Paul Gerrard Part 8

"Ay, lads, 'Better is a dry crust with contentment,'" remarked old Jim.

"But how to leave the s.h.i.+p, so as to escape without being followed-- there's the difficulty."

"'Where there's a will there's a way,'" said Reuben. "If it must be done, it can be done."

"Right, lad," said Croxton; "it must be done, for we deserve the fate of villains if we consort with them longer than we can help; though I'll not say that all on board this unhappy s.h.i.+p are equally bad. There are many who would be glad to escape from her if they had but the chance."

"It must be done," repeated Reuben. "We may make off with a boat some dark night. The young Frenchman and our own fellows will be sure to join, and I think that there's three or four others--maybe more--who'll be glad to get away at any risk."

"We must run the risk, and it isn't a small one," said Croxton. "If they were to catch us, they'd kill us. There's no doubt about that."

The whole plan was soon settled--who were to be got to join--the boat to be taken--the way she was to be lowered. Devereux and O'Grady were to be told of it when all was ready, and were to be brought up on deck as soon as it was dark, and stowed away in the boat herself till the moment of escape had arrived. Paul was usually employed to carry food to the mids.h.i.+pmen. Sometimes, however, Croxton went, sometimes Reuben, to lessen the risk of his object being suspected. Paul waited till night-- the time he visited his friends--and hiding a lantern under his jacket, carefully groped his way down to them. They highly approved of the plan proposed for escaping from the s.h.i.+p, and were eager for the moment for putting it into execution. O'Grady, especially, was heartily weary of his confinement.

"I doubt if my two legs will ever be able to stretch themselves out straight again, after being cramped up so long, like herrings in a cask," he exclaimed, in the low tone in which it was necessary to speak.

"We owe you a heavy debt, Gerrard, and if you succeed in getting us out of this, it will be a huge deal greater."

"If it were not for old Jim and Reuben Cole, I could be but of little use, so say nothing about that, Mr O'Grady," answered Paul. "I am going to try and find out on the charts, when the master is working his day's work, exactly where we are, and if there's land near, we may, perhaps, get away to-morrow."

Paul felt far from comfortable all the next day. He could not help fancying that the mutineers suspected him, and that he should suddenly find himself seized and thrown overboard. What he dreaded most was the ultimate failure of the undertaking. His two friends had in the meantime sounded those they hoped might join them, but whether all were favourable to the plan he could not ascertain. His eye was constantly on the master, who at length, seeing him near, sent him for his quadrant and tables. This was just what Paul wanted. He stood by while the observations were being taken, and then, carrying the instrument, followed the master to the cabin. Paul brought out the chart, and placed it before him, watching anxiously the movements of his companion as he measured off the distance run since the previous day.

More than once the master glanced round the cabin, and sighed deeply.

"In five or six days my disgraceful task will be done," he muttered, as he moved the compa.s.ses towards the coast of the Spanish main. "Then what remains for me in life? If I escape an ignominious death, I must ever be suspected of having consented to the murder of my brother officers. I would rather that the s.h.i.+p had gone down, and the whole history of the butchery been hid from mortal knowledge. Yet G.o.d knows it, and it may teach officers for the future the dreadful consequences of tyranny and cruelty."

He continued on in the same strain, not aware, it seemed, that Paul was listening. Paul retired to a distance. "Shall I ask the master to join us?" he thought to himself. "No, it will not do. It would greatly increase the risk of our being caught." He waited till the master was silent. He went back to the table. "Shall I put up the charts?" he asked. "But before I do so, will you, sir, kindly show me where we are?"

Since the outbreak the poor master had not been treated with so much respect. He showed Paul the exact position of the s.h.i.+p, the neighbouring lands, and remarked on the prevailing currents and winds.

Paul rolled up the chart, and put it in its place. He fancied that the master must have suspected his thoughts. Paul soon after met his friends, and told them of all he had learned.

