Chapter Nine.
The Captain’s denunciation.
“Now, Ned,” said Williams as the windlass-pawls began to clank, “you are in charge of the ship, mind, until she is in the blue water once more; and all hands, myself included, are ready to obey your orders, whatever they may be. You want a smart hand at the wheel, you say, and another as a look-out aloft. I intend, therefore, to take the wheel myself; and Rogers, who has the quickest eye on board the ship, will station himself on the fore-topsail-yard to watch for the rocks you spoke about. The rest of the hands will be stationed at the sheets and braces, with orders to let go and haul the moment you give the word. So, with this arrangement, if anything goes wrong you will not be able to say that any of us were to blame.”
“All right,” cried Ned, “I am quite satisfied with the arrangement; and I will do my best, as I said, to take the ship safely through. As there is a good steady breeze blowing I shall work her under topsails, topgallant-sails, jibs, and spanker, with the courses in the brails ready for an emergency, but not set; as presently, when we get into the narrowest part of the passage, our boards will be so short that the men would not be able to get down the tacks and sheets before it will be time to heave in stays again. When the cable is shortened in to twenty-fathoms let the hands go aloft and loose the canvas.”
“Right you are,” said Williams, turning away and walking forward to superintend operations on the forecastle.
The men roused the cable in to the inspiriting strains of a lively “shanty;” and before long Rogers’ voice was heard announcing the news that the twenty-fathom shackle was inside the hawse-pipe.
“Away aloft and loose the canvas” was now the word, upon which the men deserted the windlass; and whilst some swarmed aloft to cast off the gaskets from the upper sails others laid out upon the jib-boom to loose the jibs, the residue scattering about the decks to attend to the calls of their shipmates aloft to “let go the main-topgallant-clewlines” and to perform other similar operations of an equally mysterious character—mysterious, at least, to Sibylla, who, at a hint from Ned, had ventured out on deck to look abroad upon the unwonted scene, and to watch the passage of the ship through the reef.
In thus summoning Sibylla from the seclusion of her own cabin Ned honestly believed that his only motive was to do the poor girl a service. He said to himself that she would be far better on deck, breathing the fresh air and stimulated by the healthy excitement of a little peril, than she would be if she remained below cooped up in a stuffy state-room, fretting her heart out over matters that neither she nor he could help. Moreover, he was anxious that she should become accustomed as quickly as possible to the novelty of being the only woman on board, and accustomed, too, to the idea of coming and going as freely about the decks as she had done before the mutiny. And if, in addition to these motives, there lurked another far down in the depths of Ned’s heart, making him anxious that Sibylla should see for herself how valuable, and indeed indispensable, his services were to the mutineers, who shall blame him?
With the usual amount of bustle on board a merchantman the canvas was at length set, the yards braced in the manner necessary for casting the ship, and the men returned to the windlass—Williams walking aft and standing by the wheel, whilst Rogers and Martin remained on the forecastle to superintend the operation of getting the anchor. Williams was evidently very much pleased at the prospect of getting out to sea again, for as he passed Sibylla he raised his hat with more grace than could have been expected of him and wished her “good-morning!”—a salutation which the young lady silently acknowledged with one of her most stately bows.
Presently the cry came from Rogers:
“Anchor’s aweigh, sir.”
“Very well,” said Ned; “rouse it up to the bows smartly, cat it, and then range along your cable all ready for letting go again if need be. Flatten in your larboard jib-sheets for’ard; man your larboard fore-braces and brace the headyards sharp up. Hard a-starboard with your helm, Williams—she has stern-way upon her. And you Rogers, away aloft and keep a sharp look-out for sunken rocks. Martin will see to the catting of the anchor.”
Fully alive to the necessity for prompt obedience to the orders which had been given them, the crew sprang to their several stations and did their work with a smartness which would have been creditable even on board a man-of-war; and in another minute the ship had paid handsomely off on the larboard tack, with her after-canvas clean full.
