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"Quite time that was done," said the mate, as the two lighted lanterns were taken by Bob and carried to the galley. But the door was fast, and it was not until after a good deal of dragging and wrenching that it was pulled open, I holding the two lights, while Bob tugged.
Bang! went a revolver again, and a shot whizzed by my companion's ear, and stuck into the side of the galley.
"Look sharp, Hampton; they can see you, man!" cried Mr Brymer. "Throw something over the lights."
"Done it, sir," cried Bob, as the door yielded, and I stepped forward to get the lanterns in, when, as Bob opened the door widely, and the light flashed in, he uttered a yell, and nearly dropped the lanterns, for there before us in the corner of the galley stood, or lay back, a ghastly-looking figure which at first sight seemed to me like the body of one of the mutineers who had been shot. But as I stood trembling and holding up one light, the white face moved and the eyes blinked.
"What's the matter?" cried Mr Brymer, loudly. "Go and see, Mr Frewen."
The doctor took a few steps and joined us, saw the figure, and said sharply--"Another prisoner?"
"No, sir; can't he; 'cause he's fastened hisself in," replied Bob.
"Why, matey, what are you doing here? I thought you was a ghost."
"Why, it's the cook!" I exclaimed.
"Cooky it is, sir," said Hampton. "Here y'are, mate; we've brought you a light."
The lanterns were thrust in, the door shut, and we hurried back, discussing our discovery, but this was checked by the firing from the hatch, while the blows from an axe threatened to make short work of the door and the boards that had been nailed across.
"What's to be done?" said Mr Preddle, mildly. "Hadn't you better speak to them, Mr Brymer?"
"I feel as if I can only speak by deputy," he replied, and he raised his pistol,--"by this. But I don't like firing until the last extremity."
"I'll speak to them," said Mr Frewen.
"Very well; but get well out of reach. They will not be so merciful as we are."
Mr Frewen went round to the bow-side of the hatch, and shouted loudly to those in the forecastle, with the result that the chopping ceased, and after a few moments' delay Jarette's voice was heard.
"You surrender then, eh?" he shouted. "Look sharp and knock off these boards."
Mr Brymer could not help laughing aloud, and a pistol was fired in his direction.
"Stop that!" shouted Mr Frewen. "Look here, my men, if you hand out your weapons through the top of the hatch, and promise not to attempt to escape, food and water shall be pa.s.sed down, and you shall receive fair treatment till we get into port."
"Do you hear, my lads?" cried Jarette, loudly. "And when we get in port they'll hand us over as prisoners. What do you--there, I'll say it for you," he continued hastily. "No, no, no! And now listen to me, all you who can hear. You can't sail into port without us, and you are only proposing a truce because you are growing frightened."
"Indeed!" said Mr Frewen, coolly.
"Yes, indeed, doctor. I know your voice. Now you take my advice--you and those two pa.s.sengers. Get back to your cabins, and perhaps I'll forgive you. We can come on deck now whenever we like, and we're masters here. If you don't do as I say, look out, for I warn you I can cover all of you with my pistol, and if I couldn't I'd sink the s.h.i.+p before you should hold her again."
"Then you refuse to surrender?" cried Mr Frewen. "Harkye, my lads, below there; don't let this madman lead you on to your ruin. Will you surrender?"
"Silence below there!" shouted Jarette. "I'll give him his answer.
There!"
He fired, evidently aiming in the direction of Mr Frewen's voice, for the bullet whizzed over the doctor's head; when, without waiting for orders, Mr Preddle fired back, and his shot was followed by a sharp e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, suggesting that some one had been hit; but directly after we heard a little talking, and several shots were fired at us, but without effect.
"There," said Mr Brymer, "we have done our duty by them, we must now do it by ourselves."
"If we could only master that one man," said Mr Frewen in the little council of war which followed, "we could manage."
"Hadn't you better order the hose to be laid on, Mr Brymer, sir," said Bob Hampton, "and drown 'em out like rats?"
"It would be punis.h.i.+ng the weak with the guilty and strong, my lad,"
said Mr Brymer. "I am loth to proceed to extremities."
"Werry well then, sir, smoke 'em out as you would rats. I dessay the doctor has got some brimstone."
"Yes, I have, Hampton," said Mr Frewen; "but, you see, these are men, not rats."
"That's a true word, sir."
"You would not like to kill them all in cold blood, my man?"
"No, sir, that's a butchery sort o' way; but I'm ready to give 'em a wopses' nest squib to bring 'em to their senses."
"Out of their senses, man!" cried Mr Frewen, impatiently. "It means death, I tell you--wholesale murder. The men, I repeat, are not rats."
"Well, sir, they're behaving like 'em, and there's no gammon about it now. They're desprit; Jarette's worked 'em up; and they've got the judge to face if we take 'em into port. Strikes me it's our lives or theirn; but you knows best. I was thinking about the young lady."
Just then the chopping began again, and Mr Brymer raised his pistol and fired.
The chopping ceased, and there was a burst of loud talking. Then all was still for hours, while a careful watch was kept until morning.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
The discovery of the cook made a great difference in the state of affairs. It was found that he had been forced by Jarette's threats to work for the mutineers, and if they had gained the upper hand he would no doubt have sided with them again; but now he seemed to return gladly to his regular duties, and he was as energetic as possible in preparing breakfast, waiting on Miss Denning and her brother, and when he was not cooking, making himself generally useful, as the advertis.e.m.e.nts say, about the cabins, especially that of the captain, to whom, unasked, he began to act as nurse.
That morning, by Mr Brymer's orders, he filled a number of bottles with fresh water, and got ready a quant.i.ty of biscuits, which he was told to bear to the mutineers.
"But I dursen't, sir," he said. "That Jarette would swear I was a traitor as soon as he heard my voice, and shoot me same as he did poor Phipps."
"What! the steward?" cried Mr Frewen.
"Yes, sir, dead, on the night they rose."
"You rose," said Mr Brymer.
"No, sir, I didn't; I'm only a cook, and not a fighting man. One does lots of things when a pistol's held to your head as you wouldn't do other times."
"Bring the biscuit and water," said Mr Frewen, "and I'll speak to the men. They will not use pistols when they know food is going to be given to them."
The cook shook his head.
"You don't know Jarette, sir," he said.