CHAPTER XLVIII
OLD JOE PLOTS WITH HUNSTON—WHAT CAME OF THE PLOT.
The Harkaway family and their guests were all assembled at dinner, after the shark-fishing, when the conversation turned upon their old enemy.
"I wish we were fairly rid of him," said Mrs. Harkaway, "for all the while he is on board, I feel as if some misfortune were hanging over us."
Jack smiled.
"Have you had any dreams, Emily?" he asked, slily,
"Don't learn to mock, sir," retorted the lady, with mock asperity, "You have been influenced by dreams yourself before now."
Jack looked serious.
"That's true."
"And we owe this wretched man nothing—"
"But hate."
"We do that," said Jefferson; "but he is a miserable wretch, and we can afford to let him off cheaply, without paying old scores."
"What do you wish to do, then?" demanded Harkaway. "I am willing to abide by the decision you may come to."
"Well," said Mr. Mole, "I propose that he shall be put ashore."
"When?"
There was the rub.
They were many weary miles away from the sight of land.
"Put him ashore the first time that we come within reach of land," suggested Harvey.
"We will," said Harkaway, "if that is the general wish."
"It is."
It was put to the vote and found that everybody, without a single exception, was desirous of seeing the back of Hunston.
Who can wonder?
None.
"Well, well," said old Jack, "that is agreed upon. And now, Emily, my dear, I hope that your mind is at rest."
"Almost."
"What! doesn't that satisfy you yet?"
"For the present; but I shall be all the more satisfied when he is really out of the place altogether, for he is a regular nightmare to me."
"You are fanciful, my dear," said old Jack.
"Perhaps; but there have been times when you have not made so light of my presentiments," said Emily.
As these words were spoken, the saloon door was opened and who should enter but Joe Basalt.
Now old Joe wore a face as long as a fiddle, and addressing Harkaway he requested a few words in private.
"Presently, Joe," said Harkaway.
The old tar twisted his hat round and waited.
"What, won't presently do for you?"
"I'd sooner out with it at once," said Joe.
"Well, out with it," said Harkaway.
"Before everyone, your honour?" Joe demanded.
"Yes."
He looked shyly about him, and cast a furtive glance at the ladies before he ventured to speak out.
"I want to break it to your honour as gently as possible, and I want to know what your honour thinks of me?"
Old Jack stared.
"Why, really, Joe—"
"I think Joe wants to know if you think he's handsome," suggested Dick Harvey.
"Do you admire the cut of his figurehead?" chimed in young Jack.
But Joe Basalt was evidently too much upset and preoccupied by something on his mind to heed this chaff.
"No, your honour," he said, fiercely, "what I want to know is—do you consider me a d—d mutineering swab?"
"Joe, Joe," exclaimed Harkaway, laughing in spite of himself, "moderate your language; remember that there are ladies present."
Joe reddened to the roots of his hair.
"I ax their pardon, every mother's son of them," he said, tugging at his forelock; "but my feelin's carries me away."
"Tell us what it is, then," said Jefferson, "and perhaps we can offer advice."
"Well, then, sir, I've been insulted."
"I see, I see," said Jefferson; "you have been having a row with one of your messmates."
"And you have punched his head?" suggested young Jack.
"Serve him right, too, Joe," said Harry Girdwood.
"No, no, young gentlemen," said Joe, "I ain't done that, or else I should be quite happy—that's just it—because I wanted his honour's permission."
"What?"
"To give him a good licking," urged Joe Basalt; "you see, I couldn't well do it without, as it's the stowaway."
The interest of the whole of the company redoubled at this.
"He's been at his tricks again," said Joe.
"I thought so."
"And d—d dirty tricks they are, too. The swab can't do nothing fair and square and above board. He allers cruises about in a nasty, sly, piratical way."
"What is it? Tell us at once."
"Yes, sir, I will. Why, you see, the fact is, he has been a-sounding me about trying if the crew is satisfied with your honour."
A low murmur went from mouth to mouth around the table.
"He's never trying to undermine you, old fidelity!" ejaculated Harkaway.
Joe nodded.
"That's it, your honour."
"Villain!"
"And what's more, he's been trying it on with Jack Tiller."
"He has?"
Harkaway's brow darkened, and the expression of his face grew ominous.
"How did Jack Tiller meet his advances?" asked Harvey.
"Why, Jack ain't got no command over himself, and so he—"
Joe paused.
"So what?"
"Why, Jack gave him one for himself; but he ain't damaged him much," Joe hastened to add apologetically, "for Jack Tiller knows his dooty better than that, your honour. No, he's only put one of his toplights into mourning."
This sent the two boys into ecstasies.
"And so you see, your honour, when he opened fire on to me, I could hardly believe it possible, until he put it plainer, and then I was so staggered that I did not know what to do, so I thought I would come and let you know."
Harkaway, looking up, caught his wife's glance fixed upon him.
"You see, it doesn't do to scoff at secret apprehensions," she said, quietly.
"No, no. This shall be seen to at once," he answered, rising from his seat. "Come with me, Dick, and you, Jefferson."
They left the cabin, followed by old Joe Basalt.
Now, when they got on deck, Jack Harkaway led the way to a part where they were alone, and not likely to be disturbed.
