"A young cabin passenger. I did not get his name, as the poor fellow was sound asleep. They are the soul survivors of the ship. Good night; we have a spanking breeze, and carry topmast stun'sails. Take my poncho wrapper in addition to your railway rug."
"Why?"
"You'll find it cold enough, watching between decks till sunrise."
"Thanks. Good night," muttered Hawkshaw, through his teeth, which the poor wretch clenched, to prevent them chattering, so strong were his emotions, as he passed through the door of the after bulk-head, and sought his way, by lantern light, to that place which was to be the scene of his great crime, where, all unconscious of his entrance, Morley and his three companions were swinging in their hammocks.
About four hours after this, a cry—almost a yell rang through the silent ship, startling the watch on deck and the man at the helm, terrifying Mr. Basset (whose duty it was to watch at the cabin door), bringing Captain Phillips, Mr. Quail, and Dr. Heriot from their berths, in dread that the great crisis of the voyage had come, that the mutineers were in arms; there, too, were Ethel and Rose, in their white-laced night-dresses, the latter with her rich hair all falling over her neck, peeping fearfully from their cabin door, while Nurse Folgate had buried herself under her bed-clothes, for that cry, which "pierced the night's dull ear," was one of mortal agony, and it seemed to come from—between decks!
CHAPTER XV.
A BITER BITTEN.
After leaving the doctor, Hawkshaw, to gather "Dutch courage," took a last mouthful from his brandy flask, and with his slippers on, stole softly and stealthily between decks, so softly that his entrance was unheard by our four friends, whom he found awake, and conversing in low tones; so he seated himself on a chest, with his face completely in shadow, and there he remained listening, and scarcely daring to breathe, for with every roll of the ship the four hammocks swung regularly to and fro, side by side, from port to starboard, and the outer one, in which Morley lay, nearly touched the watcher's head at times.
The air-port was closed now, and the place was lighted by the feeble rays of a ship-lantern, which swung from one of the beams.
In shadow, as we have said, and with a broad tarpaulin hat slouched over his stealthy cat-like eyes, that flashed with malignant light, Hawkshaw sat, or crouched, listening, watching, and waiting for the time that would suit the attempt, eagerly, and all but breathlessly, and the duration seemed interminable, for he had no watch, his gold repeater having been so summarily appropriated by Pedro Barradas.