Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > Sail Ho! A Boy at Sea > This page
Sail Ho! A Boy at Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 25 |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ Chapter Twenty Five
I felt that we ought to have gone to them sooner, but I did not see how we could have acted differently; and eager now to bear the news of the change in the state of affairs, I trotted back with the lantern as fast as I could over the streaming deck, and found Barney sitting down and rubbing his legs. "Circ'lation's a-coming back, youngster," he said. "I say, did you kill that young Walters?" "Walters!" I cried. "I'd forgotten all about him. I didn't see or hear anything of him." "Dessay not, sir. He'd get out of the way while the row was on. Maybe he'd got into a bunk to have a snooze and didn't hear it. But, I say, what a game!" "What, our re-taking the ship, Barney?" "No; you thinking I was Frenchy. Well, it's lucky you didn't heave me overboard." "Coming round, mate?" said Bob Hampton. "Ay, my lad, I've got one arm and a bit o' one leg back, and toothers is coming back slowly like, but it's rum work feeling nothing but head and body, and your arms and legs all gone dead at first, and then you begins to know as they arn't been cut off and chucked away, and they're still there. They was just like sleeves and stockings stuffed with sorduss, and people making cushions of 'em and sticking the pins in as hard as ever they can." "I'm so sorry, Barney," I said. "Ay, lad, I s'pose you are, and seeing as you thinked it was old Frenchy, I don't wonder as you tied them there knots as hard as ever you could. But what I do wonder at is, that the line didn't cut my legs right off. Shows as my muscles must be made of real good stuff, and when I've done rubbing 'em back into shape, I s'pose they'll come all right once more; but I should have liked to be in the fun." "Get your pincushions all right, messmate," said Bob Hampton, slapping Barney on the back, "and don't growl; the game's on'y just begun, and you shall have first innings next time." "Think there'll be any more fighting, matey?" said Barney eagerly. "Think there'll be any more fighting? Just hark at him, gentlemen. Why, you grumbling old swab, do you think as, once having hold of the Burgh Castle and calling hisself skipper, old Frenchy's the sort o' man to let a few planks and a hatchway keep him from making another try? You wait a bit, old man, if you're so precious anxious to get yourself made sore. Frenchy won't forget us for gammoning him, and pretending to be on his side." "I ain't hankshus to be made sore, Bob, old matey," growled Barney; "it's a kind o' nat'ral feeling in me to make him sore, and I'm going to do it if I gets half a chance." "All right then, Mr Brymer 'll see as you has one, I dessay." The next minute we were at the cabin in which the captain was lying, but he rose up on one arm as the door was thrown open and the light of the lantern flashed in. Mr Frewen went to him directly. "How are you?" he cried. "I could not come to you before." "Tell me," cried Captain Berriman excitedly, "what has been going on?" "Nothing much," said Mr Frewen, smiling. "But I heard firing and a struggle in the saloon," cried the captain, clinging to Mr Frewen's arm. "Well, yes, we have been re-taking the ship." "What?" "Humph! Poor fellow, he could not bear it," said Mr Frewen, as Captain Berriman sank back half-fainting, but he re-opened his eyes and clung to the doctor again. "Too good--to be true," he muttered. "Thank God--thank God!" There was perfect silence for a few moments, as our poor wounded captain lay back with his eyes closed. Then with his face losing its feeble, despairing look, he said anxiously-- "I don't see Brymer; is he hurt?" "No; quite safe." "Mr Preddle?" "We are all pretty sound, and the mutineers are shut down in the forecastle, sir." "Oh, if I only had strength!" said the captain. "Doctor, you have half cured me with this news; can't you give anything to set me up for an hour or two?" "Nothing," said Mr Frewen, sadly. "I can only tell you that you must be patient. You must lie here and give your orders. We will execute them as far as we can." "And we are in a bad storm. There must be danger on that side too, but I can do nothing." "Mr Brymer will do his best, and there are three of the best seamen to help." "What?" he cried excitedly. "Hampton, and two more?" "No, no, traitors, don't trust them--the scoundrels." "No, we arn't, cap'n," growled Bob Hampton. "We was obliged to sham Abram a bit. Now