CHAPTER IV

THE CASTAWAYS

The following morning, at eight bells, those of the crew not on duty or

on the sick-list were assembled upon the forward hatch. Many of them had

heads or limbs in bandages, and they were as meek as little lambs. As

the ship's bells were struck, Calamity mounted the bridge, accompanied

by the mate, and walked up to the rail.

"I'm not going to waste my breath by telling such a crowd of doss-house

and prison scum as you are what I think about you," he said in a harsh,

grating voice, that seemed to emphasise the insults. "What I want to say

is this: the first man who raises a murmur about anything or hesitates

in carrying out an order, that man I'll string up at the end of a

derrick with a hawser for a collar. And remember this: I like a cheerful

crew, and if I see a man who doesn't look as cheerful as he ought, by

God, I'll clap him in the bilboes. Now get out of my sight."

The Captain stepped back from the rail and turned to the mate.

"I always believe in exercising patience and in using persuasion, Mr.

Dykes," he said. "If, however, we should have any more trouble--and I

don't somehow think we shall--it will become necessary to deal

drastically with the offenders."

Without waiting for a reply, he walked into the chart-room, leaving Mr.

Dykes and the second-mate gasping.

"What in thunder would he call 'drastic,' I'd like to know?" inquired

the former. "He's already maimed half the crew and calls that

persuasion. The Lord stand between me and his persuading, that's all I

say."

"He's a bloomin' knock-aht, swelp me Bob," replied the second-mate in a

tone of subdued admiration. "I thought the yarns I'd heard about him was

all kid, but now--help!"

Later on, when Mr. Dykes conveyed his impressions to the chief engineer,

the latter merely nodded without evincing the slightest surprise.

"I told ye he was a michty quare mon," he remarked calmly. "I wouldna

advise ye to run athwart him even if ye've got liquor as an excuse."

"You bet I won't, not after this. I guess I'll have to load up pretty

considerable on liquor before I try to hand him a song and dance."

"Talkin' about liquor, ye'll find a bottle o' rum under the pillow o' my

bunk, Meester Dykes. We'll jest have a wee drappie an' I'll tell ye hoo

I marrit me fairst wife."

"Your first wife?" repeated the mate. "Say, how many have you had?"

"I couldna tell ye off-hand, mon. Ye see, the saircumstances in mony

cases were compleecated, if ye ken me," answered McPhulach thoughtfully.

"Me fairst, now ..."

Mr. Dykes listened for some time to the engineer's account of his

matrimonial complications and then turned in. For the first time since

leaving Singapore, he closed his eyes without an uneasy suspicion that

he and the rest of the officers might have their throats cut before the

morning. Indeed, the crew might henceforward have served as a model for

the most exacting skipper that ever sailed the seas. The men could not

have turned out for their respective watches with more promptitude had

they been aboard a battleship, and their language on such occasions was

such that even the boatswain's mate had no cause for complaint. And they

were cheerful, laboriously cheerful. Whenever Calamity happened to

approach a man, that man would start to hum a tune as if his life

depended on it; he'd smile if he had a ten-thousand-horsepower

toothache; everybody was happy, and only the ship's cat led a dog's

life.

"It's a bloomin' wonder," said the second-mate to Mr. Dykes, "that the

old man don't put up a blighted maypole and make all us perishers dance

round it."

For two days the _Hawk_ kept the smoke-trail of the German gunboat in

view, but made no attempt to overhaul her. Every one agreed that the

_Hawk_, with her four-inch guns, could sink the German. They were

puzzled, therefore, as to the Captain's seeming reluctance to engage

her. But never a word of wonder reached Calamity, never a hint or a

question from his officers; every one was certain that he knew his

business, or, if they weren't, carefully kept it to themselves. And the

Captain himself vouchsafed no explanation.

On the third morning the look-out reported that the gunboat was chasing

a large steamer. Immediately afterwards the men, even those who were not

on watch, came tumbling up on deck, in the hope that at last they were

going to sniff the promised booty. But not a word was spoken, not a man

so much as glanced at the bridge where the skipper stood with his

glasses focussed on the chase. They were patiently cheerful.

Presently there came the faint echo of a shot and the steamer lay-to,

apparently waiting for the pirates to board her. At her stern fluttered

the red ensign of the British Mercantile Marine.

The _Hawk_ had slowed down to quarter speed, and Calamity, through his

glasses, continued to watch events. In a remarkably short space of time

the Germans transferred a portion of the cargo, whatever it might be, to

their own vessel, after which the steamer was allowed to pursue her way.

One thing seemed clear, which was that the Germans cared less for

sinking enemy ships than for laying hands on the more valuable and

portable articles of cargo they happened to carry. The gunboat, having

captured and dismissed her prey, continued on her course, and so also

did the _Hawk_.

Calamity, no doubt, had fully developed his plans, but he appeared,

also, to have developed a very bad memory. For the instructions

accompanying his commission contained, among numerous other clauses, one

which laid it down that "if any ship or vessel belonging to us or our

subjects, shall be found in distress by being in fight, set upon, or

taken by the enemy ... the commanders, officers, and company of such

merchant ships as shall have Letters of Marque shall use their best

endeavours to give aid and succour to all such ship and ships...."

Which, of course, for reasons known only to himself, the Captain of the

_Hawk_ had not done, nor attempted to do.