“Let draw your jib-sheets,” now shouted Ned; “let go your larboard and round-in upon your starboard fore-braces, and then lay aft here, two or three of you, and haul out the spanker. Steady the helm and meet her, Williams. Keep everything a-rap full and let her go through the water. What is the latest news from the anchor for’ard there?”
“The stock is just coming out of the water, sir,” answered Martin.
“That is right; up with it as smartly as you can, lads,” urged Ned. Then to Rogers:
“How are things looking from aloft, Rogers?”
“All right, sir—no rocks anywhere in the way as I can see, and deep water right up to the edge of the reef,” came the answer.
“That is well,” commented Ned, walking to the lee rail to note the speed of the ship through the water, and also to judge more accurately her distance from the swirling masses of white water which marked the position of the reef.
She was nearing the rocks fast and was already within a cable’s-length of them; and the men forward were beginning to cast anxious glances aft, fearing that Ned was cutting his distance too fine.
But Ned knew perfectly well what he was about; with the utmost calmness he gave the word “Stations!” and then, as the men sprang to obey the order, he glanced aloft at the canvas. Williams was performing his share of the work with the skill of a most accomplished helmsman, and all the canvas was clean full.
Now came the ticklish part of the business. If Ned’s judgment failed him here the ship was as good as lost. He took one more glance at the breakers and then gave the word:
“Ready about!” followed immediately by the customary “Helm is a-lee!” at the same moment signing to Williams to put the helm down.
The wheel, under the influence of a single vigorous impulse from Williams’ sinewy arm, went whirling round until it was hard over, when he caught and grasped the spokes and held it there. The ship swept gracefully up into the wind with her white canvas fluttering so violently as to make the stout craft tremble to her keel; and, shaving the reef so closely that a vigorous jump would have launched a man from her rail into the breakers alongside, she forged ahead and finally paid off on the opposite tack.
So far, so good. The ship was, however, still in the comparatively spacious lagoon inside the reef. The crucial test of Ned’s ability would come when she passed into the narrow tortuous channel leading through the reef to the open sea. But that one trial had sufficed to demonstrate to Ned that the ship, even under the comparatively small amount of canvas then set, was under perfect command; and he was, moreover, just at that moment in that peculiar state of exhilaration both of mind and body when no task seems impossible. It was not likely, therefore, that, with Sibylla’s bright eyes regarding him with an eager curiosity—which to him seemed not wholly devoid of interest—he should shrink from any ordeal, however difficult.
But there was a peculiarly trying spot to be passed just at the inner extremity of the channel, and the ship would probably reach it on her next board. It behoved Ned, therefore, to dismiss from his mind all thoughts not strictly appertaining to the business in hand; and, like the sensible, practical fellow he was, he did so. Standing on a hen-coop, with one hand lightly grasping the mizen-topmast backstay, he sought and soon found the spot, which he carefully watched until he considered that the ship had run far enough to reach it on the next tack. He then gave the word “Ready about!” and immediately tacked the ship. The exceeding awkwardness of the passage consisted in the fact that, at the particular point referred to, the channel through the reef for a length of about sixteen hundred feet was only about three hundred feet wide, whilst its direction was dead in the wind’s eye as it then blew. Hence it was quite impossible to work the ship through this narrow “gut” in the ordinary way. Two small coves of unbroken—and therefore deep—water had been discovered on the north side of this narrow passage during the preliminary exploration; but they trended in the wrong direction and were so very narrow that Williams, on seeing them, at once declared them useless for all practical purposes. Ned, however, thought differently, and it was indeed upon the existence of these two indentations that he based his hope of success in an effort that, under other circumstances, it would have been sheer madness to attempt.