It was agreed that they would wait till it was the master's watch, for so few of the mutineers could take command of a watch, that he was compelled constantly to be on deck. It was suspected that he had at times given way to intemperance, and Paul had observed more than once that when he came on deck he appeared to have been drinking, and that he frequently dropped asleep when sitting on a gun or leaning against the side of the s.h.i.+p. Many of the seamen who had free access to the spirit-room were also constantly tipsy at night, though the chief mutineers, from necessity, kept sober. The once well-ordered man-of-war soon became like a lawless buccaneer. The men rolled about the decks half tipsy, some were playing cards and dice between the guns, some were fighting, and others were sleeping in any shady place they could find.

Paul pa.s.sed old Croxton on deck. "We shall have little difficulty in accomplis.h.i.+ng our object if this goes on," he whispered.

"Yes, Paul, what is lost by fools is gained by wise men," he answered.

"Ay, and there is one who will gain more than all by the work done on board this s.h.i.+p. He will soon leave his poor dupes to wish that they had never been born."

Paul and his friends waited anxiously for night: they had resolved no longer to delay their attempt.

"I'll take care that they don't follow us," said Reuben.

"What do you mean?" asked Paul.

"I'll tell you, lad," was the answer; and he whispered something into his companion's ear.

Paul felt that there was a great deal to be done, and longed for the moment of action. He observed with satisfaction that frequent visits were made to the spirit-room, and that even the master was taking more than his usual share of grog. The s.h.i.+p sailed steadily over the calm sea--night drew on. Paul's heart beat unusually fast. He waited till he was sure that he was not perceived, and then he climbed into one of the boats. He was there for some time, and then descending he got into another; and so he visited all in succession. Again he slunk down below.

At length the master came on deck to keep his watch. The night, for those lat.i.tudes, was unusually dark, but the sea was smooth. The s.h.i.+p glided calmly on, the ripple made by her stem as she drove her way through the water showing, however, that a fair breeze filled her sails.

The master leaned against a gun-carriage, and gradually sunk down on it, resting his head on his hands. The helmsman stood at his post, now gazing at the broad spread of canvas above him, and then mechanically at the compa.s.s, with its light s.h.i.+ning in the binnacle before him, but looking neither to the right hand nor to the left. The rest of the watch placed themselves at their ease between the guns, and were soon, whatever might have been their intention, fast asleep. One by one others now stole on deck towards the boat Paul had last visited. Not a word was spoken. At length two men appeared bearing two slight figures on their backs. The latter were carefully deposited in the boat, which was quickly lowered. The whole manoeuvre was executed with the greatest rapidity and in the most perfect silence. Even the helmsman, who, though drowsy, could not have been entirely asleep, took no notice of them. In another instant, had anybody been looking over the side, a dark object might have been seen dropping astern. It was a boat, which contained Paul Gerrard and his companions, who had thus made their perilous escape from the blood-stained s.h.i.+p. Not till they were far astern did any one venture to speak. Devereux at last drew a deep sigh.

"Thank Heaven, we are free of them!" he exclaimed.

"Amen!" said old Croxton, in a deep voice. "We have reason to rejoice and be thankful. Sad will be the end of all those wretched men. Their victims are more to be envied than they."

As soon as it was deemed safe the oars were got out, a lantern was lighted to throw its light on the compa.s.s, and the boat was steered towards the north-west. The wind soon dropped to a perfect calm.

"We are safe now," exclaimed Paul. "Even if they were to miss us they could not follow, for there is not a boat on board which can swim or an oar to pull with. Some I dropped overboard, and others I cut nearly through just above the blades, and I bored holes in all the boats where they could not be seen till the boats were in the water."

"Well done, Gerrard. If we get clear off, we shall owe our escape to your judgment; but you ran a great risk of losing your life. The mutineers would have murdered you if they had discovered what you were about."

"I knew that, sir; but I knew also that nothing can be done without danger and trouble."

"Ay, boy, and that no danger or trouble is too great, so that we may escape from the company of sinners," remarked old Croxton. "Think of that, young gentleman. If you consent to remain with them because you are too lazy to flee, you will soon fall into their ways, and become one of them."

