VI
IN WHICH WE REACH THE PORT OF OUR DESTINATION
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XXIV
FALK PROPOSES A TRUCE
As we faced each other in amazed silence, we could hear the men working on deck and the sea rippling against the hull of the ship. I felt that strange sensation of mingled reality and unreality which comes sometimes in dreams, and I rather think that Roger felt it, too, for we turned simultaneously to look again into the iron safe. But again only its painted walls met our eyes.
The gold actually was gone.
Roger started up. "Now how did Falk manage that?" he cried. "I swear he hadn't time to open the safe. We took them absolutely by surprise—I could swear we did."
I suggested that he might have hidden it somewhere else.
"Not he," said Roger.
"Would Kipping steal from Captain Falk?"
"From Captain Falk!" Roger exclaimed. "If his mother were starving, he'd steal her last crust. How about the bunk?"
We took the bunk apart and ripped open the mattress. We sounded the woodwork above and below. With knives we slit the cushion of Captain Whidden's great arm-chair, and pulled out the curled hair that stuffed it. We ransacked box, bag, cuddy, and stove; we forced our way into every corner of the cabin and the staterooms. But we found no trace of the lost money.
It seemed like sacrilege to disturb little things that once had belonged to that upright gentleman, Captain Joseph Whidden. His pipe, his memorandum-book, and his pearl-handled penknife recalled him to my mind as I had seen him so many times of old, sitting in my father's drawing-room, with his hands folded on his knee and his firm mouth bent in a whimsical smile. I thought of my parents, of my sister and Roger, of all the old far-away life of Salem; I must have stood dreaming thus a long time when my eyes fell on Nathan Falk's blue coat, which he had thrown carelessly on the cabin table and had left there, and with a burst of anger I came back to affairs of the moment.
"They've got it away, Benny," said Roger, soberly. "How or when I don't know, but there's no question that it's gone from the cabin. Come, let's clear away the disorder."
As well as we could we put back the numerous things we had thrown about, and such litter as we could not replace we swept up. But wisps of hair still lay on the tables and the chairs, and feathers floated in the air like thistle-down. We had little time for housewifery.
We found the others gathered round the galley, eating a hearty meal of salt beef, ship's bread, and coffee, at which we were right glad to join them. Roger had a way with the men that kept them from taking liberties, yet that enabled him to mingle with them on terms far more familiar than those of a ship's officer. I watched him as he sat down by Davie Paine, and grinned at the cook, and asked Neddie Benson how his courage was and laughed heartily at Blodgett who had spilled a cup of coffee down his shirt-front—yet in such a way that Blodgett was pleased by his friendliness rather than offended by his amusement. I suppose it was what we call "personality." Certainly Roger was a born leader. After our many difficulties we felt so jolly and so much at home,—all, that is, except the man from Boston, who sat apart from the rest and stared soberly across the long, slow seas,— that our little party on deck was merrier by far than many a Salem merrymaking before or since.
I knew that Roger was deeply troubled by the loss of the money and I marveled at his self-control.
Presently I saw something moving off the eastern point of the island.
Thinking little of it, I watched it idly until suddenly it burst upon me
that it was a ship's boat. With a start I woke from my dream and shouted,
"Sail ho! Off the starboard bow!"
In an instant our men were on their feet, staring at the newcomer. In all the monotonous expanse of shining, silent ocean only the boat and the island and the tiny sails of a junk which lay hull down miles away, were to be seen. But the boat, which now had rounded the point, was approaching steadily.
"Ben, lay below to the cabin and fetch up muskets, powder, and balls," Roger cried sharply. "Lend a hand, Davie, and bring back all the pikes and cutlasses you can carry. You, cook, clear away the stern-chasers and stand by to load them the minute the powder's up the companionway. Blodgett, you do the same by the long gun. You, Neddie, bear a hand with me to trice up the netting!"
Spilling food, cups, pans, and kids in confusion on the deck, we sprang to do as we were bid. In the sternsheets of the approaching boat we could make out at a distance the slim form of Captain Nathan Falk.
The rain had stopped long since, and the hot sun shining from a cloudless sky was rapidly burning off the last vestige of the night mist as Captain Falk's boat came slowly toward us under a white flag. A ground-swell gave it a leisurely motion and the men approached so cautiously that their oars seemed scarcely more than to dip in and out of the water.
With double-charged cannon, with loaded muskets ready at hand, and with pikes and cutlasses laid out on deck, one for each man, where we could snatch them up as soon as we had spent our first fire, we grinned from behind the nettings at our erstwhile shipmates. Tables had turned with a vengeance since we had rowed away from the ship so short a time before. They now were a sad-looking lot of men, some of them with bandages on their limbs or round their heads, all of them disheveled, weary, and unkempt. But they approached with an air of dignity, which Falk tried to keep up by calling with a grand fling of his hand and his head, "Mr. Hamlin, we come to parley under a flag of truce."
I think we really were impressed for a moment. His face was pale, and he had a blood-stained rag tied round his forehead, so that he looked very much as if he were a wounded hero returning after a brave fight to arrange terms of an honorable peace. But the cook, who heartily disapproved of admitting the boat within gunshot, shattered any such illusion that we may have entertained.
"Mah golly!" he exclaimed in a voice audible to every man in both parties, "ef dey ain't done h'ist up cap'n's unde'-clothes foh a flag of truce!"
The remark came upon us so suddenly and we were all so keyed up that, although it seems flat enough to tell about it now, then it struck us as irresistibly funny and we laughed until tears started from our eyes. I heard Blodgett's cat-yowl of glee, Davie Paine's deep guffaw, Neddie Benson's shrill cackle of delight. But when, to clear my eyes, I wiped away my tears, the men in the other boat were glaring at us in glum and angry silence.
