“Yes, dear,” he said gravely, “I must; but, please God, the worst danger is over, and you will not hinder me from doing my duty like a man, even if I am a weak one.”
She held his hand to her cheek, and smiling at me, spoke quite cheerfully.
“Come back in about an hour,” she said, “and I will have coffee made with the spirit-lamp, and try and find some biscuits.”
“That we will,” cried Mr Denning. “Make plenty, Lena, Mr Brymer and—and the sailors will be glad of some.”
She nodded, trying to look cheerful, and we left her, but had not reached the broken companion-way before a door on our right opened, a light was thrown across us, and I felt Mr Denning’s arm twitch. For it was Mr Frewen coming out of the cabin in which Walters had been placed, the one in which Mr Preddle had been kept a prisoner, and as soon as he was outside he carefully locked it.
“Not much need for it,” he said to us quietly, “for the little wretch is very weak still. Nice sort of characters you choose for your companions, Dale,” he continued. “How do we know that you have not been contaminated, and are going to rise against us?”
“There’s no fear till the storm’s over, Mr Frewen,” I said, laughing, and then, with the two gentlemen keeping perfectly silent, we went forward again, and had nearly reached the forecastle-hatch, when, sounding very feeble and strange, there was the report of a pistol, and we hurried forward to hear shouts of rage coming from below the hatch, and the blows of an axe being used with such effect, that before long whoever wielded it must make a way through.
Mr Brymer glanced round at us as we came up, and I saw the barrel of his revolver glistening in the pale light.
Then with his face close to the hatch he shouted—
“Once more, stop that or I fire!”