The Island Home Part 2

The ruffian's design, in this savage threat, was doubtless to terrify us into submission; or, at least, so to appal and agitate us, as to make our exertions more confused and feeble. In this last calculation he may have been partially correct, for the threat was fearful, and the danger imminent; the harsh, deep tones of his voice, with the ferocious determination of his manner, sent a thrill of horror to every heart.

More than this, he could not effect; there was not a craven spirit among our number.

"Steadily!" said Arthur, in a low, collected tone; "less than five minutes will bring us within hail of the ship."

But the minutes seemed hours, amid such tremendous exertions, and such intense anxiety. The sweat streamed from the faces of the rowers; they gasped and panted for breath; the swollen veins stood out on their foreheads.

"Perhaps," cried Luerson, after a pause, "perhaps there is some one in that boat who desires to save his life; whoever drops his oar shall not be harmed; the rest die."

A scornful laugh from Morton was the only answer to this tempting offer.

Luerson now stooped for a moment and seemed to be groping for something in the bottom of the boat. When he rose, it was with a musket or fowling-piece in his hands, which he c.o.c.ked, and, coming forward to the bow, levelled towards us.

"Once more," he cried, "and once for all, drop your oars, or I fire among you."

"I don't believe it is loaded," said Arthur, "or he would have used it sooner."

"I think it is Frazer's gun," said Morton, "and he fired both barrels before they murdered him; there has been no time to reload it."

The event showed the truth of these suspicions; for, upon seeing that his threat produced no effect, Luerson resumed his seat in the bows, the helm having been given to one of the men not at the oars.

We were now close upon the point, and, as I glanced from our pursuers to the ship, I began to breathe more freely. They had gained upon us; but it was inch by inch, and the goal was now at hand. The long-boat, though pulling eight oars, and those of greater length than ours, was a clumsier boat than the yawl, and at present heavily loaded; we had almost held our own with them thus far.

But now Luerson sprang up once more in the bow of the long-boat, and presented towards us the weapon with which he had a moment before threatened us; and this time it was no idle menace. A puff of smoke rose from the muzzle of the piece, and, just as the sharp report reached our ears, Browne uttered a quick exclamation of pain, and let fall his oar.

For a moment all was confusion and alarm; but Browne, who had seized his oar again almost instantly, declared that he was not hurt; that the ball had merely grazed the skin of his arm; and he attempted to recommence rowing; before, however, he had pulled half-a-dozen strokes, his right hand was covered with the blood which streamed down his arm.

I now insisted on taking his oar, and he took my place at the helm.

While this change was being effected, our pursuers gained upon us perceptibly. Every moment was precious. Luerson urged his men to greater efforts; the turning point of the struggle was now at hand, and the excitement became terrible.

"Steer close in; it will save something in distance," gasped Morton, almost choking for breath.

"Not too close," panted Arthur; "don't get us aground."

"There is no danger of that," answered Morton, "it is deep, off the point."

Almost as he spoke, a sharp, grating sound was heard, beneath the bottom of the boat, and our progress was arrested with a suddenness that threw Max and myself from our seats. We were upon a ledge of coral, which at a time of less excitement we could scarcely have failed to have observed and avoided, from the manner in which the sea broke upon it.

A shout of mingled exultation and derision, as they witnessed this disaster, greeted us from the long-boat, which was ploughing through the water, but a little way behind us, and some twenty yards further out from the sh.o.r.e.

"It is all up," said Morton, bitterly, dropping his oar.

"Back water! Her stern still swings free," cried Arthur, "the next swell will lift her clear."

We got as far aft as possible, to lighten the bows; a huge wave broke upon the ledge, and drenched us with spray, but the yawl still grated upon the coral.

Luerson probably deemed himself secure of a more convenient opportunity, at no distant period, to wreak his vengeance upon us: at any rate there was no time for it now; he merely menaced us with his clenched fist, as they swept by. Almost at the same moment a great sea came rolling smoothly in, and, as our oars dipped to back water, we floated free: then a few vigorous strokes carried us to a safe distance from the treacherous shoal.

"One effort more!" cried Arthur, as the mutineers disappeared behind the point; "we are not yet too late to give them a warning, though it will be but a short one."

Again we bent to the oars, and in a moment we too had doubled the point, and were in the wake of the long-boat. The ship lay directly before us, and within long hailing distance.

"Now, comrades, let us shout together, and try to make them understand their danger," said Browne, standing up in the stern.