"Ah, it's funny is it?" said Falk, and his voice me think of the times when he had abused Bill Hayden. "Laugh, curse you, laugh! Well, that's all right. There's no law against laughing. I've got a proposition to put up to you. You've had your little fling and a costly one it's like to be. You've mutinied and unlawfully confined the master of the ship, and for that you're liable for a fine of one thousand dollars and five years in prison. You've usurped the command of a vessel on the high seas unlawfully and by force, and for that you're liable to a fine of two thousand dollars and ten years in prison. Think about that, some o' you men that haven't a hundred dollars in the world. The law'll strip and break you. But if that ain't enough, we've got evidence to convict you in every court of the United States of America of being pirates, felons, and robbers, and the punishment for that is death. Think of that, you men."
Falk lowered his head until his red scarf, which he had knotted about his throat, made the ghastly pallor of his face seem even more chalky than it was, and thrust his chin forward and leveled at us the index finger of his right hand. The slowly rolling boat was so near us now that as we waited to see what he would say next we could see his hand tremble.
"Now, men," he continued, "you've had your little fling, and that's the price you'll have to pay the piper. I'll get you, never you fear. Ah, by the good Lord's help, I'll see you swinging from a frigate's yard-arm yet, unless"—he stopped and glared at us significantly—"unless you do like I'm going to tell you.
"You've had your fling and there's a bad day of reckoning coming to you, don't you forget it. But if you drop all this nonsense now, and go forward where you belong and work the ship like good seamen and swear on the Book to have no more mutinous talk, I'll forgive you everything and see that no one prosecutes you for all you've done so far. How about it? Nothing could be handsomer than that."
"Oh, you always was a smooth-tongued scoundrel" Blodgett, just behind me, murmured under his breath.
The men in the two parties looked at each other in silence for a moment, and if ever I had distrusted Captain Falk, I distrusted him four times more when I saw the mild, sleek smile on Kipping's face. It was reassuring to see the gleam in black Frank's eyes as he fingered the edge of his cleaver.
I turned eagerly to Roger, upon whom we waited unanimously for a reply.
"Yes, that's very handsome of you," he said reflectively. "But how do we know you'll do all that you promise?"
Falk's white face momentarily lighted. I thought that for an instant his eyes shone like a tiger's. But he answered quietly, "Ain't my word good?"
"Why, a gentleman's word is always good security."
There was just enough accent on the word "gentleman" to puzzle me. The remark sounded innocent enough, certainly, and yet the stress—if stress was intended—made it biting sarcasm. Obviously the men in the boat were equally in doubt whether to take offense or to accept the statement in good faith.
"Well, you have my word," said Falk at last.
"Yes, we have your word. But there's one other thing to be settled. How about the owners' money?"
For a moment Falk seemed disconcerted, and I, thinking now that Roger was merely badgering him, smiled with satisfaction. But Falk answered the question after only brief hesitation, and Roger's next words plunged me deep in a sea of doubt.
"Why, I shall guard the owners' money with all possible care, Mr. Hamlin, and expend it in their best interests," said Falk.
"If that's the case," said Roger, "come alongside."
CHAPTER XXV
INCLUDING A CROSS-EXAMINATION
Falk tried, I was certain, to conceal a smile of joy at Roger's simplicity, and I saw that others in the boat were averting their faces. Also I saw that they were shifting their weapons to have them more readily available.
Our own men, on the contrary, were remonstrating audibly, and to my lasting shame I joined them.
A queer expression appeared on Roger's face and he looked at us as if incredulous. I suddenly perceived that our rebellious attitude hurt him bitterly. He had led us so bravely through all our recent difficulties! And now, when success seemed assured, we manifested in return doubt and disloyalty! I literally hung my head. The others were abashed and silent, but I knew that my own defection was more contemptible by far than theirs, and had Roger reproached me sharply, I might have felt better for it. Instead, he spoke without haste or anger in a voice pitched so low that Falk could not possibly overhear him.
"We simply have to hold together, men. All to the gangway, now, and stand by for orders."
That was all he said, but it was enough. Thoroughly ashamed of ourselves, we followed him to the gangway whither the boat was coming slowly.
Roger assumed an air of neutral welcome as he reached for the bow of the pinnace; but to us behind him he whispered sharply, "Stand ready, all hands, with muskets and pikes."
"Now, then, Captain Falk," he cried, "hand over the money first. We'll stow it safe on board."
"Come, come," Falk replied. "Belay that talk." He was standing ready to climb on deck.
"The money first," said Roger coolly.
Suddenly he tried to hook the bow of the pinnace, but missed it as the pinnace dipped in the trough.
The rest of us, waiting breathlessly, for the first time comprehended
Roger's strategy.
Falk looked up at him angrily. "That'll get you nowhere," he retorted.
"Come, stand away, or so help me, I'll see you hanged anyhow."
Roger smiled at him coldly. "The word of a gentleman? The money first,
Captain Falk."
"Well, if you are so stupid that you haven't discovered the truth yet, I haven't the money."
"Where is the money?"
"In the safe in the cabin, as you very well know," replied Falk.
"You lie!" Roger responded.
With a ripping oath, Captain Falk whipped out his pistol.
"You lie!" Roger cried again, hotly. "Put down that pistol or I'll blow you to hell. Stand by, boys. We'll show them!"
Though we were fewer than they, we had them at a tremendous disadvantage, for we were protected by the bulwarks and could pour our musket-fire into the open boat at will, and in a battle of cutlasses and pikes our advantage would be even greater.
"Don't a flag of truce give us no protection?" Kipping asked in that accursedly mild voice—I could not hear it without thinking of poor Bill Hayden, and to the others, they told me later, it brought the same bitter memory.
"How long since Cap'n Falk's ol' unde' shirt done be a p'tection?" muttered the cook grimly.
"Yes, laugh! Laugh, you black baboon! Laugh, you silly little fool, Lathrop!" Falk yelled. "I'll have you laughing another time one of these days. Give way men! We'll have out their haslets yet."
A hundred feet from the ship, the men rested on their oars, and Falk put on a very different manner. "Roger Hamlin," he cried, "you ain't going to send us away, are you?"
I was astounded. As long as I had known Falk, I had never realized how many different faces the man could assume at the shortest notice. But Roger seemed not at all surprised. "Yes," he said, shortly, "we're going to send you away, you black-hearted scoundrel."
"Good God! We'll perish!"
Although obvious retorts were many, Roger made no reply.
