We had been completely done. So completely that it was some time before I was able to realise that I had been diddled quite to that extent. Not a detail had been overlooked. Mr. Batters and Mr. Luke had gone conscientiously to work. They had been thorough. They had left us the ship. That was about all. They would probably have taken that if they had had any use for it. It seemed they hadn’t. If I could only have laid hands on that latest thing in freaks, there would have been one Joss less. I would willingly have made a Joss of Luke if I had only had a chance. To have boiled, burned, and skinned him would have been a pleasure. He should not only have been legless, he should have been armless too. As for that girl, who didn’t want to go to a place where there were any wives, she should have become acquainted with a climate where there was something less agreeable.
That was how I felt towards her at first. But after a while I came to the conclusion that she had been under the domination of her father. Hadn’t dared to call her soul her own. So anger turned to pity. I would just simply take her to a place where there were wives. I’d let her know what it felt like to be one. That would be punishment enough for her.
As for Luke and Batters! What wouldn’t I have given for a quiet half hour with the pair, with boiling oil, branding irons, and everything just handy.
Mr. Luke must have stowed pretty well all our eatable stores inside that cutter. As first mate, under peculiar circumstances, I had let him do, in some respects, a good deal as he pleased. He had had the run of the stores. He had not gone far from collaring the lot. It seemed that certain of the hands had noticed him fiddling a good deal with the cutter of late. Especially when he had been in charge of either of the night watches. But, of course, they had said nothing to me till it was too late, which was a pity.
Mr. Batters had taken with him all the treasures of the temple. Those offerings of the faithful, half of which were to have been mine. No wonder he had not been of opinion that they would have been safer in my cabin. And he pledged his word that he would make it his especial business to see that not one of them left the ship until he did. That elegant monster which he valued at £50,000 had gone. Even the palanquin. Oh, it was pretty!
Mr. Luke had made everything snug by generously treating the members of the morning watch to a little drink directly they came on duty. That drink was no doubt one of Mr. Batters’ concoctions. They remembered no more so soon as they swallowed it. So for four hours Mr. Luke had the deck to himself. No watch was kept. The wheel was lashed. The cutter was filled with the treasures of the temple, then lowered. Goodness and Mr. Luke alone know how. And it must be remembered that Mr. Batters was an ingenious man.
It was reported from the engine room that the order was received to “Go slow.” Probably while The Flying Scud went slow the cutter was cast loose, with Mr. Batters and the girl inside it. Shortly afterwards the order was changed to “Full steam ahead.” The inference seems to be that immediately after giving that order the ingenious Mr. Luke went overboard to join the cutter. And The Flying Scud went full steam ahead, with no one on the look-out. Under the circumstances, it was, perhaps, just as well that the engines did break down.
It’s an elegant story for the commander of a ship to have to write. Especially one with a clean certificate, and of sober habits. There we were, without engines, without coal, without stores, without enough cargo to act as ballast, about half-way between Aden and Colombo. We were a mad ship’s company. For my own part I felt like cutting any man’s throat, including my own. All that day we hung about, doing nothing, except cursing.
Towards night, the engines proving hopeless, we rigged a sail. There was just about enough wind to laugh at us. So we let it laugh us along. There was no Canal for us. The man who was to have paid our shot had gone—the shot with him. So we headed for the Cape. The long way round was the only way for us. Engineless, the prospect was inviting.
There is no need to speak in detail of the remainder of that voyage, no need at all. In one sense it was over—quite. In another it was only just beginning. I won’t say how long it took us to reach home or what we suffered before we got there. And will only hint that by the time we sighted English waters, I felt as if I was a twin brother of Methuselah’s. We hadn’t walked the entire distance, but we might almost just as well have done.