“Oh, yes, yes! I play the fiddle,” he exclaimed; “I go get it—I play for you all.”
Not waiting for an answer, he ran towards the nearest hatchway, and passing near Paul, inquired for Devereux and O’Grady.
“Safe,” whispered Paul, and the young Frenchman dived below.
He speedily returned with his faithful violin, and without waiting to be asked, began to play. The hearts of all his hearers were too heavy to allow them to be influenced as under other circumstances they would have been by the music, but it served in a degree to calm their fierce passions, and to turn them from their evil intentions. Of the principal officers of the ship the master alone had hitherto escaped destruction. He was no coward. He had seen with horror the murder of his messmates and captain, but life was sweet, and when offered to him, even on terms degrading, undoubtedly—that he would navigate the ship into an enemy’s port—he accepted them. The few warrant and petty officers who had escaped being killed, at once declared their intention of acting as the master had done.
“It’s fortunate for you, mates, that you don’t belong to the brood who grow into captains,” exclaimed Hargraves, fiercely. “I, for one, would never have consented to let you live if you had.”
Paul trembled for the fate of his friends when he heard these expressions, for Hargraves looked like a man who would put any threats he might utter into execution. Order was somewhat restored, officers were appointed to keep watch, and the ship was put on the course for the port to which it was proposed she should be carried. The crew had once been accustomed to keep a sharp look-out for an enemy; they now kept a still more anxious watch to avoid any British cruiser which might approach them. Day and night they were haunted with the dread of meeting their countrymen. Paul overheard some of the ringleaders consulting together.
“There are only two things to be done; if we can’t run from them, to fight it out to the last, or to kill all those who won’t swear to be staunch, and to declare that they died of fever,” said one of them in a low, determined voice.
“Ay, that’s the only thing for it,” growled out another; “I’m not going to swing for nothing, I’ve made up my mind.”
“Swing! who talks of swinging? None of that, Tom,” exclaimed a third, in uneasy tones.
“It’s what one and all of us will do, mates, if we don’t look out what we’re about,” said Hargraves, who was waiting for an opportunity of pressing his plans on his companions. “We have let too many of them live as it is, and it’s my opinion there’s no safety for any of us as long as one of them breathes. I’ve heard tell what the old pirates used to do to make men faithful. They didn’t trust to oaths—not they—but they made those who said they were ready to join them shoot their shipmates who refused. That’s what we must do, mates; it’s the only secure way, you may depend on’t.”