Chapter Eight.
Sibylla the hostage.
Sibylla no sooner heard Williams’ order for the boats to shove off than she intuitively divined the horrible fate in store for her; and, resolved to effect her escape at any and every hazard, she darted toward the gangway, determined to fling herself into the sea rather than be left alone and unprotected in the midst of that gang of lawless men. But Williams was too quick for her; he saw her movement, anticipated her intention, and, leaping down off the rail, flung his arms around her, exclaiming:
“Avast there, my pretty one; you are to stay with us! Nay, it is no use to struggle; you will not be allowed to go, so you may as well submit quietly to your fate. Curse the girl—how she fights! Stand still, will you, and listen to me! The boats are already a hundred fathoms away from the ship; there are half a dozen sharks cruising round us—I saw them not five minutes ago; and if you were silly enough to jump overboard, as you seem inclined to do, you would be torn to pieces before we could even think about picking you up.”
“Better that than to remain here at the mercy of such wretches as you!” gasped Sibylla, still struggling feebly, for her strength was almost exhausted.
“Well said, my beauty,” laughed Williams; “you are a rare plucky one, and no mistake. I like to see—”
“Hands off, Williams!” exclaimed Ned, as he stepped coldly forward to the rescue. “What do you mean, sir, by such dastardly conduct? Do you call this keeping faith with me?”
“Yes, of course I do,” exclaimed Williams. “I don’t want to hurt her if she’ll only keep quiet. Here, Ned, you take charge of her. She’ll be quieter with you than with me, perhaps; and see if you can persuade her that she will be better off here than overboard among the sharks. As to keeping faith with you, my hearty, why, I’ve done the best I could. Those friends of yours, that you seem to have taken such a tremendous fancy to, have been treated just as well since we took the ship as they were before. We’ve lost nearly three weeks cruising about trying to find a good place on which to land them—and a perfect paradise of a spot we’ve found for them at last; nobody could wish for a better—and, now that they are turned adrift, I’ve landed them with an outfit complete enough for them to start a regular colony. What more would you have! Haven’t I yet done enough to satisfy you?”
“No, certainly not,” answered Ned, inwardly grieving now that he had not ventured to add to the scanty “outfit” several other articles which he had felt would have been of the utmost value to the marooned party, but which he had feared to include lest the whole should have been refused them. “No; this young lady was one of the party, and was included in my stipulations. Yet you have detained her on board here, a prisoner.”
“Ah, well! the less said about that, perhaps, the better,” remarked Williams. “I quite intended to have landed her with the rest of them; but that island looming up ahead this morning—when you told us only last night that we had a clear sea ahead of us—looked so queer that we held a consultation, and came to the conclusion that, for our own safety’s sake, we ought to keep somebody aboard here to act as a sort of hostage to secure us against treachery on your part; and, as we didn’t think it would be right to separate husband and wife, or parents and children, why, you see, there was only this young lady left for us. And, whilst we are talking upon this subject, shipmates,” he continued, turning to the rest of the crew, whose curiosity had brought them about the little party, “let me say, here and now, that Bill Rogers, Bob Martin, and myself agreed this morning that she must be kept among us for the safety of the ship and all hands. You all know—for no secret has been made of it—that Ned, there, has been kept with us, not of his own free-will, but because we required somebody to navigate the ship for us. And you know, too, or I know, that the lad has just that amount of spirit in him that he wouldn’t hesitate to cast away the ship and all hands—himself included—or to play us any other awkward trick if he saw a chance of spoiling our plans for the recovery of a few of the good things that we’ve been defrauded out of. Now, so long as this young girl is all safe and sound we have nothing to fear from his treachery, because, d’ye see, I’m going to tell him and her—as I do now—that any act, or even suspicion, of treachery on his part will be followed by the young woman being turned adrift by herself in the dinghy; and, rather than see her come to harm, he will be faithful to us, and carry out our orders to the best of his ability. But if evil comes to her we shall lose our hold upon him at once—I say all this before him because I’ve studied him and know him, and I want him to understand as much—and it has, therefore, been agreed that any man who interferes with the young lady will be shot at once and on the spot. So, now, mates, as you’ve had the whole affair explained to you, it is to be hoped you’ll shape your behaviour accordingly.”
“Stop a moment!” exclaimed Ned, as Williams waved his hand by way of dismissal to his little audience, “it seems, from what Williams has said, that Miss Stanhope has been detained a prisoner solely on my account. If that be really the case, I wish to say that, if you will release her and put her on shore with her friends on the island yonder, I swear to you that, though I will never take part in any piracies or other unlawful acts which you may commit, I will in every other respect be absolutely faithful to you, and will navigate the ship whithersoever you will, to the best of my ability. This is no light sacrifice for a young man in my position to make; yet I will make it cheerfully, and take any oath of fidelity you may choose to impose upon me.”
