I drilled enough active men aside from the men of the _Arrow_, and
divided them into watches for a crew; so I managed to keep canvas on the
ship and get about all there was out of her in regard to speed. The
weather was perfect, and there was no call to do much else than steer
and tend the braces. A few of the convicts had been to sea before, and
these I used for work aloft. As soon as Brown’s leg was well enough to
allow him to stand on deck he relieved me as far as attending to the
steering.
I worked out the ship’s position every day at noon, and Benson would
pick it off carefully on a chart pinned to the cabin table. But we were
never alone together a moment. The four men who acted as Benson’s
lieutenants were always at hand, and the heavy-set short villain,
Johnson, was always on deck when his master was below.
Brown and I seldom had a chance to speak to each other. A score of eyes
were upon us all the time when we were on deck, on the lookout for any
act of treachery. I could see by Brown’s look of inquiry that he was
trusting to my knowledge of seamanship to get us out of the difficulty.
Once he came near me and asked: “What’s the chance?” But that heavy-set
devil, Johnson, saw him speak to me, though he couldn’t hear what was
said, and he came up to us with a string of oaths and ordered Brown
forward.
I don’t think I slept more than a few hours during the first days of
that cruise. At times my blood would rush to my head and I would find
that I could stand it no longer. A dozen times I started up from my bunk
and made ready for the end. I had no weapon except a sailor’s
sheath-knife, but I knew that if I once could get within reach of Benson
nothing could save his life. But I knew that if I killed him it would
leave the girl to the mercy of the common crowd. This thought would make
me so weak at times that the sweat would run down my face and neck, and
I would get so dizzy that I could scarcely stand. I was as near being
crazy as a sane man could possibly get.
Every idea as to wrecking the ship, should it come on to blow, I worked
and studied over. As to running the vessel off her course by false
reckoning, I had to give that over as absolutely useless. Benson was not
a man one could deceive easily, and he knew a compass as well as I did.
I might get a hundred miles out in a week or two, without his seeing the
error, but a hundred miles one way or the other would not count for
anything in the middle of the South Atlantic Ocean. We could get no
nearer help in that way.
There was nothing to do but carry on and trust in Providence that we
would be overhauled on suspicion, though there was but little hope of
this happening on an American merchantman. I tried to calculate
O’Toole’s chances of being picked up. All alone in the middle of the
ocean, and under an equatorial sun. I knew there was but little hope
for him. And even if he should be picked up he would not be able to give
the slightest clue to our whereabouts or destination.
Studying and planning all sorts of desperate schemes I passed the first
week. Then I determined to put off action until a favourable moment.
The weather remained fair and the lumpy little trade clouds flew merrily
past our skysail trucks.
Benson took care that Miss Waters did not appear on deck often, for the
temper of the men was not such that he could trust them. More than once
there were mutterings concerning the life aft.
I dreaded this very much, for if the men once took charge, the horror of
the conditions would be more than bearable. It would mean that both
Brown and myself would be forced to go out in a futile fight against
odds which could not be overcome.
One evening I managed to get near the cook without being noticed. The
moke gave me a look and I spoke.
“Is there any way you can thin the crowd down?” I asked.
“What yo’ mean, sir?” he answered, with a grin.
“You know,” I said. “Hasn’t Gus spoken to you?”
“Yaassir, dat he has.”
“There’s rat-poison by the box in the fore-hold,” I said.
It was a wild and grotesque idea, but it shows the straits we were put
to when we even considered such a thing. It would not do to have
anything happen to Benson or his mate Johnson until the men forward were
thinned out. Further consideration of the scheme showed its futility,
for it would be impossible to carry out anything so destructive, owing
to the different watches and messes. I was sorry I had spoken, for it
put an idea into the moke’s head which well-nigh proved fatal to all.
One day shortly afterward the men complained of their food and took
occasion to flog the cook for not providing better.
The poor fellow was haled to the main rigging and his hands made fast
to the sheer-pole, his feet just clearing the deck. Then every man of
the complaining crowd took a few whacks at his bare back with a stiff
piece of ratline stuff. He made no outcry, but fell fainting to the deck
when cut down. When he came around again I saw the white of his eye and
noticed the peculiar gleam, which boded no good for some one.
Two days later we passed the Argentine steamer, from Buenos Ayres to
Liverpool. She was one of those new screw vessels, and the absence of
the big side paddle-boxes made her look very shipshape. She was going
along about ten knots and her decks were crowded with passengers. Now
and then a white dress fluttered in the breeze.
