Fire Mountain Part 28

A moment later, Martin's fumbling fingers completed their task, and the big man's limbs were free. The boatswain straightened and stretched with a grunt of satisfaction. Martin, obeying the dominant need, which was to drink, seized the can of tomatoes and commenced to pound it against the stanchion, in the hope of bursting it open.

"'Ere--stop that!" hoa.r.s.ely commanded the boatswain. "You'll 'ave them down on us with that noise. Give me the can--an' the keys. Ah--'ere's a Yale, saw edge. Just drive it through--so. An' use it like a bloomin' can-opener--so. 'Ere you are, lad, drink 'earty. I know 'o'w a chokin' like you got makes a man crazy with thirst. I'm some dry myself."

Martin seized the can. The boatswain had cut a small, jagged opening in the top and Martin clapped his mouth over it, cutting his lips in his eagerness. He drank, drank. It was an exquisite delight to feel the cool stream pouring down his throat; his whole body was instantly refreshed, invigorated.

He paused for breath, and drank again. The contents of the can were three-quarters drinkable, and he gulped the major portion down. Then he stopped with a sudden shame of his greediness, recalling the boatswain's expressed need.

"Oh, bosun, I forgot!" he exclaimed, noting as he spoke that his tongue was limber and tractable again, and that he could form words.

"That's all right, laddie," said the boatswain, taking the proffered can. "I know 'ow you felt. Enough for me 'ere. Ah, that's better than the best drink ever mixed be'ind a bar. Plenty, lad, plenty--I feel fit now. 'Ere, 'ave some more."

Martin finished the tin. Then he heaved a surfeited sigh.

"Oh, I didn't think I'd ever get enough," he said. "Why, I was so dry I couldn't talk. And my throat----"

"I know," interrupted the boatswain, sitting down beside him. "You're bleedin' lucky to be talkin' now, even in a whisper. I've seen other men choked like you was, an' they couldn't say a word for days. Slick beggars with their fingers, them jitsu blokes! And now, Martin, let's figure it out. Ow, swiggle me, what'll we do? The la.s.s----"

The boatswain swore deeply and energetically.

Martin groaned in unison with the other's oaths, his love-born panic for the girl's safety overwhelming him again. Grim, horrible fears surged through his mind and p.r.i.c.ked him unendurably. G.o.d! Ruth, his Ruth, was alone, helpless, at the mercy of those devils' l.u.s.ts! And he was sitting here inactive! It was unendurable!

He scrambled to his feet, with the wild idea of mounting the ladder to the cabin and battering his way through the trap-door. He must succor Ruth!

The boatswain reached up a huge hand and pulled him down again. Martin struggled for a moment, his reason clouded by his hot fear.

"But, bosun--Ruth!" he cried. "Ruth is--Good G.o.d, man, Carew and those yellow men have Ruth!"

The giant restrained him as easily as if he were a child, and talked soothingly.

"Aye, aye, lad--I know. But Ruth is safe, I think, so far. An' ye can bet your bottom dollar Carew will keep the j.a.ps at their distance of the la.s.s, and she'll stand off Carew--for a w'ile, any'ow. Swiggle me, Martin, 'ave sense. What can ye do bare-'anded? 'Ere, now, sit still, and we'll figure out some plan. Ruth's all right. She's in the Old Man's room, a-nursin' 'im."

"No, no--the captain is dead!" a.s.serted Martin. "I saw him lying dead on the floor!"

"'E wasn't dead," said the boatswain. "Carew took 'is gun away, and 'it 'im over the eye with the b.u.t.t of it. Laid 'im out, same as you.

They let the la.s.s take 'im into 'is room and stay there to nurse 'im.

I seen it, I tell ye!"

Martin subsided.

"But what will we do?" he exclaimed. "We must do something, bosun!"

