After having fired four or five rounds of ammunition without other
effect than the grazing of Andy’s ear, the mutineers appeared to have
grown tired of such useless work, and ceased to waste their cartridges.
The calm was still “raging.” There was not wind enough to have caused
any perceptible motion in a feather, and those who had taken possession
of their own again could not do otherwise than remain idle, waiting for
that which, by filling the white sails, would carry them far from their
enemies.
On the shore the mutineers sat watching the schooner, unable to do
anything toward regaining her, and, as Jenkins expressed it, “eating
their hearts out” with anger, because they had been so foolish as
to take all the weapons ashore, leaving the ship-keepers virtually
defenseless.
The man who had been bowled over by a belaying-pin recovered
consciousness after the firing ceased, and, with a very disagreeable
sensation in his head, sat on the main hatch, probably wondering what
was to become of him.
“Are you going to keep that thing?” the mate asked of Captain
Mansfield, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb at the
disconsolate-looking mutineer.
“Let him swim ashore when there’s a chance of our crawling away from
this key.”
“Why not use him first?”
“How do you mean?”
“If a breeze should spring up now those fellows on the beach would
amuse themselves by making targets of us while we were raising the
anchor and making sail.”
“I have thought of that; but do not see how it is to be avoided.”
“Make this fellow do such work as he can, with our assistance, while
we remain under cover. Give me the word and I’ll guarantee to have the
little craft ready for the first cat’s-paw which comes over the sea,
and without exposing myself.”
“Act as you please, Mr. Jenkins. It is no more than fair that he should
do something to repay for the trouble and loss which his crowd have
cost us.”
The mate could have asked for no more congenial task, and Andy was in
an ecstacy of delight as the mutineer was forced to play the part of a
barricade for the others.
At first the man appeared disposed to rebel against doing the work
demanded of him; but Mr. Jenkins said, sternly, brandishing a
belaying-pin to give greater emphasis to his words:
“You ought to have a pretty good idea by this time that we shouldn’t
feel very bad to be obliged to break your head, and that’s exactly what
will happen if you don’t step lively. It may be well to tell those
scoundrels on the beach who it is doing this work, otherwise they might
put a bullet into your hide.”
The fellow began to realize that his captors were not to be trifled
with, and very meekly went to the rail, where he shouted:
“Hi! Mike! This crowd have got the drop on me, an’ I’m bound to do as
they say; so don’t shoot, will yer?”
“Why not swim ashore? They can’t do anything, if you only show a little
nerve, ’cause we’ve got all the shootin’ irons.”
“My leg’s about the same as broken, ’an I couldn’t swim a stroke.”
Mike was silent for a few seconds, and then he asked:
“Is the captain countin’ on leaving us here?”
“You have brought it on yourselves, and can be mighty certain that
we wouldn’t raise a finger to help you now, if the whole gang was
starving,” Captain Mansfield shouted from his place of vantage under
the rail.
The mutineers began to understand that a speedy punishment was about to
overtake them, and the leader cried in a whining tone:
“We’ll die for the want of something to drink, if you leave us.”
“There’s little chance the world will be so lucky as to get rid of you.
I shall notify the authorities at Nassau of your whereabouts, as well
as of the likelihood that at least a portion of the brig’s cargo will
be found on Walker Key, and I reckon you’ll not be left alone very
long.”
This acted like a douche of cold water upon the mutineers, who
were also, probably, wreckers, and they exhibited every symptom of
uneasiness.
“It is time for you to go to work,” Mr. Jenkins said to his prisoner.
“Get into the boat with me, and we’ll pull the schooner’s head around
so your friends won’t have so good a chance to interfere with us while
we weigh the anchor; but remember that if you attempt to give me the
slip, I’ll split your head open with this,” and the mate flourished the
belaying-pin savagely.
Sheltered from those on the shore by the yacht herself, this portion
of the task could be done in comparative safety, and while one of the
sailors payed out on the cable the craft was swung around stern on.
Then the men managed to rig up the quarter-deck awning as a screen,
without exposing themselves very much, and all hands could now work
while hidden from view of the angry scoundrels on the shore.
After this had been done the anchor was weighed, and then the two in
the boat pulled and tugged at the oars until the _Day Dream_ was fully
a mile from the shore.
This had not been accomplished without some show of remonstrance from
the mutineers. When the yacht first began to move through the water,
and they understood what was being done, a volley of bullets was
discharged at random, many finding their way through the canvas screen;
but finally this useless evidence of rage ceased, probably because the
ammunition had been exhausted.
