The captain walked the deck, fuming and raging, every now and then turning an angry glance at the land and pulling out his watch. “He means mischief,” muttered old Tom in my hearing; “but if he thinks to leave young Sam ashore to die of starvation, he is mistaken.”
The night drew on, and the boat had not returned. My watch being over, I turned in, supposing that the brig would remain at anchor till the morning. I was, however, awakened in the middle watch by old Tom’s voice. “Come on deck, Jack,” he said; “there’s mischief brewing; the captain had a quarrel with Mr Duncan the other day, and he hates young Sam for his impudence, as he calls it, and so I believe he intends to leave them behind if he can do so; but he is mistaken. We will not lift anchor till they are safe on board, or a party has been sent to look for them. They probably lost their way, and could not get back to the harbour before dark. There are no wild beasts or savages on shore, and so they could not come to harm; you slip into the cabin, and call the other gentlemen, and I’ll manage the crew, who have just loosed topsails, and are already at the windlass with the cable hove short.”
I was on deck in an instant, and, keeping on one side, while the captain was on the other, managed to slip into the cabin. I told the gentlemen of old Tom’s suspicions, and observed that the captain probably thought those in the boat would return without Mr Duncan and Sam, when they saw the vessel making sail.
They instantly began to dress; and one of them, a spirited young Highlander, Mr McIvor, put a brace of pistols into his belt and followed me on deck. I tried to escape being seen by the captain, but he caught sight of me, I was sure, though I stooped down and kept close to the bulwarks as I crept for’ard.
By this time the men were heaving at the windlass, which they continued to do, in spite of what old Tom said to them. The captain had overheard him, and threatened to knock the first man down with a handspike who ceased to work. Old Tom, however, had got one in his hand, and the captain did not dare to touch him. In another instant I heard Mr McIvor’s voice exclaiming, “What is this all about, Captain Pyke? What! are you going to leave our friends on shore?”
“If your friends don’t come off at the proper time they must take the consequences,” answered the captain. “Then, what I have got to say, Captain Pyke, is, that I’ll not allow them to be deserted, and that I intend to carry out my resolution with a pretty strong argument—the instant the anchor leaves the ground I’ll shoot you through the head.”
“Mutiny! mutiny!” shouted the captain, starting back, “seize this man and heave him overboard.” As he spoke the other two gentlemen made their appearance, and old Tom and I, with two or three others, stepped up close to them, showing the captain the side we intended to take. Neither of the mates moved, while the men folded their arms and looked on, showing that they did not intend to interfere.
“Very well, gentlemen,” cried the captain, “I see how matters stand—you have been bribing the crew. I’ll agree to wait for the boat, and if she does not come with the missing people we must give them up for lost.”
“That depends upon circumstances,” said Mr McIvor, returning his pistol to his belt. He and the rest continued to walk the deck, while the captain went, muttering threats of vengeance, into his cabin.
None of us after this turned in. In a short time the splash of oars was heard, and the boat came alongside. “We have come for food,” said Mr Fraser, one of the gentlemen who had gone in her. “I intend going back at daylight, and must get two or three others to accompany me. We will then have a thorough search for Duncan and the boy—there is no doubt that they have lost their way, and if we fire a few muskets, they will, with the help of daylight, easily find the harbour. Mr McIvor promised to accompany his friend, and I volunteered to go also.”