Leaves from a middy's log

by Arthur Lee Knight

“There are several men asleep in hammocks,” continued the gunnery lieutenant, flashing his lantern as he spoke on the after part of the deck.—“Mr. Darcy, you must take some of your crew and seize the men that are in them. One of the corporals will go with you, and two marines to handcuff them. I’ll push on with Mr. Balfour and capture the mutineers that may be in the stateroom and the cabins, and you can join me there as soon as possible.”

With a rush Ned Burton and my cutter’s crew surrounded the unconscious sleepers, and hauled them with little ceremony out of their hammocks; and thus before the men could recover from their surprise, they were cleverly thrown down and handcuffed. Being half dressed, they were all ready to be taken on board the Rattler; and I was on the point of leaving them in charge of the marines, and pushing on after Mr. Thompson, when one of them, who appeared from his accent to be an American, broke out with an angry demand as to the reason why he and his comrades had been taken prisoners. I answered laconically that it was for murder and piracy upon the high seas; and without paying any attention to a furious rejoinder made by the fellow—who had a very unprepossessing appearance—I hurried aft with Ned Burton and the rest of the blue-jackets.

Having pushed open a door, I found myself in a very elegant stateroom dimly lighted by two swinging lamps, which hung over a table covered with the débris of what had apparently been a sumptuous meal. Decanters and glasses sparkled in the rich dim light, and fruit and sweetmeats were scattered about in profusion over a snowy cloth of remarkably fine linen. Casting a hurried glance around, I saw that the stateroom was handsomely and even luxuriously furnished; everywhere signs of elegant taste were visible. The bulkheads were painted grey and gold, and had a handsome moulding running around them. The ports were draped with dainty curtains, and pictures were suspended in every available space. A rich carpet covered the deck, and was dotted with gipsy tables covered with fancy china, stands for photographs, bowls of flowers, and bric-à-brac.

“A curious place for mutineers this,” said I audibly, not a little surprised at what I saw before me.

“Ay, they live like fighting-cocks, sir, there’s no question about that, and they seem to have had a good tuck-in last night,” observed my coxswain in a jocular tone. “Perhaps the gunnery lootenant will let us finish up the scraps by-and-by.”

I was on the point of replying to Ned Burton, when a tremendous hubbub and uproar commenced in the after-cabins opening from the stateroom, to which Mr. Thompson had evidently penetrated with his men. Angry shouts and furious oaths were heard, followed by the sound of blows, the crashing of glass and furniture, and, more appalling than anything else, the shrill screams of frightened women.

Recovering from our surprise, we were on the point of rushing to our chief’s aid, when to our dismay the doors were burst open, and the lieutenant and his men, with horror-struck countenances, tumbled pell-mell into the stateroom, closely followed by a number of excited-looking individuals arrayed only in their nightshirts, and wielding chairs, walking-sticks, and any weapons that had come conveniently to hand. In the distance, we caught a hasty glance of two female forms retiring to the recesses of their sleeping-cabins. From the hurried glance I had at their faces, they seemed pale with alarm and dissolved in tears.

Directly my eye rested on the men who were following our party out, I saw that some egregious mistake had been made; for they were gentlemanly and superior-looking men, and were evidently as much astonished at our appearance as we were at theirs.

Mr. Thompson immediately recovered his self-possession, and ordered all the blue-jackets to leave the cabin, and wait for him outside. He then advanced with every mark of concern to the man who appeared to be the captain of the vessel, and offered the most profuse apologies for the extraordinary blunder that had been made.

“As you can see, sir, by our uniforms,” he began, “we are British naval officers. Acting on information which we had every reason to believe genuine, we boarded your ship, imagining her to be an English merchant vessel brought in here a few days ago by a mutinous crew who had murdered their captain and the chief officer. I can only say that I regret exceedingly the inconvenience and annoyance you have been put to, and you must convey our most heartfelt apologies to the ladies, who, I trust, will be none the worse for their fright. Captain Graves will himself come on board and personally make his excuses to-morrow; and of course any damage that has been done will be paid for by our Government.”