Sail Ho! Part 24

"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, G.o.d helping us we may get back our positions in the s.h.i.+p, 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-fas.h.i.+oned 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 pa.s.senger 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 s.h.i.+p, 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 s.h.i.+p 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.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

The result of that thrust was that the door was opened some little distance, and then stopped by part of the pile of chests and other luggage formed into a barricade.

There was a dead silence in the saloon as the deep voice of a man was heard speaking in a subdued tone to those with him; and pointing to the sky-light, Mr Frewen stepped back from the defenders of the barricade so as to be ready in case an effort should be made to a.s.sail them there.

Then the door was rattled loudly, and Jarette's voice was heard speaking angrily to some one without.

Again there was silence for a few moments, and then Jarette cried, "Now then; do you hear?"