The sailor who had first attacked him seemed to have some sort of authority. Jack naturally came to the conclusion that he was in command of the vessel. There was only one reasonable answer, which was confirmed by a certain brown stain Jack had noticed on the deck. There had been a mutiny on the ship.
Jack struck a match. The flame lighted up the corner into which he had crept and he saw several objects that he had not noticed before, a shipwright’s auger, a calking mallet and probably a dozen wooden pegs, tapering at one end.
The purpose of these was unmistakable. The sailors intended to scuttle the ship. Holes were to be bored in the bottom and the plugs driven into them. Then, when the mutineers were ready to leave, the ship would be abandoned with the water pouring into her hold.
The tools suggested an idea to Jack. He picked up the auger and mallet and groped his way aft. He climbed up on the pile of sacks and crawled along until he came to the bulkhead that separated the cabin from the hold. He set the point of the auger against the bulkhead, and grasping the cross lever, set to work vigorously. He was soon rewarded by feeling the tool give with a jerk, and when he withdrew it there was a circular hole, through which daylight streamed faintly.
Jack put one eye to the hole and peered through. He could make out several objects in the cabin beyond. Having made this brief survey, he returned to his task. Above the hole he had already bored, he bored another slightly intersecting it, above this another, and so on, tracing a continuous row of holes, each encroaching on the next, in a wide circle.
By the time he had drilled the thirtieth hole, the weakening light filtering through told him the sun was setting. The fortieth hole was within an inch of the first one bored. Jack gave a vigorous kick on the space inclosed by the line of holes, and sent the oval piece of plank flying into the cabin.
He slipped easily through the opening and groped about the cabin. He felt his way to the companion ladder, where he bumped against a bunk. He sprawled headlong, and beneath his fingers felt a human form. He sprang back and struck a match.
Before him he saw the face of a boy, and he again approached the bunk. The lad’s hands were bound and he was sleeping. Jack shook him, and the boy looked up.
“Hello,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“Rather, what are you doing here?” was Jack’s reply.