“It is no use, Ned; we can’t—we dare not do it,” answered Williams. “You mean what you say—now—I don’t doubt; but if you ever had a chance to betray us, as you may have, you wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation. No; the matter has been fully talked over, and the young lady must stay.”
Ned was about to make a further effort on Sibylla’s behalf, but the girl herself stopped him.
“Humble yourself no more to these men!” she said; “it will be of no avail, I can clearly see. And trouble not yourself on my behalf. God is able to protect me even here; His will be done!”
She turned away, and Ned, offering his arm, half led, half supported Sibylla into the cabin; and, as he poured out and offered her a glass of wine from a decanter which stood in one of the swinging trays over the table, he exclaimed:
“Oh! Miss Stanhope, what can I say, or how express the sorrow and regret I feel at the knowledge that it is through me you are placed in this terrible position. Believe me—”
“Say no more, Mr Damerell, I entreat you,” interrupted Sibylla. “I know that you have no cause for self-reproach; we are both equally unfortunate. For, if I am detained on board this ship a prisoner, so are you; your prospects in life are as completely blighted as mine. And I have at least the comfort of that man’s assurance—in which I believe he was quite sincere—that I shall be treated with consideration and respect. Indeed, terrible as must be my position here, I am by no means sure that I am not safer where I am than is my poor sister on that lonely island. What may be her fate and that of those who are with her who can tell? to what dangers and privations will not they be exposed? It is terrible only to think of it. And now let me thank you for your noble and self-sacrificing efforts just now on my behalf. Come what will, I shall never forget them, nor shall I ever forget that you have proved yourself our true and staunch friend, forgetting yourself and all your own trouble and peril in your anxiety to help and befriend us. Tell me, do you think there is any possibility of our ever being able to make our escape from these dreadful people?”
“Well,” said Ned, “I should not like to raise hopes which may never be fulfilled, but I think there is just a possibility of it. You must not build too much on what I say, because it would be idle to deny that our future is beset with difficulties and perils. The absence of your brother-in-law, the doctor, and Mr Gaunt is an irreparable loss to us, to say nothing of that of the captain and young Manners, both of whom will, I feel sure, be landed somewhere within the next few days. But do not despair; perhaps, when Williams has rid himself of them, his vigilance may relax. I should, under any circumstances, have tried to escape, and you may rest assured that, as your deliverance seems now to depend almost wholly upon me, my thoughts will more than ever be given to the project. What you have to do is to think as little as may be upon your present situation and to keep up your spirits. A chance may come to us at any moment—and I believe it will come, sooner or later. We must therefore be on the watch and hold ourselves ready to take advantage of it when it comes. The accidents—if I may call them so—of the sea are countless; we shall, by and by, be constantly hovering in the regular track of other ships, and that, in spite of all their vigilance, may afford us an opportunity to make our situation known. Or we may be captured; for, if the rascals carry out their present plans, it will not be long before we shall have all the men-of-war in these seas after us. Or we may, perhaps, be able to effect our escape in a boat. That gig of ours, in which our friends have been sent ashore is a splendid boat; and if we could get away in her whilst in some well-beaten ship track, with a good stock of provisions, we might well hope to be picked up in the course of a few days. That, however, I should only propose as a last resource. But the more I think of it the less hopeless do our prospects appear; so keep a good heart, Miss Stanhope, and hope for the best. By the by, do you know how to use a pistol?”
“Yes,” said Sibylla, “I know how to use a revolver. Duncan has—or had—a pair; and when we were at home he taught Rose and me how to fire them, putting up a target in the garden for us to shoot at. Why do you ask?”
“Because—although I think there is not much ground for apprehension—it will do no harm if you have a weapon upon which you can lay your hand in case of need. I have a pair of small revolvers which, though they are not very formidable weapons for long-distance shooting, are tolerably effective at close quarters, say within thirty yards or so. I will give you them—they are in a case, with cartridges and so on all complete; and I should like you to keep them always loaded and handy. And now, if you feel sufficiently composed to be left alone, I think I will go out on deck again and see how matters are progressing there.”
When Ned reached the poop, to which he naturally directed his steps, he found Williams there, fuming at the protracted absence of the boats, which could clearly be seen, with their noses hauled up on the sandy beach, and the two boat-keepers sitting in lazy attitudes on their gunwales, quietly smoking. That the remainder of the crews were not delayed by assisting the marooned passengers to “shake down” was evidenced by the fact that the latter could be seen grouped together on a little grassy knoll, the ladies and children seated upon boxes, whilst the two men were vigorously attacking with their axes a couple of young straight-stemmed palms at no great distance.
