CHAPTER IX.

THE QUARTER-BOAT AND ITS FREIGHT.

The silence below was caused simply by the circumstance--a somewhat unusual one now--of all her friends being _on deck_.

They had recovered complete possession of the half-dismantled ship.

So busy had they all been about the restoration of Mr. Basset, that they heard nothing of the ribald songs, the wild uproar, and systematic noise of the crew, who were all clustered forward about the forecastle and windlass-bitts--a coarse and brutish hilarity induced by the contents of the brandy jar. Of this they had all freely partaken; none more so, perhaps, than Pedro Barradas, to deaden or drown the sense of agony he endured in his wounded arm, which was now bringing on a species of remorse for the past, and that emotion he sedulously sought to lull or stifle too.

An unnatural stillness succeeding the uproar which had reigned so long on deck, attracted, however, the attention of Captain Phillips and Tom Bartelot; and, as Mr. Basset had now been consigned to the care of Ethel, they began to confer with the rest about the probable results of the jar of drugged brandy.

"The scoundrels, I believe, are all asleep, or dead drunk," suggested Dr. Heriot; "I was not particular to a scruple about the morphia and belladonna I poured in."

"Then now is our time to retake the ship, and send every one of them to leeward," said Captain Phillips, starting up from the cabin-locker. "Look to your pistols, my good friends, and follow me."

The barricades were removed from the cabin-door, and those who had been so long imprisoned below crept up the companion-stairs, and peeped out in succession.

Overhead "the blue, wide shell of the sky," as Ossian names it, was clear and starry, and the waning moon, cold, pale, and white, shone over the calm, still ocean from the horizon, casting the weird shadow of the ship far to the westward, over the silvered sea.

The _Hermione_ was almost becalmed, and most fortunately for the safety of all. Her fore and main courses, with a single neglected reef in each, hung motionless, like two great tablecloths on a clothes-line. Unhoisted, the jib and fore-staysail, "lay in a blessed ruck," as Noah phrased it, each at the foot of the stays. The driver was brailed up, and its gaff and boom swayed idly to and fro. The deck was encumbered by spars, yards, bundles of sails, half-coiled ropes, and much of the debris that had come down from aloft when the ship broached to on the night of the mutiny, together with casks, boxes, sacks, empty bottles, and other things which had been brought out of the hold, one of the hatches of which was still open; and thus the disordered ship was floating like a log upon the water, at the mercy of any sudden squall or gale, her abandoned wheel, revolving some four or five spokes from port to starboard ever and anon, with an impatient jerk as the rudder grated from side to side on its iron pintles, though it had been "made fast," in a very loose fashion, by the steersman.

Near it lay that official, a seaman named William Cribbet, asleep, in a stupor apparently, so Noah pulled a few fathoms of stout yarn from his pocket, sprang upon him with an exclamation which was not quite a benediction, turned him on his face, and in a trice lashed his hands hard and fast behind his back.

Proceeding forward, they found fifteen or sixteen of the crew lying about the break of the forecastle, under the long-boat, or near the windlass-bitts, some on pieces of sail, and others on the bare deck; but all asleep, or snorting in a state of idiotic intoxication. Broken in pieces, and scattered about were fragments of the brandy-jar, the contents of which brought all this to pass.

Each man in succession they tied securely, though one or two attempted to resist, even when the cold muzzle of a cocked pistol was pressed against their ears; and others began to threaten and revile their captors, as the operation of binding roused, and partially sobered them. At last every man was bound and at their mercy.

"What are we to do with them now, Captain Phillips?" asked Morley.

"Short-handed as we are, we can never work the ship, even dismantled as she is, and watch and cook for all these villains, too," said Mr. Foster; "and as for trusting 'em again----"

"Trust them again--cook for them indeed!" exclaimed Captain Phillips; "cook for a gang of pirates and murderers--feed up what ought to be hung! It is a mercy from Heaven that no breeze or gale came on ere this, for we must have foundered then, and all gone to the bottom together. No, Mr. Foster; I shall neither keep them nor feed them, but overboard they shall go, every man and mother's son!"

"Drown them, do you mean?" asked Tom Bartelot, with anxious surprise.

"No, for that might cause an unpleasant imputation on us all."

"What then?"

"I mean simply to maroon the whole gang. They shall have a chance for their worthless lives; but not aboard my ship."

"On an island--there should be several hereabout, that is, if we are near Madagascar," observed Bartelot.

"No, I shall not wait for the chance of sighting land, but will sacrifice my good quarter-boat, and with it get rid of them all. Noah Gawthrop, jump into the quarter-boat and clear the fall tackle. Mr. Morrison and Mr. Ashton, please to cast off--stand by to lower away and bring her alongside."

