“Too-ra-loo-ra-loo ra loo;
Too-ra-loo-ra-bur-r-r-r!”
The air was a quaint one, and recalled the first six bars in “The Boatswain’s Story,” by Malloy. The words, however, were Sargasson, and the above translation is very liberal.
The men hardly had to be asked to surrender their knives. They gave them up voluntarily, so anxious were they to have their blades bright and sharp. The weapons were placed in a box that I had prepared for them. In order to delay matters I gave the grinder half a dozen cutlasses from my own cabin that were to be finished before the knives were ground. All day long, almost without a moment’s rest, the old knife-grinder tramped and sang as the rusty steel struck prickly stars from the whirring wheel.
That night the men occupied their new apartments for the first time. They were delighted at the comforts I had prepared for them. They readily divided themselves up into watches and associated themselves together in groups of eight. New bedding had been prepared for all the men. The bunks were filled with the driest and softest sea grass obtainable, thus forming a bed as soft as a hair mattress. I wanted them to sleep well this first night. I had so divided the men that the first watch was composed of thoroughly tractable members of the crew.
The moment night fell the boatswain and I repaired to the boiler room. He soon struck a light with flint and steel, and in a few moments we had the fires aglow. Leaving him in charge for the moment, after seeing that he was thoroughly armed, I returned to the deck and saw that all the ship’s company had retired to their new and sumptuous sleeping apartments.
The ideal existence of the Sargasson sailor is to have plenty of time to sleep and all the food he wants to eat. As I had supposed, everybody had gone to bed except the eight men on watch. I quietly closed the doors of all the compartments and secured them with the heavy padlocks.
I then mustered the watch, and marched them directly to the furnace room. There I found the boatswain working like a demon to keep the furnaces full of wood and seaweed. The sailors regarded the open mouth of the flaming furnaces with reverential awe. How natural is man’s worship of the elements. As it happened, they were all Sargassons born and bred. They could not possibly understand the purpose for which the fire was burning, but at my command they fell lustily to work under the direction of the boatswain. Carefully fastening the heavy iron door behind me, I ascended to the engine room to watch the steam gauge.
Hours must elapse before I could hope to move the engine, and in the mean time I sought out Fidette, who was sitting at her cabin window, gazing thoughtfully out upon the night.
Only then had she begun to realize the seriousness of the change about to come over her life. She knew also that we had gone so far that in the event of failure, exposure and punishment would be certain. I tried to reassure her. I told her that, if under a sufficient head of steam, the engine did not work, not a man, including the boatswain, would be allowed to escape from the furnace room. I would descend and slaughter every one of them with my own hand rather than expose myself, and especially her, to the punishment that certainly would await us. This was a dreadful thing to say, but I had calmly resolved upon the extinction of these nine members of the crew in case of failure. No questions were ever asked in Sargasso regarding the disappearance of men on ship board, and I could not be expected to account for the missing members of the crew.