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Sail Ho! A Boy at Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 10 |
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_ CHAPTER TEN. As I clung there in the mizzen-shroud, afraid to stir, hardly daring to breathe lest I should be heard, and puzzled beyond measure as to what it could all mean, but feeling all the same certain that something terrible had happened, and that it was no shipwreck, there was a tremendous kicking and banging at one of the cabin-doors, and up through the sky-light came in smothered tones-- "Here, open this, or I'll kick it off the hinges." "Lie down!" yelled a sharp angry voice from somewhere beneath me, and there was a flash of a pistol, the loud report, and a few moments after the smell of the powder rose to my nostrils. "Jarette," I said to myself, as I recognised the half-French sailor's voice, and then I felt sure that it was Mr Frewen who had shouted from one of the cabins where he must be locked in. "Then it must be a mutiny," I thought, and such a cold paralysing chill ran through me that I felt as if I should drop down on deck. For the recollection of all I had read of such affairs taking place in bygone times flashed through my brain--of officers murdered in cold blood, ships carried off by the crew to unknown islands, and--yes--I was an officer, young as I might be, and if the mutineers caught me they would murder me, as perhaps they had already murdered Captain Berriman and Mr Brymer. I felt giddy then, and the wonder has always been to me that I did not let go and fall. But my fingers were well hooked on to the ropes, and there I hung listening, as after pretty well scouring the deck the men below me stopped, and the voice that I had set down as Jarette's said-- "Well, have you got him?" "No." "Did you feel under the seats?" "Yes; there's no one on this deck." "Did he go overboard?" "No; he must have dodged us and dropped back from the rail." "Who was it? The doctor?" "No; that whipper-snapper of a boy." "Oh, him. Well, then he'd better come out of his hole, wherever he is," said Jarette loudly, speaking in very good English, though with a peculiar accent which sounded to me almost ferocious, as I hung there feeling as if I could not hold on much longer. "Do you hear, boy? Come here, or I'll send a bullet to fetch you." That man was not twenty feet below me, and as I strained my eyes to try and see whether he was watching me and taking aim, a curious creeping sensation ran over my body as if tiny fingers were touching me. "Do you hear?" came in a fierce snarl,--"am I to fire?" The voice sounded so close now that the words seemed to be shouted in my ear, and for the minute, feeling certain that he knew where I was, I drew myself up ready to drop down. But still I hesitated, though I felt perfectly certain he was looking up and pointing his pistol at me. There was an interval of perfect silence then, save that a murmur came from below, and this encouraged me, for I felt that I must be invisible in the darkness, or else Jarette would have had me down. Then my heart sank, for the man shouted suddenly-- "There, boy, I can see you; come out or I'll fire." "Come out! Then he cannot see me," I thought, and I clung there spasmodically, hoping still that I was unobserved. "He's not here," said Jarette, sharply; "now then, one of you, I want a man at the wheel, the ship's yawing about anyhow. Who have you there-- Morris?" "Down on guard at the cabin-door," said a voice. "Brook?" "'Long with him." "Jackson?" "Sitting on the forksle-hatch." "Sacre! Where's Bob Hampton?" "Hee-ar!" came from the direction of the way down to the lower deck. "Come up here and take the wheel." "Ay, ay," growled the familiar voice, and I felt heart-sick to hear it, for Bob Hampton would have been the first man I should have picked out as one to be trusted, while the sound of his voice made it appear that every one would be against us. But though these thoughts flashed through my mind, I was listening all the time intently to what went on below, striving as I was to grasp the real state of affairs. "Here you are then, Bob Hampton. Behold you, my friend, though it's so dark I can't see you," said Jarette, and I heard a low chuckling noise which I recognised as Bob Hampton's laugh. "And that's a bull as arn't an Irish one," he said. "Ah, yes, faith of a man, but don't you try to be funny, my man," said Jarette, "for this is not a funny time, when men are working with their necks in the hang-dog noose. Now, look here, my friend, I did not ask you to