Sail Ho! Part 18

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 un.o.bserved.

"He's not here," said Jarette, sharply; "now then, one of you, I want a man at the wheel, the s.h.i.+p'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 s.h.i.+p 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 compa.s.s.

And all this time the s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p'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 n.o.body; 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 s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p 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 mids.h.i.+pman was in the mutiny, and keeping guard over the officers and pa.s.sengers. 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 s.h.i.+vered 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."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

What was I to do?

The answer came readily enough. Join your friends.

But how? They were prisoners below in the cabins, and with guards set at the companion and over the sky-lights.

There appeared to be no way but to go up aloft higher, crawl along some stay, and then lower myself down, and to creep through the sky-light.

"And be dragged back long before I could get down, even if I could get down at all," I said to myself bitterly.

That would not do; there must be some other way.

"Join the mutineers," something seemed to suggest, and wait till there was a chance of leaving them and giving information to the authorities, or another s.h.i.+p.

I couldn't do that, and even if I had felt disposed, Walters would have taken care that I was not trusted. He would have been too jealous.

Feeling rested, I now began to creep up step by step so as to reach the mizzen-top, where I hoped I could remain unseen. It was ticklish work, for the men on guard by the sky-light were a very little distance away; but moving by slow degrees I climbed up at last, and lay down in comparative safety, not having been heard.

I had hardly reached my hiding-place, when I heard one of the men below me say--

"Here they come," and directly after I could see ascend to the p.o.o.p-deck, by the light of three lanterns the men carried, a party of about fourteen, one of whom was Jarette, another Nic Walters, and the rest were sailors, with the two rough fellows, Dumlow and Blane, firmly bound with stout line, in their midst.

They were pushed and dragged up to the foot of the mizzen-mast, where Jarette seated himself in one of the deck chairs, and Walters, with a pistol in his hand and another in his belt, stood by the Frenchman's side, resting one foot upon the seat of the chair, as if on terms of the greatest intimacy with its occupant.