Mutiny—The Coming Storm.
Nobody would have credited Williams, the cabin-boy, with very much ’cuteness. We never know the hidden depths of even a young lad’s mind.
The Finn Norman had in his two countrymen and in the Spaniards five men willing to do anything. To put it plainly, for gold they would use their knives against their dearest friends, and rejoice in it too.
Norman had not only a body of fearful physical strength, but a winning and persuasive tongue, and he wheedled over no less than three Englishmen, or rather Scotsmen, to join his forces.
Late one night a half-whispered conversation was held near to the winch. The Finn had been here before—that is, up in the South Pacific—and he could guide them to an island of gold. And what was it that gold could not purchase in this world? he added. “Everyone of you shall be wealthy. We shall then scrape the vessel from stem to stern, alter her name and rigging, and after loading up with gold, sail for distant Australia. There we shall sell the ship and, going to the diggings for a time, to avoid suspicion, will in a few months return to Sidney or Melbourne as lucky miners. Then hurrah for home!”
“We will join,” said the Scotsman, “on one condition.”
“And that is?”
“There must be no murder.”
“Your request is granted. We will rise suddenly, batten down the men below, then rushing aft we shall secure the officers in the saloon. The vessel will then be ours. But we shall maroon the men on the nearest land, with biscuits and a few arms. The women will be best on board,” he grinned.
“Bah!” said a Spaniard, drawing his ugly knife. “Let us throat them. Dead men tell no tales, you know. Take my advice.”