"Aye--please G.o.d, we'll do something," said the boatswain. "Please G.o.d, I'll 'ave my 'ands on that black-'earted murderer--and on Ichi, too! I 'ave a plan. But first, tell me what 'appened to you? 'Ow did you 'appen to be on deck? It wasn't your watch. What 'appened on deck before you came bouncing into the cabin and batted Carew on the k.n.o.b with the belayin'-pin? Neat crack! Too bad it didn't 'urt the beggar much. And brace up, lad! I know 'ow ye feel. I know 'ow 'tis between you and the la.s.s--I've seen the eyes ye give each other. She'll be safe, Martin. Strike me, G.o.d will never let them 'arm 'er, swiggle me stiff if 'E will!"

There was a wealth of simple faith in the giant's voice, and some of it found lodgment in Martin's troubled breast. He composed himself, held himself in sure check, and upon the boatswain's repeated request, told what had happened to him from the moment the old sailmaker had awakened him till he felt his senses leave him in the cabin.

When he finished, he discovered it was his turn to hearten. The boatswain was immersed in grief, and the hunchback was the cause.

"Ow, swiggle me! I 'oped as 'ow Billy was safe somewhere--locked up like us," he groaned. "But 'e's gone. Got 'im first, likely. Must 'ave slipped up be'ind 'im, while 'e was fillin' his pipe there w'ere ye found 'is baccy, and give 'im the knife. They didn't 'ave guns--used knives. They got guns now, blast 'em. An' Little Billy's gone! I--I loved the lad, Martin." The man's voice choked.

"But he may not be dead, not even injured," urged Martin. "I only heard Sails cry out. Perhaps Billy wasn't around when they slipped aboard. You know his failing, bosun, and you know how he has been the last few days. The reason I have the keys, you know, is because he didn't want to be tempted by the medicine-chest. Maybe he gave in, and got some alcohol, forward, and got drunk and went to sleep."

The boatswain snorted indignantly.

"You don't know Billy like I do!" he cried. "Drunk, no! Billy 'ad 'is failing, but 'e'd sooner 'a' died than give in at such a time.

No--'e's gone. Ye say old Sails told ye Billy was feyed! Ow, that proves it. That ---- burgoo-eater was always right in such things!

Billy, dear Billy--'e was a proper mate, Martin."

The boatswain's mood changed abruptly, and rage possessed him. Martin felt the man's great body tremble with the intensity of his pa.s.sion.

He spoke through his clenched teeth, slowly and strangely, without using his accustomed expletives.

"They killed 'im! They'll pay. We're goin' to get out o' 'ere, Martin--I know 'ow, now. We're going to try an' take the s.h.i.+p back.

Aye--maybe they'll get us, but I'll twist the necks o' some o' them first. And I'll get Carew, 'imself!"

He spoke the words with a cool positiveness that bred belief. Martin, in almost as vengeful a mood as the other, was grimly cheered by the pictured prospect.

"I'll tell you what I know about it," went on the boatswain in a somewhat lighter voice. "They got me in my bunk. 'Ad the irons on me before I was awake--ye know 'ow I sleep, like a ruddy corpse. Ichi steered 'em. The blighter knows the s.h.i.+p, knew where the irons 'ung in the cabin, knew 'ow the rooms are laid out. When I woke up I was 'elpless, and 'alf dozen o' them picked me up and packed me into the cabin and threw me down be'ind the table. That's where I lay when you busted in. They 'ad gagged me with my own socks.

"They must 'ave been on board before Sails came aft, and as soon as the two of ye went for'rd, they slipped into the alleyway be'ind ye. I was already dumped on the cabin floor when the rumpus broke out on deck--at the same instant Carew appeared. At the noise, the Old Man jumped out of 'is room, gun in 'and, and 'e shot at Carew's voice. Carew grabbed the gun, and banged 'im over the eye with it, and the Old Man went down across 'is doorway. Then Ruth popped out o' 'er room, and Carew grabbed 'er. She fought like the devil. Then you bust in with your belayin'-pin.

