For several nights previous to this occurrence the skipper had been losing a great deal of rest; he had been too anxious to sleep, knowing that during his absence from the deck the ship was in absolute charge of one or the other of two lads whom he remembered, as though it had been but yesterday, joining him without a particle of experience. But as day after day, and night after night passed, and he saw what excellent use those two lads had made of the training and instruction he had so conscientiously bestowed upon them, he had gradually grown less anxious. And now, with fine weather, a fair breeze, and New Amsterdam sighted and passed, the poor fagged skipper once more knew what it was to enjoy an easy mind; and as he bade Ned “good-night” on the poop, about five bells in the first watch, he announced, in tones loud enough to be distinctly heard by the man at the wheel, that he intended to treat himself to a whole night’s sleep, and that he was not to be called or disturbed unless for something out of the common.
When, therefore, about three o’clock next morning, he was aroused from sleep by a gentle tap at the outer door of his state-room, Captain Blyth’s first coherent thought was: “I wonder what is the matter now!” It was nothing to do with the weather—unless the sky had assumed a threatening aspect—for, by long force of habit, he had acquired the power of detecting, even during his soundest sleep, any such important change in the state of the elements as a material increase of wind or sea, and, though the sleep from which he had been aroused was as sound as it ever falls to the lot of a seaman to enjoy, he had been quite conscious all the time that neither the sough of the wind in the rigging nor the steady swinging motion of the ship had become intensified. It was, therefore, in a somewhat peevish tone that he inquired:
“Well, what is the news?”
“Will you please step for’ard, sir, and see what ails Bob—young Mr Manners, I mean, sir?” said a voice which the skipper recognised as belonging to one of the seamen. “He’s on the fo’c’s’le-head, a cussing and carrying on as if he was mad, sir; and two of the hands is holding him down so’s he sha’n’t fling hisself overboard.”
“Whew!” whistled poor Captain Blyth in dismay. “All right, my man; I’ll be out there in a brace of shakes! What can be the matter with the poor lad?” he soliloquised, as he hastily drew on his most necessary garments. “A fit, perhaps, brought on by over-anxiety. Well, I won’t disturb anybody until I see what it is; then, if necessary, I must rouse out Dr Henderson.”
And, as he came to this conclusion, the worthy man softly opened his state-room door and stepped out on deck.
The night was dark, there being no moon, whilst the star-lit sky was almost blotted out by the squadrons of fleecy cloud which swept with stately motion athwart it. Yet there was light enough to reveal to the skipper a dark blot on the forecastle, which he knew to be a cluster of men; and toward these he hurriedly made his way. Before he could reach them, however, two bare-footed men stepped softly out behind him from the galley; and whilst one seized and pinioned his arms behind him, the other flourished a large-headed, short-handled hammer over his head whilst he whispered fiercely in the ear of the paralysed skipper:
“Give but a single outcry, and I’ll spatter your brains about the deck.” Then he added, somewhat more gently: “No harm is intended you, Captain Blyth, but we mean to have the ship. We will have her; and were you to raise an alarm it would only cause bloodshed, which we are most anxious to avoid. Where’s Nicholls? Here, Nicholls, this man is your prisoner; get the bilboes and clap them on him. And—mind—I shall hold you responsible for his safekeeping!”
“But—but—Williams,” stammered poor Captain Blyth, who now identified the speaker, “what is the meaning of all this? I—I—don’t understand it!”
“No time to explain now,” was the answer. “Tell you all about it later on if you care to hear. Come, lads, away aft with us, and let us secure our other prisoner!”