As we drew near Benson came to me.
“How fast do we go, Mr. Gore?” said he.
The _Arrow_ was heeling down and tearing along steadily now under
everything we could put on her, for the trade was steady and held
perfectly fair at east-southeast.
“I believe we are going a bit faster than the steamer,” I ventured.
An ugly gleam lit up his dark eyes. I saw what he meant before he spoke,
for he was most ignorant of seamanship and all things concerning a
vessel.
“If you can catch her, lay us up alongside,” he said, “for we have
particular business aboard her.” And he called to Johnson and some
others who were standing aft.
I tried to explain that although we were going much faster than the
steamer it would be absolutely impossible to board her, but he could not
or would not see it.
“We can only go one way,” I said, “and to try to catch him would simply
make us absurd. He would only have to head up into the wind and we would
come aback all standing, stopping dead. Then he would only have to get a
mile or so to windward and come down upon us. We could not possibly get
out of his way in time and he could run us down easily.”
As it was certain the steamer would not stop for us, the affair would
only have a bad ending, perhaps complicating matters still more. For
that reason I was not overkeen to do anything foolish. The steamer drew
up so quickly on our weather beam that Benson was forced to give up any
idea of trying his villainy upon her. It showed plainly, however, that
he would stop any sailing ship he might see, and there was much to be
hoped from this. My evident desire not to board a ship would be of good
stead to me when the right time came. I could use it to advantage. There
would be vessels in sight soon now, for we were nearing the latitude of
the river at a ten-knot rate.
It was while the men were all engrossed watching the liner that the cook
took the opportunity for revenge. He had managed to get below and
procure enough rat-poison to kill a dozen ship’s companies. This he
mixed with the dinner for all hands, sparing none.
One of the men who started to eat noticed the taste and called attention
to it while the rest waited suspiciously, remembering the affair of the
flogging. Soon the fellow was nauseated and the men broke forth in a
fury.
The moke was haled forward. Gus, who had been seen talking to him, was
also brought up. Then they were told to eat, and some of the mess food
was placed before them. There were cries for Brown and myself and a gang
of rascals came tumbling aft for us.
Benson met them at the edge of the poop with his revolver drawn, and
Johnson came up behind him with a double-barrelled gun. A tall fellow
who was in Benson’s confidence stood near the after companionway and
laid two pistols upon the deck within reach of both his hands.
“What do you want?” asked Benson, sharply.
“We want the mate and the young fellow,” said the spokesman of the gang,
and the rest took up the cry.
[Illustration: “‘WHEN I WANT YOU MEN TO COME AFT HERE TO HELP ME, I’LL
SEND FOR YOU.’”]
“Who will run this ship, then?” asked the leader, levelling his pistol
at the man starting up the ladder to the poop. He spoke in a low, deep
voice, but so distinctly that the fellow hesitated.
“I’m running this vessel,” said Benson, “and when I want you men to come
aft here to help me I’ll send for you. You’d hang the whole crowd of us
if you had your way. Go back forward and if the grub is no good make the
cook eat it--and then pick your own cook. Go back.”
But the men were angry and hesitated.
“Do you think Mr. Gore would try to poison you, you fools?” he
continued. “What good would that do him? Can he run the ship alone?”
Brown, who had turned in, having relieved me during the last watch,
heard the rumpus and came on deck through the forward door of the cabin
house. The men were standing there and surrounded him at once. It looked
as though he would be roughly handled.
Benson saw that some quick action must be made at once. He thrust his
pistol in his belt and made a flying leap from the break of the poop,
landing upon the heads of the men who had gripped the third mate. With
immense power he swung them first this way and then that as the bunch
rolled upon the deck. Then dragging two of them to their feet along with
him, he shook them and shoved them forward. Johnson stood motionless
with his gun ready and Brown climbed the ladder to the poop. In a moment
Benson came back. “You see, Gore, what a mess a man can make of things,”
he said, coolly. “I know you had nothing to do with the cook, or I’d
make you eat some of the grub. Better go aft out of the way.”
It was good advice, and Brown followed me to the taffrail.
“It’s a pity,” I whispered, “that the moke didn’t use better judgment.
If he had given a little less we might have had a chance.”
“It has given Benson an idea at any rate,” said Brown. “You can look out
for a pain in the stomach when we sight the land.”
A man was detailed from the crowd of convicts to do the cooking
afterward, and others watched him and took turns cleaning up. The moke
and Gus disappeared. We never saw them again.