The Web of the Golden Spider Part 21

"Where's the ammunition stowed?"

"We had it moved the other day to the vacant cabins just beyond our quarters."

"All of it?"

"Every cartridge. Why do you ask that, Martin?"

"I happened to go for'ard afore my s.h.i.+ft," he repeated.

Wilson arose and stepped to his side.

"See here, if you heard anything unusual, I'd like to know it before I turn in."

"My business is a-workin' of this wheel, an' what I says is we've gut a d.a.m.ned bad cargo."

Wilson smiled. After all, it was probably only the const.i.tutional jealousy that always exists between a seaman and a landsman.

"All right, Martin, only we're all in the same kettle. Keep your ears open, and if you hear anything definite let me know."

"Then I says I puts my chest agin my door afore I sleeps an' I watches out for shadows when I'm at the wheel."

"And have you seen any to-night?"

"No, an' I hopes I won't."

"All right. Good night."

"Good night, sir."

Wilson stepped out of the pilot-house and made a short round of the s.h.i.+p. He even ventured down to the forward hold, but all was as quiet there as ever. He turned towards his own cabin. Danbury's light was out. Beyond he saw the form of the first mate who had been posted there to guard the ammunition. He spoke to him and received a cordial reply.

"All quiet?"

"All quiet, sir."

The door of Stubbs' cabin was closed, and he heard within his heavy snoring. He entered his own cabin and closed the door. But he felt uneasy and restless. Instead of undressing he threw himself down on the bunk, after placing his pistol underneath his pillow. Martin's talk had been just suggestive enough to start his brain to working, disturbed as he was by so many other things. He had an impulse to rouse Stubbs. He wanted someone with whom to talk. He would also have been more comfortable if he had been able to make sure that those bits of parchment were still safe in his comrade's chest, where he had locked them. If the crew once got even a suspicion that there was on board such a golden chance as these offered, it would be a temptation difficult for even better men to resist. He realized that if they were able sufficiently to surrender each his own selfish individual desires and organize compactly under a single leader, they would form an almost irresistible force. But of course the key to the whole situation lay in the ammunition. Without this they were helpless.

Knives and clubs could not resist powder and bullet. He became drowsy finally and his thoughts wandered once more to the treasure and then to Jo until his eyes closed and, though his lips still remained tense, he slept.

He was awakened by the sound of a m.u.f.fled fall in the next cabin. He sprang to his feet, seizing his weapon. The electric light wire had been cut so that the cabin was in suffocating darkness. By some instinct he forced himself flat against the wall by the door. The next second the door was flung open and two forms hurled themselves with a grunt upon the bunk. He fired twice and darted out into the pa.s.sageway. Here all was confusion, but all was dark. Man fell against man with oaths and wild thres.h.i.+ng of the arms, but they all knew one another for friends. He was for the moment safe. The doors to the cabins of Stubbs and Danbury were wide open. He knew that either they had escaped by some such miracle as his, or that they were beyond help. It seemed to him that there was but one thing to do, make the deck and collect whatever honest men were left. The mutineers were still fighting with one another and had grown so panic-stricken that they were making little progress towards their goal. Quick action might even now save the s.h.i.+p. He heard a voice raised in a vain endeavor to control them.

"Steady, boys, steady! Wait till we get a light."

At the head of the stairs leading to the deck he found a sentinel. He struck at him and then grappled. The two rolled on the deck, but the struggle was brief. Wilson soon had him pinned to the deck. He raised the fellow's head and threw him with all his strength backwards. The man lay very still after this.

When he rose to his feet the deck was as deserted as though nothing at all unusual were going on below. He rushed to the pilot-house. The s.h.i.+p swerved tipsily and then the engines ceased their throbbing.

Martin lay limply over his wheel. The cutthroats had got below to the engines.

For a moment his head whirled with twenty impossible plans. Then he steadied himself. There was but one thing to do; the gang was evidently so far in control of the s.h.i.+p as to prevent aid from the crew; Danbury and Stubbs were doubtless unconscious, if not dead, and he was left, the one man still free to act. Once the rifles were loaded a hundred men could not control this crowd, but before then--one man with a loaded weapon and with his wits about him, might make himself master.

He groped his way down the stairs and into the midst of the tumult. No one had as yet obtained a light. The leader had succeeded in partly controlling his gang, but one man had only to brush the shoulder of another to start a fight. David elbowed through them, striking right and left in the endeavor to stir up anew the panic. He succeeded instantly. In two minutes pandemonium reigned. Then a man scrambled in with a lantern and was greeted with a cheer. Wilson turned, shot twice, and ducked. The cabin was once more in darkness and confusion.

