off--hands off."
The dull spark in Captain Gary's eyes seemed to enlarge and twinkle as
the boy uttered these words in a semi-drowsy, spasmodic way. Presently
the partially rolled up eyes opened in a natural manner and blinked
feebly at the light.
At this juncture a loud cry was heard from aloft of:
"S-a-i-l h-o!"
The captain turned away as if the interruption were a welcome one to
him.
"Stow that lad and see to him," he repeated, then added sternly: "Be
assured of one thing, Mr. Duff, I will not forget your part in this
affair."
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the second mate, as the captain walked off.