At six o'clock that evening the _Motutapu_ was plunging into a heavy
head sea, for the wind had suddenly hauled round to the northeast and
raised a mountainous swell. Chard and his jackal were seated in the
latter's cabin on deck. A half-emptied bottle of brandy was on the
table, and both men's faces were flushed with drink, for this was the
second bottle since noon. Hendry did not present a pleasant appearance,
for Tessa's pistol had cut deeply into his thin, tough face, which was
liberally adorned with strips of plaster. The liquor he had taken had
also turned his naturally red face into a purple hue, and his steely
blue eyes seemed to have dilated to twice their size, as he listened
with venomous interest to Chard. “Now, look here, Louis,” said the
latter, “both you and I want to get even with him, don't we?”
It was only when the supercargo was planning some especial piece
of villainy that he addressed his _confrere_ by his Christian name.
Secretly he despised him as a “damned Dutchman,” to his face he
flattered him; for he was a useful and willing tool, and during the
three or four years they had sailed together had materially assisted the
“good-natured, jovial” supercargo in his course of steady peculation.
Yet neither trusted the other.
“You bet I do,” replied Hendry; “but I'd like to get even with that
spiteful little half-bred Portuguese devil----”
“Steady, Louis, steady,” said Chard, with a half-drunken leer; “you must
remember that she is to be Mrs. Samuel Chard.”
“Don't think you have the ghost of a chance, as I said before. She's in
love with that fellow.”
“Then she must get out of love with him. I tell you, Louis”--here he
struck his fist on the table--“that I mean to make her marry me. And
she'll be _glad_ to marry me before we get to Ponapé. And if you stick
to me and help to pull me through, it's a hundred quid for you.”
“How are you going to do it?” and the captain bent forward his foxy face
and grinned in anticipation.
“Same old way as with that Raratongan girl last year. She'll go to sleep
after supper, and I can open any door in the saloon, as you know, don't
you, old man?” and he laughed coarsely. “Dear, dear, what times we have
had together, Louis, my esteemed churchwarden of Darling Point, Sydney!”
The Dane tugged at his beard, and then poured out some brandy for
himself and his fellow scoundrel. “We have, we have, Sam,” he said,
uneasily. “But what about the native woman who sleeps with her?”
“The native woman, when _she_ awakes, my Christian friend, will find
herself in the trade-room in the company of Mr. Tim Donnelly, one of the
firemen. And Mr. Tim Donnelly, to whom I have given two sovereigns,
will bear me out, if necessary, that 'the woman tempted him, and he did
fall.' Also he will be prepared to swear that this native woman, Maoni,
told him that her mistress expected a visit from Mr. Chard, and had
asked her to be out of the way.”
“Well, after that.”
“After that, my dear Christian friend, with the rudely executed diagrams
in sticking-plaster on the facial cuticle, my pious churchwarden with
the large family of interesting girls--after that, Miss Tessa Remington
will be glad to marry Mr. Samuel Chard, inasmuch as when _she_ awakes it
will be under the same improper conditions as those of the dissolute
Tim Donnelly and the flighty Miss Maoni; for the beauteous Tessa will
be fortuitously discovered by Captain Louis Hendry and several other
persons on board, in such circumstances that an immediate marriage of
the indiscreet lovers by one of the American missionaries at Ponapé
will present the only solution of what would otherwise be a 'terrible
scandal.'”
“And what will you do with this fellow Carr?”
“Chuck him ashore at the Mortlocks,” replied Chard with an oath; “we'll
be there in a couple of days, and I'll kick him over the side if he
turns rusty. Hillingdon doesn't like him, so we are quite safe.”
“When is the love-making to come off?” asked Hendry, with a fiend-like
grin.
“As soon as we are clear of Carr--or sooner; to-night maybe. We must log
it that he was continually trying to cause the native crew to mutiny,
and that for the safety of the ship we got rid of him. Hillingdon will
back us up.”
*****
Tessa did not appear at supper. She kept to her cabin with Maoni, her
dear Maoni, who, though but little older than herself, was as a mother
to her; for the native girl had been brought up with her and her sisters
from their infancy. And as Tessa lay back with her dark head pillowed
against the bosom of the native girl, and sobbed as she thought of her
lover lying in the deck-house with the handcuffs on his wrists, Maoni
pressed her lips to those of her mistress.
“Lie there, little one, lay thy head on my bosom,” she said; “'tis a bad
day for thee, but yet all will be well soon. These sailor men with the
brown skins will not let thy lover be hurt. That much do I know already.
Speak but one word, and the captain and the big fat man with the black
eyes will be dead men.”
Tessa smiled through her tears. “Nay, Maoni, that must not be; I desire
no man's death. But yet if he be not set free to-morrow trouble will
come of it, for he hath done nothing wrong; and the brown men, as thou
sayest, have a strong friendship for him.”
“He shall be set free to-morrow,” said Maoni, with quiet emphasis. “The
brown sailor men have talked together over this thing, and they say that
they are ready at thy word to make captive the captain, the big fat man,
and all those white men who tend the great fires in the belly of the
ship.”