The ship tacked with the same admirable precision as before, and on gathering way was found to be looking well up for the entrance to the narrow channel. The distance to be traversed was no great matter, and Ned consequently kept all hands at their stations; but the anxious looks which they cast, first at him and next at the formidable barrier of rocks to leeward, showed plainly enough how completely puzzled they were as to the manner in which Ned was to deal with the difficulty which faced him. In less than five minutes from the moment of tacking the ship reached the opening, and as she glided across the narrow channel Ned signed to Williams to put the helm gradually down. The result was that the ship shot easily up into the wind; and the moment that all her canvas was a-shiver Ned ordered the helm amidships. This manoeuvre caused the ship to shoot for a considerable distance along the channel right in the wind’s eye; and before she entirely lost her way she had, as Ned had calculated she would, forged past the opening giving access to the first cove or indentation in the reef. The square canvas was now thrown flat aback and the ship soon gathered stern-way, when, by a judicious and skilful manipulation of the helm and braces, a stern-board was made and the vessel backed into the indentation and to its farthest extremity, a distance of about two cables’-lengths. The yards were then braced round and the canvas filled on the starboard tack, when, the ship gathering headway, she went booming down the indentation again and rushed once more into the narrow channel; when, having by this manoeuvre acquired sufficient “way” or momentum, the same tactics were a second time resorted to in order to get her past the second indentation, upon emerging from which she entered a wider reach of the channel where there was room to work her in the ordinary way. Thenceforward there was no further difficulty, except that in one rather awkward spot a sunken rock was encountered, which Ned, being duly apprised of its position by Rogers, avoided by the masterly execution of a half-board. A quarter of an hour later saw the Flying Cloud gliding out of the last reach of the channel to windward of everything, and five minutes afterwards Williams resigned the wheel to the man who had gone aft to relieve him, and resumed command of the ship; saying to Ned as he dismissed him:
“You have done exceedingly well, young gentleman; and I thank you not only for myself but also for all hands. It was, no doubt, your foresight and the caution you gave us last night that saved the ship from wreck on yonder reef; and you have this morning got us out of a difficulty which a slight increase of wind would have made a most serious one. We are very greatly indebted to you; and if ever you should require a favour at my hands remind me of this morning, and if it is possible to grant that favour with safety to ourselves it shall be granted. And now, tell me what you think of yon island as a dwelling-place for Captain Blyth?”
“I should think it would serve fairly well,” said Ned, inwardly rejoicing at the prospect of the skipper being put on shore within such comparatively easy reach of the other party. “The island is large enough to support a hundred people, for that matter. It is as much out of the way as any other place we are likely to fall in with; and I have no doubt but that round on the lee side of it we shall meet with smooth water and a beach upon which to effect a landing.”
“So I think,” returned Williams. “At all events,” he continued, “we will run round to leeward and have a look at the place. And in the meantime you may as well go and tell the skipper and young Manners to hold themselves in readiness to leave the ship—if the place looks promising I shall land them both here. And when you have spoken to them you may look out a few things—as well as all their own belongings—which will help to make them comfortable. We have no ill-feeling toward either of them, and it will be a satisfaction to remember that we left them with the means of taking care of themselves.”
“All right,” said Ned; “I will do so.” And he hurried away upon his errand, which he was anxious to fully accomplish whilst Williams’ extraordinary fit of good-nature still remained upon him.
Captain Blyth and young Manners were, it will be remembered, confined in the forward deck-house; and thither Ned at once made his way. The sliding-door was closed, and secured by a hasp and staple which had been put on since Ned had last visited the place. Withdrawing the pin and folding back the hasp, the lad slid the door open and entered—to start back horrified at the sight which met his gaze. The two prisoners were there, with their feet in irons, the skipper being seated on one side of the small table which occupied the centre of the berth, and Manners on the other side. It was not their condition, however, nor the fact that they were in irons, which startled Ned; they were clean and comfortable-looking enough, both in person and in dress, to show that they had been fairly well looked after; it was the dreadfully haggard and worn look of the skipper. The poor fellow looked twenty years older than when Ned had seen him last; he was wasted almost to the condition of a skeleton. The skin of his forehead and the outer corners of his eye-sockets was furrowed and wrinkled and crow’s-footed like that of an old man of eighty; and his hair was thickly streaked with grey.
