IV
I went back to the deck to get my bearings. From one and another, so far as the tumult which was on the ship permitted, I made out that the taking of the Charles the Second was in this wise:
Mr. Every, using the common grief about the wages to serve his turn, made fellow-plotters of some score of men, both in the Charles the Second and the James. The night having been picked out on the calendar, it was agreed that at a given time by the clock one from the Charles the Second should go to the James and say that the Charles the Second was being run off. The officers of the James, it was expected, would order out the pinnace in pursuit, when the friends of Mr. Every were to crowd forward, fill the boat, and make for the Charles the Second, where instead of arresting her they would turn to and haul together with their companion miscreants of the Charles the Second, who in the meantime would have seized the ordnance and ammunitions aboard our ship. The cables of the Charles the Second were to be cut, all but two of her boats turned adrift, and her sails shaken out loose.
Things went smoothly according to plan. At nine o’clock one went from the Charles the Second to the James. At the head of the gangway of that ship he found Mr. Druit, mate, on watch. Says he to Mr. Druit—
“Have you seen the drunken boatswain of ours aboard your ship?”
“No,” says Mr. Druit. “Isn’t he aboard of you?”
“Nay,” said the villain conspirator; “he’s not aboard, but mischief is.”
He leaned close to the mate and whispered—
“They’re running off with the Charles the Second.”
At once Mr. Druit bellowed for the pinnace to be got out, which, of course, merely gave the ruffians their cue. Twenty-six men, laden with their hammocks and sea gear, immediately rushed forth and manned the pinnace.
“Here—here—” cries Mr. Druit, seeing a wicked game going; but the rascals had their oars in the water and made off in the dark, swearing and singing.
Thereupon Captain Humphries, of the James, rushed to the rail and shouted through his speaking-trumpet that his boat was being stolen, to which Mr. Every, likewise through a trumpet, impertinently answered he knew that well enough. So they came to our ship and knotted themselves together with our rascals.
No sooner had the runaways from the James thrown their hammocks to our deck than light sail was set, and we stood out of the harbor, this being the motion which had first brought me a-running from my cabin. At eleven o’clock the topsail was braced back, and we lay to. Mr. Every, who now called himself captain, sent word about the ship that certain ones were free to leave in the pinnace of the James if so they chose. Men of spirit, he said, would stay by the ship and collect their back pay. And he laughed.