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Sail Ho! A Boy at Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 13 |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTEEN. "Oh dear me--dear me, Alison Dale," said Mr Preddle, rising up from his stooping position very slowly and wiping his broad fat face, which was covered with drops of perspiration, "this is a very sad business, isn't it?" "Horrible!" I said, "but it will all come right." He laid his hand upon my shoulder. "Come into my cabin," he whispered; and I followed him. "You think it will come right?" he said, looking at me in a terribly perplexed way. "Oh yes, I think so," I said; "Mr Denning and Mr Frewen will give the rascals a good peppering and bring them to their senses." "And so will I!" he cried excitedly. "I never tried to fight seriously since I left school, but I don't see why I shouldn't be able to if I tried,--do you?" "Of course not sir," I replied, smiling. I wanted to laugh outright, for he did not at all come up to my ideas of a fighting man. "I can see," he went on mildly, "you don't think I could, but I shall try." "I won't laugh at you, Mr Preddle," I said; "indeed you have more cause to laugh at me when I say that, boy as I am, I mean to fight and try to defend Miss Denning." He caught hold of my hand, held it in his left, and brought his big soft right down into it with a sounding slap, and then squeezed my fingers as hard as he could. "That you will, Alison. You're a brave lad, I know. We'll all try and fight like men against the ruffians. Like lions, eh, Dale? Like lions." "To be sure, sir," I said; "but hadn't we better go back into the saloon?" "Yes, yes, directly," he said hastily, and I saw him turn very red in the face. "I suppose the mutineers know that we have a very valuable cargo?" "Yes, sir; I expect that's it," I replied. "But they're not going to have it. We'll sink the ship first, and escape in one of the boats." "To be sure we will, but it's a sad business, Dale. There is my consignment of salmon and trout. Do you think the scoundrels would let me go and see to them?" "No, sir," I said, "I don't believe they would. Come along." "I'm afraid you are right. Yes; I'll come directly; but there was something else that I wanted to say to you. Dear me, what a memory I have! Oh, I know!" He stopped short and turned redder than ever, while I stared and waited. "Yes; it was about--oh yes--that was it. It's a terrible business, and--how does Miss Denning seem? Does she bear up about it all?" "Well, pretty fairly, sir. Of course she is very much alarmed, and she is anxious about her brother." "Is she, though?" he said. "Poor girl. Of course, yes, she would be. Did she seem very anxious about any one else--Mr Frewen, for instance?" "No, sir; I don't remember that she mentioned him." "Poor girl. No, of course not, nor me neither, I suppose?" "Oh no, I'm sure of that, sir," I said decisively. "She certainly did not mention your name. But we must go back now, sir, and see if we are wanted." "Of course. Come along," said Mr Preddle, hurriedly; and we went into the saloon, where I found the captain standing by the table in the middle, looking very white, and I saw now that his arm was in a sling, and the lower part of his head bandaged. He was arranging some pistols and rifles on the table as we entered, and he looked up, nodded at us, and said-- "Two more. There, boy, you'll have to try and fight with the rest of us." "I'll try, sir," I said, and I looked at him wonderingly, for I had been under the impression that he was unwell in the cabin; I had forgotten the fact that he too had been on deck and received several severe injuries when the mutineers made their attack. "Oh, look here, Dale," he said suddenly, "while I think of it, my lad. I went on deck last night to have a look round at the weather, and when I came back I found that my cabin-door was fastened up. Was that your doing?" "No, sir," I replied. "Certainly not." "That's right," he said, looking at me searchingly. "I went back on deck to make some inquiries, and when I reached the men's quarters, I was attacked. But I should like to clear that matter up. The steward swears it was not his doing; it would not have been one of the crew. Where is your messmate, Walters?" I shook my head. "Not hurt?" he cried, anxiously. "No, sir. Not that I know of. Last time I saw him he was quite well." "Where is he?" There was a dead silence for a few moments, and then Mr Brymer spoke-- "Poor Walters is not with us, sir." "What?" cried Captain Berriman. "Poor lad! Poor lad!" Then after a pause, "He is a prisoner then?" "Yes, sir, we suppose so," replied Mr Brymer, and I heard the captain groan, while a hot feeling of indignation rose in my breast. "Poor Walters!" and all that pity and sympathy for the ill-conditioned cowardly young wretch. I felt that I must speak out and tell all that I knew, but somehow I could not; and