Now Kipping spoke up mildly and innocently:—
"What'll we do? We can't land—the Malays was waiting for us on shore with knives, all ready to cut our throats. We can't go to sea like this. What'll we do?"
"Supposing," cried old Blodgett, sarcastically, "supposing you row back to Salem. It's only three thousand miles or more. You'll find it a pleasant voyage, I'm sure, and you'd ought to run into enough Ladronesers and Malays to make it interesting along the way."
"Ain't we human?" Kipping whined, as if trying to wring pity from even Blodgett. "Ain't you going at least to give us a keg o' water and some bread?"
"If you're not out of gunshot in five minutes," Roger cried, "I'll train the long gun and blow you clean out of water."
Without more ado they rowed slowly away, growing smaller and smaller, until at last they passed out of sight round the point.
"Ah me," sighed Neddie Benson, "I'm glad they're gone. It's funny Falk ain't quite a light man nor yet a real dark man."
"Gone!" Davie repeated ominously. "I wish they was gone." He looked up at the furled sails. "They ain't—and neither is we."
"There's work to be done," said Roger, "and we must be about it. Leave the nets as they are. Stack the muskets in the waist, pile the pikes handy by the deckhouse, and all lay aft. We'd best have a few words together before we begin."
A moment later, as I was busy with the pikes, Roger came to me and murmured, "There's something wrong afoot. The after-hatch has been pried off."
I noticed the hatch once more the next time I passed it, and I remembered seeing the man from Boston emerge from the hold. But there was so much else to be attended to that it was a long, long time before I thought of it again.
When we had done as Roger told us, we gathered round him where he waited, leaning against the cabin, with his hands in his pockets.
"We're all in the same boat together, men," he began. "We knew what the chances were when we took them. If you wish to have it so, in the eyes of the law we're pirates and mutineers, and since Falk seems to have got away with what money there was on board, things may go hard with us. But—" he spoke the word with stern emphasis—"but we've acted for the best, and I think there's no one here wants to try to square things up by putting Falk in command again. How about it?"
"Square things up, is it?" cried Blodgett. "The dirty villain would have us hanged at the nearest gallows for all his buttery words."
"Exactly!" Roger threw back his head. "And when we get to Salem, I can promise you there's no man here but will be better off for doing as he's done so far."
"But whar's all dat money gone?" the cook demanded unexpectedly.
"I don't know," said Roger.
"What! Ain' dat yeh money heah?"
"No."
At that moment my eye chanced to fall on the man from Boston, who was looking off at the island as if he had no interest whatever in our conversation. The circumstances under which he had stayed with us were so strange and his present preoccupation was so carefully assumed, that I was suddenly exceedingly suspicious of him, although when I came to examine the matter closely, I could find no very definite grounds for it.
Blodgett was watching him, too, and I think that Roger followed our gaze for suddenly he cried, "You there!" in a voice that brought the man from Boston to his feet like the snap of a whip.
"Yes, sir! Yes, sir!" he replied briskly.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" Roger demanded. The fellow, who had begun to assume as many airs and as much self-confidence as if he had been one of our own party from the very first, was sadly disconcerted. "Why I come over to your side first chance I had," he replied with an aggrieved air.
"What were you doing in the cabin when the natives were running all over the ship?"
The five of us, startled by the quick, sharp questions, looked keenly at the man from Boston. But he, recovering his self-possession, replied coolly enough, "I was just a-keeping watch so they wouldn't steal—I kept them from running off with the quadrant."
"Keeping watch so nobody'd steal, I suppose," said Roger.
"Yes, sir! Yes, sir! That's it exactly."
Suddenly my mind leaped back to the night when Bill Hayden had died, and the man from Boston had made that cryptic remark, to which I called attention long since. "He said he could tell something, Roger," I burst out. But Roger silenced me with a glance.
Turning on the fellow again, he said, "If I find that you are lying to me,
I'll shoot you where you stand. What do you know about who killed Captain
Whidden?"
For once the fellow was taken completely off his guard. He glanced around as if he wished to run away, but there was no escape. He saw only hostile faces.
"What do you know about who killed Captain Whidden?"
"Mr. Kipping killed him," the fellow gasped, startled out of whatever reticence he may have intended to maintain. "Yes, sir! Yes, sir!"
"Do you expect me to believe that Kipping shot the captain? If you lie to me—" Roger drew his pistol. By eyes and voice he held the man in a hypnosis of terror.
"He did! I swear he did. Don't shoot me, sir! I'm telling you the very gospel truth. He cursed awful and said—don't point that pistol at me, sir! I swear I'll tell the truth!—'Mr. Thomas is as good as done for,' he said. 'There's only one man between us and a hundred thousand dollars in gold.' And Falk—Kipping was talking to Falk low-like and didn't know I was anywhere about—and Falk says, 'No, that's too much.' Then he says, wild-like, 'Shoot—go on and shoot.' Then Kipping laughs and says, 'So you've got a little gumption, have you?' and he shot Captain Whidden and killed him. Don't point that pistol at me, sir! I didn't do it."
Roger had managed the situation well. His sudden and entirely unexpected attack had got from the man a story that a month of ordinary cross-examinations might not have elicited; for although the fellow had volunteered to tell all he knew, his manner convinced me that under other circumstances he would have told no more than he had to. Also he had admitted being in the cabin while the natives were roaming over the ship!
CHAPTER XXVI
AN ATTEMPT TO PLAY ON OUR SYMPATHY
For the time being we let the matter drop and, launching a quarter-boat for work around the ship, turned our attention to straightening out the rigging and the running gear so that we could get under way at the earliest possible moment. Twice natives came aboard, and a number of canoes now and then appeared in the distance; but we were left on the whole pretty much to our own devices, and we had great hopes of tripping anchor in a few hours at the latest.
Roger meanwhile got out the quadrant and saw that it was adjusted to take an observation at the first opportunity; for there was no doubt that by faulty navigation or, more probably, by malicious intent, Falk had brought us far astray from the usual routes across the China Sea.