"Now, Joe," said he, "I have been thinking this matter over. I know you have only spoken the truth, without a word of exaggeration. But we must catch the villain in his own snare."
"How, your honour?"
"I'll tell you. You must go back to this traitor, and you must play the part of a willing listener."
"A what?"
"A willing listener. You must let him think you are ready to join in his villainy, do you see?"
"I do, your honour, but damme if I like it."
"You will have to like it in this instance, Joe, for the good of us all. This man is the worst villain alive. I have forgiven him more wrongs than you would think it possible to forgive; but now the safety of all is concerned, and it must be done."
Joe scratched his head, and looked troubled.
"If that's orders, your honour, I've nothing but to obey."
"Right, Joe."
* * * * *
Having primed Joe Basalt up in his lesson, they marched off to Hunston's cabin, and Joe entered, while Harkaway, Dick Harvey, and Jefferson took up a position near where they could overhear what was going on within.
"Well, shipmate," said Basalt, "how goes it?"
Hunston was lying on his side, holding a damp towel to his damaged eye.
He only turned round, and grunted some few ungracious words.
"I've brought you some news," said Joe, repeating his lesson; "there is a regular shine on deck."
Hunston turned quickly round at this.
"What's wrong?" he asked, anxiously. "You haven't been saying any thing, because I'm sure you were mistaken, as—"
"As Jack Tiller was."
"Yes."
And Hunston fondled the blackened eye, mentally cursing Tiller and his hard, horny fist.
"Not I," said Joe Basalt, "not I. There's a row aloft, I told you. Three men have been put into irons, and I have got into trouble as well."
"What for?"
"Nothing," answered Joe Basalt, with a surly imitation of anger. "That's just it, for nothing, and aren't they up in the stirrups neither?"
"They are!" exclaimed Hunston.
"Rather."
"And what do they say?"
"Say!" exclaimed Basalt. "Why, they'd as lief draw a cutlass over his weasand, as they'd smash a ship's biscuit."
Hunston's pale face grew crimson at these words.
"That's good," he said; "they're men of spirit."
"That they are."
"And the rest of the crew; what do they say of it?"
"Why, they are all up about it; all to a man. So if you have a good thing to offer, I'll undertake to say as they'll volunteer to a man."
"Good."
"And leave them Harkaway folks in the lurch here, as they deserve, the mean beasts."
"Mean, indeed," echoed Hunston, secretly chuckling. "Why, they're worse than mean."
"So you'd say if you only knew what a palaver they've made about having you here, pretending as it's all charity and the like, when, of course, we know—"
"That it's all your goodness, and that of your hot-headed comrade."
"Don't speak of Jack Tiller, my friend," said Joe, who was working into his part capitally by this time; "he sees now what a fool he has made of himself."
"Did he say so?"
"Yes."
"Why did he go on so?"
"He quite misunderstood your meaning."
"The deuce he did. Why, however could that be? I was pretty explicit."
"He thought that it was to sell him. In fact, he made sure as you had overheard us grumbling together about the skipper, and that you was a-trying it on only to tell Mr. Harkaway all about it."
"Did he say so?"
"Yes."
"Then undeceive him immediately."
"I have done so."
"As for this," added Hunston, pointing to his discoloured eye and cheek, "I think nothing of it. All I'll ask of him is that he shall do as much for Harkaway."
"That he will," said Joe, with sham heartiness. "And now how soon shall the ship be ours?"
Hunston glanced anxiously towards the door.
"There's no fear," said Joe, answering his look; "they are all too busy for'ard, talking about them poor devils in irons."
"Brutes!"
"Aye, that they are. But when shall we get them free from their floating prison, cos that's what it seems a-coming to?"
"I'll tell you," answered Hunston, sinking his voice, "we'll serve the Harkaway party as he served your messmates."
"How?"
"Put them in irons."
Joe Basalt gave a start at this.
"And if they would not go?"
"Chuck them overboard, all, everyone of them, except the women."
"I should hardly like doing that," said Joe.
"Then that shall be my task," exclaimed Hunston, warming up as he unfolded his diabolical scheme. "I should like to do that part of it myself. I swore to finish them all off," he added, more to himself than to Joe, "and I shall keep my oath after all, I begin to think. I'll throw them all overboard—Harkaway, Jefferson, Harvey, all."
He looked up suddenly at the door.
Three big forms stood upon the threshold of the cabin.
The three whose names Hunston had just uttered.
Harkaway, Jefferson, and Dick Harvey.
"I thought I heard you call us," said the latter.
Hunston's colour fled from his cheek.
He looked from one to the other.
Then he glanced at Joe Basalt.
Harkaway was the first to break the silence.
"Hunston."
The sound echoed dismally, as though uttered in some bare-walled cavern.
"Yes," he faltered, struggling to appear at his ease.
"Come."
"Where to?"
Harkaway pointed silently to the door.
"What do you want with me?"
"Can't you guess?"
The words were simple ones, yet they sounded like a death-knell to him.
"We have heard all; every word. This crowning act of villany and ingratitude, baser than ever entered the mind of man, has doomed you. Follow me."
Appalled, half stunned with fear, the miserable wretch tottered after Harkaway.
Close upon his heels came Jefferson and Dick, while Joe Basalt brought up the rear.