to this day I have never been able to settle in my own mind whether I was right or wrong. "Well," said the captain at last, "we have no time to waste upon sympathy. I am sorry to say, gentlemen, that I fear I can do little in this terrible emergency. You have decided to defend yourselves, and, God helping us we may get back our positions in the ship, but it can only be by making a stout defence, and waiting for an opportunity to surprise the scoundrels at some weak moment, say when they have been for a long time at the spirits on board." "To be sure," said Mr Frewen. "There is no cause for despair with such a formidable arrangement. The scoundrels dare not attack us." "Well," said Captain Berriman, slowly, "I have brought out all the arms, but I have a painful announcement to make. The traitor who came round to secure us in our cabins had carried off all the cartridges he could, and those left in the cases had been deluged with water." "Great heaven!" cried Mr Frewen, excitedly; "then the weapons are useless." Captain Berriman was silent. "Stop a moment!" cried Mr Frewen; and he ran into his cabin, to return with a revolver which he threw on the table. "Useless," he said. "The case of cartridges gone. Here, Mr Denning, see to your gun,--see what cartridges you have." Mr Denning threw open the breech of his double-barrelled gun, examined the two cartridges, and closed the breech again. "All right!" he said, and then he reeled and would have fallen if Mr Preddle had not caught him. "Don't!" he cried, pettishly. "I mean, thank you. It was a horrible thought. I saw some one come out of my cabin last evening, I'm sure now. I thought then it was fancy. Some one has been--to steal--the case of cartridges I brought." He walked feebly but quickly to his cabin, shut the door after him, and then Mr Preddle went to his cabin, to come back directly, shaking his head. "Some one has taken all mine but one," he said. "The lid is off the box, and this is the only one left." "But your gun is loaded?" "Yes, there are two in that," replied Mr Preddle, "and I hope Mr Denning will be more fortunate in his search." At that moment Mr Denning made his appearance, and from his aspect we all thought that his supply had been taken too, but his face lit-up as he exclaimed-- "They could not find them. The cartridge-box was at the bottom of the locker." "Ha!" cried Mr Frewen, triumphantly. "How many have you?" "A hundred, for I have not fired off one." "And what bore is your gun?" "Twelve-bore." "And yours?" "Sixteen." "That's the same size as mine," said Mr Preddle, quietly. "I'm afraid those of yours would not fit." "Fit? No!" cried Mr Frewen, impatiently. "They would be absolutely useless." "And of course we could not load in the old-fashioned way if we took out the powder," said Mr Preddle. The doctor turned away, and I saw him look anxiously toward the barricade he had so carefully built up. Then gravely-- "We have the charges in our guns, gentlemen; when they are expended we must trust to Mr Denning." The captain spoke again-- "Have you examined as to what provisions and water we have, Brymer?" "Yes, sir, enough for about three days, without counting anything our passenger friends have in the way of private stores--preserved meat, delicacies, or the like." "Yes, but the water?" said the captain, naming the grave necessity of life in that hot climate. "I must frankly say a very short supply, sir." There was another ominous silence, as all thought of our numbers. Then Mr Frewen spoke-- "This all sounds very bad, Captain Berriman, but we are not going to give in. The ammunition and provisions are on board the ship, and when a besieged garrison runs short, it makes sallies to obtain fresh supplies. But we have not arrived at that starvation point yet. Before then the ship may be under the rule of Captain Berriman once again." "Hist!" I cried, in an excited whisper, and I pointed up at the sky-light, across which a shadow lay, cast by the newly-risen sun which had flooded the cabin with gold. "Listening, eh?" said Mr Brymer, and stepping softly on one side, he took one of the guns, and, with a sudden motion, thrust it through. There was a bound and the rush of feet as the shadow disappeared. "A guilty conscience needs no accuser," said the mate, laughing, "a criminal running away from an empty gun!" "A lesson for us in being cautious in making our plans," observed Mr Frewen. "Now, Captain Berriman, will you give us our orders?" "My first idea is, gentlemen, that one of you stand on guard there by the door, and, if the opportunity offers, he is to shoot down that scoundrel Jarette. They're coming. Now, on guard." For as he spoke there were voices heard approaching and the trampling of feet. Directly after guns were seized, and the occupants of the cabin stood ready, for the door was unfastened, and an effort made to thrust it open. _ |
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