I do call that 'ere hard, arter me and Dumlow and Barney helped get the ship back again." "You did?" cried the captain. "Course we did." "Yes, they have been true as steel," said Mr Frewen. "You need not fear these men." "And that boy, Walters?" "Oh, him, sir! He's down below somewheres, and he'd better stay too," growled Bob Hampton, "for if he shows his nose, young Mr Dale here's going to tackle him pretty warmly." "But have you got the men prisoners?" said the captain, anxiously. "Yes, quite safe." "Then the ship must be seen to. She's labouring heavily. Tell Brymer--" "I shall tell Mr Brymer nothing," said Mr Frewen firmly. "You shall give him your orders instead. You can be at peace now, sir, so lie still patiently, and believe that everything possible will be done to preserve order and save the ship." "Yes; thank you," said the captain, whose lip was quivering. "I know I must be patient. There, I'll try and do what I have not done these many hours,--go to sleep. But bring me some news sometimes, Dale, my lad, I shall be so anxious to know." I promised him, and then we hurried out, for from time to time there was an anxious whispering going on in the next cabin, which appealed strongly to Mr Frewen and to me. He pointed to the door as soon as we were outside, and his voice sounded very husky as he said-- "Unfasten it, and go in and tell them that all is safe once more." "Won't you go?" I asked, as I offered him the lantern. "No," he replied, after making an effort to master his anxiety to take the lead. "You and Mr Denning were on friendly terms. He would rather receive the good news from you. In with you quick, and tell him that if he feels strong enough, I--that is, Mr Brymer would be glad if he would come and help to keep watch over the prisoners." "With a rewolver," growled Bob Hampton. "Yes, say with a pistol," said Mr Frewen. "He would be as effective there as a strong man." "Better," growled Bob, "for he understands fire-arm tools, and knows how to shoot." I gave a sharp knock at the door, and then unfastened it and entered, lantern in hand, to see Mr Denning looking ghastly as the light fell upon his face, where he stood before his sister with a tiny revolver in his hand, while the other was behind him holding the poor girl whom he was ready, poor weak creature that he was, to defend as long as he had life. They had been so long in darkness that the light of the lantern, feeble as it was, dazzled them, and they could not see who it was. Before I had time to speak Mr Denning cried fiercely-- "Keep back, scoundrel, or I'll fire!" "No, no! Mr Denning," I cried; "it's all right now, and we've mastered the mutineers." "Ah!" I started forward at that cry--a long, low, pitiful cry--uttered by Miss Denning; and I heard Mr Frewen's step behind me as I dropped the lantern and tried to catch the poor girl. For the good news, after the long and terrible strain, was more than she could bear. I knew afterwards that she had acted like a heroine all through the fearful excitement, and had worked hard to comfort and sustain her brother; while now that the tension was removed, she reeled and would have fallen in spite of my effort. But as the lantern fell, and we were in darkness, I felt some one brush by me, and I knew by the sound that she had not struck the cabin-floor. "Quick, a light, Bob!--matches!" I cried. "Right you are, sir," he said; and as he came into the cabin, I heard him fumbling about and trying to strike a match, but for several minutes there was nothing but a phosphorescent streak made on the boards of the partition. "Yah! everything's so plaguy wet," growled the sailor. "Here, let me come, matey," I heard Dumlow say. "Mine's brass box." And the next minute there was a sharp crick, crick, crack, a burst of flame, and I saw Mr Frewen holding poor Miss Denning in his arms, ready to lay her carefully and reverently down as the lantern was re-lit. "Yes, Mr Denning," he said quietly, "I think there is no more cause for anxiety now, except from the storm. Will you see to your sister, and bathe her face? It is only a fainting fit from the sudden shock." "Yes, thank you," said Mr Denning, coldly and ungraciously, I thought. "Be good enough to take away your men." "Of course. Come, my lads," said Mr Frewen; and he stepped out of the cabin, followed by Bob Hampton and Dumlow. "It's all right, Mr Denning," I said. "Nothing to mind now." But somehow I did not speak very warmly, for I was hurt by his cold reception of a man who had been risking his life to save him and his sister. My feelings changed though the next moment, for to my astonishment Mr Denning laid hands on my shoulders, and he quite broke down and sobbed, while his words were choking and strange. "Thank God!