The Blood Ship Part 24

They had good reason to curse. My disclosure gave them a fresh fear.

Consternation was in their faces and voices, especially in the faces and voices of the stiffs. I knew very well what frightened them. c.o.c.kney had been most violent and outspoken among those advocating mutiny, far more outspoken than the cautious Blackie or Boston, and the disaffected had naturally confided in him. I knew that every man in the crew who had expressed a willingness to revolt was known by name to c.o.c.kney (and without doubt to Yankee Swope) and these men now could not escape the feeling that they were marked men. If anything had been needed to settle the conviction of the foc'sle that mutiny was necessary, this unmasking of c.o.c.kney supplied the need.

I felt this, rather than thought it out. It was in the air, so to speak.

At the moment, I was too much concerned for the little parson to reason coolly. Oh, I reasoned about it a little while later, not coolly perhaps, but certainly quickly, and leaped helter-skelter to a momentous decision. But just then I thought about Holy Joe.

I wanted to get his arm set, and his body examined. I, myself, was not competent to do either. The squarehead had spoken truth--it would be madness to carry the man aft for treatment; and I judged c.o.c.kney had spoken truly, too, when he said the lady was locked up. That agreed with what I, myself, had heard, I appealed to the crowd.

"We've got to get Holy Joe fixed up. Any of you know anything about bone setting? Who'll lend a hand?"

To my surprise, Boston volunteered. "I worked in a hospital once," he said.

He set to work immediately in an efficient, businesslike manner. I was astonished. His fingers were as deft--though not as gentle--as Newman's.

I thought, as I tore a blanket into strips, under his direction, how characteristic it was of the fellow to let a hurt s.h.i.+pmate lie unattended when he possessed the skill to help him. Aye, that was the sort of scut Boston was!

"A clean break; no trick to set it," he announced, after examining the arm. Nor was it. We cut up a bunkboard for splints, used the blanket for bandages, and triced the injured member in short order. Boston was deft, but he didn't try to spare his patient any pain; when he snapped the ends of the bone together, Holy Joe came out of his swoon with a cry of agony.

He half raised himself, and looked at us. "Let there be no trouble, boys--for G.o.d's sake, no fighting!" he said. Then he fainted away again.

We undressed him, and Boston p.r.o.nounced his ribs sound. Then we carried him into the starboard foc'sle, and placed him in my bunk, which had a comfortable mattress.

"Now you see what he got?" said Boston, wiping his hands on his greasy pants. "And you see what you got. And you know what happened to Big 'Un. Well, how about it, Shreve? Do you stand with us?"

"With the crowd, sink or swim--that's what we want to know?" added Blackie.

I sized them up. Sailors and stiffs, they stood shoulder to shoulder.

There was no longer a division in that crowd. And they looked to me to lead them.

I was thinking, desperately trying to discover a course that would help Newman. So I tried to put the crowd off.

"You heard what Holy Joe said?" I asked.

"He's balmy--and besides what d'ye think a Holy Joe would say?" retorted Boston. "Now, here's the lay, Shreve--we got to put a stop to this sort o' work." He pointed to the bunk that held Holy Joe. "That means we got to take charge of this hooker," he went on. "All hands are agreed to it.

But where do you stand--with us, or against us?"

I made my plea for peace, knowing beforehand it was useless. "How about Newman?" I said. "You know as well as I that the skipper is out to kill him. And I have Newman's word for it that the Old Man wants to kill the lady, too. He's just waiting for an excuse. That's why he's dressing us down this way, and hazing us raw--so we'll mutiny, and give him the excuse he needs. Can't you see that?"

"He'll croak 'em anyway--and maybe we can save them," retorted Boston.

"No, Lynch won't allow it," said I. "He's for Newman and the lady. The Old Man will not dare do it unless we give him the chance by attacking the cabin, because Lynch would testify against him at the Inquiry. The Old Man has logged Newman as a mutineer, and our going aft would make him out one. As it is, Lynch is standing up for him--and for us."

But this was too much for the crowd to swallow. Too many of them had felt the weight of the second mate's fist.

"Lynch for us? By G.o.d, when I have my knife in his gullet--then he'll be for us!" swore Blackie, and the chorus of approval which followed this statement showed what the rest thought.

"The last thing Newman said to me, when I relieved him," I went on, "was a command to prevent this trouble. He said his life, and hers, depended on our keeping quiet."

"And how about us, how about our lives?" demanded Boston. "That d.a.m.ned murderer aft is out to croak us, too, ain't he--all of us he can spare?