"A dozen strokes more," said Arthur, "and we can do it with more certain success."

Luerson merely glanced back at us, as he once more heard the dash of our oars; but he took no farther notice of us: the crisis was too close at hand.

On board the ship all seemed quiet. Some of the men were gathered together on the starboard bow, apparently engaged in fishing; they did not seem to notice the approach of the boats.

"Now, then!" cried Arthur, at length, unshipping his oar, and springing to his feet, "one united effort to attract their attention--all together--now, then!" and we sent up a cry that echoed wildly across the water, and startled the idlers congregated at the bows, who came running to the side of the vessel nearest us.

"We have got their attention; now hail them," said Arthur, turning to Browne, who had a deep powerful voice; "tell them not to let the long-boat board them."

Browne put his hands to his mouth, and in tones that could have been distinctly heard twice the distance, shouted--"Look-out for the long-boat--don't let them board you--the men have killed the first officer, and want to take the ship!" From the stir and confusion that followed, it was clear that the warning was understood.

But the mutineers were now scarcely twenty yards from the vessel, towards which they were ploughing their way with unabated speed. The next moment they were under her bows; just as their oars flew into the air, we could hear a deep voice from the deck, sternly ordering them to "keep off," and I thought that I could distinguish Captain Erskine standing near the bowsprit.

The mutineers gave no heed to the order; several of them sprang into the chains, and Luerson among the rest. A fierce, though unequal struggle, at once commenced. The captain, armed with a weapon which he wielded with both hands, and which I took to be a capstan-bar, struck right and left among the boarders as they attempted to gain the deck, and one, at least of them, fell back with a heavy plunge into the water. But the captain seemed to be almost unsupported; and the mutineers had nearly all reached the deck, and were pressing upon him.

"Oh, but this is a cruel sight!" said Browne, turning away with a shudder. "Comrades, can we do nothing more?"

Morton, who had been groping beneath the sail in the bottom of the boat now dragged forth the cutla.s.ses which Spot had insisted on placing there when we went ash.o.r.e.

"Here are arms!" he exclaimed, "we are not such boys, but that we can take a part in what is going on--let us pull to the ship!"

"What say you!" cried Arthur, glancing inquiringly from one to another; "we can't, perhaps, do much, but shall we sit here and see Mr Erskine murdered, without _trying_ to help him!"

"Friends, let us to the ship!" cried Browne, with deep emotion, "I am ready."

"And I!" gasped Max, pale with excitement, "we can but be killed."

Can we hope to turn the scale of this unequal strife? shall we do more than arrive at the scene of conflict in time to experience the vengeance of the victorious mutineers?--such were the thoughts that flew hurriedly through my mind. I was entirely unaccustomed to scenes of violence and bloodshed, and my head swam, and my heart sickened, as I gazed at the confused conflict raging on the vessel's deck, and heard the shouts and cries of the combatants. Yet I felt an inward recoil against the baseness of sitting an idle spectator of such a struggle. A glance at the lion-hearted Erskine still maintaining the unequal fight, was an appeal to every n.o.ble and generous feeling: it nerved me for the attempt, and though I trembled as I grasped an oar, it was with excitement and eagerness, not with fear.

The yawl had hardly received the first impulse in the direction of the ship, when the report of fire-arms was heard.

"Merciful heavens!" cried Morton, "the captain is down! that fiend Luerson has shot him!"

The figure which I had taken for that of Mr Erskine, was no longer to be distinguished among the combatants, some person was now dragged to the side of the ship towards us, and thrown overboard; he sunk after a feeble struggle; a triumphant shout followed, and then two men were seen running up the rigging.

"There goes poor Spot up to the foretop," said Max, pointing to one of the figures in the rigging; "he can only gain time at the best but it can't be that they'll kill him in cold blood."

"Luerson is just the man to do it," answered Morton; "the faithful fellow has stood by the captain, and that will seal his fate--look! it is as I said," and I could see some one pointing, what was doubtless Mr Frazer's fowling-piece, at the figure in the foretop. A parley seemed to follow; as the result of which, the fugitive came down and surrendered himself. The struggle now appeared to be over, and quiet was once more restored.

So rapidly had these events pa.s.sed, and so stunning was their effect, that it was some moments before we could collect our thoughts, or fully realise our situation; and we sat, silent and bewildered, gazing toward the ship.

Max was the first to break silence; "And now, what's to be done?" he said, "as to going aboard, that is of course out of the question: the ship is no longer our home."