Sail Ho! Part 50

"At some prisoner they have there below," I said.

"Or at the wounded man," cried Mr Preddle.

"It must be another wounded man then, for you heard the sound before you fired that shot."

"Yes; and it makes me feel better satisfied, for the mutineers are such brutes--such savage brutes."

"There!" I cried; "do you hear?" for once more the cry for help came so piteous, faint, and despairing that it seemed to go through me from head to heel in one long, continuous shudder.

"If it hadn't been for what we heard just now," said Mr Preddle just then, "I should have been ready to think it was something uncanny-- something ghostly; but," he added hastily, as Mr Denning turned a mocking face to him, "I don't think so now."

"It's very horrid," I said; "and the worst of it is that one can't do anything. I wish we could send Mr Frewen to help the poor fellow, whoever it is."

"Yes, it is horrible," said Mr Denning; "but they made us suffer so that I feel hardened against them. It must be a wounded man."

"Why," I cried, as a flash of mental light just then illumined my thick brain, "I know!"

I was so excited by my discovery, which was one of those simple finds that the wonder was it had not been thought of at once, I could hardly contain myself, and I made for a swinging lantern and took it down.

"What is it? What have you found out?" cried Mr Denning at the top of his voice, though it only sounded feeble then in the din of the storm.

"It's some one in the cable-tier," I cried.

"Cable-tier? Where's that?"

"Just forward. Front of the forksle," I shouted. "We must get the hatch off."

"No, no; not till Mr Brymer comes," said Mr Denning.

The words sounded so wise that I hesitated with the lantern in my hand, and for a moment or two I thought of running off to report my discovery; but I recalled the fact that I was on a perilous duty, and that I had no right to leave my post without orders; so I re-hung the lantern, and then, after listening and convincing myself that there was no threatening sound coming from below, I shouted to my companions what I was going to do, and then staggered forward to the carefully battened down hatch, beneath which the great rusty chain cable was lying in a heap.

I listened, and my heart sank with disappointment, for the wind was shrieking as fiercely as ever, and I could not hear a sound.

"Am I mistaken after all?" I thought, and listened still.

Just then, with a heavy thud, as the ship plunged downward, a wave struck the port-bow, rose in a perfect cataract, and curling over, deluged me and rushed along the deck.

I should have been swept away, but the combings of the hatch sheltered me a little, and as the hissing splash of the water ceased, I fancied I heard a faint clink of one of the links of the great chain below, while the moment after came more plainly than I had heard it before a smothered, piteous cry--

"Help!"

And again directly after, as if he who uttered the cry were in agony--

"Help!"

I took out my pistol and thumped with the b.u.t.t on the hatch, when there was silence again.

"Below there!" I shouted with my lips close to the boards.

"Help! pray help!" came in answer.

"All right," I cried; "I'll see."

I crept back on hands and knees to my companions, who were waiting for me impatiently.

"It's all right," I said; "there's some one in the cable-tier a prisoner, and as it must be some one of our lads he is of course afraid.

Oughtn't I to run to Mr Brymer?"

The need ceased the next moment, for before we could decide whether the signal ought to be given by firing a pistol, Neb Dumlow appeared in the feeble glow shed by the lantern, coming out of the black darkness in a peculiarly weird fashion.

"Ahoy!" he growled. "Mate says, is all right?"

"No," I said eagerly, for boy as I was, I seemed to be the captain of that watch, the two gentlemen giving place to me, even if they did oppose some of my ideas. "Go and tell Mr Brymer to come here."

"Ay, ay!" growled the great ugly fellow--uglier now in the darkness than he had ever looked before--and he turned and trotted aft, to return in a few minutes bearing a lantern, and in company with the mate and Mr Frewen.

I told them what I had discovered, and Mr Brymer gave an angry stamp.

"Of course!" he cried. "I might have known. Why, it must be one of our lads, and a friend. Quick, Dumlow, and have off that hatch."

In another moment or two the sailor was on his knees dragging off the piece of tarpaulin which had been fastened down over the top, probably when the storm began, and directly after the hatch was lifted off, and the lantern held down to throw its light upon a ghastly face, which was raised to us as a couple of hands grasped the combings around the opening. I was so astounded that I could not speak, only listen, as Dumlow shouted--

"I say, what cheer you, my lad?"

And Mr Brymer--

"Walters! Why, my lad, what are you doing there?"

"Help!" groaned my old messmate with a piteous look up at us; "half-smothered--water--help!"

"Well, mutineer or middy," said Mr Brymer, "there's nothing to fear from you. Take one arm, Dumlow," and seizing the other himself, they hoisted Walters quickly out of the little compartment and set him on his feet; but his legs gave way, and he dropped on the deck and lay upon his back.

At that moment sounds came up from the hatch, which suggested the possibility of the mutineers breaking through the heavy bulk-head and making their way on deck that way, so before aught else was done, the hatch was securely fastened down again.

While that was in progress, but feeling wroth all the time, I bent down over the poor, miserable-looking wretch, whose eyes were following every movement I made, and recalling the shot I had heard fired, I at once came to the conclusion that he was hurt.

"Here," I said roughly, "where are you wounded, so that I can tell Mr Frewen?"

"I'm--I'm--"

"Well, where?" I said, still very roughly, for the sight of the treacherous young wretch made a hot feeling of rage against him rise in my throat.

"Not--not wounded," he said feebly.

"Then what's the matter with you?" I cried contemptuously; "sea-sick?"

"No--no, that--that wretch, Jarette."

"What?" cried Mr Brymer, with a mocking laugh. "What? 'Wretch Jarette!' Do you mean your captain, my worthy young lieutenant?"