Look what he's done already! No, by G.o.d, we're going to put a stop to it--and we want to know if you are with us?"

I tried sarcasm. "I suppose you'll end it by walking aft and letting them empty their shotguns into you! I suppose you'll chase them overboard, guns and all, with your cute little knives, and your belaying-pins! Good Lor', men, have you gone crazy? If I hadn't overheard c.o.c.kney, I suppose he'd have led you aft, and got half of you filled with shot. As it is, they know you are talking mutiny, and they will be expecting you. You can't surprise them--and what can you do against their guns?"

Blackie cursed c.o.c.kney in a way to curdle the blood. Then he made plain the fear that was driving the men.

"They know we are talking mutiny--yes, and what's more, they know _who's_ talking mutiny."

"We got to do it now, guns or no guns--ain't that right, mates?" said the man, Green.

"And the money, too!" added Blackie, artfully. "Enough of it aft there to set us all up for gents."

Boston plucked me by the sleeve. "Me and Jack are goin' to have a few words private," says he to the rest. "He's with us--no fear--a feller like Jack Shreve stands by his mates. Come on, Jack."

I went with him willingly. I was anxious to hear what he had to say "private." I was even more anxious to get away from the crowd for a few moments, and think out some scheme whereby I could avert the impending catastrophe.

Boston led me up on the foc'sle head, and we sat down upon an anchor stock.

"We ain't such fools as you think, Blackie and me," he commenced abruptly. "We ain't goin' to face guns with knives--not us. But guns to guns--well, that's different now, ain't it?"

"What do you mean?" I demanded. "Have you got a gun?"

In answer, he lifted my hand and placed it over his dungaree jacket, I felt something hard, of irregular shape, beneath the thin cloth, the outline of a revolver.

"It ain't the only one," he a.s.sured me. "Two brace we came on board with--and we weren't drunk, you bet. We hid them safe before them fellers aft went through the dunnage. And c.o.c.kney didn't find out about them, either. They don't know aft that we're heeled. The rest o' the gang ain't acquainted with the fact yet, either. We'll let them know when the time comes."

He paused, and looked at me inquiringly. "Well?" I asked.

"Well!" he echoed. "Well, just this--a gang that has guts enough to face shotguns with sheath-knives is a pretty tough gang, ain't it? And it'll be a lot tougher when it finds out it has four guns of its own, and plenty o' sh.e.l.ls. And it kind of evens up the chances, doesn't it?"

I was thinking fast. All chance to keep the peace was gone, I realized.

Unless----

"We ain't goin' to let them fellers slaughter us; don't you worry none about that," went on Boston. "This ain't the first gun-play me and Blackie has took part in, you bet! He's a dead shot, and I'm a good one.

We got it all planned out, Blackie and me. We never intended going aft like the c.o.c.kney wanted us to. We're goin' to lay low, behind cover, and pick 'em off--the mates, and old Swope, too, if he shows his blasted head. Then, where will them sailmakers and carpenters be, with their boss gone? They'll be rattled, they'll be up Battle Creek, that's where they'll be. We can rush 'em then. And if a few of our fellers swaller lead--why, there'll be the fewer to share the swag."

"Newman--" I began.

"We'll do the best we can for Big 'Un," says Boston. "We need him.

We'll try and get the Old Man first pop--and if we have decent luck plunkin' the mates, it'll be over so quick n.o.body can hurt Big 'Un."

I thought, and was silent.

"What's holdin' you back?" demanded Boston. "I know you ain't afraid.

Look here, Shreve, you know you can't hold the crowd back. You and Blackie and me could all be against it, and still they'd go aft. They're goin' to get Swope before Swope gets more o' them. And if it's Big 'Un you're worryin' about--why, we got to do this to save him. Look here--let me give you a tip, if the Big 'Un hasn't: When Big 'Un come on board this s.h.i.+p he found out somethin' from the skipper's Moll that he wanted to find out, and now, if he gets ash.o.r.e alive with what he found out, there'll be a sheriff's necktie party for Yankee Swope. That's what all this b.l.o.o.d.y business has been about. You can lay your last cent that Swope will get Big 'Un, if we don't get Swope."

"Boston, give me that gun," I said.

He took a look at my face, and smiled, satisfied. He drew the weapon from under his clothes, a long-barreled, heavy caliber service Colt's, and pa.s.sed it to me. I thrust it out of sight, beneath my own waist-band.

"Now, I'm boss," I said. "I'll give the word."