"Under the mizzen-chains?" asked Morley.

"Yes, round here to the port-side."

This order was promptly obeyed, for anything like freedom became a luxury now. Quickly the double-sheaved blocks revolved as the davits swung round and tackles fell; then the boat was speedily made fast by Noah to the side-chains by the bow-rope.

"Mr. Foster," said Captain Phillips, "get up a gang-cask of fresh water, and also a few dozen of biscuit from the cabin-locker. More food or mercy these piratical wretches shall not have from me; and now let us all bear a hand, for I feel that coolness in the air which always precedes a breeze; so we have no time to lose. Search and disarm every man; then chuck them into the boat, and cut it adrift."

The first who was collared and dragged over the side was he whom Heriot had so peppered with the fowling-piece, that, as Noah said, "his face looked like plum-duff, with currants, on a Christmas-day."

A sheath-knife was taken from his belt; he was then half-lifted, half-flung into the boat, where he lay across the thwarts, kicking and blaspheming, but unable either to resist or pick himself up.

"Who comes next?" asked the captain.

"Cribbet, who was steering."

"Cribbet, who was sleeping rather. Over with him. Who is the next?'

"Badger, the Yankee," replied Foster.

"Give me his pistols," said Phillips, who, with his new purpose, had resumed his tone of authority.

"Now, airthquakes and sherry-cobbler! wot air yew up to?" he stammered out. "I say, shipmates--hallo! Vast heaving, yew bloated Britishers!"

"Heave with a will! In with him--over with him!"

And in a trice this long-legged son of Columbia was sprawling over the thwarts below.

The idea of cropping Badger's ears actually occurred to Heriot; but he dismissed it as too barbarous and unworthy, even while remembering all the man's rascality.

"What son of Old Scratch is this?" asked Morrison, dragging one from under the gallows-bitts, abaft the foremast.

"Sharkey, with Mr. Basset's revolver in his belt."

"The ugly villain!"

"The murderer of my friend Manfredi, captain," said Heriot, with mingled sadness and loathing.

"An out-and-out ticket-o'-leaver," added Noah, squirting his quid into Sharkey's eye, as he was cast into the boat with a lurch that nearly overset it; "we should lynch him at the yard-arm, captain, that we should."

"Quaco, the cook, next. Heave ahead, darkey," said Foster.

"Yaas, yaas, Master Foster!" grinned the negro, who was helplessly intoxicated, and but partially awake.

"Black in heart, and black in face."

"Bolter! Come along, you traitorous scoundrel!"

Mr. Benjamin Bolter, who was more sober than the rest, kicked vigorously, and nearly fell into the sea, in which case he must have sunk like a stone, as his arms were tied, and neither friends nor foes could have saved him; but such were the comments made by the recaptors of the ship, as the mutineers were flung over the side into the boat, like so many sacks of wool or flour.

Zuares, who seemed in a perfect stupor, came last. There were taken from them the revolver, of which Mr. Basset had been deprived, with his watch and rings, six old brass-barrelled pistols, and about a dozen sheath-knives.

"Pedro Barradas--where is Pedro?" asked Captain Phillips, suddenly; "every rascal is in the boat but he."

"He is not on deck, sir," said Mr. Foster.

"Can he have been killed--or has he jumped overboard?"

"Not likely the last--he is too cowardly to die if he can help it."

"Search the bunks forward--lose no time."

"Aye, aye, sir."

There Pedro was found and dragged forth. He offered no resistance, but moaned heavily, and hung lifeless in their hands.

"Hoist the carrion up, and over with him," said Captain Phillips, who, though naturally one of the kindest and jolliest of men, seemed, for the time, to be hardened and pitiless, as he said, "all mercy had been quite squeezed out of him."

"Stop, if you please," said Heriot, who looked earnestly at Pedro's eyes, and felt his pulse; "we must not be quite so merciless to them as they would have been to us."

"What do you mean, doctor?" asked Phillips, impatiently.

"This man is dying," replied Heriot.

"Dying!" repeated all, drawing near.

"Yes--look here," said Heriot.

And certainly Pedro's face, when viewed by the cold, clear light of the waning moon, presented a most striking and appalling aspect. His features were regular, even handsome; his black eyes, that nearly met over the long and well-cut nose, seemed darker now; his tawny hue was gone, and a death-like tint, as of white marble, had replaced it, forming a singular contrast to the intense blackness of his beard, moustache, and curly hair; his lower jaw had fallen, his eyes were almost closed, his respirations were heavy and uncertain, his pulse was low and sinking, and he drooped helplessly in the arms of Foster and Morrison, who had dragged him to the port gangway.

"Are you sure of what you say, doctor?" asked Captain Phillips, earnestly.

"Quite, sir; ah! these terrible signs are not to be mistaken."

