‘Aye, aye, sir,’ answered the lad, with the habit of a sailor in answer to an order.
‘Is it true, Tom, that they’d hang you if they found you in command of this ship?’ said I.
‘There’s been murder and piracy, and the ringleaders would be hanged, and I, found in command of the ship, would be reckoned a ringleader. But do not fear. They’re not going to catch me. We’ll be out of the vessel soon, though heaven help the unhappy ruffians when it comes to our leaving them.’
Presently the sailor came up out of the cuddy. He brought a bottle of sherry, a broken tumbler, a plate of white biscuit, and some tinned meat. He said sullenly, as he put the stuff down on the grating, that it was all he could find. There wasn’t a whole tumbler to be seen.
‘Them convicts is gone mad,’ he said, as he sulkily grasped the wheel. ‘Them as ain’t singing’s fighting. The cabin floor’s a-running with blood. They’re mostly the young ’uns. I never bargained for the likes of this raree-show. What’s a-going to befall the fired ship if this sort of carrying-on’s to last?’
‘It was to be a roasting hot job,’ said I pointing to the injured topgallantmast.
He gave me an evil look, but, meeting Tom’s eyes, turned his head and stared away into the white, sultry, stagnant distance. I kept my back upon the bloodstains; I could not have held them in view and tasted food. Whilst we ate and drank we heard Mr. Bates calling out orders on the main-deck. I met Tom’s glance; he faintly smiled; it was the first time I had seen him smile. But, indeed, the tragedy of the morning became a kind of burlesque, when you thought of the chief mate of the ship, dressed as a convict, giving orders under the eye of Barney Abram, who was himself clothed in the apparel of the captain.
We moved forward a little way to get well into the shelter of the awning and out of hearing of the fellow at the wheel. The bottle had been half full. We emptied it and threw it and the broken tumbler overboard, and talked whilst we watched the motions of the convicts on the main-deck and listened to the choruses of the brutal revellers in the cuddy. Some of the mutinous sailors went aloft with tackles on the main and fore-yards; meanwhile a number of the convicts cleared away the long-boat, a large, squab fabric which lay stowed forward of the galley. Tom said she was big enough to safely carry forty souls.
‘I wish you and I and Will there were in her,’ said he, out of sight of this ship. ‘But she’ll provide us with the opportunity we want,’ he added, with a sideway motion of his head towards the gig over the stern.
‘What are your plans after we leave the ship?’ said I. ‘The gig’s a little boat for this vast sea.’