Occasionally bands of natives would come out from shore in their canoes and circle the ship, but we gave them no further encouragement to come aboard, and in the course of the morning Roger divided us anew into anchor watches. All in all we worked as hard, I think, as I ever have worked, but we were so well contented with the outcome of our adventures that there was almost no grumbling at all.
When at last I went below I was dead tired. Every nerve and weary muscle throbbed and ached, and flinging myself on my bunk, I fell instantly into the deepest sleep. When I woke with the echo of the call, "All hands on deck," still lingering in my ears, it seemed as if I scarcely had closed my eyes; but while I hesitated between sleeping and waking, the call sounded again with a peremptory ring that brought me to my feet in spite of my fatigue.
"All hands on deck! Tumble up! Tumble up!" It was the third summons.
When we staggered forth, blinded by the glaring sunlight, the other watch already had snatched up muskets and pikes and all were staring to the northeast. Thence, moving very slowly indeed, once more came the boat.
Falk was sitting down now; his chin rested on his hands and his face was ghastly pale; the bandage round his head appeared bloodier than ever and dirtier. The men, too, were white and woe-begone, and Kipping was scowling disagreeably.
It seemed shameful to take arms against human beings in such a piteous plight, but we stood with our muskets cocked and waited for them to speak first.
"Haven't you men hearts?" Falk cried when he had come within earshot. "Are you going to sit there aboard ship with plenty of food and drink and see your shipmates a-dying of starvation and thirst?"
The men rested on their oars while he called to us; but when we did not answer, he motioned with his hand and they again rowed toward us with short, feeble strokes.
"All we ask is food and water," Falk said, when he had come so near that we could see the lines on the faces of the men and the worn, hunted look in their eyes.
They had laid their weapons on the bottom of the boat, and there was nothing warlike about them now to remind us of the bloody fight they had waged against us. With a boy's short memory of the past and short sight for the future, I was ready to take the poor fellows aboard and to forgive them everything; and though it undoubtedly was foolish of me, I am not ashamed of my generous weakness. They seemed so utterly miserable! But fortunately wiser counsels prevailed.
"You ain't really going to leave us to perish of hunger and thirst, are you?" Falk cried. "We can't go ashore, even to get water. Those cursed heathen are laying to butcher us. Guns pointed at friends and shipmates is no kind of a 'welcome home.'"
"Give us the money, then—" Roger began.
The cook interrupted him in an undertone that was plainly audible though probably not intended for all ears.
"Yeee-ah! Heah dat yeh man discribblate! He don't like guns pointed at shipmates, hey? How about guns pointed at a cap'n when he ain't lookin'? Hey?"
Falk obviously overheard the cook's muttered sally and was disconcerted by it; and the murmur of assent with which our men received it convinced me that it went a long way to reinforce their determination to withstand the other party at any cost whatsoever.
After hesitating perceptibly, Falk decided to ignore it. "All we want's bread and water," he whined.
"Give us the money, then," Roger repeated, "and we'll see that you don't starve." His voice was calm and incisive. He absolutely controlled the situation.
Falk threw up his hands in a gesture of despair. "But we ain't got the money. So help me God, we ain't got a cent of it."
"Hand over the money," Roger repeated, "and we'll give you food and water."
He pointed at the quarter-boat, which swung at the end of a long painter.
"Come no nearer. Put the money in that boat and we'll haul it up."
"We ain't got the money, I tell you. I swear on my immortal soul, we ain't got it." Falk seemed to be on the point of weeping. He was so weak and white!
When Roger did not reply, I turned to look at him. There was a thoughtful expression on his face, and following the direction of his eyes, my own gaze rested on the face of the man from Boston. He was smiling. But when he saw us looking at him, he stopped and changed color.
"I believe you," Roger declared suddenly. "You'll have to keep your distance or I'll blow your boat to pieces; but if you obey orders, I'll help you out as far as a few days' supply of food will go. Cook, haul in that boat and put half a hundredweight of ship's bread and four buckets of water in it. That'll keep 'em for a while."
"You ain't gwine to feed dat yeh Kipping, sah, is you?"
"Yes."
The cook turned in silence to do Roger's bidding.
Twice the man from Boston started forward as if to speak. The motion was so slight that it almost escaped me, but the second time I was sure that I really had detected such an impulse, and at the same moment I perceived that Falk, whose fingers were twitching nervously, was shooting an angry glance at him. This byplay to a considerable extent distracted my attention; but when the fellow finally did get up courage to speak, I saw that the eyes of every man in Falk's boat were on him and that Kipping had clenched both fists.
"Stop!" the man from Boston cried. "Stop!" He stepped toward Roger with one hand raised.
Roger soberly turned on him. "Be still," he said.
"But, sir—"
"Be still!"
"But, sir, there ain't no—"
Certainly as far as we could see, the man's feverish persistence was arrant insubordination. What Roger would have done we had no time to learn, for Blodgett, bursting with zeal for our common cause, grasped him by the throat and choked his words into a gurgle. A queer expression of spite and hatred passed over the man's face, and when he squirmed away from Blodgett's grip I saw that he was muttering to himself as he rubbed his bruised neck. But the others were paying him no attention and he presently folded his arms with an air that continued to trouble me and stood apart from the rest.
And Falk and Kipping and all their men now were grinning broadly!
The water slopped over the edges of the buckets and wet some of the bread as the cook pushed the boat out toward Falk; but the men in the pinnace watched it eagerly, and when it floated to the end of the painter, they clutched for it so hastily that they almost upset the precious buckets.
When they had got it, they looked at each other and laughed and slapped their legs and laughed again in an uproarious, almost maudlin mirth that we could not understand.
We covered them with our muskets lest they try to seize the boat, which I firmly believe they had contemplated before they realized how closely we were watching them, and we smiled to see them cram their mouths with bread and pass the buckets from hand to hand. When they had finished their inexplicable laughter, they ate like animals and drew new strength and courage from their food. Though Falk was still white under his bloody bandage, his voice was stronger.
"I'll remember this," he said. "Maybe I'll give you a day or two of grace before you swing. Oh, you can laugh at me now, you white-livered sons of sea-cooks, but the day's coming when you'll sing another song to pay your piper."
