In the past twenty-four hours many things have happened. To begin with, we nearly lost the steward in the second dog-watch last evening. Through the slits in the ventilator some man thrust a knife into the sacks of flour and cut them wide open from top to bottom.
In the dark the flour poured to the deck unobserved.
Of course, the man behind could not see through the screen of empty sacks, but he took a blind pot-shot at point-blank range when the steward went by, slip-sloppily dragging the heels of his slippers.
Fortunately it was a miss, but so close a miss was it that his cheek and neck were burned with powder grains.
At six bells in the first watch came another surprise. Tom Spink came to me where I stood guard at the for'ard end of the poop. His voice shook as he spoke.
"For the love of God, sir, they've come," he said.
"Who?" I asked sharply.
"Them," he chattered. "The ones that come aboard off the Horn, sir, the three drownded sailors. They're there, aft, sir, the three of 'em, standin' in a row by the wheel.""How did they get there?"
"Bein' warlocks, they flew, sir. You didn't see 'm go by you, did you, sir?""No," I admitted. "They never went by me."Poor Tom Spink groaned.
"But there are lines aloft there on which they could cross over from mizzen to jigger," I added. "Send Wada to me."When the latter relieved me I went aft. And there in a row were our three pale-haired storm-waifs with the topaz eyes. In the light of a bull's-eye, held on them by Louis, their eyes never seemed more like the eyes of great cats. And, heavens, they purred! At least, the inarticulate noises they made sounded more like purring than anything else. That these sounds meant friendliness was very evident. Also, they held out their hands, palms upward, in unmistakable sign of peace. Each in turn doffed his cap and placed my hand for a moment on his head. Without doubt this meant their offer of fealty, their acceptance of me as master.
I nodded my head. There was nothing to be said to men who purred like cats, while sign-language in the light of the bull's-eye was rather difficult. Tom Spink groaned protest when I told Louis to take them below and give them blankets.
I made the sleep-sign to them, and they nodded gratefully, hesitated, then pointed to their mouths and rubbed their stomachs.
"Drowned men do not eat," I laughed to Tom Spink. "Go down and watch them. Feed them up, Louis, all they want. It's a good sign of short rations for'ard."At the end of half an hour Tom Spink was back.
"Well, did they eat?" I challenged him.
But he was unconvinced. The very quantity they had eaten was a suspicious thing, and, further, he had heard of a kind of ghost that devoured dead bodies in graveyards. Therefore, he concluded, mere non-eating was no test for a ghost.
The third event of moment occurred this morning at seven o'clock.
The mutineers called for a truce; and when Nosey Murphy, the Maltese Cockney, and the inevitable Charles Davis stood beneath me on the main deck, their faces showed lean and drawn. Famine had been my great ally. And in truth, with Margaret beside me in that high place of the break of the poop, as I looked down on the hungry wretches Ifelt very strong. Never had the inequality of numbers fore and aft been less than now. The three deserters, added to our own nine, made twelve of us, while the mutineers, after subtracting Ditman Olansen, Bob and the Faun, totalled only an even score. And of these Bert Rhine must certainly be in a bad way, while there were many weaklings, such as Sundry Buyers, Nancy, Larry, and Lars Jacobsen.
"Well, what do you want?" I demanded. "I haven't much time to waste.
Breakfast is ready and waiting."
Charles Davis started to speak, but I shut him off.
"I'll have nothing out of you, Davis. At least not now. Later on, when I'm in that court of law you've bothered me with for half the voyage, you'll get your turn at talking. And when that time comes don't forget that I shall have a few words to say."Again he began, but this time was stopped by Nosey Murphy.
"Aw, shut your trap, Davis," the gangster snarled, "or I'll shut it for you." He glanced up to me. "We want to go back to work, that's what we want.""Which is not the way to ask for it," I answered.
"Sir," he added hastily.
"That's better," I commented.
"Oh, my God, sir, don't let 'm come aft." Tom Spink muttered hurriedly in my ear. "That'd be the end of all of us. And even if they didn't get you an' the rest, they'd heave me over some dark night. They ain't never goin' to forgive me, sir, for joinin' in with the afterguard."I ignored the interruption and addressed the gangster.
"There's nothing like going to work when you want to as badly as you seem to. Suppose all hands get sail on her just to show good intention.""We'd like to eat first, sir," he objected.
"I'd like to see you setting sail, first," was my reply. "And you may as well get it from me straight that what I like goes, aboard this ship."--I almost said "hooker."Nosey Murphy hesitated and looked to the Maltese Cockney for counsel.
The latter debated, as if gauging the measure of his weakness while he stared aloft at the work involved. Finally he nodded.
"All right, sir," the gangster spoke up. "We'll do it . . . but can't something be cookin' in the galley while we're doin' it?"I shook my head.
"I didn't have that in mind, and I don't care to change my mind now.
When every sail is stretched and every yard braced, and all that mess of gear cleared up, food for a good meal will be served out. You needn't bother about the spanker nor the mizzen-braces. We'll make your work lighter by that much."In truth, as they climbed aloft they showed how miserably weak they were. There were some too feeble to go aloft. Poor Sundry Buyers continually pressed his abdomen as he toiled around the deck-capstans; and never was Nancy's face quite so forlorn as when he obeyed the Maltese Cockney's command and went up to loose the mizzen-skysail.
