Part 5

His hands were stiffened and almost useless, his fingers were bleeding, and his breath was spent, while as he held on helpless for a moment there was a sound like thunder, and as a strip of canvas rent itself from the grasp of those about him he saw the Dutchman clawing desperately at the yard. The man slipped along it a foot or two, and Niven, seeing his fingers sliding, remembered he had an injured arm. He had also evidently lost his footing, for one leg was dangling, and the lad instinctively seized his shoulder. That left him one hand to hold on by, and he gasped with horror as he felt his fingers slipping from the yard and saw a great sea burst into a tumultuous frothing beneath him.

He was too cold and dazed to wonder if any of the others saw what was happening, and could remember only that if he loosed his hold the man he clutched would go whirling down to strike the iron bulwarks or plunge into the sea. So he set his lips, and while his arms seemed to be coming away from their sockets held on for a moment or two.

Then the hand he grasped the yard with slipped a trifle further, and with a sickening horror he felt his clawlike fingers yield, but dazed, half-blinded, and too overwrought with the struggle to think, he still clutched the Dutchman. In another moment the hand came away altogether, and man and boy went down.

Now a second or two earlier Appleby had noticed their peril, but could do nothing because there was a man between them and him. He smote the fellow's shoulder and shouted, but his words were blown away, and no one else had eyes for anything but the banging sail. It was too late before he could shout again, for with a little gasp he saw the two figures whirl downwards beneath him, until, because the _Aldebaran_ lurched a trifle just then, the smaller of them struck a big wire stay with folds of loose canvas about it where it joined the mast, and lay for a second or two across it. The other fell on the top of the deckhouse, and then, while Appleby shivered, rolled off it and down on to the deck below. Almost as this happened Niven slipped from the hauled-down staysail and fell upon the house too, but apparently upon feet and hands together.

Then as Appleby endeavoured to get back to the mast so that he could descend, the man nearest it grasped him and he could not pass. The lad could not hear what he said, but he guessed its purport, and grew sick with horror as he saw that the man was right. There were others below to pick up the fallen if there was any life in them, and with the ship in peril every hand was needed on the yards. Also, while that fact might not have stopped him, he could not pass the man, who barred his way to the mast.

So he stayed, and did what little he could among the rest, until at last they had stowed the sail, and then went down in frantic haste, only to be driven forward by the second mate. The latter was a kindly man, but there are times when the injured or dying must take care of themselves at sea, and there was still strenuous work to do. Thus at least half-an-hour had passed, and the _Aldebaran_ was blowing sideways about as fast as she forged ahead under lower topsails when Appleby reached the deckhouse breathless and dripping. It was almost dark inside it, for driving cloud had blotted the daylight out, but the swinging lamp diffused a sickly radiance which fell on his comrade as Appleby bent over his dripping bunk. Everything in the deckhouse was wet, as was Niven's face, but though it was drawn and white his eyes were open.

"Not quite all smashed up yet," he said with a little smile.

Appleby felt almost dizzy with relief, and his voice shook a trifle as he said, "But you are hurt, Chriss?"

"Well," said Niven feebly, though there was a little twinkle in his eyes, "it wouldn't be astonishing if I was, but I think a good lie down will put me right again. There was a big lump of the staysail under me, and I fetched the top of the house on my hands and toes. Couldn't get up just now, however, if I wanted to."

Appleby could think of nothing fitting to say, and patted his comrade's shoulder while he turned his head away. His eyes were a trifle hazy, and he felt that there are a good many things one cannot express in speech.

"The Dutchman?" he said presently.

Niven seemed to shiver, and shook his head. "I don't know. Couldn't take much notice of anything because I felt all in pieces myself just then, but I saw him come down," he said. "He just seemed to crunch up--as if he was an egg."

Lawson, who was sitting on his chest, made a gesture of impatience. "Now you shut up and lie still," he said. "Any one would fancy you had done enough to take a rest." Then he nodded to Appleby. "Get out. It's quietness he wants, and it's not going to make anything any better to remember what happened to the other fellow. I'll keep an eye on him, and you needn't worry."