He looked round and laughed at his own men, and again they all laughed as if he had said something clever, and he and Kipping exchanged glances.
"They ain't found the gold," he caustically remarked to Kipping. "We'll see what we shall see."
"Ay, we'll see," Kipping returned, mildly. "We'll see. It'll be fun to see it, too, won't it, sir?"
It was all very silly, and we, of course, had nothing to say in return; so we watched them, with our muskets peeping over the bulwark and with the long gun and the stern-chasers cleared in case of trouble, and in undertones we kept up an exchange of comments.
After whispering among themselves, the men in the boat once more began to row toward us. Singularly enough they showed no sign of the exhaustion that a little before had seemed so painful. It slowly dawned upon me that their air of misery had been nothing more than a cheap trick to play upon our compassion. We watched them suspiciously, but they now assumed a frank manner, which they evidently hoped would put us off our guard.
"Now you men listen to me," said Falk. "After all, what's the use of behaving this way? You're just getting yourselves into trouble with the law. We can send you to the gallows for this little spree, and what's more we're going to do it—unless, that is, unless you come round sensible and call it all off. Now what do you say? Why don't you be reasonable? You take us on board and we'll use you right and hush all this up as best we can. What do you say?"
"What do we say?" said Roger, "We say that bread and water have gone to your head. You were singing another time a while back."
"Oh well, we were a little down in the mouth then. But we're feeling a sight better now. Come, ain't our plan reasonable?"
All the time they were rowing slowly nearer to the ship.
"Mistah Falk, O Mistah Falk!"
"Well?" Falk received the cook's interruption with an ill temper that made the darkey's eyes roll with joy.
"Whar you git dat bootiful head-piece?"
A flush darkened Falk's pale face under the bandage, and with what dignity he could muster, he ignored our snickers.
"What do you say?" he cried to Roger. "Evidently you haven't found the money yet."
To us Roger said in an undertone, "Hold your fire." To Falk he replied clearly, "You black-hearted villain, if you show your face in a Christian port you'll go to the gallows for abetting the cold-blooded murder of an able officer and an honorable gentleman, Captain Joseph Whidden. Quid that over a while and stow your tales of piracy and mutiny. Back water, you! Keep off!"
Here was no subtle insinuation. Falk was stopped in his tracks by the flat statement. He had a dazed, frightened look. But Kipping, who had kept himself in the background up to this point, now assumed command.
"Them's bad words," he said mildly, coldly. "Bad words. But—" he slightly raised his voice—"we ain't a-goin' to eat 'em. Not we." All at once he let out a yell that rang shrilly far over the water. "At 'em, men! At 'em! Pull, you sons of the devil, pull! Out pikes and cutlasses! Take 'em by storm! Slash the netting and go over the side."
"Hold your fire,"—Roger repeated,—"one minute—till I give the word."
My heart was pounding at my ribs. I was breathing in fast gulps. With my thumb on the hammer of the musket, I gave one glance to the priming, and half raised it to my shoulder.
From the bottom of the boat Falk's men had snatched up the weapons that hitherto they had kept out of sight. I had no time then to wonder why they did not shoot; afterwards we agreed that they probably were so short of powder and balls that they dared not expend any except in gravest emergency. Kipping was standing as they rowed, and so fiercely now did they ply their oars, casting to the winds every pretence of weakness, that the boat rocked from side to side.
"At 'em!" Kipping snarled. "We'll show 'em! We'll show'em!"
"Hold your fire, men," said Roger the third time. "I'll wing that bird."
And aiming deliberately, he shot.
The report of his musket rang out sharply and was followed by a groan. Kipping clutched his thigh with both hands and fell. The men stopped rowing and the boat, gradually losing way, veered in a half circle and lay broadside toward us. In the midst of the confusion aboard it, I saw Kipping sitting up and cursing in a way that chilled my blood. "Oh," he moaned, "I'll get you yet! I'll get you yet!" Then some one in the boat returned a single shot that buried itself in our bulwark.
"Yeeeehaha! Got Kipping!" the cook cackled. "He got Kipping!"
"Now then," cried Roger, "bear off. We've had enough of you. If ever again you come within gunshot of this ship, we'll shoot so much lead into you that the weight will sink you. It's only a leg wound, Kipping. I was careful where I aimed."
In a disorderly way the men began to pull out of range, but still we could hear Kipping shrieking a stream of oaths and maledictions, and now Falk stood up and shook his fist at us and yelled with as much semblance of dignity as he could muster, "I'll see you yet, all seven of you, I'll see you a-swinging one after another from the game yard-arm!" Then, to our amazement, one of them whispered to the others behind his hand, and they all began to laugh again as if they had played some famous joke on us.
Instead of going toward the island, they rowed out into the ocean. We could not understand it. Surely they would not try to cross the China Sea in an open boat! Were they so afraid of the natives?
Still we could hear Kipping, faintly now, bawling wrath and blasphemy. We could see Captain Falk shaking his fist at us, and very clearly we could hear his faint voice calling, "I'll sack that ship, so help me! We'll see then what's become of the money."
Where in heaven's name could they be going? Suddenly the answer came to us. Beyond them in the farthest offing were the tiny sails of the almost becalmed junk. They were rowing toward it. Eight mariners from a Christian land!
In that broad expanse of land and sea and sky, the only moving object was the boat bearing Captain Falk and his men, which minute after minute labored across the gently tossing sea.
Already the monsoon was weakening. The winds were variable, and for the time being scarce a breath of air was stirring.
From the masthead we watched the boat grow smaller and smaller until it seemed no bigger than the point of a pin. The men were rowing with short, slow strokes. They may have gone eight or ten miles before darkness closed in upon them and blotted them out, and they must have got very near to the junk.
The moon, rising soon after sunset, flooded the world with a pale light that made the sea shine like silver and made the island appear like a dark, low shadow. But of the boat and the junk it revealed nothing.
The cook and Blodgett and I were talking idly on the fore hatch when faintly, but so distinctly that we could not mistake it, we heard far off the report of a gun.
"Listen!" cried Blodgett.
It came again and then again.
The cook laid his hand on my shoulder. "Boy," he gasped out, "don' you heah dat yeh screechin'?"
