CHAPTER XXVIII
The Fate of the Mutineers
Presently most of the men who had been left in the stockade, having taken to the boats and the little sloop, came on board. Fury, disappointment, and despair were written on their faces as they gathered in the waist awaiting the orders that were not forthcoming.
"Aren't you going to weigh and chase 'em, Cap'n?" shouted one, with more zeal than discretion.
"Send away the long-boat, and we'll soon overhaul them," suggested another.
"With this sea running?" replied Captain Jeremy at length. "You would never make head way. Trust me and wait."
The crew could scarce believe their ears. Was the Captain overcome by the strain of the last few days? His pensive attitude seemed incomprehensible.
Yet Captain Jeremy was outwardly cool and collected as, glass in hand, he followed the course of the disappearing Neptune.
She was now on the bar, tossing, pitching, and rolling in the heavy breakers, for already the sea outside was running high and breaking over the shoals in one continuous field of snow-flecked foam. Yet the errant brig held slowly and truly on her course 'twixt the shallows that threatened her at half a cable's length to starboard and larboard.
She stood out close hauled on the larboard tack, the wind being due north, till she reached the bend in the channel that ran parallel with the shore. Here, being smartly handled, she turned and ran dead before the wind, her hull being lost to view from our decks by the intervening reef.
Instantly there was a scramble aloft, Captain Jeremy and I, with nearly a dozen men, gaining the main top, while the shrouds were alive with the discomfited crew as they watched from their lofty point of vantage the rapidly receding brig.
I glanced at Captain Jeremy. In spite of his coolness, I fancy his anxiety increased as the Neptune ran before the wind.
"Sink me," I heard him mutter, "she's hauling to the wind!"
This was indeed the case, but even as she did so she struck the fatal reef. The next instant she broached to, the rollers making clean breaches over her hull, and almost immediately her masts went by the board.
Then I understood, though imperfectly. Captain Jeremy, by altering the position of the clump of trees, had created a false landmark, and the Neptune had fallen into the trap.
"There's an end to the treasure, anyway," exclaimed one of the men. "There won't be as much as a plank or a copper nail left ere night."
Having witnessed the destruction of the mutineers, Captain Jeremy descended to the deck and ordered the bos'n to pipe all hands. Then, mounting the poop, he faced the dejected men.
"My lads," he exclaimed in ringing tones, "I'll deceive you no longer. There is no need for discontent or vain regrets, for not one pennyworth of treasure is aboard yon craft. The whole of it is now lying in the storehouse on shore!"
For a full twenty seconds there was a lull or absolute silence; the men seemed unable to grasp the full significance of the words. Then, as the meaning dawned upon them, a roar of cheering burst from a hundred throats.
"If you pause to consider," continued the Captain, "you will see that I acted for the best, even though I had to practise a mild deceit on most of you. Knowing that the rogues on the Neptune were in league with that villain Slater, I purposely caused the treasure chests, filled with stones, to be conveyed on board their craft. You will remember that at no time did I say the treasure was in those chests, but the rascals jumped at the bait. By so doing they have served a double purpose: we shall be troubled by them no more, and the loss of the Neptune has relieved me of a great load of anxiety. How say you? What would they at home say if they saw me bringing back two ships, when I set sail with one only? I also see a way whereby those of you who were shipped as slaves aboard the Neptune can return to your homes, or, if you will it, be set ashore at any port we touch, with your full share of the spoil of the captured buccaneer."
"I have also another proposal to make. By their mutinous conduct those aboard the Neptune would have forfeited their share in the Madre treasure had they lived, so that the amount to be distributed amongst the remaining members of the original crew of the Golden Hope is considerably increased. Now, I am going to set aside the amount of those forfeited shares and divide it amongst you, irrespective of rank, or whether ye be the men who left Poole in the Golden Hope or those who joined us off the Neptune; for 'twas by the hearty efforts of all hands here that we were enabled to lay hands on the treasure. Now, lads, I thank you one and all. It only remains to load up our precious cargo, get the ship ready for sea, and yo-ho! for old England."
When the applause that greeted the termination of Captain Jeremy's speech had subsided, a number of men, headed by Tom Cherry, elbowed their way through the dense crowd of their delighted comrades.
"Cap'n," exclaimed Cherry, "I've a favour to ask you."
"Say on," replied Captain Jeremy.
"Me and my mates here," said the sturdy seaman, "want to take the long-boat and row out to yon wreck. Maybe some of the poor chaps are still aboard."
"Nay," answered the Captain, a flush of anger overspreading his bronzed features. "They are but mutinous dogs; let them perish."
"They were our comrades, an', though it shames me to say it, my brother's son is with them," Cherry said doggedly. "If we pick 'em up we can send 'em off in the sloop, and they won't harm us any more."
"A boat would never live in such a sea," observed Captain Jeremy, with a sweep of his arm in the direction of the bar, where the breakers were tumbling in white, confused masses, for it was now blowing hard outside. Yet our Captain was certainly turning aside from his hard purpose.
"We are willing to take the risk, sir," pleaded the seaman earnestly. "I've not been brought up on the coast of Kent for nothing."
"Then go. But, mind you, one condition I make. Should you bring that murderous villain Ned Slater back alive, I'll run him up to the yardarm."
Tom Cherry touched his forelock and turned away, followed by his eight comrades. The long-boat was already alongside; so, tossing a mast and sail, an empty beaker, and a coil of grass rope into her, the dauntless men dropped over the side of the Golden Hope and pushed off.
"You are quite certain of the channel, I hope, Cherry?" shouted Captain Jeremy.
"Yes, sir; and besides, there's enough water over the shoals for us."
"Not with this tumble outside; so be careful, and keep to the smoothest water."
"More food for the sharks," I heard a seaman say, as he watched the boat gather way.
Hoisting a mere rag of sail, the daring rescuers headed for the open, the boat speeding under the pressure of the howling wind, while Tom Cherry steered her adroitly to meet each threatening comber. At one moment we could see nearly the whole of the boat's bottom boards, as she climbed an immense wall of water; at another, only her long, lean quarters and stern, as she slid down the far side of the safely passed crest.
Once more we manned the rigging, and with eager eyes and apprehensive looks followed the hazardous fortunes of our humane comrades as they turned and ran down before the wind towards the wreck.
From my swaying perch on the main top--for even in this usually sheltered harbour a heavy "gush" caused the Golden Hope to roll sluggishly--I had great difficulty in keeping the boat within the field of my telescope. The men had now stowed sail, and under oars were backing slowly towards the shattered Neptune, the figure of Tom Cherry being clearly distinguishable as he stood, steering oar in hand, keeping the boat's stern to the towering crests.
By this time the after part of the Neptune had completely disappeared, and the waist was fast breaking up under the relentless blows of the resistless breakers; yet through the cloud of spray that dashed over the fo'c'sle I could see the forms of some half a dozen helpless creatures hanging on to the frail protection afforded by the weather rail.
The men in the long-boat were now rowing their hardest to keep to windward of the wreck. They were evidently paying out the beaker by the grass warp in the hope of establishing a communication 'twixt the two craft. It was a life-or-death struggle with the elements--English courage and brawn pitted against the combined action of wind and sea. Which would win?
Suddenly a heavy rain squall came on, bearing down the crested waves with its weight, and obliterating everything within a quarter of a mile of us.
When the squall passed, a groan of dismay burst from our lips. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but a chaos of angry sea and sky. Both the wreck and the gallant long-boat had vanished.