'Take us!' the captain exclaimed, with a sudden anger in his whole manner as he turned towards me. 'They may take you, but I stop here.'
'No, no, Miss Marie,' cried my poor old nurse, 'they must not take you without me, and my place is by my husband's side wherever he is. Think if they should miss the ship, which is more than likely: they'll be in an open boat in this frozen ocean! Fancy being in an open boat in such weather as that of the night before last! You would not live to see to-morrow's dawn. And how should their going concern us? If they fall in with the ship they'll report we are here and the vessel may return. If they miss her they are in an exposed open boat, and we are in a dry, comfortable hull, with a good warm cabin to sit in, and no worse off than if all the crew were aboard. For what can they do? If the ship comes, she'll come whether the crew are on board or not.'
'But are the three of us to be left alone?' I exclaimed.
'The dogs could have helped me,' muttered the captain. 'We blew northwards yesterday and to-day we sighted a sail. They are villains to steal my boat, the only remaining boat. But I am too few for them—I am too few for them.' He clasped his hands upon the back of his head as though he was in pain there.
Just then four or five seamen came tumbling down the companion-ladder: one held a lighted lantern. This man exclaimed:
'Capt'n, the boat's alongside, and all's ready.'
'What are you doing down here?' thundered the captain.
'The victuals we want are in the lazarette,' answered the man. 'No good lifting the main-hatch and overhauling the cargo when all we need's handy here.'
Even whilst he spoke the rest had pulled up a little square hatch cover with an iron ring in it; it fitted a large manhole a few paces abaft the companion-ladder; this hatch conducted to a part of the after-hold called the lazarette, a sort of store-room in which the cabin provisions and wines with other commodities were stowed.
Captain Burke jumped from his seat; his wife fell upon him shrieking, and with her arms about his neck forced him to sit, beseeching him to have patience, to let the men have their way, to attempt no violence or they would kill him. He trembled with rage and weakness and grief, but he understood his powerlessness—which was merciful, for there was an angry stubbornness in the hurry and motions of the men which was as good as advising their captain, with a curse and a threat wrapped up in the hint, not to meddle with them, not to offer to hinder them if he valued his life.