Appleby, who knew Lawson could be trusted to do this, went out, and it was an hour or two later when he and the rest sat in the house again over a big can of tea which the cook had by some means contrived to supply them with. They still wore streaming oilskins, and the lamp that swung above them cast flickers of smoky radiance across their wet faces, while from outside came a muffled roar of wind and the crash of falling water as the _Aldebaran_ lurched over the great smoking seas. Niven was evidently a little better, and smiled, though his face was awry with pain, when Appleby lifted his shoulders a little and handed him a biscuit soaked in tea.

"It's nice yellow jellies and grapes I'd be eating if I was laid up at home," said he.

"If you don't stop we'll make you," said one of the other lads. "Who has got any business to talk of those things at sea? What did the old man do to you?"

Niven grinned in a sickly fashion. "He asked me where I felt bad, and I told him everywhere," he said. "Then he and the steward pulled the clothes off me and prodded me with their fists. They didn't seem to find anything broken, but I was sore all over, and I'd sooner be whacked with a horse-girth than go through that again."

"Smacked with a horse-girth!" said Lawson, reflectively. "Now I've been kicked--with sea boots--a good many times, but that would be a new sensation. What does it feel like?"

"If you want to know you can ask Appleby," said Niven. "I fancy he could tell you."

Appleby laughed, for he saw his comrade was recovering. "But what about the Dutchman?" he said.

Lawson shook his head. "I only know the old man went forward to look at him, and he's tolerably bad. He came down bang on his shoulder, you see. Did the mate know he had only one arm that was any good to him, Appleby?"

"Yes," said Appleby slowly. "He was there when the man hurt it, and just before he went up I heard him tell him. I saw the mate double up his fist too--and the Dutchman had to go."

There was silence for a moment or two, intensified by the roar of wind, and the lads looked at one another with a curious grimness which seemed out of place there in their young faces.

"If he doesn't get better it's manslaughter, any way," said somebody. "Now we've had almost enough of this. What's to be done, Lawson?"

Lawson stared at the lamp for almost a minute before he answered. "If the man comes round we can't do anything," he said. "Of course we and the men could make a declaration about ill-usage at Vancouver, but the old man would back the mate up and we'd only be quietly sat upon. If the Dutchman dies it would be a little easier. The old man would have to put down all about it in the log, but he'd fix it the nicest way and then get two witnesses--the mate and the second mate--to sign it."

"Would the second mate do it?" said Appleby.

"I think he would have to," said Lawson dryly.

"Well," said one of the other lads, "where do we come in?"

"You," said Lawson, with a little, mirthless laugh, "don't come in at all, but there's one chance yet. When the men are paid off the old man's account of any death on board is read over, and they're asked if it's all correct and if the man was ill-used at all. If they could only stick to one story they'd get a hearing, and the Government would go into the thing."

"That doesn't sound difficult," said Appleby.

Lawson shook his head. "I'm afraid it's more than they could do," he said. "Every man would tell a different tale and get arguing with the rest until nobody could make head or tail of it, and the skipper who says nothing that isn't dragged out of him would come up on top again. Still, of course, there is just a chance of them being listened to, and that's going to make the mate a good deal nastier in the meanwhile."

Niven, who had lain silent, looked over his bunk. "He will not be nasty to me very long. I've had enough of the brute already. One could get ashore at Vancouver."

Lawson glanced at him impatiently. "Better shut up before you're sorry," he said. "There's only one thing to do, and that's to leave the old man to run the mate out quietly. He's a tolerably tough old nigger himself, but I fancy this kind of thing is a little too much for him. As I've told you before, there's very little use kicking about anything when you go to sea."

