The night wore slowly away, and another miserable day dawned for the runaway. He was kept very busy, for the mates always found some work that he could do, but still he had leisure to observe that there was something unusual going on among the men. They gathered in little groups to converse when the officers were not looking at them, and Upham talked privately with every one of the crew, Guy alone excepted. He seemed to be urging some sort of a movement among the sailors, but what it was Guy could not find out, for no one, not even Flint, would enlighten him.
Was it a mutiny? Guy hoped it was, and placed a handspike where he could seize it at a moment’s warning. If force were resorted to, he would get in at least a blow or two in return for the barbarous treatment to which he had been subjected.
Nothing was done until three o’clock, and then the captain came on deck as usual to smoke his after-dinner cigar. His appearance seemed to be the signal the sailors were waiting for. They dropped their work at once and, headed by Upham, marched aft in a body.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE GHOSTS OF THE SANTA MARIA.
“HALLOO! what do you want here, you lubbers?” demanded the captain, as the sailors, headed by Upham, ranged themselves on the quarter-deck in front of him and took off their caps. “I don’t allow any such doings as this aboard my ship. Go for’ard where you belong.”
“We haven’t come for any mischief, cap’n,” said Upham, who had been chosen to do the talking for his companions. “We’re all sailor men, and know our duty.”
“Then go for’ard and do it,” said the skipper angrily. “Away you go.”
“We’re ready to obey orders, cap’n, and you sha’n’t have a word of fault to find with none of us, if you will only think up some way to git rid of them other fellows. It’s more than human flesh and blood can stand to have them aboard here.”