‘For a term—perhaps for life. But he is innocent, and we must prove him so.’
I flung myself into an arm-chair and buried my face. Yet I could not weep; I had cried away all my tears. But, oh, the torment in my half-strangled throat, and the anguish of my dry, heart-breaking sobs!
After a while, I succeeded in forcing a sort of composure upon myself. We sat talking until long past midnight. I asked many questions as rationally and as collectedly as I could; but I remarked, with secret horror, in my uncle’s speech a note of misgiving that sank into my spirits like a knife into the heart. Indeed, it seemed more than misgiving, even dark suspicion in him. He said not a word to justify what I felt; but he talked of four to one, and again he talked of Tom’s exaggerated precaution in excessively insuring his venture, and I guessed what was in his mind.
‘We shall be able to score one good point,’ said he. ‘The mate Rotch, some five or six years ago, quarrelled with your sweetheart Tom, at Valparaiso. Butler was then mate of a ship. They met at a fandango. Rotch insulted a young lady Butler had been dancing with and had previously known. Your sweetheart took him by the throat and backed him out of the room, half suffocated and black in the face. Strangely enough, two years later, Butler found himself master of a small Indiaman, called the Chanticleer, with this same man Rotch as second mate under him. The mate of the Chanticleer complained much of Rotch’s insolence. One night, when in Soundings, homeward bound, Butler found Rotch sleeping in his watch, with a dozen ships looming dark all round. This was extraordinary. Butler reported his conduct to the owners of the Chanticleer, and the man lost his berth. But on your sweetheart learning that Rotch had been married shortly before sailing, and that a child had been born to him during his absence at sea, he went to work to procure his reinstatement or to obtain another situation for him, and was successful. There may be other motives; but here is a point that must go far to confirm Butler’s declaration that he is the victim of a conspiracy.’
I listened greedily. I kept my eyes, smarting and burning, fastened upon my uncle’s face.
‘What is scuttling a ship?’ I asked.
‘Did I not explain? It is boring a hole in her so that she may sink.’
‘Who says that Tom bored a hole in his ship?’
‘Rotch and Nodder and two seamen.’
‘Did they see him bore the hole?’