"No," said I.
"Listen!"
We sat for a long time silent, and presently we heard one more very distant gunshot.
Neither Blodgett nor I had heard anything else, but the cook insisted that he had heard clearly the sound of some one far off shrieking and wailing in the night. "Ah heah dat yeh noise, yass, sah. Ah ain't got none of dem yamalgamations what heahs what ain't."
He was so big and black and primitive, and his great ears spread so far out from his head, that he reminded me of some wild beast. Certainly he had a wild beast's keen ears.
But now Blodgett raised his hand. "Here's wind," he said.
And wind it was, a fresh breeze that seemed to gather up the waning strength of the light airs that had been playing at hide and seek with our ropes and canvas.
At daybreak, cutting the cable and abandoning the working bower, we got under way on the remainder of our voyage to China, bearing in a generally northwesterly course to avoid the dangerous waters lying directly between us and the port of our destination.
As we hauled at halyard and sheet and brace, and sprang quickly about at Roger's bidding, I found no leisure to watch the dawn, nor did I think of aught save the duties of the moment, which in some ways was a blessed relief; but I presently became aware that David Paine, who seemed able to work without thought, had stopped and was staring intently across the heavy seas that went rolling past us. Then, suddenly, he cried in his deep voice, "Sail ho!"
Hazily, in the silver light that intervened between moonset and sunrise, we saw a junk with high poop and swinging batten sails bearing across our course. She took the seas clumsily, her sails banging as she pitched, and we gathered at the rail to watch her pass.
"See there, men!" old Blodgett cried.
He pointed his finger at the strange vessel. We drew closer and stared incredulously.
On the poop of the junk, beside the cumbersome rudder windlass, leaning nonchalantly against the great carved rail, were Captain Nathan Falk and Chief Mate Kipping. That the slow craft could not cross our bows, they saw as well as we. Indeed, I question if they cared a farthing whether they sighted us that day or not. But they and their men, who gathered forward to stare sullenly as we drew near, shook fists and once more shouted curses. I could see them distinctly, Falk and Kipping and the carpenter and the steward and the sail-maker and the rest—angry, familiar faces.
When we had swept by them, running before the wind, some one called after us in a small, far-off voice, "We'll see you yet in Sunda Strait."
There was a commotion on the deck of the junk and Blodgett declared that
Falk had hit a man.
Were they changing their time for some reason that they did not want us to suspect? Did they really wish to cut us off on our return?
Speculating about the fate of the yellow mariners who once had manned those clumsy sails, and about what scenes of bloody cruelty there must have been when those eight mad desperadoes attacked the ancient Chinese vessel, we sailed away and left them in their pirated junk. But I imagined, even when the old junk was hull down beyond the horizon, that I could hear an angry voice calling after us.
CHAPTER XXVII
WE REACH WHAMPOA, BUT NOT THE END OF OUR TROUBLES
We were only seven men to work that ship, and after all these years I marvel at our temerity. Time and again the cry "All hands" would come down the hatch and summon the three of us from below to make sail, or reef, or furl, or man the braces. Weary and almost blind with sleep, we would stagger on deck and pull and haul, or would swarm aloft and strive to cope with the sails. The cook, and even Roger, served tricks at the wheel, turn and turn about with the rest of us; and for three terrible weeks we forced ourselves to the sheets and halyards, day and night, when we scarcely could hold our eyes open or bend our stiffened fingers.
A Divine Providence must have watched over us during the voyage and have preserved us from danger; for though at that season bad storms are by no means unknown, the weather remained settled and fine. With clear water under our keel we passed shoal and reef and low-lying island. Now we saw a Tonquinese trader running before the wind, a curious craft, with one mast and a single sail bent to a yard at the head and stiffened by bamboo sprits running from luff to leech; now a dingy nondescript junk; now in the offing a fleet of proas, which caused us grave concern. But in all our passage only one event was really worth noting.
When we were safely beyond London Reefs and the Fiery Cross, we laid our course north by east to pass west of Macclesfield Bank. All was going as well as we had dared expect, so willing was every man of our little company, except possibly the man from Boston, whom I suspected of a tendency to shirk, when late one evening the cook came aft with a very long face.
"Well," said Roger, his eyes a-twinkle. "What's wrong in the galley, doctor?"
"Yass, sah, yass, sah! S'pose, sah, you don't' know dah's almost no mo' wateh foh to drink, sah."
"What's that you say?"
"Yass, sah, yass, sah, we done share up with dat yeh Kipping and dah ain't no mo' to speak of at all, sah."
It was true. The casks below decks were empty. In the casks already broken out there was enough for short rations to last until we made port, so our predicament as yet was by no means desperate; but we remembered the laughter of Falk and his men, and we were convinced that they knew the trick they played when they persuaded us to divide the ship's bread and water. By what mishap or mismanagement the supply of food had fallen short—there had been abundant opportunity for either—we were never to learn; but concerning the water-supply and Falk's duplicity, we were very soon enlightened.
"Our friend from Boston," Roger said slowly, when the cook had gone, "seems to have played us double. We'll have him below, Ben, and give him a chance to explain."
I liked the fellow less than ever when he came into the cabin. He had a certain triumphant air that consorted ill with his trick of evading one's eyes. He came nervously, I thought; but to my surprise Roger's caustic accusal seemed rather to put him at ease than to disconcert him further.
"And so," Roger concluded, after stating the case in no mincing terms, "you knew us to be short of water, yet you deliberately neglected to warn us."
"Didn't I try to speak, sir? Didn't you cut me off, sir?"
Roger looked at him gravely. Although the fellow flinched, he was telling the truth. In justice we had to admit that Roger had given him no hearing.
"Ay, and that skinny old money-chaser tried to throttle me," he continued. "Falk lay off that island only because we needed water. Ay, we all knew we needed it—Falk and all of us. But them murderin' natives was after our heart's blood whenever we goes ashore, just because Chips and Kipping drills a few bullet-holes in some of 'em. I knew what Falk was after when he asks you for water, sir. The scuttlebutts with water in 'em was on deck handy, and most of them below was empty where you wa'n't likely to trouble 'em for a while yet. He see how't would work out. Wasn't I going to tell you, even though he killed me for it, until you cut me off and that 'un choked me? It helps take the soreness—it—I tried to tell you, sir."