Not until they were beyond range did Mr. Jenkins allow his prisoner to
cease his efforts, and then, wiping the perspiration from his face, he
said:
“Now there is nothing to prevent your going ashore, if you feel so
disposed.”
“Will you let the men pull me in to that point?”
“Not much. What is to prevent your swimming?”
“I couldn’t do it, even if there were no sharks hereabout, as there are
sure to be. My leg feels as if it was broken.”
“You got off cheaply, and that’s more than can be said for the rest of
the gang, since they will have to answer to the authorities for what
has been done. If you don’t want to swim, get on board, for I sha’n’t
give you the chance of stealing one of these boats.”
The man obeyed without another word, and once on the schooner he
crouched under the rail forward as if anxious to escape observation.
Meanwhile, as soon as the yacht was at a reasonably safe distance from
the shore, Gil and Nelse went below to learn what the mutineers had
done there, and the scene which met their gaze was well calculated to
fill them with mingled feelings of anger and dismay.
One would have said that a hundred men had been amusing themselves with
trying to see how much mischief could be done in a given length of
time. The contents of the staterooms were dragged into the cabin, where
they might be examined leisurely, and left lying on the floor. Food of
all kinds was scattered in every direction, and as much wasted as would
have served the rightful crew of the yacht for many days.
“We ought to be thankful we have got the _Day Dream_ back in any
condition,” Gil said, with a long-drawn sigh; “but it is more than
provoking to think we gave that crowd the opportunity of destroying
things.”
“All the weapons, watches and money are gone,” Nelse added; “but from
what your father said I don’t fancy the amount of cash is enough to
make them very rich, and we’ll soon repair damages, so it won’t pay
to mourn a great deal. Let’s do what we can toward setting things to
rights.”
While the boys were engaged in this work, Andy was surveying his
quarters, and if harsh words could have injured the mutineers, not one
would have been left alive five minutes after he saw the condition of
his kitchen.
They had not spent so much time in the galley as aft; but the same
scene of wanton destruction met the cook’s gaze, and he attributed the
greater portion of it to the voudoos, whose especial domains the boys
had threatened to invade.
“Dere’s gwine ter be de berry debbil raised on dis yere cruise, ef de
captain consists in runnin’ to Hayti,” he muttered, while trying to
repair the damage. “I’se done gone boun’ ter tork ter dem boys ag’in,
kase dey mus’ know wha’s sartin ter happen, ef dat pirates’ gol’ ain’
got out ob dere min’s.”
During this time those on deck had not been idle. Every inch of
canvas belonging to the yacht was spread to catch the first breath of
air which should come over the sea, and the captain and mate amused
themselves by watching the mutineers, who still remained on the beach
as if unable to understand that they had lost the little craft so
suddenly.
“There comes what we are waiting for,” Mr. Jenkins said, as he pointed
toward the west, where a faint ruffling of the water into a deeper blue
betokened the rising of the wind. “Now, what is to be done with the
fellow forward?”
“Call him aft, and let him decide the question.”
The man obeyed Mr. Jenkins’ summons in a slouchy, shamefaced manner,
touching his hat when he reached the quarter-deck, and standing there
as if expecting punishment was about to be meted out to him.
“We hope to be under way in a short time,” Captain Mansfield began,
“and you are to say what is to become of your precious self. I should
be warranted in taking you to Nassau in chains; but it will be too much
trouble.”
“I would like to be set ashore, sir.”
“You can leave at any time; but I don’t propose the men shall exert
themselves in your behalf by so much as pulling an oar.”
“I can’t swim,” the man said, piteously.
“That may be; but if we row you ashore your precious friends will
probably gain possession of the boat, considering the fact that they
are well armed, while we would be helpless.”
“I can rig up a sort of raft on which he could manage to reach the
land,” Mr. Jenkins ventured to say, observing that the captain
hesitated.
“Very well; if he chooses to go in that manner, I have no objection,”
and Captain Mansfield turned away, for he was eager to be rid of the
mutineer, but did not propose to take any risks.
Two empty casks, with a plank from one to the other, formed quite a
seaworthy raft for one man, and ten minutes later, just as the oncoming
breeze filled the yacht’s sails, the mutineer was paddling for dear
life toward the key.
There was no time to watch his movements, for the _Day Dream_ began to
draw away from the land in a manner which told that the run to Nassau
would be quickly an accomplished fact, providing the wind held.
Once more the yacht was bound south, and, despite all the misfortunes
which Andy persisted in believing were caused by the voudoos, Gil and
Nelse allowed themselves to dream again of the pirates’ gold.