Then there was once more silence as the unpleasant veracity was borne in upon the rest. Nobody, it seemed, cared very much what became of them, and there was no one they could appeal to. They must take what came, and grin and bear it, however irksome it might be. The knowledge was especially bitter to Niven, who had possibly been made too much of at home, but Appleby had already a vague suspicion that in any walk of life it would be much the same. Every man had rights, he knew, but he had discovered that it is very little use to make speeches about them when they are unobtainable, and generally wiser to wait in silence for an opportunity and then stretch out a firm hand and take them. Some lads find this out early, though there are men who never discover it at all, and these are not infrequently a nuisance to everybody.

*CHAPTER VI*

*A FAIR WIND*

Niven, though severely bruised and shaken, recovered rapidly, and one morning a fortnight after his injury sat under the partial shelter of the weather-rail rubbing tar into a long strip of worn-out canvas with his hands. He had more than a suspicion that the canvas would never be used, and sitting still in a bitter wind while he dabbled his stiffened fingers in the sticky mess was far from pleasant, but the mate frequently found him work of that kind to do, and Niven knew that when he gave an order it was not advisable to argue.

Appleby was sitting close beside him similarly occupied, and every now and then a cloud of spray which swept the rail stung their faces and rattled upon their oilskins. Icy water came on board, too, but because they sat well aft they escaped the frothing deluges which poured over the weather bow and sluiced down the slanted deck to lee. Here and there a dripping man scrambled out of the way of them or clung fast to something in the wilder lurches, for the _Aldebaran_ was still hammering to windward under scanty sail.

There was, however, clear, cold sunlight, and the wet canvas swayed across a patch of blue, while the lads could see the froth of the rollers shine incandescent against the flashing green over the weather-rail. The _Aldebaran_ was shouldering her way through them with heavy plunges that buried her forecastle at times. Then she would swing it up, streaming, high above the sea, and there was a general scramble clear of the water which came splashing everywhere. The sunlight showed that the men's faces were gaunt and worn. They had for more than a month held out stubbornly, living for the most part on uncooked and soaked provisions, toiling the watch through at shifting sail, and then flinging themselves down in their drenched clothing only to be turned out half-dazed by the sleep for which brain and body craved as the screaming gale freshened again. Now they had, thanks to what the steward had gleaned in the cabin and told the cook, reason to believe that if the _Aldebaran_ could make a few more leagues to windward the next day would see them round Cape Horn.

Still, they had been almost as near before only to be driven back to the east again, and haggard faces were turned expectantly towards the hard blueness athwart which the seatops heaved over the weather-rail. Presently Appleby glanced up sharply as the shadow of a sail fell upon him.

"Hallo!" he said, and there was a curious eagerness in his voice. "The topsail leach has come between us and the sun."

"I don't see why that should please you," said Niven. "It only makes it colder, and it's bad enough already, especially when you've had nothing worth mentioning to eat for weeks."

"No?" said Appleby. "Well, if I'm right it means warm weather, dry clothes, sound sleep when your watch is done, and the galley fire lit all day."

Niven looked up. "Oh," he said with a little gasp. "The wind is backing round--or is he only screwing her up a little?"

Both of them glanced from the straining canvas to the figure at the wheel, and the eyes of all on deck were turned in the same direction, for it was evident that only two things could have happened. Either the helmsman was jamming the ship half-a-point closer to the wind, which was unlikely, because the mate would have seen he sailed her as close as possible before; or the wind was going round. As they watched, the canvas swung further athwart the sun, and their hearts throbbed faster because they knew it was the latter. In place of thrashing to windward tack and tack, and frequently losing on one all they had made upon the other, they were now sailing almost in the direction they desired to go.

"I wish I could see the compass," said Niven. "Still, the wind must be backing southerly by the bearing of the sun. Why doesn't the old man let her go while he can?"