As Ned entered, both prisoners rose to their feet, and Captain Blyth, stretching out his hand in welcome, exclaimed with emotion:
“At last—at last! I knew you would be true to me, Ned, my dear lad—I said so, over and over again; did I not, Manners? And now you are come with good tidings; I can see it in your face. What is it boy! Out with it. I have been terribly shaken by this villainous mutiny, but my nerves are yet strong enough to bear the shock of good news, so out with it; do not keep us in suspense, dear lad.”
It was pitiful to Ned to listen to the yearning tones of anxious entreaty in which the poor fellow uttered those last words, and to feel that he had not a single scrap of comfort to offer; but his task was before him. He had to execute it, and he determined to do it as gently as possible, and to put matters in the most hopeful light he could on the spur of the moment.
“Yes,” began Ned, “I have come with what I hope will prove to be good tidings, though, perhaps, they may not strike you as such at the outset; and I deeply regret to say that they are certainly not such as you seem to have been looking for. The ship is still in the hands of the mutineers, notwithstanding all the plotting and scheming of Mr Gaunt, Doctor Henderson, and myself; Williams and the rest of the people have been too watchful for us to take them by surprise, and we were not strong enough to attempt force with them. And now—the passengers, all but Miss Stanhope, being landed, as I suppose you know—I fear that the poor Flying Cloud will have to remain in the rascals’ hands; at all events until we get into more frequented waters, when you may depend upon it I shall make desperate efforts, and leave no feasible plan untried to secure the capture of the ship. But, in the meantime, I have been instructed by Williams to inform you that you are to hold yourselves in readiness to be landed on the island yonder, which you may see through the starboard window. This, I hope, will be good news to you both, for you will at least be free—free not only from your present confinement, but also free to act; free to devise and to carry out means for your escape from the island, and your speedy restoration to civilisation. I am instructed to say that all your personal effects will be rendered up to you; and I have orders to get together a few things to make you comfortable. So now, if you will name what things you would most desire to have, I will jot down a list of them, and do all I possibly can to ensure your getting them.”
“So—so; that is how the land lies, is it?” remarked the skipper thoughtfully, when Ned had brought his story to a close. “And, pray, what are they going to do with you, young gentleman, if I may presume to ask?”
“Don’t speak like that, Captain Blyth, I beg,” protested Ned, deeply hurt by the tone of suspicion in which the skipper’s question had been put. “I am just as helpless as yourselves in this matter. They have determined to keep me on board to navigate the ship for them; and, with a malignant ingenuity which would never have occurred to anybody but Williams, they have also detained Miss Stanhope to act as hostage and security for my fidelity and good behaviour, informing me that anything like treachery, or even a mistake on my part, will be visited upon her.”
“Poor girl! poor girl!—and poor lad, too, for that matter!” ejaculated the skipper. “Forgive me, Ned, if for a moment I fancied that you had been led astray by those scoundrels and tempted to cast in your lot with them. I might have known better; but this mutiny seems somehow to have strained my mental faculties until sometimes I almost think they are stranded and ready to carry away altogether. It is the first time that anything of the kind ever happened to me; the first time. Ah, well!—but I must not let these thoughts run away with me; our time together is short, and I have one or two questions to ask you. And, first of all, when and where did you land the passengers?”
“We landed them yesterday,” answered Ned; “did you not know it? I thought it would be quite impossible to keep that fact from your knowledge.”
“No, Ned, not quite impossible. I heard the boats lowered, and caught a few words here and there, which gave me an idea of what was happening; but we were shut up here with that surly fellow, Carrol, as guard over us, and he would neither tell us anything nor allow us to so much as glance out through the side-light to ascertain for ourselves what was going on. So you landed them yesterday, eh?”
“Yes,” said Ned; “on an island exactly one hundred miles due west of us—”
“Stop a moment,” interrupted the skipper; “let me make a mental note of that. ‘One hundred miles due west of us;’ that is to say, one hundred miles due west of the island where we are going to be landed. Is that it?”
