CHAPTER XII

A STORM AT SEA

A sound as of a vast drum being beaten, a drum bigger and more sonorous than anything ever conceived of, suddenly filled the salon. The walls seemed to quiver. So great was the noise, so shattering, that all put their hands to their ears, as if their very eardrums were threatened. The boys and Mr. Temple who were alone, looked at each other in alarm.

The next moment the trawler, which until then had been riding on even keel, heeled far over, so far, indeed, that it seemed as if she could not right herself. Caught off guard the boys were tossed against the doors of their cabins and bruised badly by the impact. Then slowly, like a swimmer coming to the surface after a dive, the ship righted herself only to begin a tossing motion that was frightful.

"First the rain," shouted Mr. Temple, who by clutching the table had maintained his equilibrium, "and now the wind. That's all."

The door of the companionway was thrust back rudely, admitting a cascade of water that washed across the floor and the reeling form of Matt Murphy. His head hung low and there was that in his attitude which told Frank, the most sensitive of the boys, that he was in trouble. Frank sprang to his assistance.

"Good boy," said Murphy, thickly. "Shut the door or the whole Pacific Ocean will be in here."

Frank slammed the watertight door and then turned to Murphy. His companions also had gathered around. Murphy grasped the table with his left hand. The right arm hung useless.

"Me arm's broke I guess," he said. "Git that doctor out o' the Big Boss's room. Calls himself a doctor, anyhow."

Frank hastened to pound on the door of "Black George's" cabin. At first there was no answer. Then a weak voice began to curse, the sounds barely audible to Frank above the roar of the storm.

He was uncertain what to do and turned to appeal to Murphy. The latter, reeling and clutching the table, interpreted his action aright.

"Open the door," he said.

Frank complied.

On a tumbled berth lay the form of "Black George," with head bandaged, recumbent, relaxed, breathing heavily. In a corner on the floor, as if tossed there by the action of the ship, half lay, half crouched a little fat man with gray hair and ragged gray mustache. As Frank opened the door he looked up, through bleared eyes, ceased mumbling and stared in fright.

"Don't take me, Mr. Devil. Please don't take me," he pleaded piteously.

Frank was thrust aside by Matt Murphy, who had come to investigate. Despite his broken arm, which must have been giving him great pain, the latter advanced to the cowering form in the corner.

"Why, you're not even drunk," he said, after a moment's scrutiny. "I believe you're just scared. Come. Out wit' ye."

Seizing the other's collar with his sound arm Murphy started to drag him into the salon. It was the boy's first sight of the man taking care of "Black George." Since they had come aboard he had not left the cabin to their knowledge. Chinese servants had taken his food to him. For that matter, they had seen nobody in authority except Matt Murphy. First mate? Second mate? Engineer? If the vessel owned them, at least they had not been seen.

Now the frightened little fat man grasped Murphy by a leg and almost pulled him to the floor. He babbled incoherently. Murphy tugged at him a moment, then tossed him back into his corner in disgust and started to withdraw. His eyes fell on the still form of "Black George." He stooped over him, raised his eyelids, let them fall, and with an oath of disgust quit the cabin for the main salon, slamming the door behind him.

Dispiritedly, he slumped against the table.

"Master down an' out wit' drugs," he said. "That's what comes av association' wit' these Chinee people. You get to be a dopefiend. An' doctor so scared he's av no use. Uh."

Frank advanced.

"Look here, Mr. Murphy," he said. "If your arm's hurt, let us examine it. Bob here is a pretty good hand at rough surgical work. He took a course in first-aid, so he could help out in football accidents at school."

Murphy looked up hopefully.

"That so? Well, have a luk, lad. Here"--addressing Frank--"ye'll find bandages an' splints an' iodine in that cabinet in my cabin. Go an' git 'em. An' bring me that bottle o' licker ye'll find there, too. I nade somethin' to put sperrit in me this night."