"Wha' th' h.e.l.l?" roared Splinter.

Wilson plunged on until he stood facing the door which still barred the way to the cartridges. It was intact. At this point someone reached his side with an axe. s.n.a.t.c.hing it from the fellow's hand he himself swung it against the lock. He had two things in mind; the act would turn away suspicion, and once within the small room, with his back to the cartridges, he could take the men one by one as they pressed through the narrow door. He had on his cartridge belt and ought to be able, not only to keep them at bay until possible aid arrived from the crew's quarters, but might even be able to start sufficient panic to drive them out altogether. Wilson swung a couple of times until the lock weakened. Splinter shouted:

"Fer Gawd's sake, don't act like frightened rats! Keep cool now an' we have 'em."

One more blow and the door fell. With a jump Wilson scrambled in and, turning, fired four times in rapid succession. In the pause which ensued he refilled his weapon. There was a chorus of ugly growls and a concerted movement towards the door. He shot again, aiming low and relying as much on the flash and noise to frighten them as on actual killing. To those without it sounded as though there might be several men. No one knew but what the man next to him had turned traitor. They groped for one another's throats and finally, as though by one impulse, crowded for the exit. They fought and pounded and kicked at each other. It was every man for himself and the Devil take the hindmost. Wilson helped them along by continued shooting--aiming high and low. In five minutes the cabin was cleared save for the wounded, who managed, however, to drag themselves out of sight.

As Wilson fell back exhausted and half choked from the smoke with which the room was filled, he heard the bark of pistols above and knew that the crew had reached the deck. He waited only long enough to recover strength to walk, and then moved cautiously forward. He was undisturbed. The mutineers had gone, to the last man able to stand. He groped his way to Danbury's cabin and his hand fell upon a limp form in the bunk. But even as he recoiled the man moved and muttered feeble queries.

"Are you safe, Danbury?" gasped Wilson.

"What--what's the trouble? Give me a drink--brandy."

Wilson turned to the wine closet just beyond the bunk and drew out the first bottle his fingers touched. He placed it to Danbury's lips, and the latter took several deep swallows of it, spitting indignantly as he thrust it away.

"Darned stuff--Martini c.o.c.ktails. But--but----"

Wilson found himself laughing. Nothing Danbury could have said would so prove the inconsequence of his injuries. It relieved his strained nerves until, in reaction, he became almost hysterical.

"What's the joke?" demanded Danbury, rising to a sitting posture and feeling at the cut in the back of his head. "Where's the lights? What has happened?"

"A bit of a fight. Can you make your feet?"

Danbury groped for the side of the bunk, and with the help of Wilson stood up. He was at first dizzy, but he soon came to himself.

"If you can walk, come on. I want to look for Stubbs."

Wilson groped his way into the smoke-filled pa.s.sageway and across to the other cabin. They found Stubbs lying on the floor unconscious. A superficial examination revealed no serious wound and so, urged on by the increasing noise above, they left him and hurried to the deck.

They found the second mate pus.h.i.+ng the stubborn group nearer and nearer their own quarters. He was backed by only two men armed with knives and clubs. The gang was hesitating, evidently tempted to turn upon the tiny group, but with the appearance of Wilson and Danbury they pressed at once for the narrow opening.

At sight of them Danbury completely lost his head. It was as though he then first realized what had actually been attempted. He raised his weapon and was upon the point of shooting into their midst when Wilson knocked up his hand and sent the revolver spinning across the deck.

But Danbury scarcely looked around to see who had foiled him. He rushed headlong into the group as though he were the center of a football team. He struck right and left with his naked fists and finally by chance fell upon Splinter. The two rolled upon the deck until the mate stooped and picked up Splinter bodily and, raising him above his head, fairly hurled him like a bag of grain down the ladder after the last of the mutineers.

Danbury, in spite of his loss of blood, held himself together wonderfully. For the next hour all were busy, and between them placed Splinter in irons, and crowded the mutineers, a cowed lot, into the forward hold. They found Stubbs still unconscious, but he came around after a good swig of brandy. He rose to his elbow and blinked dazedly at Danbury.

"What's the trouble?" he demanded.

"Mutiny," answered Danbury, briefly.

"And me laid up, an' outer it. Jus' my pizen luck," he growled.

CHAPTER XIV