"After they 'ad choked you, an' after Carew 'ad got to 'is feet and pulled the la.s.s away from 'uggin' and kissin' you, Carew and Ichi began to confab. It was English, and I 'eard a bit. Ichi went to the Old Man, 'oo was breathin' heavy, and examined 'im like 'e was a sure enough sawbones. 'E says the Old Man is just knocked out, and no fracture. 'E takes the Old Man's keys. Then Carew 'as a couple o'

'ands hoist the Old Man into 'is bunk, and 'e says to the la.s.s as 'ow she can 'tend to the skipper. Ruth bounces into the room and slams an'

locks the door. Carew laughs and turns to business.

"An' what do ye think 'is first order was? To 'ave the cook aft. In a jiffy, they 'ad Charley Bo Yip afore 'im. 'E ordered grub--slathers o'

grub, immediate, for fifteen. Yip took the order without turnin' a 'air--trust a c.h.i.n.k for that. Then they give us attention, an' they lift the trap an' dump us down 'ere. They leave you where you fell, but they boosted me along to this 'ere stanchion and, while Carew tickled my shoulder-blades with a knife, Ichi, using the skipper's key, trussed me up around the post. Then they went aloft again, slippin'

the cuffs on you as they pa.s.sed, I think, for they didn't do it in the cabin.

"Well, in fifteen minutes they were back--'alf dozen o' them, with Yip, and plenty o' lanterns. Breaking out stores for Yip. Yip never looks at me till he's ready to go aloft again. Then, making sure I can see 'is mug, 'e tips me a big wink. That means something, Martin. They're deep uns them c.h.i.n.ks.

"That's all. I sat there, cuffed up proper, for hours, cussing, and thinking, and calling to you. Hours! Swiggle me stiff, 'twas a b.l.o.o.d.y lifetime, it seemed like. About five or six hours though, I think--must be about seven or eight o'clock now.

"That's all that 'appened. But I'll tell you what I learned from Carew's and Ichi's talk, and from lookin' at them. They've been cast away, lad! That's why we didn't sight the schooner when we looked for 'er. The _Dawn_ was wrecked, some time ago. Carew ordered food for fifteen--the _Dawn_ was fitted for seal 'unting, and carried a crew o'

nigh thirty. That shows only 'alf were saved--a bad wreck.

"They ordered grub first thing--shows they didn't save stores, and 'ave been starvin' ash.o.r.e. Must 'ave saved a boat though, or they couldn't 'ave boarded us. Must 'ave seen us come in; spied us from one o' the caves in the wolcano, an' we could not see them. The blasted fog just played into their 'ands. 'Av'ing been ash.o.r.e, they must 'ave found the ambergrease. They needed a s.h.i.+p, and they took us. And there ye are!

Sails dead, Little Billy dead, G.o.d knows 'ow many o' the crew gone, the la.s.s at the whim o' Wild Bob Carew. Ow, what a bit o' blasted luck!

Swiggle me stiff!"

The boatswain growled desperate oaths to himself. For a few moments he gave himself up to lurid and audible thought.

Martin, in as black a mood himself, kept his peace, but he, too, spent the time in thought, in gloomy surmising, in attempting to form some plan of action. "What to do--what to do!" The refrain sang in his troubled mind. They must act, and act quickly. Ruth's safety, and the lives of their comrades, if any were alive, depended on the boatswain and himself. But--what to do?

Though they were free of their bonds, they were still boxed in this storeroom like rats in a trap! Obviously the first thing to do was to get out of the lazaret.

Martin commenced to formulate a hazy plan of lurking beneath the trap-door until opened from above, and then trying to burst into the cabin, trusting to luck aiding them there. A mad plan, fore-doomed to failure, he conceded to himself, even as he thought of it. But, what else? They must act! Ruth ...

In the somber field of Martin's misery bloomed a tiny flower; and whenever his mental eye rested upon this exotic, a sudden glow of happiness pervaded his being. This bright flower was a memory--the thought of himself lying helpless on the cabin floor, while two soft arms pressed his sore-addled head to a protecting bosom, and warm lips caressed his face, and a dear voice entreated; the thought of the boatswain's confirming words, "Carew pulled the la.s.s away from 'uggin'

and kissin' you."