Ned nodded.
“Very well,” continued the skipper, “I shall remember that. Do you think you can bear that in mind, Mr Manners?”
“Certainly, sir,” answered Manners. “That is an easy thing to remember.”
“Very well,” said his superior. “Now go on, Ned, and tell us what the island is like.”
Ned gave as accurate a description as he could of the place, supplementing it with a careful pencil sketch from memory on a leaf torn from his pocket-book, showing the island as it would appear to a person approaching it from the eastward, and winding up with the statement that he believed it would be possible to distinguish the top of the mountain—the highest point of the island—from the spot where they were, on a clear day.
“Thank you, Ned; that is capital,” said the skipper, with renewed animation, as the lad finished his statement and handed over the sketch. “Now,” he continued, “do you know what I mean to do?”
“I fancy I can guess,” answered Ned. “Unless I am mistaken, it is your intention to rejoin the passengers as soon as possible.”
“Precisely,” agreed the skipper. “You could not have hit it off more accurately if you had tried for an hour. Yes; these villains are going to put it most effectually out of my power to do my duty to my owners, but they shall not prevent me from doing my duty to my passengers. Manners and I will make our way to that island as soon as ever we can knock something together to carry us there. Poor souls! I hope they will manage to keep soul and body together until we can get to them. After that I flatter myself that matters will not go so very hard with them after all.”
“Quite so, sir,” said Ned. “From the moment that Williams announced his intention of putting you ashore here, the thought has been in my mind that it would be a good thing for all hands if you could manage to join Mr Gaunt and his party.”
But whilst he said this, the lad could not help smiling at the unconscious egotism displayed by the skipper in his last remark; Ned’s own private opinion being that, with a man of such inexhaustible resource as the engineer had proved himself to be, at the helm of affairs, the little party on the island were likely to get on almost as well without Captain Blyth as with him. He had, however, far too much respect for his commander to allow this idea to reveal itself either in his speech or his manner.
“Very well,” said the skipper, in reply to Ned’s last remark, “you now know our intentions, so I will trouble you, Ned—since I understand you to say that Williams has commissioned you to look out a few things for us—to look out as good a supply as you can of such things as will enable us to carry out our plans. We shall want first a small supply of provisions and water to carry us along until we can get into the way of foraging for ourselves. Next, we shall want arms and plenty of ammunition. And, after that, our wants, I think, will be confined to a few useful and handy tools, and as much rope and canvas, and as many nails as you can persuade them to spare us. If there is anything else you can think of which will be likely to be useful, just heave it into the boat with the rest of the things, will ye?”
“Ay, ay, sir, I will,” answered Ned. “You may rely upon my doing the very best they will allow me to do for you. And now, sir, as time presses, and I may not have a better opportunity, let me say good-bye to you both. God bless you, Captain Blyth, and you, too, Manners, and may the day not be far distant when we shall all meet once more in peace and safety.”
“Good-bye, Ned, dear boy,” answered the skipper, with deep emotion; “good-bye, and God bless you and that poor dear girl who shares your cruel captivity. May He preserve you both, protect you from all evil, and, in His own good time, accord you a happy deliverance from the wretches who now hold you in bondage. We have had no time to talk about yourself and your own plans for the future; but I have no fear for you, boy. Yours is an old head though it is on young shoulders; and I firmly believe that by and by you will somehow manage to handsomely give the rascals the slip and carry off that poor girl with you. Good-bye, my lad, once more; good-bye and God bless you!”
Ned grasped the outstretched hands which were offered him and, too deeply moved for speech, wrung them silently, after which he beat a hasty retreat, and forthwith set himself about the task of providing as plentiful a supply as he dared of all those articles which the skipper had enumerated.