Tessa knew that the half-dozen of white firemen and stokers were on
bad terms with the native crew. They were a ruffianly, drunken set of
scoundrels, and their leader, a powerfully built man named Donnelly,
had grossly insulted both the first and second mates. He was an especial
_protégé_ of the supercargo, who, as well as the captain, secretly
encouraged him and his fellows to annoy and exasperate the two officers
and the chief engineer.
They remained in their cabin talking together in low tones and without
a light till they heard eight bells strike; and ten minutes afterwards,
just as they were going on deck, some one tapped at the cabin door.
“It is me, Miss Remington,” said the voice of Oliver; “please let me
come in for a moment. Be quick, please, as I don't want the captain to
know I am here.”
Tessa at once opened the door. “Come in Mr. Oliver. But we have no
light.”
“Never mind that, miss,” he said in a low voice, carefully closing the
door and then bolting it, “I cannot stay long. I came to warn you that
there is likely to be trouble tonight about Mr. Carr, and you had better
not come on deck. Keep to your cabin, and don't open your door to any
one except myself, the second mate, or the steward. The native crew are
in a dangerous state of excitement, and I am sure they will attempt to
liberate Mr. Carr before morning. Both the captain and Chard are more
than half-drunk; and the chief engineer tells me that for some reason
they have given liquor to the firemen and stokers, who have set him at
defiance. I fear, I fear greatly, miss, that some calamity may occur on
board this ship to-night. Therefore I beg of you to keep to your cabin.”
“Thank you very much, Mr. Oliver. We certainly did intend to go on deck
and remain some hours, but shall not do so now. But tell me, please,
have you seen Mr. Carr? Is he well?”
“Quite well. I saw him a few minutes ago, and he bade me tell you to
have no fear for him. I am now again going to Captain Hendry to ask him,
for his own and the ship's safety, to set Mr. Carr free. If he refuses I
cannot say what will happen.”
Tessa put her little hand upon the mate's huge, rough paw, and looked
into his honest, troubled eyes through the darkness.
“It is good of you,” she whispered. “Oh, do try, Mr. Oliver, try your
best to make the captain set him at liberty.”
“Indeed I will, miss,” replied the mate earnestly, as he pressed her
hand, and went softly out into the main cabin. He stood by the table for
a minute or two, thinking with wrinkled brow of the best way to approach
the captain and bring him to reason. Presently he sat down, took his
pipe from his pocket, filled it, and began to smoke.
A heavy step sounded on the companion steps, and Chard descended
somewhat unsteadily, and calling for the second steward--who was in the
pantry--to come to him, brushed past the chief officer, and went into
his own cabin.
The second steward--a dirty, evil-faced little cockney named Jessop,
whom Oliver and his fellow officers particularly abhorred--at once
followed the supercargo in to his cabin, which was immediately closed.
In less than five minutes it opened again, and Jessop came out and
returned to the pantry, and presently Oliver heard the rattle of cups
and saucers as the man made preparations for the coffee which was always
served to Hendry, Chard, Carr, and Tessa and her attendant, and the
officer on watch at nine o'clock every evening.
“Would you like a cup of coffee, sir, as you have not turned in?”
It was Jessop who was speaking, and Oliver looked up in some wonder,
for the man knew that he disliked him, and indeed he (Oliver) had once
smartly cuffed him for creating a disturbance for'ard with the native
crew.
Most fortunately for himself, Oliver did not want any coffee, so merely
giving the man a gruff “No, thank you,” he rose and went on deck.
The moment he was out of the cabin Chard appeared, and looked
inquiringly at the second steward.
“'E won't 'ave any, blarst him!” said the man, speaking in a whisper,
for Latour, the chief steward, was in his cabin, which was abreast the
trade-room.
Chard uttered a curse. “Never mind him, then. Sling it out of the port
or you'll be giving it to me instead perhaps. Are the other two cups
ready?”
The man nodded. “All ready, but it's a bit early yet.”
“That doesn't matter. Pour it out and take it to them--the sooner the
better.”
Chard, whose dark face was deeply flushed, sat down at the table, lit
a cigar, and watched his villainous accomplice place the two cups of
coffee with some biscuits on a tray, take it to Miss Remington's door
and knock.
“Coffee, ma'am.”
“Thank you, steward,” he heard Tessa's soft voice reply as Maoni opened
the door and took the tray from Jessop.
The supercargo rose from his seat with a smile of satisfaction. The
crime he meditated seemed no crime to his base and vicious heart.
He merely regarded it as a clever trick; dangerous perhaps, but not
dangerous to him; for deeply steeped as he was in numerous villainies
he had never yet been called to account for any one of his misdeeds,
and long immunity had rendered him utterly hardened and callous to any
sentiment of pity or remorse.
He went on deck and walked leisurely for'ard till he came abreast of the
funnel. A big swarthy-faced man who was standing near the ash-hoist was
awaiting him.
“Are you sober enough, Tim, not to make any mistakes?” asked Chard,
leaning forward and looking eagerly into the man's face.
“Just as sober as you are,” was the reply, given with insolent
familiarity. “I've kept my head pretty clear, as clear as yours and the
skipper's, anyway.”
