“Nobody,” answered Mr. Barlow. “And how does it stand with your people?”
“Every man jack can be accounted for, of course.”
“Search the ship!” exclaimed Captain Gordon.
“For what?” rejoined the mate. “There’s no man missing; we’re seven weeks out; what do you expect, gentlemen, to find hidden below at this time of day?”
“I’m for searching the ship, nevertheless,” said Captain Gordon. “Good God! when such a murder as this has been done, would you stop short just when discovery may be within reach of another stride?”
The mate, with some colour in his cheek, answered, “The ship shall be searched.”
I headed one little gang and the boatswain another, and we thoroughly overhauled the hold from the fore to the after peak. The ship’s lading consisted of agricultural implements and light Government commodities for the colony. Her after-hold was filled with provisions, barrels of flour, casks of rum, great cases of tinned meat, and other such things. A large portion of the steerage, too, under the cuddy was filled with Government stuff, mattresses, blankets, and so forth, not to mention three hundred sets of irons.
Our search occupied some time: there was much ground to cover. Perhaps we did not seek very strenuously. For my part, I never for a moment imagined that there would or could be any one not belonging to the ship in hiding below. Suppose a stowaway: it would scarcely serve his purpose to make his first appearance on deck as a murderer, and the murderer of the captain of the ship of all men! And yet, though I felt quite certain that the criminal was not amongst our crew, I was equally sure he was not amongst the prisoners. One had but to reason a little to understand that it was not the work of a convict. Every night the ’tween-decks prison gate that gave upon the barracks was strongly secured. No convict could have made his way through it, and beside it was posted the sentry. Equally well secured and guarded was the main-hatch entrance. The murderer, then, was not a convict. Was he a soldier?
We buried the body of the captain that morning, and Mr. Barlow took command of the ship. When night came a sentry was posted at the cuddy door (this was in addition to the usual guard), and the sergeant received instructions to make the rounds of the cuddy from time to time to see that all was well. In this work he would be assisted by the mate of the watch and by the ship’s boatswain, who would now serve as second mate.
The night passed quietly. From time to time Captain Gordon or Lieutenant Venables illustrated his restlessness by coming on deck and flitting about, calling to the cuddy-door sentry and asking me questions. This was during my watch, during the silent passages of which I deeply pondered the matter of the murder, but could make nothing of it. Had it been done by some one walking in his sleep? Some one of us who, utterly unconscious of his deed, had viewed the corpse of the strangled captain with horror and astonishment?