“Now, Nelse, tell the captain,” I said briefly.
Once more Iversen cupped his hands, whispered into the captain’s ear. De Long’s jaw dropped abruptly. His pipe fell from his mouth and only by a quick lunge did I save it from hitting the deck. But insensible to that, De Long, immovable, only stared at Iversen, searching his face as I had done. Finally he shook his head, muttered,
“It just can’t be! Where’d you get this, Iversen?”
“Yah, cap’n. Ay tal you it ban yust lak Ay say! Ay ban asked to yoin. Ay no say, Yah; Ay no say, No; so Ay ban vatched clost. Dey kill me for’ard if Ay tal!”
De Long looked at me. I handed him back his pipe, which, wholly unconscious of his action, he took.
“What do you make of this, chief? It looks serious if Iversen’s right!”
“Sounds crazy to me, but it might be so. Depends on who’s in it and how many. The men are all armed, you know. The rifle rack’s right at the gangway. Anybody can help himself, and lots of ’em are out on the ice, guns in hand this minute. But why they should want to mutiny, I can’t see, unless the ice has affected their minds.”
Shocked at Iversen’s report; impressed by the gravity of the situation if Iversen were right, for there already with weapons in their hands were the mutineers, the captain still looked skeptically at my grimy coalheaver. Why should his crew mutiny? But on the other hand, what had Iversen to gain by lying about it? And Iversen, a steady man, always carefully attentive to his duty, was just the type of seaman who might be trusted to stand with his captain at all hazards.
“Well,” said De Long grimly, “let’s get into this! Now, Iversen, who’s behind it?”
But there the captain ran into a stone wall. Iversen, very nervous now, became evasive, dodged the questions, and apparently in mortal fear of his life, refused to name the mutineers, repeating only over and over again how, for two days, he had been closely watched. Threats, promises, got nothing more out of him. Finally the captain, baffled, took a new tack.