Midnight Webs Part 17

STORY TWO, CHAPTER SIX.

"It may come to a fight though, after all, and a p.r.i.c.k will keep some of them at a distance," I says to myself, and getting my legs well round the sheet, I got hold of my knife, and opened it with my teeth, before making use of the chance that had shown itself.

Perhaps it isn't every one who knows what a wind-sail is, so I'll tell you; it's a contrivance like a great canvas stocking, six or seven feet round, and twenty or thirty long and by letting one end of this hang down through the cabin-hatch or skylight, and having the other bowsed up in the rigging, you have like a great open pipe bringing you down a reg'lar stream of cool air in the hot weather.

Now it was just against the top end of this that I had brushed; and as it seemed to me all I had to do was to slip in, check myself all I could, and then go down with a run amongst friends, where, if not safe, I should certainly share their fate, whatever it might be, besides, perhaps, being of some use.

Fortunately, I had the rope, and hauling myself up a bit, after two or three tries, I got my legs in, lowered away quickly, and came down pretty smartly, not, as I meant, in the chief cabin, but upon the deck, where I was now struggling to get loose, like a monkey in a biscuit-bag, for they had done what I had not reckoned upon, dragged up the end of the wind-sail, and shut down the cabin skylight, most likely when I heard the shots and breaking gla.s.s.

It was lucky for me that it was dark, for though the noise I made brought them round me, I had time first to slit the canvas and slip out, panting, and not knowing which way to turn. I knew they dare not fire, for fear of hitting one another, and starting off, I ran them once right round the deck, keeping as much as I could under the bulwarks. The second time round I came right against one fellow, and sent him down head over heels; but I knew it couldn't last, and that in spite of doubling they must have me. I could hear panting and voices all round, and on leaving off running, and creeping cautiously about, more than once I felt some one pa.s.s close by me--regularly felt them, they were so close. Once I thought of getting into the chains, but I knew if I did they would see me as soon as it was daybreak. Then I thought I might just as well jump overboard, and make an end of it, as be pitched over; directly after, I fancied I could crawl under the spare sail that covered the long-boat, and lie there. Last of all, I made for the p.o.o.p, meaning to try and climb down to one of the cabin windows, but I stopped half-way, on account of the binnacle-light, and crept back towards the fore-part, to see if I could get down to the fore-cabin pa.s.sengers. But it was of no use, and the only wonder was that I did not run right into some one's arms; but the chances, perhaps, were not, after all, so very much against me, and I kept clear till they grew savage, and I could hear that they were cutting about at me with either knives or cutla.s.ses; and in spite of my trouble then, I could not help wondering how they had come by their arms, for, of course, I could not know then how Van had stolen them from the cabin while the skipper was asleep.

"I may as well knock under," I said to myself, and I was about to give up, meaning first to give 'em one more round, when I stumbled. Twice over I had felt my bare feet, slip upon the deck, in what seemed blood, and had shuddered as I thought of how I should leave my footmarks all over the clean white boards; but this time I stumbled over what seemed to be a body, and should have fallen, if I had not gathered up my strength for a jump, and thrown myself forward, when, as if in one and the same moment, there was a crash as of breaking gla.s.s, a heavy fall, and then a foot was upon my throat, and a pistol held to my head.

STORY TWO, CHAPTER SEVEN.

I was that shaken and confused by my fall, that for a moment I could not speak, and when I could say a few words, I did not know who I was speaking to, expecting that it was Van, till a voice I seemed to know whispered: "If you attempt to move, I fire."

"I ain't going to move, Mr Ward," I says at last: "it's been too hard work to get here; but if you'll pynt your pistol up at the skylight, it'll be better, or some one else will be tumbling down after me. Only wish Sam Brown would."

"Pitched me down more'n half a hour ago," growled a voice I knew.

"What's come of Bill Smith?" I says.

"Lyin' on the deck with his head split," says Sam, "if they ain't pitched him overboard."

Then I heard a whispering consultation going on, which seemed to be about whether I was to be trusted, when Mr Ward seemed to be taking my part, and then the skipper whispers to me: "If you'll be faithful to us, Roberts, you shall be well rewarded; but if you play fast and loose, mind, we are well armed, and there will be no mercy for you."

