The Grain Ship Part 18

"Wasn't whisky, Sir," answered Rogers, recognizing an officer. "I was doped and shanghaied, even though willing to ship. I'm an able seaman, Sir."

"You don't look it."

"Fifteen years at sea, Sir, though the last ten ash.o.r.e. I'm a bit tender; but I know my work."

"How about the other two? Are they sailors?"

"I don't think they are, Sir," answered Rogers, with a slight grin.

"They were with me when I was doped; but I don't know much about them."

"Go aft and take the wheel. There's a farmer there that can't steer.

Let's see what you can do. I'll tend to your friends."

Rogers went to the wheel, received the spokes and the course from the rather distressed inc.u.mbent, and, even though the ship was riding along before a stiff quartering breeze and following sea, steered a course good enough to win silence from the skipper--another big, bearded man--when he next looked into the binnacle. Silence, on such occasions, is a compliment.

The cold, fresh breeze soon cleared Rogers's head of its aches and throbs, and he took stock of the ship and her people. She seemed to be about twelve hundred tons' register, with no skysails, stunsails, or other kites to make work for her crew, an easy ship, as far as wind and weather were concerned. Rogers counted her crew--sixteen men scattered about the decks and rigging, lashing casks, stowing lines and fenders, and securing chafing gear aloft. The big man that had spoken to him was undoubtedly the first mate, as was evidenced by his louder voice. The second mate, a short, broad, square-jawed man with a smooth face, spoke little to the men, but struck them often. Rogers saw three floored before six bells. As for the crew, they were of all nations and types, and by these signs he knew that she was an American ship; but nothing yet of her name or destination. Astern was a blue spot on the horizon which he recognized as the Highlands of Navesink, and scattered about at various distances were out- and in-bound craft, sail and steam. But none was within hailing range.

Just before noon he saw two men thrown out of the forecastle by the huge first mate, and in spite of their canvas rags he recognized his two enemies. Involuntarily Rogers smiled; but the smile left his face when he saw that they were showing fight, and that in the fight they were being sadly bested by the mate, aided by his confrere, the second officer. Yet they fought as they could, and as the whirl of battle drifted aft Rogers could hear their voices.

"I want to see the Captain!" they each declared explosively, whenever a moment's respite enabled them to speak, and in time the reiterated demand bore results. The Captain himself appeared, watched the conflict for a moment, then roared out:

"Mr. Billings, that'll do! Send those men up here, and let's see what they want."

The two mates stood back, and the disfigured Sheriff of Maricopa and the almost unrecognizable mounted policeman climbed the p.o.o.p steps and faced the Captain in the weather alley. They were game--still full of fight, and in no way abashed by the autocrat of the ship.

"You the Captain o' this boat?" demanded Quincy, his eyes flaming green from the rage in his soul. "If you are, put me ash.o.r.e, or I'll make you sweat!"

"Steady as you go," answered the Captain, quietly. "I'm too big a man to sweat. It's dangerous to make me sweat. What's on your mind?"

"Put us ash.o.r.e!" yelled Benson, insanely. "Those fellows that hammered us just now said we shipped in this boat. We did not. We were drugged and abducted."

"Whew!" whistled the big skipper, turning his back on them for the moment. Then he turned back and said, "What d'you want?"

"To go ash.o.r.e and take our prisoner with us. We'll settle between ourselves as to which one gets him."

"Your prisoner? Where is he?"

"That fellow standing there--steering, I suppose," answered Quincy.

The skipper turned toward Rogers. "You a prisoner?" he asked, with the good humor coming of size and self-confidence.

"I'm wanted, Sir," said Rogers, grimly, "in Arizona and in Manitoba.

These men are what they say, officers of the law."

"What crime have you committed?"

"None, Sir," answered Rogers; "though I'm indicted in one place for stage robbery and in the other place for murder."

"Well, well!" commented the big man. "You seem to be a dangerous character. What are you doing aboard my ship?"

"These fellows chased me, and I went to a boarding master to get a ship. They followed and were shanghaied with me--though I do not see why he drugged me, Sir; I was willing to ship."