--thank God!" he said. "Oh, Dale, if you only knew what we have suffered, my poor sister and I!" "Yes, yes, it has been horrible," I said, trying to comfort him, for his illness had made him weak as a girl; "but that's nothing to mind now. We've thrashed the scoundrels and locked them up, and Mr Frewen has behaved like a hero." "Yes; and--and I'm afraid I spoke very sharply to him, but I could not help it, Dale." "Well, you weren't very warm to him," I said; "and he does deserve something." "Yes, yes," he cried hastily; "and I'll try and thank him another time. Hush! she's coming to." "Yes, and I mustn't stay," I cried quickly; for I was miserably uncomfortable, and wanted to get away before Miss Denning quite came to, and burst out sobbing and crying, as I was sure she would. "Can't you stop--a few minutes?" he said. "No; I must go on deck. There's everything to do, and we're short-handed. I'll leave you the light." "Thank you, yes," he cried, wringing my hand. "Tell Miss Denning I'm so glad," I said hastily; and then I hurried out. But I was no sooner outside than I remembered my message, and ran back, to find, as I expected, that Miss Denning was sobbing on her brother's shoulder; when to my horror she left him, and with a cry flung her arms about my neck and kissed me. "Oh, Alison Dale," she cried warmly, "bless you, and thank you! You have always been like a dear good brother to us both, ever since we have been on board." "He has--he has," cried Mr Denning warmly, and he looked as pleased as could be at his sister's behaviour; while as for me, I would have given anything to be outside the cabin. For to a lad of my age, being thanked for what I had done was painful in the extreme; and in a hurried way I hastened to tell them my message, and briefly about how we had found friends in the mutineers' ranks, and then of our attack and success. But my stay was brief. We had so far mastered one enemy, but were suffering from the attack of another, which we had ignored for a time; while now it was impressing itself upon us all, as I soon found, in a very serious way. On reaching the deck, along which I had to guide myself by holding on by the side, and catching at rope and belaying-pin, I found that the sea had risen higher, and the wind was rushing through the rigging with almost hurricane force. But I made my way to the forecastle-hatch, where Mr Preddle was still on guard, as I could see by the light of the swaying lantern, and Mr Brymer was with him. "Ah, Dale," he cried, "I'm glad you've come. I want you to stay on guard with Mr Preddle. You have a pistol?" "Yes," I said, pointing to my belt. "That's right. I want to go to the wheel. Hampton is there now. I should like to do more, but it is terrible work now, short-handed as we are; and we must run on in this blind fashion, for I have no idea where we are." Just at that moment there was a tremendous crack overhead, followed by a snapping as of pistol-shots; for one of the sails had got loose, and was now being torn into ribbons, which snapped and cracked like so many cart-whips on a gigantic scale. "Is that dangerous?" I shouted, for the wind carried away my voice. "No; a blessing, my lad. It will save her. I only want steering power. Look here, don't fire unless you are obliged. If you do, mind, I take it as a signal that you want help, both of you; and then of course we shall come to your help. But what about Mr Denning?" As he spoke, the invalid came struggling along by the bulwarks, and I ran to help him to where he could stand in shelter. "Glad to see you, Mr Denning. Ah, that's right. Rather a small pistol, but I dare say it can do its duty. You will help them?" "As far as my strength will let me," he said. "That's right. Now, Mr Preddle, I must go. Sorry about your fish, but we can do nothing till the weather mends." "No, I'm afraid not," Mr Preddle yelled. "I don't hear that crying out now." "No; I haven't heard it since Mr Dale came," panted Mr Preddle, with the wind driving his words back so that he could hardly get his breath. "That must wait too. The safety of the ship is all we can look to now." He made a dash for the weather-bulwark, and disappeared at once into the darkness and mist of spray which flew before the gale, hissing by us, and drenching us to the skin. "You ought to have brought a waterproof, Mr Denning," I said. "Who could think of waterproofs at a time like this?" he said, with his lips to my ear. Then with a start, as he turned his head and looked forward--"What's that?" I had heard a cry as he spoke. "I don't know," I said. "Why, it must be some one wounded crying for help." "It is what Mr Brymer and I heard several times before," said Mr Preddle excitedly. "He thought it must be one of the mutineers who had escaped aloft at first, afraid to stir to come down." "I don't think it could be that," I said. "It didn't sound like being up aloft." "So he said. Then he thought--" "There it is again," cried Mr Denning and I heard, above the shrieking of the wind and the hissing spray, a despairing kind of wail, as if some one called for help. "Why, it's forward somewhere," I said, with a curious shudder running through me which was not caused by the wind and spray. "Yes, that's what Mr Brymer said; but he went and searched all about forward." "Then it must be one of the men below--one who is wounded," I said. "Do you think we could send Mr Frewen down to his help?" "Not without letting your prisoners loose," said Mr Denning, decisively. "I'm sorry for the man, but he must suffer for the present." "It's very horrible," I said; "for he may be very bad--dying perhaps." "Yes," said Mr Denning coldly; "but it was not our work, I suppose." "There it is again," said Mr Preddle. "When the mate was here, he felt sure that some one had crept overboard, and down to what he called the stays under the bowsprit." "When the attack was made?" I cried. "Yes, that must be it. There it goes again. That was certainly 'Help!'" "Yes." "He must be afraid of falling. Why, the vessel keeps on driving into these great waves, and at every dip down he must be nearly drowned." "What are you going to do, Dale?" cried Mr Denning. "Find out where he is, and then lower a rope to him; and when he has fastened it round him, we must haul him on board, even if he is another enemy. There'll be no need to be afraid of him." I was trying to make out where I could most handily find a rope, when, plainly heard above the heavy beating of the waves against our bows, as the ship rose and fell in her wild race onward through the dense blackness ahead, there was the murmur of a voice and a loud movement below the hatch we were guarding. Then distinctly heard came the words-- "Give me room then," and this was followed by a crashing sound, and a jar against my hand as I held on to the side of the hatchway. "They've got a chopper, and are going to cut their way out!" I said excitedly. And almost as I spoke there was another dull blow, and this was followed by a cheer. "What are you going to do?" I cried, as Mr Preddle held on with one hand, and presented his revolver at the door of the hatchway. A flash and a dull report served for my answer then; and as the bullet crashed through the woodwork, there was a yell, a dull sound as of a fall, and then in the momentary silence Mr Preddle said-- "Those were my orders; I was obliged." A ragged volley was fired then from below, and we heard the bullets striking the wood, and saw two or three splitting the thick wood at the top of the hatchway. But we stood back too much for either of them to touch us, as we listened, trying to distinguish the words said, as we pictured, no doubt pretty accurately, what was going on in the forecastle; for a dull groaning told only too plainly that Mr Preddle's shot had taken effect. What I pictured was the men lifting their bleeding companion forward to one of the bunks, while others were talking and raging furiously about the shot. I shuddered, and yet I felt excited, and that it was a necessity. And just then I made out Jarette's voice shouting at the men, and giving some order which only evoked a deep growl. "I don't like having to fire like that," said Mr Preddle just then; "and I feel now as if I ought to fetch the doctor.--Ah, Frewen," he cried, "I've just shot one of the men." For there were Mr Frewen, the mate, and Barney Blane, all panting and eager to help us. I told him what had happened, and Mr Brymer said quietly-- "On their own heads be it. This may act as a warning to them. But there must be no hesitation; our lives and that of Miss Denning depend upon swift action. At the first stroke of an axe, fire again." "I will," said Mr Preddle firmly; and by the light of the lantern I saw that the chambers of his revolver were exposed, and that he was thrusting in a fresh cartridge. "Ought we to send down Mr Frewen?" said Mr Denning just then. "Don't ask absurd questions, sir," replied Mr Brymer angrily. "Come, Frewen. Now, my