It is probable that every man on deck was asking the same question, for the heads of all were turned towards the poop, and nothing would have induced one of them to speak when the skipper appeared out of the companion. He stood quite still for several minutes, and then nodded to the officer of the watch as though contented, but no one moved on deck when he went below, and the attitude of the men suggested what they felt. They were, it seemed, not round Cape Horn yet, and the _Aldebaran_ still held on plunging through the white-topped rollers close-hauled. Hour after hour dragged by, and all on board bore them in tense expectancy, until at last, when the watch was changed again, the skipper came forward to the edge of the poop with a little sour smile on his face. He spoke ostensibly to the mate close by him, but it is possible he meant his voice to carry further.

"Get a pull on the weather-braces, and the topgallants loosed. We'll make a fair wind of it," he said.

The mate came forward shouting, and for once he was very willingly obeyed. Both watches were on deck, for the one relieved had not left it yet, and the men fell over each other in their eagerness to get at the ropes, while Appleby felt his pulses throbbing and the blood surge to his face, as he watched the figure aft pulling at the wheel.

Round went the long, slanting yards, stopped, swung further, and stopped again, while the _Aldebaran_ hove herself more upright and shook the salt wash from her as she brought the wind upon her quarter. Then there was a scurrying of agile figures, stripped of their oilskins now, for the high top-gallant yards, and when the loose canvas blew away from them, wet and weary men broke into a breathless song as they swung and fell about the feet of the masts. They had hoarse voices, and the lips of some were rent and cracked. Their bodies were raw from the constant lash of brine, but there was a light in their gaunt faces and the ring of triumph in their song. Its words were senseless rubbish, but through them the spirit of those who sang was clear, and it was the pride that comes of a hardly-won victory. They had borne almost all that flesh and blood could bear, and now they had won the gale they had defied and beaten was their ally. The _Aldebaran_ seemed to know it, and swept north-west faster at every roll, hurling off vast folds of froth from her hove-up bows, while the foam seethed and flashed past, lapping in places almost to her rail. Still, for a ship will carry more canvas going free than she will close-hauled, her crew were not contented, and while they coiled the ropes away still watched the motionless figure on the poop expectantly.

Once more he raised a hand, and there was another scramble, more eager than before, and a rush towards the weather-shrouds, while presently great folds of canvas came dropping from the long lower yards. They spread out in a vast curve from rail to rail, and the _Aldebaran_, quivering to the drag of them, sped on faster than ever, with a wake that swirled and seethed far back across the long seas that now came rolling up behind her.

Then a Breton Frenchman solemnly danced upon the deck, and a little Italian cackled with shrill laughter, while a half-articulate growl of victory that was not a cheer went up from the British sailormen. They were flying faster than any but a very fast steamer, away from cold and wet and hunger, northwards towards the sun again.

For two days the _Aldebaran_ drove along, swept by spray, at a pace which occasionally exceeded twelve miles an hour, and then, though her decks dried up and the foam sank lower beneath her rail, the pace did not diminish appreciably, for as the wind fell lighter there was a crowding on of sail. The royals were shaken out in turn, stay-sails in rows swelled between the masts, and while the long heave that was smoother now and dazzlingly blue came rolling up on her beam, she swung along, three towering spires of canvas above a froth-licked hull, with her jibboom pointing to the midday sun. It grew warmer every day, oilskins, pilot-coats and long boots were flung aside, wet berths and saturated bedding dried, and there was no more dining on pulpy biscuit because a sea had washed out the galley as well as the fire.

Then there might have been peace and contentment on board the _Aldebaran_ had not the mate's temper apparently grown worse as the weather grew finer, until the half-cowed, sullen crew were glad to crawl away below out of the reach of his beady eyes when the watch was done. They were kept hard at work at something all day long, chipping iron, painting, scraping spars down, and the man who had only a bitter jibe for the most willing and scurrilous abuse for the tired generally contrived when nothing more unpleasant suggested itself that Niven or Appleby should carry the tar pot, while the blood would surge to their faces at the words which followed, if at any time they let fall one splash of it where it was not wanted.

