“Great heavens!” exclaimed Captain Gordon; “it’s the prisoner Simon Rolt!”
Simon Rolt! There before us on the deck, dead, with the thrust of a bayonet through his heart, with a long, gleaming sheath-knife firmly grasped in his right hand, lay the corpse of the man who had fallen overboard—whom we all supposed lay drowned at the bottom of the sea weeks ago—whom we had all as utterly forgotten as though his memory had been no more than one of the bubbles which had floated to the surface with his plunge! We could not credit the evidence of our sight. Then, indeed, the suspicion of some enormous scheme of treachery as concerned the convicts seemed to visit all in that cabin assembled, as though we had been one man.
“He’ll have had a confederate,” shouted a voice.
“He was for murdering the officers, and then the convicts ’ud have rose and killed all hands,” bawled another with lungs of storm.
“Silence!” cried Captain Gordon, and he questioned the sentry, who, standing bolt upright in a cool, collected way, told this story. Having crossed the deck, leaving the cabin door on his left, he happened to glance through the window into the interior, and saw what he supposed was a shadow cast by the dimly-burning lamp upon the head of the steerage steps. He shrank and put himself out of sight of it, though commanding it still, and presently he saw it stir and scrawl into the shape of a human head and shoulders. The sneaking subtle bulk rose clear of the steps, and noiselessly as the shadow of a cloud it was creeping aft into the gloom under the table when the sentry swiftly stepped into the door and challenged it. Up sprang the man: in a few beats of the heart his long knife would have been through the soldier; but the redcoat was too quick for him: the bayonet pierced the devil’s breast, and at the same moment the musket, which the soldier had cocked, exploded. The convict fell dead with a single groan, but the soldier in his rage stabbed him thrice to make sure of him, cursing him loudly as he drove the steel home.
Some seamen picked up the body and put it away in one of the cabins. The cuddy was then cleared and a wet swab brought along to cleanse the deck; but until dawn the sailors stood about in the waist and gangways talking. A quiet wind held the canvas motionless, and the ship stole softly through the shadow of the darkest hours of the night. Mr. Barlow told me that when daybreak came I must go into the hold and find out where the villain had hidden himself. The military men and the mate and I lingered in the cuddy in conversation.
“Was it Rolt himself who jumped overboard, or was the figure some dummy?” said Captain Gordon, who immediately added, “Oh, it must have been the convict. How could he have got aft?”
“I saw him jump. Many must have seen him,” said I.
“How did he get on board?” exclaimed Lieutenant Venables.
“I’ll tell you what’s in my head, gentlemen,” said I. “I’ve been turning the matter over; you’ll find I’m right, I believe. There was the end of the main-brace hanging over the quarter. I took notice of it as we pulled under the ship’s stern. That brace was taken off its pin and lowered by a confederate hand. I heard a low whistle sound through the ship before the man sprang.”