Ned had scarcely finished his task when the ship rounded-to under the lee of the island, which was now discovered to be a small affair of about three miles long by two miles wide, or thereabouts, its greatest elevation being perhaps two hundred and fifty feet above the sea-level. Like the island on which the passengers had been landed, its most rugged face seemed to be turned to the westward, the eastern side sloping gradually to the water’s-edge, where it terminated in a smooth sandy beach, upon which a landing might be effected without difficulty. For a distance of about half a mile inland from the beach the ground was carpeted with a smooth velvety green-sward, the rest of the island appeared to be densely wooded.
“That will do!” exclaimed Williams, as he closed his telescope, after a long and searching examination of the place; “the spot is quite large enough to enable a couple of men to pick up a living upon it, and I see no sign of savages anywhere about. Lower away the quarter-boat and bundle those things down into her. Have you looked out all you think they will need, Ned?”
“Yes,” said Ned, who was most anxious that his collection should not be subjected to too close a scrutiny—“yes, I think they may perhaps manage to rub along and make themselves fairly comfortable in time with what I have put out for them. And, if I may be allowed to offer a suggestion, I would advise that the landing should be effected as speedily as possible, for when I was in the saloon just now I noticed that the glass showed a slight tendency to fall, a warning which ought not to be neglected in these seas.”
“Ay, ay, that’s true enough!” ejaculated Williams, in some alarm. “Look alive with the boat, there, you, Martin tumble the things in, and let’s get the job over as quick as possible.”
“No, no,” said Ned, “there is no need for quite so much hurry as all that, and I must beg that you will handle those cases carefully or their contents will be spoilt or wasted and two human lives placed in jeopardy, which you, Williams, I know, would be the last to wish. If you have no objection I will superintend the loading of the boat myself, and whilst that is going forward I hope you will allow Captain Blyth and Mr Manners to step into the saloon and say good-bye to Miss Stanhope. It can cause no possible harm, and I am sure the young lady would like it.”
“Very well,” said Williams, after a moment’s consideration; “I have no objection. Rogers, let the prisoners’ irons be knocked off, and then send them into the saloon until the boat is ready to take them ashore.”
Sibylla was at that moment on the poop affecting to inspect the island through her own private binocular, but in reality—having overheard Williams’ announcement of his intention to land the two officers there—watching for an opportunity to say good-bye to the hapless men. Ned, whose intuition was peculiarly quick and sensitive where this young lady was concerned, had divined her wishes in an instant, hence the suggestion he had thrown out; and the moment Sibylla heard that her desire was to be granted she hastened down into the saloon to await with a beating heart and swimming eyes the arrival of her two friends.
In a few minutes Captain Blyth and Bob Manners entered the cabin, accompanied by and apparently in the custody of Rogers, who seemed undecided whether to go or stay during the progress of the interview.
Sibylla detected the fellow’s state of indecision in a moment, and at once helped him to make up his mind.
“Thank you, Mr Rogers,” said she, with one of her most radiant smiles. “Oblige me by placing chairs for the two gentlemen, if you please; and would you be so kind as to close the door as you pass out—so that we may not be interrupted, you know?”
“Yes, miss, cert’nly,” stammered the bewildered Rogers, nastily fulfilling her bidding, and as hastily effecting his bungling retreat.
“Oh, Captain Blyth, I am so pleased to see you—and so sorry!” burst out Sibylla, as she clasped the skipper’s hand and gazed tearfully into his care-worn face. “How you must have suffered all this cruel time, pent up there in that horrid, horrid place! Do you know, I have tried, oh, ever so many times, to get permission to go and sit with you and cheer you up a bit, but those dreadful wretches would not allow it; and at last Ned—that is—I mean—Mr Damerell said perhaps I had better not try any more, as my evident sympathy with you might only make them angry and result in your further ill-treatment. And now they are going to put you on shore on a wretched desert island—as they did with my poor sister and Lucille and—and the rest yesterday, and you are come to bid me good-bye.”
