“Here, give ’s a drop o’ summat; I’m as dry inside as a biscuit-bag.”
And my lips and throat felt dry too with excitement, while a strange feeling of despair came over me. Walters, Bob Hampton, Dumlow, and Blane all turned traitors. What was to become of the poor passengers, the officers, and myself?
There was only one way out of the difficulty, and that was to join the prisoners in the cabin.
But how?
I lay listening. The men were talking loudly, and I soon made out that drink was going round; but all was still as death now in the saloon and cabins. Their occupants were evidently waiting to see what would be done, and listening to the proceedings on deck.
“How can I get to them?—How can I get to them?” I kept on saying to myself.
The darkness would favour me if I crept down, but the places were so guarded that there was not the most remote chance of my getting past the sentries.
I felt more despondent than ever, as I lay listening to the faint creaking of the yards when they yielded gently to the wind. There was no chance whatever of my joining my friends, and I was about to resign myself to my fate, when I had a bright flash of hope. I could see my way through the darkness. There was light ahead—mental light—and I determined to dare the peril and act at once, if I could; if not, as soon as the men below had dispersed.
Unfortunately I had to wait some time and listen, hardly daring to stir for fear of being heard or seen, for there were three lanterns stood about the deck, shedding their feeble light around, and now and then looking brighter, and showing me the faces of the mutineers as they opened the lantern-doors to light their pipes.
Jarette was talking quickly to a group of the men about him, but I hardly heard what he said, my attention being fixed upon my plan of escape, till I heard Jarette say—