The work began as soon as there was light enough to see by, and was never done. A good deal of it was brutal and much unnecessary, and it went on without intermission under the scorching sun of the equator, and was apparently no nearer finished when reaching in close-hauled one day they had their first glimpse of the great, snow-crested mountains that rise above the forests of Washington. Then the apprentices envied the men who had only signed on to Vancouver, because they at least would soon be free of the ceaseless small-persecution and hateful tyranny.

At last as they worked into the Straits of San Juan the pines of Vancouver Island lifted themselves above the horizon, and a day or two later the _Aldebaran_ came to an anchor off Port Parry, which is where the warships lie and close to Victoria City. Vancouver, where she was to unload, stands on the Canadian coast about a day's sail with a fair wind further east, but the straits are sprinkled with islands and swept by tides, and because the wind was easterly and the sky dimmed by smoke, the skipper had gone ashore that morning to send off telegrams and if possible engage a tug. He did not return all day, and when evening was closing in Appleby and Niven sat outside the deckhouse, while the mate stood up on the poop apparently to see if there was any signal from the shore.

The evening was chilly, and a fresh breeze streaked the waters with a haze of smoke from some great forest fire which drove in thin wisps across the rising moon and now and then growing thicker blotted out the dark pines ashore. The lads had been working hard helping to send down the lighter canvas all day, and now they were aching in every limb. They were also moody, for do what they would the mate's bitter tongue had not spared them. Somebody was singing forward in the forecastle, and now and then a burst of hoarse laughter came aft, for the men there would be leaving the _Aldebaran_ in a day or two. Niven sighed a little as he listened.

"Those fellows are well off. It's no wonder they're singing," he said. "Things are getting worse every day, and I'm very sick of it, Tom."

Appleby laughed, but there was not much merriment in his face. "Of the sea?"

"Well," said Niven slowly, "the sea is different from what I expected it would be, but that's not what I mean."

"The mate then?"

Niven nodded. "Of course," he said. "Now, he stops with the ship, and we don't know where we're going to from Vancouver. Lawson was telling me the Company's ships are away sometimes four years together. Four years of that mate, Tom. Just fancy it!"

Appleby's face grew a trifle grim. It was not an encouraging prospect, and he could see no way of avoiding it.

"It does not sound nice," he said.

"No," said Niven savagely. "If there's no improvement--and I don't expect there will be--I'm not going to put up with it." Then he glanced at his companion. "Tom, you'll stand in with me?"

Appleby looked grave. "Don't be an ass, Chriss. Wait and see what can be done when you go home."

Niven sat silent for almost a minute, and when he spoke his young face was very determined. "The point is, when are we going home? If we sail from here for England I'll try to put up with him, but if there's to be two or three more years of it I'm going to make for the bush before she leaves Vancouver. There's no use talking. I'm quite decided, and the only question is whether you will come with me!"

Appleby, glancing at his comrade, saw that no arguments could persuade him. Niven could be very obstinate, and Appleby had reasons for believing that the other apprentices also intended slipping away.

"If you go I'll go too, but I don't want to," he said quietly. "You see, there are good mates as well as brutes like this one, while I may never get another chance if I throw away the one your father has given me. I don't like the _Aldebaran_, but I still like the sea."

"The pater would find you a dozen better ones," said Niven eagerly, but Appleby shook his head.

"I couldn't take another favour from him if I made a bad use of this one."

Niven rose and moved once or twice wearily across the deck. "I'd get him to make you. Then you're not coming?"

"Yes," said Appleby gravely. "Whatever you decide on I shall do, but that will separate us very soon, because I will not ask your father to find me another opportunity."

Niven stopped and stood still with indecision in his face, while his voice was a trifle hoarse as he said, "Tom, you're a good fellow, and ever since I knew you have done your best for me, but now--oh, it's just because you're so decent you're stopping me putting an end to this misery."

"I'm not sorry," said Appleby dryly. "If you go, I'm coming too. Only when your father sends for you I shall stay out here and do anything I can or go on board another ship as seaman."