Chapter Eighteen.
A Pacific Hurricane.
Our meal over, the three remaining prisoners were released, and offered their choice between being landed on the island to join the other men, and returning to duty. I reminded them that their conduct in having aided and abetted the more active among the mutineers to seize the ship rendered them guilty of the crime of piracy—a crime punishable with death—and that it still remained with me to clap them in irons, if I pleased, and keep them prisoners until an opportunity should arrive to hand them over to justice, charged with that offence. I added that as it appeared, however, that they, the three men in question, seemed only to have passively consented to the deed of the others, I had no desire to be severe with them; I was anxious rather to give them an opportunity of retrieving their character; and would willingly do so could I but feel assured that, separated as they would be from their more guilty comrades, they would henceforward serve me faithfully, I said that if they were prepared to do this, I, on my part, was willing to forgive them their share in the mutiny, and to treat them as though the incident had never occurred. I warned them, however, that unless they were fully prepared, not only to solemnly pledge themselves to fidelity, but also to faithfully fulfil that pledge, it would be infinitely better for them to elect to be landed on the island to take their chance with the rest; for I assured them that, should they take the pledge of fidelity, and afterwards break it, I would, upon the first symptom of insubordination, clap them in irons and hand them over to the authorities, as pirates, at the first port we might happen to touch. This address had precisely the effect upon the fellows that I desired; the mention of the word “piracy,” and the reminder of the penalty due to that crime, thoroughly frightened them; while my promise, on the other hand, of forgiveness as the reward for faithful service in the future, had all the reassuring influence that I intended it to have; and upon the conclusion of my lecture, they with one accord begged my pardon for what had already happened, and most fervently promised that I should have no cause of complaint against them in the future.
This important matter settled thus far to my satisfaction, I sent Barr and Christianssen aloft to loose the fore-topsail and topgallantsail, while Joe and the negro performed a similar duty on the mainmast, both parties receiving instructions to cast off the lashings from the staysails on their way down. While this was doing, Forbes lay out upon the jib-boom and loosed the jib and fore-topmast staysail, I busying myself, meanwhile, in casting loose the mizzen. Presently, Joe hailed from aloft that the men on shore had made their appearance on the beach; and, upon looking in that direction, I saw the whole party of them gathered there, close to the water’s edge, intently watching our movements. Just then Sir Edgar made his appearance on deck, and, with a cheery “good morning,” laughingly declared that he intended to ship for the voyage to the nearest port as an “honorary seaman,” and was ready to enter upon his duties at once. I, of course, thanked him for this kind proffer of his services, assuring him that, short-handed as we were, it would be in his power to render us invaluable assistance; and, the hands at that moment coming down from aloft, we sheeted home the topsails, and got the yards to the mastheads.
Nothing now remained but to loose our hold upon the ground, and make a start. This we could, of course, at once do by simply slipping the cable; but an anchor is altogether too useful an article to be needlessly thrown away. Many a good ship has driven ashore and gone to pieces for want of an anchor that has been slipped and not replaced; I was, therefore, very much averse to slipping in the present instance without at least trying to get the anchor. On putting the question to the others, Forbes had no doubt of our ability to do it, while the rest expressed their perfect readiness to try; we accordingly manned the windlass, and—San Domingo starting a lively “shanty”—walked the barque up to her anchor almost without an effort. Having got the cable “up and down,” we next ran up the fore-topmast staysail, and then went to the fore-braces and trimmed the head-yards for casting the ship to starboard. Just then, and in the very nick of time, Miss Merrivale came on deck, looking as bright and radiant as the morning itself; and I at once impressed her as helmswoman, stationing her at the wheel, and briefly explaining how she was to act upon the receipt of certain signals from me. She seemed quite proud at the idea that she could be really useful, and took her station at the wheel with a heightened colour and sparkling eyes, which, with her spotless white dress, trimmed with dainty lace and light-blue ribbons, her broad-brimmed hat set jauntily upon the heavy coils of her dusky golden hair, and casting a delicate shadow upon her lovely face, her hands and arms encased in long loose gloves, and her delicate feet shod in small brown shoes, made her, to my mind, the sweetest, loveliest picture that my eyes had ever rested upon. So irresistibly charming, indeed, did she look, that I with difficulty forebore from telling her so, plump and plain; and so, to avoid the committal of such an impertinence, was constrained to rush for’ard and add my weight to that of the others at the windlass handles in their efforts to break out the anchor. Fortunately for us, our windlass was an exceptionally good and powerful one; but, on the other hand, the holding-ground proved to be exceptionally tenacious; and, for a long five minutes, the cable stood straight up and down, rigid as a solid bar, defying our utmost efforts to get so much as a single additional pawl. Then an opportune puff, with a little more weight in it than the soft breathing off the land that had hitherto reached us, struck the broad expanses of our topsails, and, with a sudden jerk, the ground broke away and the anchor came home.
“Hurrah, lads! she’s away; heave, for your lives; heave, and raise the dead!” vociferated Forbes.
The windlass pawls clanked merrily, the chain came rattling in through the hawse-pipe, and the ship, gathering stern-way, began to pay off with her head to seaward. At the right moment I signed to Miss Merrivale to put the wheel hard up, while Forbes and I sprang aft to the braces and swung the yards; the ship halted, hung stationary for a moment, and then, gathering headway, gradually swept round until we had brought the island upon our starboard beam and were gliding along under the lee of its western shore. Our new voyage had begun.
The marooned men had all this time been intently watching our movements from the beach; and, from their excited actions and the way in which they closed up in a circle when they saw our canvas drop from the yards, it was apparent that they were engaged in a heated discussion of some kind. Presently, when they saw us man the windlass and heard the clink of its pawls, I observed O’Connor break from the conclave, dash his cap down upon the sand, and somewhat hesitatingly enter the water, as though about attempting to swim off to us. Whereupon, I sprang upon the rail, and, putting the whole power of my lungs into the shout, hailed him to go back, as there were sharks in the bay. I had to repeat this warning two or three times, however, before he seemed willing to heed it; and it was not in fact until the anchor was broken out of the ground and the ship was seen to be canting to seaward that he turned back and rejoined his companions. When we last saw them they were still standing upon the beach, watching our departure, and shouting to us with gestures that were eloquent of threats and curses, though we were too far distant to catch the words that they hurled after us.