Then he set himself to make out who it could be, but his attention was taken off directly by sounds of the alarm having spread below.
“And now how about all the silver?” muttered Oakum. “That’s about the size of what this here means.”
Sam was right, for the ship had been seized for the sake of the silver found, and that which was to be discovered, for Lauré had decided that it was not safe to stay any longer. He had been waiting his time, and had there been no chance of discovery he intended to let Parkley and Dutch go from wreck to wreck, and obtain all the sunken treasure possible before seizing the vessel. But now the plot seemed so ripe that if allowed to go further it might fail, so, exasperated by his encounter that evening, he had whispered his intentions to the men under his orders, unfortunately more than half the crew, and as Sam Oakum listened from aloft he could hear the scoundrels hurrying about, the hatches secured, and then proceedings followed that showed him that the alarm had fully spread.
First there was the shivering of a skylight, Captain Studwick calling out to know what the noise meant, followed by beating and kicking at the door; and then several shots were fired followed by a dead silence, broken by Lauré’s voice giving orders in a sharp, business-like way.
“I wonder where poor old ’Pollo is,” said Sam Oakum as he sat upon his perch thinking, and by force of habit he took out his tobacco-box, helped himself to a bit, and began to consider about the perils of his position. Where he was would do very well for now, he argued, but as soon as the day began to break he would be seen, and then the probabilities were that he would be shot down.
“Leastwise, p’haps, they’ll let me off as soon as I say I’ll jyne ’em, but that won’t come off. Now, who’s in this game, I wonder? That yaller-skinned mulatto chap’s one for a dollar, and there’s roughs enough among those as came aboard with him to make up a pretty crew, I’ll swear.”
Sam sat thinking while the captors of the vessel were pretty busy down below, and at last, one plug of tobacco being ended, he started upon another, but this time not being so cautious, or rather having his attention taken up by what was passing below, he closed the steel tobacco-box with a loud clear snap, and in the stillness of the night this sounded so clearly that he knew he must be discovered.
To change his position was the work of a few moments, and while he was in the act of moving there was a sharp flash, and the report of a pistol, followed by another and another, the bullets whistling close by him.
“There’s some one up in the rigging,” said Lauré sharply. “It’s that black cook.”
“No,” said another voice, “we fetched him down first off, and he’s been pitched below.”