Yes; and I tried the stranger men out last evening. It was after a council with Margaret. She was sure, and I agreed with her, that the men for’ard are not blindly yielding to our bringing them in to be prisoners in Valparaiso. As we tried to forecast it, their plan is to desert the Elsinore in the boats as soon as we fetch up with the land. Also, considering some of the bitter lunatic spirits for’ard, there would be a large chance of their drilling the Elsinore’s steel sides and scuttling her ere they took to the boats. For scuttling a ship is surely as ancient a practice as mutiny on the high seas.
So it was, at one in the morning, that I tried out our strangers. Two of them I took for’ard with me in the raid on the small boats. One I left beside Margaret, who kept charge of the poop. On the other side of him stood the steward with his big hacking knife. By signs I had made it clear to him, and to his two comrades who were to accompany me for’ard, that at the first sign of treachery he would be killed. And not only did the old steward, with signs emphatic and unmistakable, pledge himself to perform the execution, but we were all convinced that he was eager for the task.
With Margaret I also left Buckwheat and Tom Spink. Wada, the two sail-makers, Louis, and the two topaz-eyed ones accompanied me. In addition to fighting weapons we were armed with axes. We crossed the main deck unobserved, gained the bridge by way of the ’midship-house, and by way of the bridge gained the top of the for’ard-house. Here were the first boats we began work on; but, first of all, I called in the lookout from the forecastle-head.
He was Mulligan Jacobs; and he picked his way back across the wreck of the bridge where the fore-topgallant-yard still lay, and came up to me unafraid, as implacable and bitter as ever.
“Jacobs,” I whispered, “you are to stay here beside me until we finish the job of smashing the boats. Do you get that?”
“As though it could fright me,” he growled all too loudly. “Go ahead for all I care. I know your game. And I know the game of the hell’s maggots under our feet this minute. ’Tis they that’d desert in the boats. ’Tis you that’ll smash the boats an’ jail ’m kit an’ crew.”
“S-s-s-h,” I vainly interpolated.
“What of it?” he went on as loudly as ever. “They’re sleepin’ with full bellies. The only night watch we keep is the lookout. Even Rhine’s asleep. A few jolts of the needle has put a clapper to his eternal moanin’. Go on with your work. Smash the boats. ’Tis nothin’ I care. ’Tis well I know my own crooked back is worth more to me than the necks of the scum of the world below there.”
“If you felt that way, why didn’t you join us?” I queried.
“Because I like you no better than them an’ not half so well. They are what you an’ your fathers have made ’em. An’ who in hell are you an’ your fathers? Robbers of the toil of men. I like them little. I like you and your fathers not at all. Only I like myself and me crooked back that’s a livin’ proof there ain’t no God and makes Browning a liar.”