“What can the rascals be about?” growled Williams impatiently. “I’ll bet anything they are off skylarking in the woods, instead of hurrying back to the ship, as they ought. For’ard, there! pass the word for the boatswain to clear away one of those signal-guns. We’ll give them a shot by way of a reminder to quicken their motions.”
The gun was cleared away, loaded, and fired—not once but nearly a dozen times before the laggards appeared. They were seen at last, however, hurrying down to the beach, in little straggling groups, one after the other, and finally the boats pushed off and headed for the ship.
A quarter of an hour later they were alongside; and in another moment the two men who had been sent away in charge stood on the quarter-deck, confronting their angry chief.
“Come, Rogers I come, Martin! what the mischief have you been about, keeping us dodging in the offing all this while?” demanded Williams fiercely. “Hook on the tackles, and let us be off,” he continued.
“Wait a minute, cap’n,” answered Rogers; “we’ve a bit of news for you that I expect you won’t particularly relish. One of the men has cut and run; and it was hunting for him that kept us ashore so long.”
“Who is if!” demanded Williams.
“Why, it’s Tom Nicholls, one of the steerage passengers that Blyth shipped after we fell in with that barque on her beam-ends.”
“So he has bolted, has he, the white-livered hound!” ejaculated Williams furiously. “Well, he shall not escape us. Take your boats’ crews, both of you; give each man a rifle and half a dozen rounds of ball cartridge, and pull ashore again and hunt the cur until you find him, and bring him aboard here to me, dead or alive! I’ll anchor the ship and wait for you, if it takes you a week to do the job.”
“Ay, ay, we’ll get him before the day is over, never fear!” exclaimed Rogers, apparently in high glee at receiving the brutal order. “Come along, mates, and get your rifles; it isn’t every day that we get the chance of such a spree as a man-hunt!”
The boats’ crews had, during this short colloquy, scrambled up the ship’s side to the deck, and had gathered round the speakers, curious to see how Williams would receive the news of the loss; and it was to these that Rogers had addressed himself.
They did not, however, appear to by any means enter into the spirit of the thing, hanging back so coldly unresponsive to the mate’s jovial invitation that the latter paused in blank astonishment.
“Why—why—what the—” began Rogers, when he was brusquely interrupted by one of the men, who stepped forward and said:
“Get somebody else to go in my place, matey. I don’t understand man-huntin’, as you calls it, and should only make a poor fist at it, I’m afraid.”
“Same here,” said another. “I never done anything of the sort yet, and don’t know how to set about it.”
The others were expressing themselves to the same effect, when Williams darted forward, and, seizing the first speaker roughly by the collar, savagely demanded:
“Look here, you scoundrel, do you mean to say that you won’t go?”
“Ay, ay, shipmate, that’s just exactly what I do mean,” was the answer, given good-naturedly enough. “But take your hand off my collar,” the man continued more sternly. “Two can play at that game, you know; and I doubt whether you are man enough to thrash me.”
Williams, white as death with passion, prudently withdrew his hand from the man’s collar, and stepped back a pace or two.
“What does this mean?” he demanded. “Are you going to mutiny, men, before our cruise has even commenced?”
An insolent laugh greeted this inquiry; and the man who had just spoken answered:
“Call it what you like, Cap’n Josh; mutiny is as good a name for it as any other, I reckon. And what I mean is, that I, for one, ain’t goin’ ashore on no man-huntin’ expedition. There was nothing said about man-huntin’ when the articles for this here cruise was drawed up; and what I say is, if Tom Nicholls wants to cut and run, let him do it.”
“Ay, ay; so says I,” added another of the men. “He never entered into the thing with no spirit, anyhow; and if he’d rather be ashore there than makin’ his fortune aboard here with us, why, let him stay ashore, says I. ‘No manhuntin’’ is my sentiments.”
Several of the other men now declared themselves to the same effect, whereupon Williams, finding himself in the minority, said, with as perfect an assumption of indifference as he could command at the moment:
“Very well, lads; just as you please. It was of you, not of myself, that I was thinking. The work will be so much the heavier for you if Nicholls is allowed to escape; but, if you do not mind it, I am sure I need not. If, as you say, the fool prefers slaving ashore there for a bare living to making his fortune with us afloat, let him go. Up with the boats, and be smart about it! Up with your helm, abaft there, and let her go off square before the wind! Square the main-yard; and away aloft there, some of you, and rig out the topmast and topgallant-studding-sail booms!”
