North, recognising the voice as that of a young man named Macy, his own harpooner, at once bade him enter.
Macy, a sunburnt, blue-eyed youth, closed the cabin door behind him, and held up his finger to enjoin silence.
"
I've only just now heard, sir, that you will not take a hand in this work which is going on. Neither will I, sir; for those damned savages are going to kill all the poor women and children. I've come to ask you what I'm to do if I'm ordered away in the boat? My God! Mr. North, must we all be turned into a gang of murderers like those fellows on the Lucy May! "
The officer shook the young seaman's hand. "I for one will have no hand in it, my lad; and I wish there were more of us on board of our way of thinking. I wish we could leave the ship. I would rather die of thirst on the open ocean ... Macy, my lad, will you stand to me?"
"Stand to you, sir! Aye, Mr. North. If you mean to take to our boat, sir, I am with you."
"No," answered North in a whisper. "That, after all, would only save us two from being mixed up in this murderous business—I want to prevent it altogether. Have you heard how far it is across the island to this place Leassé?"
"Seven miles, sir, over the mountains."
"And twenty by the boats! Macy, I am determined to leave the ship to-night, cut across the island, and save the poor people from massacre. Will you come? We may pay for it with our lives."
The harpooner raised his rough hand. "We must all die some day, sir."