CHAPTER XXV.

THE CABIN ATTACKED.

Some of the mutineers now proceeded to throw various missiles, such as cold shot, ship-buckets, spare or fallen blocks from aloft, the carpenter's paint-pots, and so forth, into the ship's cabin; but only in one instance, when Tom Bartelot received a contusion on the shoulder, from a wooden marline-spike flung at random, did any of these take effect, as our friends lurked securely, pistol in hand, in the recesses of the upper stern-lockers, in the berths, and so forth, but none as yet could foresee where this strife was to end, or who would first come to terms, before the ship was utterly destroyed, as it bade fair to be, if this internal war continued.

Now the voice of Barradas was heard, giving orders to cast loose one of the carronades on the quarter-deck.

"What are they about to do with the carronade?" asked Morley, as he listened intently.

"Lower it between decks, to fire through the bulkhead," suggested the old man-o'-war's man, Noah.

"But have they any round shot?" asked Morley.

"We have six rounds for each gun round the coaming of the main-hatch," said Captain Phillips, with a very dejected air; "and there are plenty more in the hold. Shot are wanted sometimes in the Indian seas."

"And the powder?"

"Is all kept in a little magazine near the taffrail--the powder required for immediate service, I mean."

"The gun is cast loose," said Bartelot; "if Noah's idea be their game, it is all up with us, as they may bowl us to death without danger of resistance."

"Unless when they are at work in the hold, we make a sally, regain possession of the deck, ship on the main-hatch, and smother the whole brood!" said Phillips, with a more savage emotion than ever before glowed in his kind and jolly breast.

A few minutes of painful suspense served to show that the intentions of the mutineers were quite different.

They were heard to break open the powder magazine, and load the carronade, which, with loud yells, and much vociferation, they urged forward to the rim of the skylight with such force as nearly to break the framework to pieces, and over it, by using capstan-bars as levers, they levelled and depressed the gun, by hoisting up the hind wheels of the carriage, and driving home quoins under the breach, till the muzzle was at the angle of forty-five degrees, and pointed almost towards the bulkhead of the little cabin in which Ethel and Rose were weeping and praying.

Scarcely a moment was given for question or consideration, ere Quaco, the black Virginian, came rushing aft from the caboose, with his sable cheekbones shining, and his yellow eyes aflame, as he flourished a red-hot poker, which, as an extempore match, he applied to the touch-hole.

A sudden and blinding flash, with a cloud of suffocating smoke, filled all the cabin, and there was a report, or concussion, which made the ship reel to her centre; a hundred splinters seemed to fly in every direction, but still no personal danger was done, though the gun had been charged, not with round shot, but with a bag of nails, nearly all of which crashed through the centre of the mahogany table, and lodged in the deck below.

It was not until the first blink of dawn that those in the cabin knew this; their first idea being, that a round shot had been sent through the vessel's bottom; but, mad and furious though the mutineers were, there was a method in their proceedings, and to utterly destroy the ship was no part of their daring plan.

Wailing cries of terror came from the ladies' cabin, and wild and noisy ones from the old nurse; but no one was hurt there, though all were nearly stifled by the smoke of the discharge, ere it rose slowly through the open skylight, and floated away into the still night air.

As the sailors were withdrawing the gun, taking advantage of its recoil, a volley of pistol-shots from below whistled about them, and Dr. Heriot, with a steady aim of the fowling-piece, sent a charge of buck-shot from both barrels into the face and shoulders of one fellow, who was immediately borne forward to the care of Quaco, who, greatly to his own delight, and with all the mingled fun and cruelty peculiar to his dingy race, proceeded to extract them from the bleeding wretch, more curiously than skilfully, with the prongs of a carving-fork.

They now lashed the gun to its port again, and retired forward, to consult probably.

The ship's bell was no longer struck to call the watches, but the man at the wheel was regularly relieved, and, though sometimes exposed to shots from the cabin, he was never fired on. Under her courses and other lower sails, the ship was steered to the north-east, but her exact course those in the cabin knew not, as the tell-tale compass had gone to wreck long ago, under the missiles showered so liberally through the skylight.

By the sounds that came aft from time to time, it was evident that the crew were eating, drinking, and making merry in the region of the forecastle; but the fears of those in the cabin were increased by this hilarity, which increased the evil chances that overhung the ship, if a gale came on, and found her with her crew and rigging in such a state of disorder, and half the main-hatch open!

As day dawned, and the armed lurkers in the once trim cabin looked around them, its aspect filled them with exasperation and dismay.

The mahogany table, polished to perfection by poor Joe, was split, and literally torn to pieces by the contents of the carronade; and below it, the planks were thickly sown with nails. All the missiles we have enumerated, the fire buckets, double and single blocks, six-pound shot, holystones, and "prayer-books," &c., encumbered the floor; and there, cold, white, and ghastly, lay the stiffened corpse of the unfortunate Mr. Quail, with many a spot and patch of blood, that had dropped from the cuts and scars of his companions.

Taking advantage of the lull in the hostilities, Morley, Bartelot, and Noah Gawthrop added all the missiles that strewed the floor to the barricade behind the cabin-door; Mr. Foster procured more caps and ammunition for their fire-arms; Heriot prepared plasters and bandages for their flesh wounds and bruises, while Mr. Basset and the captain took some wine-and-water, with biscuits, to Ethel, Rose, and their old attendant, as the only breakfast they had to offer. After this, unknown to their fair friends in misfortune, Morrison and Foster made preparations to launch the mortal remains of the poor mate into the deep.

No time was there then for prayer or homily.

The body was simply rolled up in a blanket taken from his own bed, lashed tight at the head and foot with a piece of rope. To the ankles were lashed four of the shot with which the rascals on deck had favoured them; and, opening one of the large windows next the rudder-case, they permitted the body to drop gently, feet foremost, into the pale-green water that seethed under the counter.

It could be seen sinking slowly far down into the depths of the morning sea, where it vanished; but not soon enough to elude the keen instinct of some Cape pigeons and albatrosses, which gathered, with ravening beaks and flapping wings, about the place where the corpse went down, and where but a few spreading ripples appeared upon the trough of the rolling waves.

By her frothy wake astern, the _Hermione_ seemed to be going through the water at the rate of six knots an hour, for the breeze was fresh and steady.

Some cold beef from the locker of poor Joe, and a glass of brandy-and-water, were served round for breakfast; and none spoke, though all thought of how they would fare when the last drop of water in the cabin was gone!

So passed the noon.

The ill-fated ship still ran north-eastward, increasing hourly, as Captain Phillips said, her chances of being overhauled by some homeward-bound ship--a chance on which their hopes of succour mainly depended now.

END OF VOL. II.

CHARLES DICKENS AND EVANS, CRYSTAL PALACE

End of Project Gutenberg's Morley Ashton, Volume 2 (of 3), by James Grant