"But did you," demanded the skipper, his voice growing tense and forceful, "rob a stage and kill a man, somewhere in the West?"

"I robbed a stage of what I owned--my own gold-dust. I killed the man who thought I robbed him; but he pulled his gun first, and I shot in self-defense."

"And I've come all the way from Arizona," interrupted Quincy, "to bring this man back for trial. And--I want him!"

"And I've come from Manitoba," added Benson, "where he's wanted for murder."

The skipper turned to Rogers and said calmly, "By your own admission you are a fugitive from justice; hence, ent.i.tled to no sympathy from me." Then he turned to the two others and said, "You men put up a plausible story of being shanghaied. If you told it at the dock where I could get two men to replace you, I might put you ash.o.r.e. As it is, fifty miles outside of Sandy Hook, I can do nothing of the kind. This ship's time is valuable, worth about a hundred dollars a day, and I can't stop to signal and put you aboard an inbound craft. You're signed on my articles--John Quincy and Walter Benson; though I don't know which is which. But the fact is that here you stay, and you work, and earn your grub and what pay I choose to put you on."

"But we did not agree," yelled Quincy. "You have no warrant in law for this procedure."

"I have my articles. I did not ship you, as I was not in the shipping office; but I bargained with a crimp for sixteen men, and he gave me fourteen and you two."

"Well," said Quincy, quietly, "you seem to be in power here, and responsible to no one that we can reach. But I'll tell you that the State of Arizona will swarm about your ears, and that you'll sweat, big as you are!"

"And I'll tell you," spoke up Benson, "that the Secretary of State at Washington will hear from the Governor General at Ottawa!"

"Get out o' this!" exploded the Captain. "Get off the p.o.o.p, you four-legged farmers! Sweat, will I? All right; but you'll sweat, the both of you, before you see your friends again! Here, Mr. Billings," he roared to the first mate amidships, "and Mr. Snelling! Come up here, and turn these men to!"

The two mates answered and appeared.

"Turn them to," said the Captain, speaking slowly and softly. "Take the starch out of 'em, and make 'em sweat."

The scene that ensued was too painful even for Rogers to witness or describe, except in its salient points. Billings and Snelling pounced upon the two insurgents, struck, buffeted, kicked, and vilified them with foul-mouthed abuse, until they had borne them off the p.o.o.p, forward along the main deck, and to the vicinity of the forecastle, where the two victims, subdued and quiescent, were willing to dart for cover, when the two mates gave over and went aft.

Rogers at the wheel had watched the scene, at first with a smile; but the smile grew less as he saw the battered men hurled right and left under the blows of the mates, and when at last the punishment was ended his face was serious and resentful. Some criminals do not lose the qualities of forgiveness and mercy. His mood was increased when the big skipper faced him and said:

"A fugitive from justice, are you? Well, I'll see that the Consul at Melbourne gets you. I want no jailbirds in my ship."

Which gave Rogers occasion to think.

Rogers was relieved at one bell (half-past twelve), and went forward to his dinner. As he descended the p.o.o.p steps he met the big first mate, coming out of the forward companion picking his teeth.

"So," he said to Rogers, "you're a bad man from the West, I hear. Held up a stage and then killed the man you robbed!"

"You've got things wrong, Sir," answered Rogers respectfully.

"None o' your lip!" thundered the officer. "You may be a bad man from the West; but I'm a bad man from the East, and I'm here to take the badness out o' bad men!"

Then, before Rogers could dodge, he launched forth his fist and struck him. The blow knocked him off his feet, and he rose with nose bleeding and eyes closing.

"Just to show you," commented the mate, "that I'm a badder man than you."

Rogers did not answer; in fact, no answer was necessary or wise. He walked forward, and, partly from his half-blindness, partly from his disorganized state of mind, pa.s.sed to windward of Snelling, the second mate, who was coming aft to dinner. Snelling said nothing in the way of prelude, but crashed his fist on Rogers's already mutilated face, and sent him again to the deck. As Rogers struggled to his feet he said: