Sail Ho! Part 43

"Three, and three stout men on deck."

"Who are they?"

"Hampton, Blane, Dumlow."

"All traitors and scoundrels."

"All true men waiting for my signal."

"Good. And the captain?"

"Too badly wounded to stir."

"Mr Denning?"

"Too weak."

"Yes. Lead then; I'll do all you say."

"Are you stronger?"

"Strong enough for that; but give me something to hit with. All right, I have my pocket-knife."

"Ready then? Come on, and let's see what had better be done."

"Get Jarette down at any cost," said the mate. "The rest will come easy."

All this was in a whisper, and then we followed Mr Frewen to the shattered entrance of the saloon, and stood there looking forward, but seeing very little, though a white peculiar gleam came off the sea, and a couple of lanterns swung forward, by the side of one of which we made out the gleam of an oilskin upon whose wet surface the dim light played.

"He'll be up by the wheel," Mr Brymer whispered. "We must tackle him there; and once get him down, we can beat back the others. I'll make sure for you."

Just as he spoke all doubt was at an end, for we heard Jarette shout an order to the men at the wheel; and then, before any plan could be made, he trotted forward, swung himself down the steps on to the deck, as we shrank back into the companion-way, and went forward.

"Bah! We've let our chance go," whispered Mr Frewen, and then we stood fast, for Jarette stopped and turned to come back into the saloon.

"Delivered into our hands," I said to myself, as I drew a long breath, for the great struggle was about to begin.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

The companion-way was so black that we were completely hidden, and I heard Mr Frewen draw his breath with a soft hissing sound, as if he now grasped the fact that a better chance was to be afforded to us of mastering the leader of the mutineers, who came right to the shattered entrance, and appeared to be about to enter, but stopped short listening for a sound, but for a few seconds there was none. Then all at once in a m.u.f.fled way we heard Mr John Denning say a few words in an angry impatient tone, for the wind had lulled for a few moments. Then there came the low murmur of Miss Denning's voice, and directly after the whistling of the wind again.

Jarette was not two yards from us, and if he had taken another step, I had made up my mind to fling myself upon him and cling with all my might to his legs, while the others seized him by the throat and arms. I say this, for we compared notes afterwards.

It was not to be, for he came no farther; but apparently satisfied that all was right, he turned sharply and went forward, and we could from time to time make out his voice among the others as he gave orders to the men.

"Another opportunity gone," said Mr Frewen. "We ought to have leaped upon him."

"Better luck next time," said the mate. "He cannot stay forward long.

He is seaman enough to know that his place is at the wheel."

"Then at all costs we must have him when he returns."

"And what then?" said the mate. "You do not mean to kill him, I suppose?"

"Oh no; of course not."

"Then I should place the door of one of the cabins wide open, and prop it. Then as soon as we have mastered and disarmed him, bundle him inside and keep him a prisoner."

"Yes; excellent," said Mr Frewen. "I'll open mine at once."

He crept cautiously across and opened the door to its full extent, and, as he told me afterwards, he placed a heavy case of instruments against it, so that it should not swing to again from the motion of the ship.

The next minute he was back, and we were watching and waiting as the ship laboured terribly, the sea being now terrific; but, as Mr Brymer whispered, everything possible had been done, and she was under close-reefed storm canvas.

"I couldn't have done better myself there, but the men at the wheel are steering very wildly."

There was silence again, and as I listened for a voice, the lanterns forward swung to and fro, and so much water came aboard that I fully expected to see them extinguished, when all forward would have been in darkness.

"Is he never coming again?" whispered Mr Frewen at last.

"Oh yes, he'll come," said Mr Brymer. "They've got the grog forward there, and perhaps he has gone below."

"Then why not crawl forward and clap on the forecastle-hatch?"

"Because it will be far safer for us to secure their leader; and, besides, by closing up the forksle you might shut in our friends as well."

"Yes, quite right," replied Mr Frewen, and we waited still, with the wind shrieking amongst the cordage, and the night appearing blacker than ever.

Thud! Plash!

A heavy wave had struck the bows, and the spray came hissing and rushing along the deck after deluging the ship forward.

"I'm certain that my poor fish will all be killed by the salt water, Dale," whispered Mr Preddle, but I only made an impatient movement, for I was trying to hear what Mr Brymer whispered to the doctor, who did not hear the remark, and said--

"What?"

"I say that was bad steering, and if I were in command, there would be a row."

Thud! Splash!

This time the water must have curled over in a perfect deluge, for we could hear it hiss and roar amongst the cordage on the leeward side, and stream out of the scuppers.

"That must fetch him up if he is below," whispered Mr Brymer, and sure enough the next moment we heard his voice shouting furiously at the men at the wheel, though we could hardly make out a word he said.

"Look out! Here he comes!"