Captain Trigger, anticipating just such a stampede, rushed up with members of the gun crew. The gaunt, broken old master of the Doraine drove the horde back from the boats, but as he stood there haranguing them in good maritime English he could see plainly enough that they were not to be so easily subdued. The first panic was over, but they were crazed by the fear that had gripped them for days; they believed that the ship was soon to sink beneath their feet; safety lay not more than a hundred yards away,—and it was being denied them by this heartless, unfeeling despot.
They were mainly low-caste Portuguese bound for Rio and Bahia, and they had obeyed him through all those tortuous days out on the deep where he was the shepherd and they the flock. But now,—now they could well afford to turn upon and rend him, for he had brought them safe to land and they no longer owed him anything!
“My God, I don't want to shoot any of them,” groaned the Captain, steadying himself against the rail. “But they've got guns, and they're crazy. I—”
Some one touched his arm, and a firm, decisive voice spoke in his ear.
“I'm used to handling gangs like this, Captain Trigger. They don't understand you, but they'll damn soon understand me, if you'll turn the job over to me. I'm not trying to be officious, sir, and I'm not even hinting that you can't bring 'em to their senses. I know how to handle 'em and you don't, that's all. They're not sailors, you see. And it isn't mutiny. They need a boss, sir,—that's what they need. And they need him damned quick, so if you don't mind saying the word,—they're ready to make a rush, and if—”
“Go ahead, Percival,—if you can hold them—”
“Say no more!” shouted Percival, and stepped resolutely forward. His hands were bare,—swollen, red and ugly; his eyes were as cold as steel, his voice as sharp as a keen-edged sword. He spoke in Spanish to the wavering, threatening horde.
“You damned, sneaking, low-lived cowards! What sort of swine are you? Have you no thought for the women you've trampled upon and beaten out of your path,—your own women, as well as the others,—think of them and ask yourselves if you are men. I'm in command of this ship now, and, by God, I'm going to let you get into those boats and start for shore. Don't cheer! You don't know what's coming to you. I'm going to turn that cannon on you up there and blow every one of you to hell and gone before you get fifty feet from the side of this ship. You don't believe that, eh? Well, that's exactly what I'm going to do. Lieutenant Platt!” He called over his shoulder in English to the young commander of the gun's crew. “Get some of your men up there and train that gun so as to blow these boats to smithereens. Quick!” In a half-whisper to the Captain: “It's all right. I know what I'm talking about.” Then to the crowd: “We don't want you on board this ship a minute longer than we can help. We've got no room for dogs here among decent white men and women. Do you understand that? We don't want to have anything more to do with you, either here or on shore. I'm going to wipe you out, every damned one of you,—men women and children. You're not fit to live. You're going to climb into those boats now and get off this ship. You'll never realize how safe you are here till you get down there in the water and hear that gun go off. Come on! Get a move! We're through with you, now and for ever. Nobody's going to stop you. I'm even going to have the boats lowered for you, so as not to delay matters.” He shouted after Lieutenant Platt: “Be lively, please. You've got your orders. We'll make short work of this pack of wolves.” To Captain Trigger, authoritatively: “Withdraw your men, sir. I am going to let them leave the ship. At once, sir! Do you mean to disobey me, sir?” He gave the captain a sly wink.
Then as the bewildered master withdrew with his armed men, he turned once more to the mob. “Come on! Step lively, now! No rushing! Take your turn. Every blasted one of you, I mean. What the hell are you hanging back for,—you? You were so darned eager to go a little while ago, what's the matter with you now? No one's trying to stop you. Here are the boats. Put up your guns and knives, and pile in. You're absolutely free to go, you swine. We'll be damned good and rid of you, and that's all we're asking. It's a pity to waste powder and cannon-balls on you, when we may have use for all we've got later on, killing the lions and tigers and anacondas up there in the woods, but I'm going to do it.”
He stepped back. Not a man or woman moved. They stood transfixed, packed in a huddled mass along the deck. Then a woman cried out for mercy. The cry was taken up by other women. Percival halted and faced them once more.