“Yes, my dear, yes,” said the skipper huskily, “that is just about the sum and substance of it. But don’t you trouble about us, or about your sister and the rest of them either for that matter. We shall be all right, never fear. The island yonder, though it is but a small strip of a place, is not exactly a desert by what I could see of it as I came aft; there is grass and trees—and, no doubt, water—upon it; and where such things are to be found it ought to be no very hard matter for a couple of handy men like Manners here and myself to pick up a living for a month or two, which is as long as we intend to remain upon it. For, hark ye, my dear,” continued the skipper, sinking his voice to a whisper of mystery, “the moment that this ship is fairly out of sight we are going to set to work upon a boat, and as soon as ever she is finished it is our intention to make sail for your sister’s island. Ned has told me its whereabouts; and if they can only hold out until we reach them they will be all right afterwards. And, by this day twelvemonth, if all goes well, we will not only be, all hands of us, back among civilised people, but we will have half the men-of-war of the British navy scouring the seas in search of you. Do you think you can manage to hold out for so long, my dear?”
“I don’t know,” said Sibylla, somewhat ruefully, “a year is a long time, isn’t it? However,” she continued, rather more cheerfully, “I hope we may not have to wait so long as that; Mr Damerell is wonderfully clever—as well as brave and gentle—and I know he is always thinking of some plan of escape, and he speaks so cheerfully and hopefully that I cannot but believe he will succeed. And if he does not we are still not absolutely helpless. The mutineers are quite as much in Mr Damerell’s power as we are in theirs, for he says that not one of them possesses the least knowledge of the science of navigation, and he therefore believes that, for their own sakes, they will be civil to us both.”
“Well, you are a plucky girl to keep up your spirits so well, and no mistake!” ejaculated the skipper admiringly. “I am glad to see it, and shall now be able to say good-bye with an easier mind. Keep up your courage, my dear, and trust in God; He is as well able to take care of you here as anywhere else, and He will, too, I am convinced. And, after God, my dear girl, put your trust in Ned; he is a true gentleman and a brave, clever lad. He will outwit those rascals yet, you mark my word; and when he gives them the slip he is not the sort of lad to secure his own safety and run off, leaving you in the lurch, so—”
“Boat’s all ready, and waiting, gents, so look alive, please,” here interrupted Rogers, poking his head in at the cabin door, and as hastily withdrawing it again.
“Well, then, the time has come for us to say good-bye,” resumed the skipper. “I have said pretty nearly all I wanted to say, and the rest is not of much consequence. I am glad I have had the opportunity for this little chat, and more glad than I can say to find you so brave and hopeful. Keep up your courage, my dear young lady; put your trust in God, and whatever Ted tells you to do, do it at once and without asking any questions, because whenever the moment for action comes, it will be suddenly, unexpectedly, and there will be no time to spare for explanations. And now, good-bye, my dear girl; good-bye, and God bless you.”
In another moment the parting was over, and the two men stood at the gangway, beneath which the boat was lying loaded and manned, and only waiting for them to step into her before shoving off for the shore.
Young Manners at once went down the side and seated himself in the gig’s stern-sheets, and Captain Blyth prepared to follow him. As he stood on the rail, however, he turned and faced the men, who had all gathered in the waist to witness his departure, and raised his hand for silence; a signal which was instantly obeyed.
“Just a word or two before we part for ever, men,” he said. “You have a noble ship under your feet, and you are doubtless flattering yourselves that when you have once fairly rid yourselves of my presence, your troubles—whatever they may be—will all be at an end. You are mistaken, however. Until you and I are parted your crime is not irreparable; it is even now not too late for you to repent and make restitution, and so stave off the punishment which must follow the consummation of your wickedness. You have a noble ship under you feet, I say; and you probably think that in her you can defy the law, and laugh to scorn the idea of capture. But, men, whether you believe it or not, there is a God whose power is great enough to overturn your best planned schemes in a moment, and think not that He will allow your sin to go unpunished, or your plans for future crime to prosper. At the moment when you least expect it—when you are feeling most secure—His vengeance will fall upon you as a consuming fire. In His hands I leave you.”
And turning his back upon the mutineers, Captain Blyth quietly descended the side-ladder, seated himself alongside Manners, and gave the order to shove oh.