Some of his hearers remembered those words in after years. All night long the oars were kept going, and when morning dawned the s.h.i.+p was nowhere to be seen.

"Now let us turn to and have some breakfast," exclaimed O'Grady. "It will be the first for many a day that you and I have eaten in sunlight, Devereux, and I see good reason that we should be thankful. Then we'll have a tune from Alphonse, for I'll warrant that he has brought his fiddle."

"Ah, dat I have," cried the young Frenchman, exhibiting his beloved instrument. "But, mes amis, ve vill mange first. De arm vil not move vidout de oil!"

Alphonse had greatly improved in his knowledge of English.

A good supply of provisions had been collected, but as it was uncertain when they should make the land, it was necessary to be economical in their use. A very good breakfast, however, was made, and the spirits of the party rose as their hunger was appeased, and they thought of their happy escape. As the sun, however, arose in the blue sky, its rays struck down on their unprotected heads, and they would gladly have got under shelter, but there was no shelter for them out on the gla.s.sy s.h.i.+ning sea. Still they rowed on. To remain where they were was to die by inches. Devereux did his best, as he had done on the raft, to keep up the spirits of his men, and, weak as he was, he would have taken his spell at the oar if they had let him.

"No, no, sir; you just take your trick at the helm, if you think proper," exclaimed Croxton. "But just let us do the hard work. It's your head guides us, and without that we should be badly off."

Devereux saw the wisdom of this remark. They knew that they had five, and perhaps six days' hard rowing before they could hope to reach Dominica, the nearest island they supposed belonged to Great Britain, according to the information Paul had gained from the master. They were, however, far better off than when they had been on the raft, for they had food, were in a well-found boat, and knew tolerably well their position. Still they were not in good spirits, which is not surprising, considering the scenes they had witnessed, the dangers they had endured, and the uncertainty of the future.

Dominica was an English possession, but it had once been taken by the French, and might have been again; and Alphonse fancied that he had heard that it was proposed to make a descent on the island, in which case they would fall among enemies instead of friends.

"Ah! but your countrymen would surely treat us who come to them in distress as friends," observed O'Grady.

"Ah, dat dey vould!" exclaimed Alphonse, warmly.

"Well, mounseer, there is good and there is bad among 'em, of that there's no doubt," observed Reuben, taking his quid out of his mouth, and looking the young Frenchman in the face; "but do ye see I'd rather not try lest we should fall among the bad, and there's a precious lot on 'em."

Notwithstanding these doubts Devereux continued his course for Dominica.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the heat became greater and greater, till it was almost insupportable. A sail spread over the boat afforded some shelter from its rays, but they pierced through it as easily as a mosquito's sting does through a kid glove, till the air under it became even more stifling than that above.

All the time in turns they continued to row on--night and day there was to be no cessation. Reversing the usual order, they longed for the night, when the air would be cooler, and their heads would escape the frying process going on while the sun was above them.

"Och, but this is hot," cried O'Grady for the hundredth time. "If this goes on much longer, we'll all be turned into real black ebony n.i.g.g.e.rs, and the Christians on sh.o.r.e will be after putting us to work at the sugar-canes, and be swearing we've just come straight across from Africa. As to our tongues, there'll be no safety for us through them, and they'll swear we've made off with the uniforms from some s.h.i.+p of war or other, and perhaps be tricing us up as thieves and murderers. Did you ever hear tell of the Irishman--a sweet countryman of mine,--who once came out from the Emerald Isle to these parts--to Demerara, I believe? As soon as the s.h.i.+p which brought him entered the harbour, she was boarded by a boat full of n.i.g.g.e.rs.

"'Will yer honour have your duds carried ash.o.r.e now?' asks one, stepping up to him. 'It's myself will see ye all comfortable in a jiffy, if ye'll trust me, at Mother Flannigan's.'

"My countryman looked at him very hard.

"'What's your name now?' he asks with some trepidation.

"'Pat O'Dwyer, yer honour,' says the n.i.g.g.e.r.

"'Pat, how long have ye been here?' asks my countryman, solemnly.