"Who's playing fast and loose?" I says gruffly as old Sam. "Ain't I been cut at, and shot at, and then pitched neck and crop through the cabin skylight! If that's your fast and loose, give me slow and tight for a game," I says; "but mind you, it's my opinion that there's something else to do but play, for them beggars mean mischief."

"I'll be answerable for him, Captain Harness," says Mr Ward; and though all this went on in whispers, there wasn't a face to be seen, every light having been put out. "You may trust him, he's no spy."

"Spy be hanged," I says. "Who's going to play spy down here, in a place as is dark as an empty pitch-kettle in a ship's hold! Don't I tell you I've had to cut and run for my life, and what more do you want?"

"Nothing, my man," says Mr Ward; "only your help as a good and true British sailor, for here are women and children for us to protect."

"However shall I get to my birds?" some one says from out of the darkness.

"Birds!" I says: "you won't want no more birds, sir, for it's my impression as we're going to be kept caged up ourselves now."

Just then I seemed to catch just a faint glimpse of a face from out of the darkness, then it was gone again, and half a minute after I got another glimpse, and then another, when it was plain enough that the day was breaking; and then quickly the pale light stole down through the skylight, till the anxious faces of all the pa.s.sengers, with the two officers and Sam Brown, was plain enough to see; and strange, and haggard, and queer they looked; but for all that, there was an air of determination amongst them, that showed they meant mischief; and I soon gathered from Mr Ward's words that he was spurring the captain on to try and retake the ship.

"I'm afraid it would only be a sacrifice of life, if I did," said the skipper.

"It would be a sacrifice of duty, if you did not, sir," says Mr Ward warmly.

"Perhaps you'd better retake her yourself, sir," says the skipper sulkily.

"I certainly shall try, sir, if you do not do your duty, to protect these helpless women. But we have a right to demand your a.s.sistance, and we do; while I have the word of every man present that he will fight to the last gasp for those who need our protection."

"I cannot fight, but I can load for you," said a voice from behind; and looking round, as many of us did, there stood Mr Bell, pale as a ghost, but quite calm, and leaning upon his sister's arm; while, if I could have seen anything in a woman to admire, I should have said she looked beautiful just then--being quite pale and calm--like the sea of a still morning before the sun rises.

"There's something to fight for there," says Sam in my ear.

"Why didn't they all stop at home?" I says. "Just look what a mess they've got themselves in through being aboard ship, which is the last place as they should be in."

What Mr Ward had said seemed to have warmed the captain up; for sooner than see another take his place, he set to, and began to hunt out what arms he could find, after placing Mr Ward to guard the broken skylight, which he did with a revolver and a thin skewer of a thing out of a walking-stick, and it put me in mind of what I have read about some one being put in the fore-front of the battle; but the young man never said a word; and then, after a bit of a rummage, the captain came back to serve out what arms he could get told of, but that wasn't many, for the enemy had pretty well emptied the locker where they were kept. A precious poor lot there was left for us to defend ourselves and a whole tribe of women and children; my share being an empty pistol, which didn't seem to be so much use as a fellow's fist, that being a handy sort of weapon in a tussle.

Everything was done quiet as could be, so as not to let them on deck know what we were doing; but as soon as the arming part was finished, and I looked round, I could see that the game was up, for two more pistols, two cutlashes, and a couple of guns--sporting-guns, that two of the pa.s.sengers had used to shoot sea-birds with--was all we could muster.

As is always the case when it's wanted, neither of these pa.s.sengers had any more powder; and when Mr Ward's little pistol-flask had been pa.s.sed round once, there was not another charge left; but the captain had gone to get more, and we were expecting him back, piling up hammocks and bedding the while, to keep the mutineers off, and to have something to fight from behind. I was doing all I could, after shoving a good charge of powder and a whole handful of small-shot into my pistol, when Mr Ward beckons to me and whispers: "Go and see why he don't come back; it's time to be on the alert, for they are moving on deck."