"Then, how long do you think he may live?"

"Till midday to-morrow--certainly not until midnight."

"In that case," said Captain Phillips, turning to the others, after a pause, during which much reviling and growling were heard alongside, "we must temper justice with mercy. Our own safety requires that we must rid ourselves of those rascals; but this one, although the worst and leader of them all, may remain on board, and die at his leisure. Stow him away in the bunks, Foster; and, doctor, give him a touch of your skill."

"If he lives?"

"He shall be hanged at Port Louis, and, if he dies, why then he becomes what he would have made each one of us--food for Jack Shark."

Morrison and Foster carried Pedro back into the forecastle, and deposited him in one of the most comfortable bunks--one of those farthest from the cutwater and heel of the bowsprit, and there, soon after, Heriot came to attend him.

"Now in with the gang-cask and the biscuits," said Captain Phillips; "look alive about it, Foster. I feel a puff of wind, so we must soon attend to the ship; throw them in a couple of oars, they can unlash one another when sober, and pull whichever way they please. Now, cut off the painter, Noah, and set the mutinous spawn adrift."

Promptly as the captain could have wished Noah cast-off the painter; but the boat still clung close to the mizzen-chains, and jarred--on the principle of attraction--against the vessel's side.

"Take a boot-hook, Noah, and shove her clear off the counter," said Morrison, looking over the side. "By the way the rudder hangs, there is a strong current running here, and that will soon drift her clear of the ship."

The boat, with its as yet helpless load of ruffianism, was soon shoved astern of the _Hermione_, and, as Morrison foretold, it rapidly drifted away on the starboard quarter.

"Oh, imagine what those fellows may--nay, must--endure, when they all become sober after so many days and nights of almost ceaseless intoxication!" said Heriot, looking after the boat with very little commiseration in his eye or voice, as it rose and fell on the long glassy rollers that glittered in the full sheen of the waning moon, whose disc was dipping now at the horizon, and sending from thence a path of dazzling light across the ocean. "Sea and sky will be round them," continued the doctor. "As the ballad says:

'Water, water everywhere, Yet not a drop to drink!'"

"Aye, yer honour; the contents o' that 'ere gang-cask won't last 'em long," said Noah with a grin.

"The poor wretches will go mad!" said Morley, who thought of his own sufferings on the wreck.

"Mad?" repeated Noah.

"Yes; and drink each other's blood, perhaps. I have read of such things."

"And I've heard of such things, many times, in forecastle yarns; but as for men positively eating one another----"

"They may do so, and welcome, Noah," interrupted Captain Phillips, who was surveying, with increasing wrath, the disordered and dilapidated state of his once beautiful ship, the pride of his owners, and the pet of his heart.

Already half-sobered, or becoming aware of their situation, some of the crew began to shout and hail the ship, particularly Badger.

"Lookey har, capting! Halloo, yew Britishers!" he cried, again and again; but the hail became fainter as the boat drifted steadily away, first out of the fading line of moonlight, and then on the face of the sea, which darkened as the moon went down, and the stars shone sharp and clear.

"A breeze is coming fast," said Captain Phillips, cheerfully, as he took the wheel. "Now, gentlemen, our only real foremast-man is Noah, so we must all become A.B.'s, and work together, and with a will! Dr. Heriot and Mr. Ashton, set those head-sails; up with the jib and staysail; haul taut and belay. That will do. Now set the driver; haul out and sheet home; ease off those starboard tacks; coil up and belay everything that is loose or adrift on deck. We have hard work before us, and our lives yet depend upon how we perform it."

"Give me the wheel, Captain Phillips," said Tom Bartelot. "You have your whole ship to look after."

"Thank you, Captain Bartelot."

"Our course----" began the latter.

"Matters little to-night, or for the remainder of the morning; only, not knowing our whereabouts, we must keep a bright look-out. To-morrow's observations will let us know all."

"Ah, we're in latitudes now where Admiral Fitzroy's storm-drums, cones, barometers, jigamarees, and all them sort o' things ain't no use," said Noah; "it's Heaven's own blessed stars does the business o' nights--here we read 'em as if they were a pictur' book."

The wind came puff after puff, till the breeze grew fine and steady. The fore and main courses soon filled and swelled out; the leach of each sail formed a complete arc, and the once slack sheets became taut, while the reef-points pattered as the ship rose and fell on the rolling sea.

Once again the _Hermione_ walked through the waters, while the first rays of the coming sun began to play along the edge of the horizon, and on the clouds above, in tints of gold and crimson; and far astern she left the drifting quarter-boat, with its freight of yelling and raving wretches, to their fate, perhaps their death, upon the sea.

By mid-day it could not be discerned, even with the aid of the most powerful glass on board.