lad." He turned away, and before following, Barney Blane got beside me, to say in my ear-- "Disappynted again, sir. I did think I was to have a go at Frenchy now." He hurried off; and the shrieking of the wind ceased for a few moments, during which we strained our ears to try and make out what went on below, when very faintly, but the word distinctly heard, came the cry-- "Help!" "There is some one forward there by the bowsprit!" I cried excitedly; and leaving my companions, I crept to the bows, and, holding on tightly, climbed up and looked over, seeing nothing but the foaming water churned up by the ship as she plunged on and on, looking as if she were moment by moment going to split upon what might have been one huge black rock right ahead. I changed my position, and got to the other side of the bowsprit to hold on and look over there, but still I could see nothing, and though I shouted again and again there was no reply. "Nobody could possibly be hanging on there," I thought, as I tried to pierce the mist of spray; and I felt that if low down on the stays, he would be dipped at every plunge, and drowned in a few minutes, and if higher, to a certainty, unless lashed to the ropes, be washed off. I stayed some minutes, hailing again and again, with my voice carried forward by the wind, and then made my way back to my two companions, whose faces were turned inquiringly toward me as I shook my head. "There can't be any one there," I said. "It's impossible." "So Mr Brymer thought," said Mr Preddle. "He said he would be either washed off or drowned, and that it must be one of the men below." "There it is again," said Mr Denning; "and it is below." "Yes; there!" I cried, for there was a heavy banging at a bulk-head, and some one shouted savagely to whoever cried for help to be quiet, and then a shot was fired, but not at us. "The wretches!" I said. "The wretch!" said Mr Denning. "That was Jarette's voice, I'm sure; and he must have fired." "At some prisoner they have there below," I said. "Or at the wounded man," cried Mr Preddle. "It must be another wounded man then, for you heard the sound before you fired that shot." "Yes; and it makes me feel better satisfied, for the mutineers are such brutes--such savage brutes." "There!" I cried; "do you hear?" for once more the cry for help came so piteous, faint, and despairing that it seemed to go through me from head to heel in one long, continuous shudder. "If it hadn't been for what we heard just now," said Mr Preddle just then, "I should have been ready to think it was something uncanny-- something ghostly; but," he added hastily, as Mr Denning turned a mocking face to him, "I don't think so now." "It's very horrid," I said; "and the worst of it is that one can't do anything. I wish we could send Mr Frewen to help the poor fellow, whoever it is." "Yes, it is horrible," said Mr Denning; "but they made us suffer so that I feel hardened against them. It must be a wounded man." "Why," I cried, as a flash of mental light just then illumined my thick brain, "I know!" I was so excited by my discovery, which was one of those simple finds that the wonder was it had not been thought of at once, I could hardly contain myself, and I made for a swinging lantern and took it down. "What is it? What have you found out?" cried Mr Denning at the top of his voice, though it only sounded feeble then in the din of the storm. "It's some one in the cable-tier," I cried. "Cable-tier? Where's that?" "Just forward. Front of the forksle," I shouted. "We must get the hatch off." "No, no; not till Mr Brymer comes," said Mr Denning. The words sounded so wise that I hesitated with the lantern in my hand, and for a moment or two I thought of running off to report my discovery; but I recalled the fact that I was on a perilous duty, and that I had no right to leave my post without orders; so I re-hung the lantern, and then, after listening and convincing myself that there was no threatening sound coming from below, I shouted to my companions what I was going to do, and then staggered forward to the carefully battened down hatch, beneath which the great rusty chain cable was lying in a heap. I listened, and my heart sank with disappointment, for the wind was shrieking as fiercely as ever, and I could not hear a sound. "Am I mistaken after all?" I thought, and listened still. Just then, with a heavy thud, as the ship plunged downward, a wave struck the port-bow, rose in a perfect cataract, and curling over, deluged me and rushed along the deck. I should have been swept away, but