There was a regular groan of dismay at the news, and one woman gave a sort of sob, else they were still as mice, and the children too behaving wonderful.
“Who talks of giving up?” says Mr Bell, his pale face flushing up as he spoke, and him holding one hand to his side. “Do you call yourselves men to hint at such a thing? I am no man now, only a broken, wasted shadow of a man, or, by the God who made me, Captain Harness, I’d strike you down! Look at these women, men! think of their fate if those scoundrels get the upper hand—completely—Mr Ward—you—as a gentleman—my sister—God help—”
The poor young fellow staggered, and would have fallen, for the blood was trickling down upon his shirt-front—gushing from his lips; but Mr Ward saved him, springing forward as a cry burst from Miss Bell; and he was laid upon a mattress in one of the cabins fainting—dying, it seemed to me.
Then there was a murmur among the passengers, of such a nature that Captain Harness found he must make some show of a fight, or it would be done without him; and accordingly he took hold of a very blunt cutlash, looking precious pale, but making-believe to tuck up the wristband of his shirt, to have free play for killing six or seven of the mutineers.
As for the passengers, all mustered, there was about eighteen of them; and had they been well armed, numbers being about equal, I don’t think we should have had much the worst of it; but ever so many of them had no arms at all, and I began to turn over in my mind what was to be done. I had a pretty good jack-knife; and not having much faith in the pistol, I was about to trust to the bit of steel, same as Sam Brown, who had one with a spring-back and a good seven-inch blade, so I says to Tomtit: “P’r’aps you’d like the pistol, sir;” and he took it quietly and earnestly, tapping the back, to make sure the powder was up the nipple, and I thought to myself, that’s in the right hands, anyhow.
“Are you ready?” says the skipper; for they were evidently collecting up above, and some one fired a pistol down the skylight, but none of us was hit.
“Not quite, sir,” I says. “Steward, suppose you hand out some of them knives o’ yours; and I’ll trouble you for the big beef-carver, as I spoke first.”
Mr Ward turned round and smiled at me; and I gave him a nod, turned up my sleeve too, and then laid hold of the big carver, which did not make such a bad weapon, being new, sharp-pointed, and stiff; while my idea had put a knife into a dozen hands that before had nothing to show.
“Pile more mattresses and hammocks up,” said Mr Ward; for it was plain that neither the skipper nor Mr Wallace meant to do much towards what was going to take place; and then I saw the doctor give one look towards where Mr Bell was lying, and run across, as if to see how he was; but he hurriedly caught hold of Miss Bell’s hand, and I could see that he spoke, while, as she drew her hand hastily away, she gave a strange frightened sort of look at him. Next moment he was back at my side, just as the cabin-hatch was flung open, and the shuffling of feet told that the mutineers meant to make their rush.