The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 48

Jem started, but Don did not stir.

"Now you are both very young, and you have worked so well, and with so much promise of making yourselves sailors, that I should be sorry for you--either of you--to be guilty of such a mad trick as desertion. If you tried it, you would almost certainly be retaken, and--the punishment must follow. If, on the other hand, you escaped, it would be into the savage country before you, where you would fall into the hands of some enemy tribe, who would kill you both like dogs. I daresay you have heard what takes place afterwards, when the Maori tribes have taken prisoners?"

Jem shuddered, but Don made no sign.

"Ah! I see you know," continued the captain, "so I need say little more. I am satisfied that you will neither of you be guilty of such an act of madness as you contemplated, especially now that I tell you that I stop at nothing which the law gives me power to do for the preservation of the discipline of my ship. These two lads," he said, turning to give an order, "will be placed in irons for the present."

He made a sign, and the two prisoners were taken below deck, and placed in irons.

"Better than being hung, my lads," said the armourer gruffly; and soon after they were alone, with a sentry on duty not far from where they were seated.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

TOMATL'S PROMISE.

"Wonder whether Mike ever had a taste of this sort o' thing, Mas' Don,"

said Jem, after they had sat in silence some time, Don's face not inviting any attempt at conversation. "He never said anything about being in irons when he spun yarns about adventures."

"Jem!" said Don indignantly; and as if it only wanted his companion's words to start him in a furious outburst of pa.s.sion; "it is shameful!

It is a cruel indignity and disgrace."

"Hush, hush, my lad! Don't take it that way. They arn't so werry heavy, and they don't hurt much."

"Hurt? Not hurt much? Why, they are treating us as if we were thieves."

"What, being ironed, sir? Well, it do seem a bit hard."

"It's cruel! It's horrible! And he had no right to do it for such an offence."

"Steady, my lad, steady. The sentry 'll hear you, and have his turn, p'r'aps, at telling tales."

"But he had no right to do this, I say."

"P'r'aps not, Mas' Don; but skippers does just what they please when they're out at sea in war time. I thought he was going to hang us once."

"He would not dare," said Don.

"Well, if he did, I should have liked to have a few words first with Mr Ramsden; for of all the mean, dirty, sneaking chaps I ever set eyes on, he's about the worst."

"A mean, cowardly spy!" cried Don.

"Ah, that's it; so he is, Mas' Don; a mean, cowardly spy. I couldn't think o' them words, but they're just what he is.--Say, Mas' Don."

"Don't, don't, don't, Jem."

"Don't what, Mas' Don?"

"Don't do that. _Master Don_. It sounds so foolish, and it's ridiculous, seeing what we are."

"All right, my lad, I'll be careful; but what I wanted to say was, would there be any harm in taking Master Ramsden by his waistband, and dropping him some night over into the sea?"

"Do you want to commit murder, Jem?"

"Do I want to commit murder? Nay, Mas' Don, gently, gently; don't talk to a man like that. I only meant to give him a ducking."

"Amongst the sharks?"

"Ugh! I forgot all about the sharks, Mas' Don. I say, think there are many of 'em about?"

"They say there are plenty, and we saw a monster, Jem."

"So we did, my lad; so we did, and a nice lot o' worry he's got us in through stealing that boathook. But, look here, how do you feel now?"

"Heart-sick and tired of it all, Jem. I wish we had run off when we had the chance."

"You do?"

"I do. See how we have been served: dragged from our homes, roughly used; bullied and ill-treated; and with that man's word taken before ours. It's too bad--too bad."

"Well, it is, Mas' Don," whispered Jem. "But you see it was awkward.

You couldn't swear as you hadn't thoughts of deserting."

"Deserting?" said Don hotly. "I will not have it called deserting. I say it is only claiming our liberty, when we have been seized upon and treated like slaves."

"What a weather-c.o.c.ky way you have got, Mas' Don. Only t'other day you was all on the other tack, and says, says you, 'It's deserting, and cowardly,' and a lot more to that tune, and the way you went on at me, sir, made my hair curl."

"I had not had this last blow, Jem. I had not been put in irons then like a common thief."

"Silence, below there!" cried an angry voice. "Sentry, stop that talking by the prisoners."

The marine marched slowly toward them, and growled out his orders.

Then, settling his head in his stiff stock, he faced round and marched away.

"All right, Jolly," said Jem, good-humouredly; and then drawing closer to his companion in misfortune, he went on talking in a whisper.

"Say, Mas' Don, do you mean it now?"

"Mean what?"

"Going? It's now or never. If we waits till we goes off to sea again our chance is gone."

"I mean it, Jem."

"That's a good bargain, my lad," said Jem, slapping him on the knee.

"Then the sooner we're off the better."