the combings of the hatch sheltered me a little, and as the hissing splash of the water ceased, I fancied I heard a faint clink of one of the links of the great chain below, while the moment after came more plainly than I had heard it before a smothered, piteous cry-- "Help!" And again directly after, as if he who uttered the cry were in agony-- "Help!" I took out my pistol and thumped with the butt on the hatch, when there was silence again. "Below there!" I shouted with my lips close to the boards. "Help! pray help!" came in answer. "All right," I cried; "I'll see." I crept back on hands and knees to my companions, who were waiting for me impatiently. "It's all right," I said; "there's some one in the cable-tier a prisoner, and as it must be some one of our lads he is of course afraid. Oughtn't I to run to Mr Brymer?" The need ceased the next moment, for before we could decide whether the signal ought to be given by firing a pistol, Neb Dumlow appeared in the feeble glow shed by the lantern, coming out of the black darkness in a peculiarly weird fashion. "Ahoy!" he growled. "Mate says, is all right?" "No," I said eagerly, for boy as I was, I seemed to be the captain of that watch, the two gentlemen giving place to me, even if they did oppose some of my ideas. "Go and tell Mr Brymer to come here." "Ay, ay!" growled the great ugly fellow--uglier now in the darkness than he had ever looked before--and he turned and trotted aft, to return in a few minutes bearing a lantern, and in company with the mate and Mr Frewen. I told them what I had discovered, and Mr Brymer gave an angry stamp. "Of course!" he cried. "I might have known. Why, it must be one of our lads, and a friend. Quick, Dumlow, and have off that hatch." In another moment or two the sailor was on his knees dragging off the piece of tarpaulin which had been fastened down over the top, probably when the storm began, and directly after the hatch was lifted off, and the lantern held down to throw its light upon a ghastly face, which was raised to us as a couple of hands grasped the combings around the opening. I was so astounded that I could not speak, only listen, as Dumlow shouted-- "I say, what cheer you, my lad?" And Mr Brymer-- "Walters! Why, my lad, what are you doing there?" "Help!" groaned my old messmate with a piteous look up at us; "half-smothered--water--help!" "Well, mutineer or middy," said Mr Brymer, "there's nothing to fear from you. Take one arm, Dumlow," and seizing the other himself, they hoisted Walters quickly out of the little compartment and set him on his feet; but his legs gave way, and he dropped on the deck and lay upon his back. At that moment sounds came up from the hatch, which suggested the possibility of the mutineers breaking through the heavy bulk-head and making their way on deck that way, so before aught else was done, the hatch was securely fastened down again. While that was in progress, but feeling wroth all the time, I bent down over the poor, miserable-looking wretch, whose eyes were following every movement I made, and recalling the shot I had heard fired, I at once came to the conclusion that he was hurt. "Here," I said roughly, "where are you wounded, so that I can tell Mr Frewen?" "I'm--I'm--" "Well, where?" I said, still very roughly, for the sight of the treacherous young wretch made a hot feeling of rage against him rise in my throat. "Not--not wounded," he said feebly. "Then what's the matter with you?" I cried contemptuously; "sea-sick?" "No--no, that--that wretch, Jarette." "What?" cried Mr Brymer, with a mocking laugh. "What? 'Wretch Jarette!' Do you mean your captain, my worthy young lieutenant?" Walters' eyes gave a roll and then closed as he lay there; but they opened again directly, for Mr Brymer gave him an angry thrust--a thrust, not a kick--with his foot. "Here, get up, cur! You're our prisoner now. What do you say?" Walters' lips were moving as Dumlow held the light over him and bent down. "Says as you're to stow him in prison, sir, and not let the skipper see him." "Bah! Has it come to this? Speak to him, Dale. What does he say now?" "Water; he is asking for water," I said, as I saw how piteously weak the lad was. "Suffering from exhaustion and want of air." "Then he must have a rest," cried Mr Brymer. "Now, sir, can you get up and walk?" "No," said Mr Frewen, decisively. "Lift him up, Dumlow," said Mr Brymer, "and bring him aft to one of the cabins. Will you see to him, Mr Frewen?" The doctor nodded, and I felt as if I wanted to go; but my duty was there, and I had to stay. _ |
||