In petty spite, the fellow had committed himself, along with the rest of us, to privation at the very least. Yet he had a defense of a kind, contemptible though it was, and Roger let him go.
It was a weary voyage; but all things have an end, and in ten days we had left Helen Shoal astern. Now we saw many junks and small native craft, which we viewed with uncomfortable suspicion, for though our cannon were double-charged and though loaded muskets were stacked around the mizzenmast, we were very, very few to stand off an attack by those yellow demons who swarmed the Eastern seas in the time of my boyhood and who, for all I know, swarm them still.
There came at last a day when we went aloft and saw with red eyes that ached for sleep hills above the horizon and a ship in the offing with all sails set. A splendid sight she was, for our own flag flew from the ensign halyards, and less than three weeks before, any man of us would have given his right hand to see that ship and that flag within hail; but now it was the sight of land that thrilled us to the heart. Hungry, thirsty, worn out with fatigue, we joyously stared at those low, distant hills.
"Oh, mah golly, oh, mah golly!" the cook cried, in ecstasy, "jest once Ah gits mah foots on dry land Ah's gwine be de happies' nigger eveh bo'n. Ah ain' neveh gwine to sea agin, no sah, not neveh."
"Ay, land's good," Davie Paine muttered, "but the sea holds a man."
Blodgett said naught. What dreams of wealth were stirring in his head, I never knew. He was so very pale! He more than any one else, I think, was exhausted by the hardships of the voyage.
Roger, gaunt and silent, stood with his arms crossed on the rail. He had eaten almost nothing; he had slept scarcely at all. With unceasing courage he had done his duty by day and by night, and I realized as I saw him standing there, sternly indomitable, that his was the fibre of heroes. I was proud of him—and when I thought of my sister, I was glad. Then it was that I remembered my father's words when, as we walked toward Captain Whidden's house, we heard our gate shut and he knew without looking back who had entered.
We came into the Canton River, or the Chu-Kiang as it is called, by the Bocca-Tigris, and with the help of some sailing directions that Captain Whidden had left in writing we passed safely through the first part of the channel between Tiger Island and Towling Flat. Thence, keeping the watch-tower on Chuen-pee Fort well away from the North Fort of Anung-hoy, we worked up toward Towling Island in seven or eight fathoms.
A thousand little boats and sampans clustered round us, and we were annoyed and a little frightened by the gesticulations of the Chinese who manned them, until it dawned on us that they wished to serve as pilots. By signs we drove a bargain—a silver dollar and two fingers; three fingers; five fingers—and got for seven silver dollars the services of several men in four sampans, who took their places along the channel just ahead of us and sounded the depth with bamboo poles, until by their guidance we crossed the second bar on the flood tide, which providentially came at the very hour when we most needed it, and proceeded safely on up the river.
That night, too tired and weak to stand, we let the best bower go by the run in Whampoa Roads, and threw ourselves on the deck. By and by—hours later it seemed—we heard the sound of oars.
"Island Princess ahoy!" came the hearty hail.
"Ahoy," some one replied.
"What's wrong? Come, look alive! What does this mean?"
I now sat up and saw that Roger was standing in the stern just as he had stood before, his feet spread far apart, his arms folded, his chin out-thrust. "Do you, sir," he said slowly, "happen to have a bottle of wine with you?"
I heard the men talking together, but I could not tell what they were saying. Next, I saw a head appear above the bulwark and realized that they were coming aboard.
"Bless my soul! What's happened? Where's Captain Whidden? Bless my soul! Who are you?" The speaker was big, well dressed, comfortably well fed. He stared at the six of us sprawled out grotesquely on the deck, where we had thrown ourselves when the ship swung at her anchor. He looked up at the loose, half-furled sails. He turned to Roger, who stood gaunt and silent before him. "Bless my soul! Who are you?"
"I," said Roger, "am Mr. Hamlin, supercargo of this ship."
"But where—what in heaven's name has taken place? Where's Captain
Whidden?"
"Captain Whidden," said Roger, "is dead."
"But when—but what—"
"Who are you?" Roger fired the words at him like a thunderclap.
"I—I—I am Mr. Johnston, agent for Thomas Webster and Sons," the man stammered.
"Sir," cried Roger, "if you are agent for Thomas Webster and Sons, fetch us food and water and get watchmen to guard this ship while we sleep. Then, sir, I'll tell you such a story as you'll not often hear."
The well-fed, comfortable man regarded him with a kind of frown. The situation was so extraordinary that he simply could not comprehend it. For a moment he hesitated, then, stepping to the side, he called down some order, which I did not understand, but which evidently sent the boat hurrying back to the landing. As he paced the deck, he repeated over and over in a curiously helpless way, "Bless my soul! Bless my soul!"
All this time I was aware of Roger still standing defiantly on the quarter-deck. I know that I fell asleep, and that when I woke he was still there. Shortly afterwards some one raised my head and gave me something hot to drink and some one else repeated my name, and I saw that Roger was no longer in sight. Then, as I was carried below, I vaguely heard some one repeating over and over, "Bless my soul! It is awful! Why won't that young man explain things? Bless my soul!" When I opened my eyes sunlight was creeping through the hatch.
"Is this not Mr. Lathrop?" a stranger asked, when I stepped out in the open air—and virtually for the first time, so weary had I been the night before, saw the pointed hills, the broad river, and the great fleet of ships lying at anchor.
"Yes," said I, surprised at the man's respectful manner. Immediately I was aware that he was no sailor.
"I thought as much. Mr. Hamlin says, will you go to the cabin. I was just going to call you. Mr. Johnston has come aboard again and there's some kind of a conference. Mr. Johnston does get so wrought up! If you'll hurry right along—"
As I turned, the strange landsman kept in step with me. "Mr. Johnston is so wrought up!" he repeated interminably. "So wrought up! I never saw him so upset before."
