Having settled up these little matters fairly amicably, the question was to get to land, and Taffir was made to navigate the vessel, while the crew, when it was not necessary for them to work, regaled themselves with champagne and overhauled the cargo for valuables.
For some days everything went on smoothly, and then a ship was sighted. She proved to be the Friends, of Liverpool, and Taffir steered the Flowery Land towards her. Acting on instructions from Carlos, who was in charge of the ship, and had ordered her to be set for Buenos Ayres, under threat of death Taffir told the Friends’ captain that she was the Louiza, bound for Valparaiso.
Then the two ships parted company; and barely had the Friends got away when the crew rushed towards Taffir, and, with daggers drawn, stood and jabbered at him like so many monkeys. Although he couldn’t understand what they were saying, there was no mistaking their attitude. Evidently they were angry with him for something, and it would have gone ill with Taffir had not Lyons come along. Quieting the angry crew, he abstracted from them the fact that they thought Taffir had just told the Friends the whole story of the mutiny. Lyons soon put them right on that little matter, and they went back to their champagne, appeased.
The incident showed Taffir how slender was the thread on which his life hung, and he knew that he would have to be careful, for if these men suspected that he was playing them false there was little doubt that they would kill him out of hand, and risk what happened afterwards. They were like so many madmen, and one day Taffir saw the Turk go up to the Chinese steward and gash his arm open with a large knife for no apparent reason whatever. It turned out that they were forcing him to collect all the ship’s papers, which they threw overboard. Then they had a row about the captain’s watch, which was missing, and accused Taffir of having stolen it. It never was found, and was a sore point all through.
On October 2 land was sighted, and now that they had no further use for him, the mutineers sent Taffir to Coventry. No one spoke to him or took any notice of him; they even refused to let him work the ship, which they turned about. They sent Taffir to his cabin then, where he remained all day. At night Blanco went down and ordered him up on deck, where he found that they were clewing up the sails and getting the boats out.
“What are you going to do?” he asked Lyons.
No answer; only surly looks.
“What’s going to be done with the ship?” he asked another of the Spaniards present, Marsolino. “And what about me? Are you going to kill me?” For Taffir was convinced that momentous things were about to take place.
“We’re going to scuttle the ship,” said Marsolino. “And as for you”—he leered—“as for you, I’m not going to kill you—but I rather think Blanco is,” he added grimly.
Naturally, Taffir was now all anxiety. Here he was, with a ship full of mutineers whose hands were already stained with innocent blood, and who were evidently preparing to leave the ship he had navigated for them. What a prospect was before him! He could almost feel the dagger eating its way into his body as the bloodthirsty Blanco looked across at him every now and again.