The two conversed for a few minutes, and then separated, the supercargo
going up on the bridge to join his jackal. Half-way up the ladder he
heard the sound of angry voices. Hendry was quarrelling with his chief
officer.
“Go and keep your watch below,” said the captain furiously, his
bloodshot eyes glaring fiercely upon the mate. “I tell you that I'll
keep the beggar in irons till he rots in them, or until Mr. Chard kicks
him ashore.”
“Very well, sir,” said Oliver quietly, placing his hand on the bridge
rail to steady himself, for the _Motutapu_ was now plunging and
labouring in the heavy head sea, and Hendry was staggering about all
over the bridge--“very well. But I call on Mr. Atkins here to witness
that I now tell you that you are putting the ship into great danger.”
“Say another word to me, and by God I'll put you with your friend
Carr to keep him company!” shouted Hendry, who had now completely lost
control of himself.
Oliver smiled contemptuously, but made no answer. He at once descended
the bridge, and in the starboard alleyway met the chief engineer.
“This is a nice state of affairs, Oliver. Those blackguards of mine are
half-drunk, and unless I get some assistance from the captain I can't
keep up steam. They won't work and are saucy as well.”
The mate shook his head. “You'll get no help from the captain. He and I
have just had a flare-up. He's half-drunk himself, and threatened to
put me in irons. And none of the native crew will go into the stokehole,
that's certain.”
“Well then, something serious will happen. I can keep her going at four
or five knots for another hour or so, and that is all I can do. The
second engineer and myself are dead-beat. She'll broach-to presently,
and then you will see a pretty mess.”
“I can't help it, Morrison,” said the mate gloomily, as he went to his
cabin.
Up on the bridge Hendry and Chard were talking and looking out ahead.
The second mate, a young, muscular man, was standing by the wheel, and
giving a word of warning now and then to the native helmsman, who was
Huka. Although it was not blowing hard the sea had increased greatly,
and every now and then the steamer would make a plunge into a mighty
valley of darkness, and only struggle up out of it with difficulty.
Careful steering was a necessity, for the ship was not steaming more
than four knots, and the least inattention might result in serious
consequences.
“Look out for'ard!” Atkins shouted, as he saw a particularly loose,
knobby sea rise suddenly up over the starboard bow. His warning was
just given in time, for in another moment down dropped the black mass
of water on the well deck with a thundering crash, burying the steamer
completely from the bridge to foc'scle head. She rose slowly, very
slowly.
Hendry lurched up towards the helmsman.
“You damned, red-hided kanaka! Couldn't you see that coming?” and he
struck the man a violent blow on the mouth. In an instant Huka let go
the wheel, swung himself over the rail on to the deck, and ran for'ard.
Atkins looked at his captain with suppressed rage as he seized the
wheel, and then began to watch for the next sea.
Five minutes passed, and then a dozen dark figures made a sudden rush
towards the deckhouse in which Carr lay in irons. Then came the sound
of smashing blows as the door was burst open with an axe, and in a few
seconds Carr was brought out upon the main deck and quickly freed from
his irons by Malua, to whom a duplicate key had been given by the second
mate.
At first Chard and Hendry scarcely comprehended what had happened, so
sudden was the onslaught, but when they saw Carr standing free on the
main hatch they both made a rush aft towards Hendry's deck cabin. This
they gained without opposition, and seizing two loaded Winchesters which
lay in the captain's berth they darted out again, and began firing into
the group of excited native seamen ten paces away. Three men at once
dropped, either killed or wounded; but the rest, nothing daunted at
this, made a rush towards the two men, knives in hand, bore them down
to the deck by sheer weight, and in a few seconds would have ended their
lives had not Carr, Oliver, and Latour the steward flung themselves into
the fray.
“For God's sake, stop!” cried Oliver, “the ship is on fire!”
And then seizing Hendry by the throat, he lifted him to his feet, and
shook him as a terrier shakes a rat. “You damned, drunken villain! You
are not in a fit state to take charge. Lie there, you brute, and let
better men try to save the ship.”
He swung Hendry's slight figure to and fro, and then sent him reeling,
to fall like a log on the deck.
“Men,” he cried, “we are in great danger, the trade-room is on fire!
Atkins, for God's sake try to keep us head to wind. Mr. Carr, you and
some of the hands see to the boats. There are over fifty cases of powder
in the for'ard end of the trade-room, and we can't shift them; but only
the after part is burning so far. Steward, see to Miss Remington. Her
cabin is locked, and I cannot make her hear. She and her maid must be
awakened at once. Pass the word to Mr. Morrison to get the fire hose
aft. Some of you cut a hole here in the deck on the port side, just
abreast of that bollard. Smart's the word and quick's the action, or
we shall all be blown to hell in ten minutes if we can't flood the
trade-room.”
He stopped to give a brief scrutiny to the prone figure of Mr. Samuel
Chard, who had been struck a smashing blow on the head from the butt of
his own Winchester, which Huka had wrested from him.
“Put this beast into one of the boats, Mr. Carr. We must not leave the
blackguard here, as he is not dead, and we can't save the ship, I fear.
Now then, hurry along that hose.”