When I entered the cabin, Roger sat in the captain's chair, with Mr. Johnston on his right and a strange gentleman on his left. Opposite Roger was a vacant seat, but I did not venture to sit down until the others indicated that they wished me to do so.
"This is a strange story I've been hearing, Mr. Lathrop," said Mr. Johnston. His manner instantly revealed that my family connection carried weight with him. "I thought it best you should join us. One never knows when a witness will be needed. It's one of the most disturbing situations I've met in all my experience."
The stranger gravely nodded.
"Certainly it is without precedent in my own experience," said Roger.
Mr. Johnston tapped the table nervously. "Captain and chief mate killed by a member of the crew; second mate—later, acting captain—accused of abetting the murder. You must admit, sir, that you make that charge on decidedly inadequate evidence. And one hundred thousand dollars in gold gone, heaven knows where! Bless my soul, what shall I do?"
"Do?" cried Roger. "Help us to make arrangements to unload the cargo, to ship a new crew, and to get a return cargo. It seems to me obvious enough what you 'shall do'!"
"But, Mr. Hamlin, the situation is extraordinary. There are legal problems involved. There is no captain—bless my soul! I never heard of such a thing."
"I've brought this ship across the China Sea with only six hands. I assure you that I shall have no difficulty in taking her back to Salem when a new crew is aboard." Roger's eyes twinkled as of old. "Here's your captain—I'll do. Lathrop, here, will do good work as supercargo, I'm sure. I'm told there's the crew of a wrecked brig in port. They'll fill up our forecastle and maybe furnish me with a mate or two. You'll have to give us papers of a kind."
"Lathrop as supercargo? He's too young. He's only a lad."
"We can get no one else off-hand who has so good an education," said Roger. "He can write a fair-copy, cipher, and keep books. I'll warrant, Mr. Johnston, that not even you can catch him napping with a problem in tare and tret. Above all, the Websters know him well and will be glad to see him climb."
"Hm! I'm doubtful—well, very well. As you say. But one hundred thousand dollars in gold—bless my soul! I was told nothing about that; the letters barely mention it." Mr. Johnston beat a mad tattoo on the arm of his chair.
"That, sir, is my affair and my responsibility. I will answer to the owners."
"Bless my soul! I'm afraid I'll be compounding piracy, murder, and heaven knows what other crimes; but we shall see—we shall see." Mr. Johnston got up and paced the cabin nervously. "Well, what's done's done. Nothing to do but make the best of a bad bargain. Woolens are high now, praise the Lord, and there's a lively demand for ginseng. Well, I've already had good offers. I'll show you the figures, Captain Hamlin, if you'll come to the factory. And you, too, Mr. Lathrop. If you daren't leave the ship, I'll send ashore for them. I'm confident we can fill out your crew, and I suppose I'll have to give you some kind of a statement to authorize your retaining command—What if I am compounding a felony? Bless my soul! And one hundred thousand dollars!"
I was glad enough to see Mr. Johnston rowed away from the ship. Roger, accompanying him, returned late in the evening with half a dozen new men and a Mr. Cledd, formerly mate of the brig Essay, which had been wrecked a few weeks before in a typhoon off Hainan. He was a pleasant fellow of about Roger's age, and had a frank manner that we all liked. The new men, all of whom had served under him on the Essay, reported him to be a smart officer, a little severe perhaps, but perfectly fair in his dealings with the crew; so we were almost as glad to have him in the place of Kipping, as we were to have Roger in the place of Captain Falk. We had settled down in the forecastle to talk things over when presently word came that Davie Paine and I were wanted aft.
"Ben," said Roger to me, cordially, "you can move your things into the cabin. You are to be supercargo." He tapped his pencil on the table and turned to Davie with a kindly smile. "You, Davie, can have your old berth of second mate, if you wish it. I'll not degrade a faithful man. You'd better move aft to-day, for the new crew is coming aboard to-morrow."
Davie scratched his head and shifted his feet uneasily. "Thank you, sir," he said at last. "It's good of you and I'm sure I appreciate it, but I ain't no great shakes of a scholar and I—well, if it's all the same to you, sir, I'll stay for'ard with the men, sir."
I was surprised to find how hard it was to leave the forecastle. The others were all so friendly and so glad of my good fortune, that they brought a lump to my throat and tears to my eyes. It seemed as if I were taking leave forever, instead of only moving the length of the ship; and, indeed, as I had long since learned, the distance from forecastle to cabin is not to be measured by feet and inches.
"I knew't would come," Neddie Benson remarked. "You was a gentleman's son. But we've had good times together—ay, and hard times, too." He shook his head dolefully.
All who were left of the old crew gathered round me while I closed my chest, and Blodgett and Davie Paine seized the beckets before I knew what they were about and carried it to my stateroom.
As I passed the galley the cook stopped me. "You ain't gwine far, sah, praise de Lo'd!" he said. "Dah's a hot time ahead and we gotta stand one by anotheh. Ah's gwine keep my eye on dat yeh man f'om Boston. Yass, sah! Ah's gwine keep mah eye on him."
Now what did the cook mean by that, I wondered. But no answer suggested itself to me, and when I entered the cabin I heard things that drove the cook and the man from Boston far out of my mind.
"Kipping!" Mr. Cledd, the new chief mate was saying. "Not William
Kipping?"
Roger got down the attested copy of the articles and pointed at the neatly written name: "William Kipping."
Mr. Cledd looked very grave indeed. "I've heard of Falk—he's a vicious scoundrel in some ways, although too weak to be dangerous of his own devices But I know Kipping."
"Tell me about him,' said Roger.
"Kipping is the meanest, doggonedest, low-down wharf-runner that ever robbed poor Jack of his wages. That's Kipping. Furthermore, he never signed a ship's articles unless he thought there was considerable money in it somewhere. I tell you, Captain Hamlin, he's an angry, disappointed man at this very minute. If you want to know what I think, he's out somewhere on those seas yonder—just—waiting. We've not seen the last of Kipping."
Roger got up, and walking over to the chest of ammunition, thoughtfully regarded it.
"No, sir!" Mr. Cledd reiterated, "if Kipping's Kipping, we've not seen the last of him."
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