These orders were rapidly obeyed. The ship squared away before a freshening breeze; and two hours later the island was left so far astern that a landsman might easily have mistaken it for a grey cloud on the edge of the horizon.
The ship was kept running to the eastward all that day under studding-sails, and by sunset had travelled a distance of nearly seventy miles. At that hour, however, Ned requested that sail might be shortened and the ship allowed to go along under easy canvas during the night, urging the experience of the morning as a reason for caution whilst navigating that comparatively unknown sea. Williams at once assented to the suggestion, remarking immediately afterwards to Rogers, with a self-satisfied chuckle:
“That was a rare good move of ours, Bill, to keep the young woman aboard. See how cautious Mr Ned has grown all of a sudden! You may take my word for it, there will be no more tumbling over islands so long as she remains aboard of us.”
As it happened, it was just as well that the precaution was taken; for at midnight, just as the watch was being relieved, breakers were discovered ahead, and the ship was only brought to the wind just barely in time to avert a disaster. But even then the craft was by no means out of danger; for, when an attempt was made to claw off from the reefs to leeward, it was soon discovered that the vessel was embayed, other reefs being found to exist both to the northward and to the southward of her. For a few minutes something very like a panic took possession of the mutineers; but Williams proved himself equal to the occasion, stilling the tumult by a few brief authoritative words, and promptly ordering a man into the chains with the lead. Soundings were taken and a sandy bottom found, with just the right depth of water for anchoring. So the cable was roused on deck and bent on to the best bower, the ship making short reaches to the northward and southward meanwhile; and as soon as everything was ready a position was taken as nearly as possible midway between the reefs, and the anchor let go in twelve fathoms of water, with sixty fathoms of chain outside the hawse-pipe. The canvas was securely furled, the watch set, with one man told off to tend the lead-line which was dropped over the side to show whether the anchor held securely or not, and then nothing remained for them but to wait, with what patience they could muster, for daybreak.
This was a somewhat trying ordeal; for the night was pitch dark—the moon being new and not a star visible, the sky overcast, and the wind fresh and at times gusty. Moreover, they could form but a very vague idea of the dangers by which they were surrounded, the chart showing nothing but a clear sea; and, to further increase their anxiety, there was a heavy ground-swell rolling in from the westward, which caused the ship to bury herself to her hawse-pipes. Altogether, what with the uncertainty of their position, the inky darkness, and the ominous roar of the breakers all round them, it was a very anxious time for everybody on board the Flying Cloud.
At length, after what seemed an eternity of darkness, the harassed watchers caught the first faint signs of returning day. The forms of the clouds became dimly perceptible along the horizon to the eastward; then the cloud-bank itself broke up, revealing little patches here and there of soft violet-tinted sky, which rapidly paled, first to a pure and delicate ultramarine, and then to a soft primrose hue before the approaching dawn. The leaden-tinted clouds imperceptibly assumed a purple hue, then their lower edges became fringed with gold; and presently a long shaft of white light shot from the horizon half-way to the zenith, tinging the higher clouds—now broken up into a crowded archipelago of aerial islets—with flakes of “celestial rosy red,” and in another moment the golden upper rim of the sun’s disk flashed on the horizon, sending a long path of shimmering radiance across the bosom of the heaving, restless sea; and it was day.
The awkward character of the predicament in which the ship was involved now became sufficiently apparent. To the eastward and astern of her a small island, measuring about two miles from north to south, was seen. Its shores were indented and rocky, the surf beating upon them with great violence; and between it and the ship, at a distance nowhere greater than a mile, there lay an extensive crescent-shaped reef, almost completely encircling the unfortunate craft. The swell, rolling heavily in from the westward, hurled itself with appalling fury upon this reef, the far-reaching expanse of white water revealing distinctly the extremity of the peril through which the ship had passed during the previous night. Indeed, it was difficult to understand how she had escaped at all, for the opening between the two horns of the reef was so narrow that he would have been a bold navigator who would willingly have risked the passage, even in broad daylight.
Williams’ first act was to summon Rogers and Martin, in whose company he paid a visit to the fore-topmast cross-trees, where the trio devoted a full half-hour to a careful and critical examination of the ship’s position. Fortunately there was no occasion for haste, the anchor maintaining a firm grip of the ground, notwithstanding the occasional heavy plunges of the ship when some exceptionally big roller came sweeping in unbroken through the narrow channel in the reef. It was possible, therefore, for the mutineers to weigh well the advisability of the steps they contemplated, and to act with due caution. The cross-trees afforded a clear and thoroughly comprehensive view of the entire reef; and from this lofty stand-point the position of the ship was seen to be much less critical than it had appeared to be when viewed from the deck below. The Flying Cloud was, in fact, found to be lying in about the centre of a natural harbour. True, it was rather a wild berth for a ship, especially in the particular spot which she then occupied—this spot happening to be exactly opposite the opening in the reef and fully exposed to the unbroken run of the sea—but it was seen that by moving her half a cable’s-length either to the north or south the craft would be sheltered by one of the arms of the reef, and, with a couple of anchors down, might hope to ride out a moderately heavy gale in safety.
