Sounds of thuds and blows and shrieks and groans! It must indeed have been a terrible pandemonium.
After this, silence for a time. A consultation was evidently being held on deck. It was followed by a rush of feet down into the saloon again, and Kep could hear that the captain's stateroom was being opened--could hear the captain's voice, too, appealing for mercy.
Mercy from mutineers! He was being dragged on deck. A wild scream and a splash alongside--that was the mercy.
But for the mate a more ghastly doom was reserved. Dead men tell no tales, but a derelict ship may. The Macbeth might not sink soon enough. She might float till sunrise and be found by the islanders, the very islanders on whose shores the mutineers were to land with a lie on their lips.
The mate, then, was gagged and bound and laid on the state-room deck. Not far from him was placed a barrel of gunpowder, and in this a lighted candle was stuck. When it tilted or fell, or when it burned down say in two hours' time, the gunpowder would explode and the mate, who had kicked the poor young sailor off the poop, would go to his doom, and the ship be blown to pieces.
A whole hour went past, such a silent, such a nightmare hour, and Kep knew he was alone in a sinking ship with the dead.
Poor boy! he could do nothing there but weep and pray.
But he started up presently; there was a scuffling, rasping noise overhead, and coming nearer and nearer to the companion. Now he could hear a groan, then some one staggered or half fell down the companion.
The key was turned in Kep's cabin-door, and next moment he was free.
"Thank Allah! I could not come before." It was the voice of the poor faithful Turk.