One long pull he took at the bottle of liquor, then ordered Frank to take it away, after Mr. Temple had declined his offer of a drink.

"One's enough," he said. "I've got work to do an' must kape my head. Now lad"--extending his arm and addressing Bob--"go ahead."

Murphy was without a coat, and Bob's first move was to cut away the left sleeve of his flannel shirt. Deftly Bob worked, aided now and then by his companions, while Murphy sat without a groan throughout the whole operation. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. At the end, however, his arm was neatly and stoutly bound in splints and lashed across his chest.

"That's wan I owe you, boys," he said, when the operation was completed. "Matt Murphy don't forgit. Now I'll be on me way to the bridge, or that Chinee at the wheel will be droppin' away from the wind an' there'll be the Divil to pay."

As he rose to his feet and started for the door, Frank intervened.

"Won't you let me come up to have a look around, Mr. Murphy?" he begged.

"I will not," said Matt Murphy, violently. "Don't ye know why I kept ye below all day? 'Tis because the Chinees have it in for ye for half-killin' Wong Ho. There's only two I kin trust an' them's the wans as cooks for ye an' serves the food. Stay where ye are an' be safe."

With that he opened the door, reeled back before the force of the wind and the swirling gray hail of rain, then lowered his head and charged through, pulling the door to behind him.

"So that explains why we've been kept below here," said Mr. Temple thoughtfully. "Well, the prospect if we fall into the hands of the Chinese crew doesn't look pleasant."

"I've heard," said Jack, "that the Chinese idolize certain leaders, and will go to any lengths to obtain revenge for injury to them."

Mr. Temple nodded.

"Nevertheless," he said, hopefully, "this man Murphy seems a pretty good sort, rough as he is. He'll do his best to protect us."

"Yes," declared Frank, "it seemed to me tonight that he was beginning to regret being a party to our captivity. He doesn't want us to fall into the hands of the Chinamen. And he's disgusted, too, with his employer. Maybe, we'll get him on our side yet."

"He'll protect us from the Chinamen all right," said Bob. "But when his boss, 'Black George,' recovers, he will be powerless. If this scoundrel is saving us in order to exact vengeance on us for the way we laid him out, we'll be in a pretty fix."

"Listen," said Jack. "I have an idea."

"What?"

"Why, here is 'Black George' helpless, with only a fright-crazed little pudding of a doctor to help him. Let us take possession of 'Black George' and gain the whip hand over Murphy. Then we can compel Murphy to come over to our side, perhaps."

"How?"

"Why, we'll buy our freedom with the freedom of Murphy's master."

"I don't believe it can be done, Jack," said Mr. Temple thoughtfully. "It isn't only Murphy with whom we have to reckon, but these Chinamen, too. With them above all. 'Black George' probably doesn't mean much to them. They would rather see him killed than see us escape their clutch. They probably feel that when we reach the smugglers' cove they can compel 'Black George' to turn us over to their tender mercies, and that is the only reason they have been content to keep hands off so far."

Jack was silent. The force of Mr. Temple's reasoning was apparent to him.

"Well, then," he said presently, "we'll have to capture the ship in some way. That's all. And, perhaps, we can persuade Murphy to give us weapons and help us overawe the Chinese crew."

"Perhaps we can," said Mr. Temple. "Meantime, let us all turn in and get some sleep. Tomorrow will be the day on which we must make whatever attempt we decide on. And we'll need all our strength and alertness then. Frank, do you and Jack be sure to lock your cabin door again as you did last night, and we will do likewise. Let us each take a heavy chair into our rooms, too. In case of a night attack, we can at least pull the chair apart for clubs. And now, good night."

Mr. Temple thereupon turned in. For some moments, more, however, the boys chatted and tried to read, but at last they, too, retired. As far as they could tell, the storm continued to rage undiminished.

"I wonder what tomorrow will bring forth, Jack," said Frank, just before going to sleep.

"I wonder," said Jack. "Good night."