Chapter Twenty Three.
The companion-way was so black that we were completely hidden, and I heard Mr Frewen draw his breath with a soft hissing sound, as if he now grasped the fact that a better chance was to be afforded to us of mastering the leader of the mutineers, who came right to the shattered entrance, and appeared to be about to enter, but stopped short listening for a sound, but for a few seconds there was none. Then all at once in a muffled way we heard Mr John Denning say a few words in an angry impatient tone, for the wind had lulled for a few moments. Then there came the low murmur of Miss Denning’s voice, and directly after the whistling of the wind again.
Jarette was not two yards from us, and if he had taken another step, I had made up my mind to fling myself upon him and cling with all my might to his legs, while the others seized him by the throat and arms. I say this, for we compared notes afterwards.
It was not to be, for he came no farther; but apparently satisfied that all was right, he turned sharply and went forward, and we could from time to time make out his voice among the others as he gave orders to the men.
“Another opportunity gone,” said Mr Frewen. “We ought to have leaped upon him.”
“Better luck next time,” said the mate. “He cannot stay forward long. He is seaman enough to know that his place is at the wheel.”
“Then at all costs we must have him when he returns.”
“And what then?” said the mate. “You do not mean to kill him, I suppose?”
“Oh no; of course not.”
“Then I should place the door of one of the cabins wide open, and prop it. Then as soon as we have mastered and disarmed him, bundle him inside and keep him a prisoner.”