This was all very well, and very satisfactory—so far as it went—for it relieved their minds of all anxiety respecting the immediate safety of the ship. But, safe as she might be for the moment, the spot was not one in which a prudent mariner would linger one unnecessary instant; and Williams’ only anxiety just then was how to get out.
The channel into this natural harbour trended as nearly as possible due east and west; and, with the wind as it then stood, the ship, in order to get to sea, would have to make a series of short tacks to windward. But the opening was so narrow and tortuous that the little party in the cross-trees considered it exceedingly doubtful whether this would be possible with so lengthy a ship as the Flying Cloud; and, for the moment, it looked very much as though they would have to remain where they were until a change of wind should occur to release them.
At length, however, an expedition in the gig to the mouth of the channel was decided upon, and Ned—who had already distinguished himself by the exhibition of an altogether exceptional aptitude and dexterity in his handling of the ship—was instructed to join the party. The boat was soon lowered and manned, and, with Williams, Rogers, and Ned in the stern-sheets, pulled away towards the entrance. They had had the precaution to provide themselves with a hand-lead; and as soon as the channel was reached a very complete set of soundings, from end to end and over its entire width, was taken under Ned’s supervision. The result was unexpectedly satisfactory, no detached rocks being found in the fairway, whilst a tolerably even depth of water, nowhere less than five fathoms, and extending right up alongside the edge of the reef, prevailed throughout the entire length of the channel.
The progress of this survey was watched with the utmost anxiety by Williams—who, indeed, actually took the soundings with his own hands; and upon its completion he was so intensely gratified at the way in which this important service had been executed that he actually went the length of stammering out a few half-intelligible words of thanks to Ned.
The only question now remaining for settlement was, whether it would be prudent to make the attempt to work the ship out to sea. All hands were most keenly anxious to get clear of the place, for, safe as the ship just then undoubtedly was, they knew that it might prove a death-trap to them if it came on to blow heavily from the westward; but they also had the sense to know that a single mistake or miscalculation on the part of the person working the ship would send her on to the reef, a hopeless wreck.
Rogers and the boat’s crew were unanimously of opinion that the project was an impossibility; Williams expressed his belief that the thing might be done, but he at the same time frankly confessed that he had not faith enough in himself to undertake the responsibility. Ned prudently kept his opinion to himself until he was directly appealed to, when he modestly said that, with a smart hand at the wheel, a keen look-out aloft to warn him of the presence of any sunken rocks which might perchance have escaped their search, and a lively crew at the sheets and braces, he believed he would be able to work the ship into open water.
“Then,” exclaimed Williams with an oath, “you shall try your hand at the job. But remember,” he added, “if the ship touches anywhere, though it be only lightly enough to just graze the paint off her bottom, you may look out for squalls!”
“Now, look here, Williams,” answered Ned hotly, “if you want me to do my best for you, you had better be somewhat more sparing with your threats; and unless you withdraw what you have just said I shall decline to have anything to do with this matter. The task you have asked me to undertake is a most difficult and delicate one. I am quite willing to do my best, if you see fit to intrust me with the care of the ship, but it is a case in which even so slight a matter as a temporary flaw in the wind may bring about a very serious accident. If, therefore, I am to make the attempt, it must be with the distinct understanding that I am not to be held responsible for anything which may happen.”
“What d’ye think, mates? dare we trust him?” asked Williams, appealing to Rogers and the other men in the boat.
They said they thought that Ned’s objection was quite fair and reasonable; and Rogers, unceremoniously changing places with Ned, whispered something in Williams’ ear, whereupon the latter said:
“Very well. Will you swear, Ned, to honestly do your best to get the ship out of the fix she is now in, and to navigate her safely into open water?”
“Certainly I will, if you wish it,” answered Ned, “but a little reflection would convince you, I think, that I must be as little anxious as any of you to be cast away in such an unpromising spot as this.”
“All right, then,” said Williams; “we’ll chance it. Give way, men, for the ship.”
A quarter of an hour later all hands were once more on board, the boat was hoisted up to the davits, and the word was passed to man the windlass and heave short.