Durdley was progressing favourably, and making so rapid a recovery that, in case he might cause more mischief, he was put in irons. But the other wounded men, probably owing to their weak condition, had died.
The five others were allowed to go on duty. Halcott refused to accept their offered promise to behave leal and true. What is a promise, even on oath, from such bloodthirsty villains as these?
“I do not wish either promise or apology,” he told them plainly. “Your conduct from this date will in some measure determine what your future punishment may be. Remember this, we do not trust you. The four good Englishmen, who fought for myself and mate, are all armed, and have orders to shoot you down without one moment’s grace if they observe a suspicious movement on your part, or hear one single mutinous word. There! go.”
The ship’s course was altered now, and all sail made to round Cape Horn.
No doubt the cold had been the means of eradicating the dreadful plague. Yet Halcott was a man whom no half-measures would satisfy.
There was plenty of clothing on board, so a new suit was served out to every seaman, the old being thrown overboard. Then the bedding and hammocks were scoured, and when dry fumigated. Sulphur was burned between decks, and hatches battened down for a whole day. Every portion of the woodwork was afterwards scrubbed, and even the masts were scraped. This work was given to the mutineers, and a cold job it was. The men sat each one in the bight of a rope, and were lowered up or down when they gave the signal.
Halcott was very far indeed from being vindictive, but long experience had taught him that mutinous intentions are seldom carried out if active occupation be found for body and mind.
“I breathe more freely now,” said the captain, as Tandy and he walked briskly up and down the quarterdeck.
“Heigho!” said Tandy, “we no doubt have sinned—we certainly have suffered. But,” he added, “I thank God, Halcott, from my inmost soul, first that you are spared, and secondly, that my little innocent child here and my brave boy Ransey Tansey are still alive and happy.”
“Amen! And now, Tandy, we’ve got to pray for fine weather. We are rather underhanded—those wretched Finns may break out again at any moment. They will, too, if not carefully watched.”