The morning had been unusually hot, even for such latitudes, and, as the

day advanced, the heat became almost unbearable. The pitch boiled and

bubbled up between the deck-seams and the exposed paintwork became

disfigured with huge blisters. An awning had been rigged up over the

bridge, but, despite this and the fact that it was high above the decks,

the atmosphere was like that of a super-heated bakehouse, dry and

shimmering, nor was there a breath of wind to stir it. Occasionally a

whiff of hot, oily vapour came up through the engine-room gratings and

helped to make the air still more heavy and oppressive. Even the sea,

calm as a pond, looked oily and hot under the glare of a burning noonday

sun set in a sky of metallic blue.

Then, towards eight bells in the afternoon watch, a faint breeze sprang

up; the sky changed imperceptibly from blue to grey, and the sun became

a red, glowing disc with a slight haze round it. The sea had taken on a

yellowish-green tint and angry little wavelets began to chase each other

and to dash themselves viciously against the _Hawk's_ sides. Presently

the breeze died away as suddenly as it had arisen, but the sky became

more and more overcast and the wavelets grew into boulders,

white-crested and threatening. The sun disappeared behind a bank of

black, evil-looking clouds, while the atmosphere became still more

oppressive and the decks and awnings steamed. A strange, uncanny silence

had settled over everything, so that the least noise sounded curiously

distinct. The throb of the engines, usually mellow and subdued, came now

in sharp, staccato beats; the clang of the furnace-doors and the rattle

of rakes and shovels in the stokehold could be plainly heard on the

bridge.

"Strike me pink, if we ain't in for a bloomin' typhoon, a reg'lar

rip-snorter," muttered the second-mate as he mopped his perspiring

forehead.

The quartermaster set his teeth and gripped the wheel more

tightly--something was going to happen. A moment later, Calamity stepped

on to the bridge and gave a quick, comprehensive glance around him.

"Everything lashed up and made secure, Mr. Smith?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," answered the second, and added: "We're runnin' into a proper

blazer; none of your bloomin' twopenny-ha'penny breezes this time."

Already the awnings had been taken in, spars and loose gear made fast,

derricks secured, and ports screwed down. Every moment it grew darker

and the _Hawk_ was beginning to roll in an uncomfortable fashion.

Suddenly the sky was split by a blinding flash of lightning followed by

a crashing peal of thunder that seemed to shake the vessel from stem to

stern. There was a moment's interval, during which rain-spots the size

of pennies appeared on the deck and a grey haze settled over the sea.

Then came another flash of lightning, a terrific roar of thunder, and

the storm burst in all its fury. The rain came down now in solid sheets

of water, pouring off the bridge and deck-houses in cascades and

flooding out the scuppers which could not drain it fast enough. The sea

had gained in fury with the hurricane and now broke over the bulwarks,

mounted the forecastle, and swept along the decks from bow to stern. One

great wave even leapt up to the bridge, tearing away the awning spars,

smashing the woodwork to splinters, and very nearly wrenching the wheel

from the quartermaster's hands.

Another great roller struck the _Hawk_ amidships and she reeled till her

port bulwarks were under water. Gradually she righted, her funnel-guys

twisted into a mass of tangled wire, her boats carried away or stove in,

her decks, fore and aft, littered with wreckage and gear which had been

swept loose. Between the deafening peals of thunder, the shouts and

curses of the poor wretches in the stokehold could be heard as they were

thrown against the glowing furnace doors, or the firebars slipped out,

shooting great masses of red-hot coal and clinker among their half-naked

bodies.

Sometimes a wave would catch the vessel under the stern, lifting her so

that her bows plunged forward into the boiling sea ahead, her propeller

racing high in the air until the plates quivered with the vibrations. Or

she would lift her nose to an oncoming billow, and, rising with it, bury

her stern in the seething vortex till the wheel-house disappeared from

view beneath the turbid, foaming water. It seemed impossible that any

ship could live through such a storm.

But at last the lightning began to grow less vivid, the thunder

gradually died away in the distance and the sea, little by little,

subsided. Firemen, black from head to foot, staggered along the deck to

the forecastle and threw themselves just as they were upon their bunks;

the second engineer came off duty, a bloody sweat-rag twisted round his

head, and reeled, rather than walked, to his cabin. Then McPhulach

appeared at the fiddley, mopping his face with a lump of oily waste.

"Are you all right below?" shouted Calamity from the bridge.

"Aye, but some of the puir deils will carry the mairks o' this day upon

their bodies as long as they live," answered the engineer. "Hell must

be a garden party to what it was down yon a wee while aback."

As he spoke, two injured firemen, the upper parts of their bodies

wrapped round with oil-soaked waste, were brought on deck and carried to

the forecastle. Their faces, which had evidently been wiped with

sweat-rags, were of a corpse-like whiteness that was accentuated by the

circles of black coal-dust round their eyes.

"Half roasted," said McPhulach, indicating with a jerk of his head the

two injured men. "If they hadna rinds like rhinoceros hide, they'd be

dead the noo. Mon, the stokehold smelt like a kitchen wi' the stink o'

scorching meat."

The engineer disappeared and Calamity turned to Mr. Dykes, who had

relieved Smith on the bridge.

"Serve out a tot of rum to all hands," he said. "It's been a trying

experience."

"Trying experience!" echoed the mate. "It was as near hell as ever I

touched, sir."

The Captain was about to make some remark when he suddenly snatched a

pair of binoculars out of the box fastened to the bridge-rail. He

focussed them upon the seemingly deserted waste of tossing grey waters

and then handed them to the mate.

"What do you make of that, Mr. Dykes?" he asked, indicating a point on

the port quarter.

The mate stared through the glasses for some minutes, then handed them

back to the Captain.

"It's a boat with a man and a woman in it, or I'm a nigger," he said.

"So I thought," answered the Captain.

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