Then the sailors mutinied in downright earnest. With Tom Bixbee as the spokesman they declared it was useless labor to attempt to sail what was hardly more than a wreck, and that their lives were imperiled by remaining longer on board.
“The only chance we’ve got of saving a single soul is by sticking to the bark!” the captain shouted. “We are hardly fifty miles from the coast, and she can be kept afloat long enough to make that distance with this wind.”
Again by a liberal display of weapons the men were forced to return to the pumps; but at sunset the water had gained upon them so steadily that the doomed craft began to settle and roll heavily in the cross-seas.
At this moment, when even the captain was disheartened, the starboard pump choked, and with only the port one serviceable it was no longer reasonable to think of keeping her afloat.
As the captain and Philip, both of whom had been on deck continuously since the hidden reef was struck, turned to go into the cabin for the purpose of saving such valuables as could readily be taken away, the men became like demons.
There were only two serviceable boats remaining since the gig had been destroyed by the rhinoceros and the port quarter-boat carried away in the wreck of the bulwarks, therefore the possibilities of taking off the entire crew seemed limited.
Fully aware of this fact, the men took advantage of the captain’s temporary absence to abandon the ship, without regard to supplies of food and water, and despite the threats of the other officers.
The long-boat was stove in the launching, owing to the absence of discipline, and the starboard quarter-boat nearly swamped as she was dropped heavily by the unreasoning men.