Farmer unceremoniously snatched the glass away from the master and levelled it in the direction indicated.
“Ay, ay, I see them,” said he. “That is the Drake nearest us, and the Favourite inshore of her. They are all right; we have nothing to fear from them. It is this stranger here ahead of us that bothers me. Come, Mr Southcott,” he continued, “you ought to know something about her by this time—you have been looking at her long enough; do you think you ever saw her before?”
The master took the glass, had another long squint at the ship ahead, then handed the instrument back to Farmer, with the answer:
“I decline to say whether I have or not.”
“That is enough,” said Farmer; “your answer but confirms me in my conviction as to the identity of yonder frigate. It is the Mermaid. Speak, sir, is it not so?”
“You are right, Farmer, it is the Mermaid, thank God! and you cannot escape. See! she is already hauling up to speak us; and in another twenty minutes will be alongside. Now, sir, resign to me the command which you have with so much violence and bloodshed usurped; and you, men,” he continued, turning round and in a loud voice addressing the rest of the crew, “return at once to your duty. Support and assist me in recovering the command of the ship, and I promise—”
“Silence!” roared Farmer, striking the master a heavy blow full in the mouth with his clenched fist. “Seize him, you two,” he continued to the men who had charge of the prisoner, “and if he offers to speak again to the men clap a belaying-pin between his teeth. My lads, you now know the truth; yonder frigate is our old acquaintance the Mermaid. Mr Southcott proposes that I should surrender the command of this ship to him; and if I do so we all know what will follow. Most of us will dangle at the yard-arm; and though, through the royal clemency,” (with a bitter sneer), “a few may be allowed to escape with a flogging through the fleet, with left-handed boatswains’ mates to cross the lashes—think of that, men, and compare it with the mere two or three dozen at the gangway which most of you have tasted since you joined the Hermione—where is the man among you, I ask, who can point to himself and say, ‘I shall be one of the fortunate few?’ No, no, my lads! after last night’s work there must be no talk of surrender; the ropes are already round our necks, and as surely as we ever find ourselves beneath the British flag again, so surely will those ropes be hauled taut and ourselves bowsed up to the yard-arm. And, even if our lives could be assured to us, what inducement is there to us to serve under British bunting again? I say there is none. We must choose, then, between two alternatives; we must either fight or fly. Which is it to be?”
The rest of the mutineers huddled together, evidently irresolute; each man eagerly sought his neighbour’s opinion, the pros and cons of Farmer’s question were hurriedly discussed, and I saw with inexpressible delight that a good many of the men were more than half disposed to fall in with the master’s suggestion.
Mr Southcott must have seen this too, for he wheeled round upon Farmer and exclaimed:
“Surely, Farmer, you are not mad enough to entertain the idea of fighting the Mermaid? Why, man, you could not stand up before her for five minutes with the men in their present undisciplined state and no one but yourself to direct operations. Your defeat under such circumstances is an absolute certainty; and think what would be the fate of yourself and your misguided followers if taken in arms against the flag under which they have sworn to serve. At present some at least of them may hope for mercy if they will but—”