I stepped lightly off--my feet being bare, making no noise on the planks--when coming upon the captain quickly, I saw him just putting down a water-can, and he turned round to me, looking pale as a sheet, as he says: "It's no use, my lad; resistance would be vain, for they've contrived to wet what powder we had. Look at it."

He pointed to the little keg and a small case of cartridges, and sure enough they were all dripping wet, while it seemed rather surprising that the wetting looked so fresh. But I did not say so, only that Mr Ward hoped he'd make haste.

"Curse Mr Ward!" he muttered; and then he went on first, and I followed with my cheeks blown out, as if I was going to whistle, but I didn't make a sound for all that.

"I fear that we must give up, Mr Ward," says the skipper, "for the powder is all wet."

There was a regular groan of dismay at the news, and one woman gave a sort of sob, else they were still as mice, and the children too behaving wonderful.

"Who talks of giving up?" says Mr Bell, his pale face flushing up as he spoke, and him holding one hand to his side. "Do you call yourselves men to hint at such a thing? I am no man now, only a broken, wasted shadow of a man, or, by the G.o.d who made me, Captain Harness, I'd strike you down! Look at these women, men! think of their fate if those scoundrels get the upper hand--completely--Mr Ward--you--as a gentleman--my sister--G.o.d help--"

The poor young fellow staggered, and would have fallen, for the blood was trickling down upon his shirt-front--gushing from his lips; but Mr Ward saved him, springing forward as a cry burst from Miss Bell; and he was laid upon a mattress in one of the cabins fainting--dying, it seemed to me.

Then there was a murmur among the pa.s.sengers, of such a nature that Captain Harness found he must make some show of a fight, or it would be done without him; and accordingly he took hold of a very blunt cutlash, looking precious pale, but making-believe to tuck up the wristband of his shirt, to have free play for killing six or seven of the mutineers.

As for the pa.s.sengers, all mustered, there was about eighteen of them; and had they been well armed, numbers being about equal, I don't think we should have had much the worst of it; but ever so many of them had no arms at all, and I began to turn over in my mind what was to be done. I had a pretty good jack-knife; and not having much faith in the pistol, I was about to trust to the bit of steel, same as Sam Brown, who had one with a spring-back and a good seven-inch blade, so I says to Tomt.i.t: "P'r'aps you'd like the pistol, sir;" and he took it quietly and earnestly, tapping the back, to make sure the powder was up the nipple, and I thought to myself, that's in the right hands, anyhow.

"Are you ready?" says the skipper; for they were evidently collecting up above, and some one fired a pistol down the skylight, but none of us was. .h.i.t.

"Not quite, sir," I says. "Steward, suppose you hand out some of them knives o' yours; and I'll trouble you for the big beef-carver, as I spoke first."

Mr Ward turned round and smiled at me; and I gave him a nod, turned up my sleeve too, and then laid hold of the big carver, which did not make such a bad weapon, being new, sharp-pointed, and stiff; while my idea had put a knife into a dozen hands that before had nothing to show.

"Pile more mattresses and hammocks up," said Mr Ward; for it was plain that neither the skipper nor Mr Wallace meant to do much towards what was going to take place; and then I saw the doctor give one look towards where Mr Bell was lying, and run across, as if to see how he was; but he hurriedly caught hold of Miss Bell's hand, and I could see that he spoke, while, as she drew her hand hastily away, she gave a strange frightened sort of look at him. Next moment he was back at my side, just as the cabin-hatch was flung open, and the shuffling of feet told that the mutineers meant to make their rush.

STORY TWO, CHAPTER EIGHT.

It was a rush, and no mistake; for they had been priming themselves up with rum, I should think, for the last hour or two, till they were nearly mad; and with Van at their head, they came on, yelling like so many devils, more than Englishmen, though certainly half of them were from all parts of the world. There was no time then for thinking, and before you knew where you were, it was give and take.

We fired as they came on; but I did not see that much harm was done, only one chap falling; while, as they returned it, Mr Wallace gave a cry, and clapped his hand to his shoulder, dropping at the same time his cutlash, which Tomt.i.t laid hold of, for he had just shied his pistol, after firing it, right at Van's head, only missing him by half an inch or so.