Of the old stranger we saw little during those days. He was busy tending Wat Herries, which he did with the skill and tenderness of a woman, and we were all taken up with our own sick. Whenever I went on deck I saw that the crew obeyed Black Michael with a sullen, surly manner that boded ill. Many of them were sick also, and among these went Ruth with such small comforts as we had, till not a soul on board but loved her—save possibly one.
On the third day of that gale matters came to a head. I do not think any of us, save Ruth and I and the stranger, suspected that the crew had aught in mind; but had not my father been down with the plague I would then have told him all. The suspense was hard on me, almost too hard to bear. Day and night we had to keep watch, twice narrowly missing great mountains of ice, and on the third day we struck a water-lashed cake with such force that the "Lass" sprung a great leak.
When this was discovered the crew well-nigh went mad with fear. I was in the cabin when the crash came, and ran to the door with the others. When Black Michael ordered the men to the pumps, they rebelled flatly, and before he could so much as move he was trussed up like a fowl in one of his own tarred ropes. Then knives flashed out in the light and the men came surging aft. I cried out to Robin Grier and with our fathers' claymores, which we fetched from the cabin on the run, we stationed ourselves over the ladder at the break of the poop, and called on the men to halt. Tam Graham and those of the others who were not down with the sickness came out behind us.
With a sudden loathing I recognized the leader of the crew for Gib o' Clarclach. He stood looking up with his evil grin, but kept well out of reach of my weapon.
"Let us by, MacDonald," he spoke out. "We are acting for the good of all, and bring no harm to you and yours."
"That is a lie," I cried hotly. "I know well what you want, and you shall not pass by this ladder, you rebels! As for you, I have met you before now, Gib o' Clarclach, and know more of you than I did then. You got little good out of your visit the other night, and you will get little good now. Best stow away your knives and go about your work."
The only answer I got was a howl of rage from the men.
"The old wizard is Jonah!" yelled out the fellow called Eoghan, with a flourish of his long knife. "Put him into the sea again and let him go his way. He has bewitched us all, and we be dead men unless we rid the ship of him!"
This talk staggered Robin, who wavered and glanced at me, irresolute. Tam Graham muttered something behind me, and the men below yelled again and came at the ladder, seeing their advantage. But I would not give back, nor did I want to hurt any of them, so I brought down the flat of my father's claymore on Gib's crown, and tumbled him to the deck, whereat all drew back with a snarl.
As for Gib, he leaped to his feet and drew back his hand quickly. There came a flash of something, and Robin dashed me aside just in time to let a long knife fly under my arm. The scoundrel yelled something at me in a strange tongue, but before I regained my balance a sudden silence fell upon them all, and they stared past us. Turning, I heard a whispered prayer from Robin, and saw the old man.