join us, because I did not trust you; but you have joined us to save your skin; so you had better work for us well, or--there, I will not say ugly things. You are a good sailor, Bob Hampton, and know your work, and it would be a pity if you were to be knocked overboard and drowned." "Horrid pity, messmet." "Captain, if you please, Bob Hampton, and your friend if you are faithful. That will do. Now go to the wheel, and send the ship on her voyage south. She is rolling in the trough of the sea." "Right!" said Bob. "'Spose, captain, you won't be so particklar; man may light his pipe while he is at the wheel." "Oh yes. Smoke and be comfortable; but you will mind how you steer, for I shall be a hard severe man. You understand, extremement severe." "Course you will," said Bob, coolly; "skippers must be. Don't matter to me, messmate--cap'n, I mean--one skipper's good as another. But I say, cap'n, there's Barney Blane and Neb Dumlow knocked on the head in the forksle. They on'y showed fight a-cause they see as I did at first. They're good mates and true, and 'll jyne me as they allus have. 'Wheer you sails,' say they, 'we sails.' So I thought I'd put in a word, as you wants trusty men." "I can choose my crew, Bob Hampton," said the Frenchman, in a peculiar tone of voice. "Too much talk is only good for parrot birds. Go you and steer." "Right you are, cap'n," said Bob, and I heard him go aft, but could not see him till I wrenched my head round, and could then dimly see something in the halo of soft light shed by the lamp on the compass. And all this time the ship was rolling slowly, with the yards making a strange creaking sound and the sails filling and flapping about with strange flutterings and whimperings; but in a few minutes there was a perceptible change, the ship's head swinging round, and I knew that we were once more gliding swiftly through the water. That there was a group of men below me I felt absolutely certain, though I could see nobody; and at last, when I had come to the conclusion that I had reached the extreme limit of my strength, and that I must drop, Jarette spoke suddenly, but in quite a low voice-- "You two stay here by the sky-light, and if any attempt is made to get on deck, shoot at once. If they are killed, their blood be on their own heads. Where's young Mr Walters?" "Why, you left him on guard with the others at the cabin-door," said a man surlily. "Fetch him here: I did," said Jarette, and I felt then that I was going down on the heads of the men below. But I made one more desperate effort, as I heard the soft footsteps moving off in different directions; and then almost without a sound I got my arm round the outside shroud, then one leg round,--how I can hardly tell you now, I was so exhausted,--and the next minute I had relieved my muscles of the strain, and was standing there with my feet on the ratlines, my arms thrust right through and folded round one of the inner ropes, and my head thrust through as well; safe, I felt, even if I lost my senses and fainted away. Fortunately for me, the ship was heeling over now in the opposite direction, so that my position was easier, and as I half lay, half clung there, the painful stress on mind and body grew lighter--at least the bodily stress did, and I began to think more clearly. It was horrible. The ship then had been seized by the crew, headed by Jarette. Some of the men had resisted, and were prisoners in the forecastle; but Bob Hampton had gone over to the side of the mutineers, and the others were sure to follow. But the worst thing of all was the knowledge that my brother midshipman was in the mutiny, and keeping guard over the officers and passengers. And he was a gentleman's son. Here then was the explanation of his being so friendly with Jarette, and that was why he and Jarette had been up aloft in the dark. I shivered at the thought. But the next moment I was seeing something else clearly, and I guessed at two things which afterwards I found to be correct. Jarette had traded upon Walters' discontent, and won him over with, no doubt, great promises, because he would be useful; and of course I saw it plainly now it had been necessary to fasten the cabin-doors, and shut the officers in. Mr Frewen was, as I had heard, locked in his cabin. Who was there to go quietly at night and fasten their doors? No one more likely than the lad who had the run of the cabins and saloon. "No, I won't believe it," I thought the next moment. "Nic Walters couldn't be such a miserable scoundrel as that." _ |
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