The Island of Gold Part 31

Durdley was almost always boding ill. His only friends were the foreigners of the crew, men that to make a complement of five-and-twenty Tandy had hired in a hurry.

Mostly Finns they were, and bad at that, and if there was ever any grumbling to be done on board the _Sea Flower_ these were the fellows to begin it.

Halcott recovered himself quickly, gave just one glance at Durdley's dark, forbidding countenance--the man was really ugly enough to stop a church clock--and went below.

He met Tandy at the saloon door, and told him his worst fears.

Alas! these fears were fated to be realised all too soon.

The men now stricken down were those who had boarded the derelict with Halcott. One died next evening, and was lashed in his hammock and dropped over the bows a few hours afterwards.

No doubt, seeing his fellow taken away, the other, who was one of the best of the crew, lost heart.

"I'm dying, sir," he told Halcott. "No use swallowing physic, the others'll want it soon."

By-and-by he began to rave. He was on board s.h.i.+p no longer, but walking through the meadows and fields far away in England with his sister by his side.

"I'll help you over the old-fas.h.i.+oned stile," Fitz, who was nursing him, heard him say--"yes, the old-fas.h.i.+oned stile, Lizzie. Oh, don't I love it! And we'll walk up and away through the corn-field, by the little, winding path, to the churchyard where mother sleeps. Look, look at the crimson poppies, dear siss. How bonnie they are among the green.

Ah-h!"

That was a scream which frightened poor Fitz.

"Go not there, sister. See, see, the monster has killed her! Ah, me!"

Fitz rushed aft to seek for a.s.sistance, for the captain had told him to call him if Corrie got worse.

Alas! when the two returned together, Corrie's hammock was empty.

No one had heard even a plash, so gently had he lowered himself over the side, and sunk to rise no more.

Book 2--CHAPTER ELEVEN.

MUTINY ON BOARD--FAR TO THE SOUTH'ARD.

"Nothing certain at sea except the unexpected." The truth of this was sadly exemplified by the terrible calamity which had befallen the _Sea Flower_--and befallen her so suddenly, too!

Only one week ago she was sailing over a rippling sea on the wings of a favouring breeze, every wavelet dancing joyously in the sunlight. On board, whether fore or aft, there was nothing but hope, happiness, and contentment. Till--

"The angel of death spread his wings on the blast."

Now all is terror and gloom--a gloom and a terror that have struck deep into the heart of every one who knows what death and sorrow mean.

A breeze has sprung up at last, and both Halcott and Tandy have reluctantly come to the conclusion that it will be better to steer for colder weather. So southward the _Sea Flower_ flies, under every st.i.tch of canvas, with studding-sails low and aloft. Shall the plague be stayed? Heaven alone can tell!

As it is, the depression hangs like a dark, foreboding cloud over the s.h.i.+p.

No one cares to talk much by day or by night. The men sit silently at their meals, with lowered brows and frightened looks. They eye each other askance; they know not who may be the next. They even avoid each other as much as possible while walking the decks. Hardly will a man volunteer to nurse the sick. The hammocks containing these hang on the lee side, and the crew keep far away indeed.

But they smoke from morn till night.

Halcott himself and little Fitz are the only nurses, and both are worn out for want of rest. With their own hands they sew up the hammock of the dead, unhook it, lift the gruesome burden on to the top of the bulwark, and, while the captain with uncovered head raises his eyes to heaven and utters a prayer, the body is committed to the deep, to be torn in pieces next minute by the tigers of the sea.

Poor little Nelda! She is as merry as ever, playing with Bob or the 'Ral on the quarterdeck, and it is strange, in this s.h.i.+p of death, to hear her musical voice raised in song or laughter in the midst of silence and gloom!

No wonder that, hearing this, the delirious or the dying fancy themselves back once more in their village homes in England.

Nelda wonders why the captain, who used to romp and play with her, tries all he can now to avoid her; and why little Fitz, the curious, round-faced, laughing, black boy, with the two rows of alabaster teeth, never comes aft.

Halcott himself never goes below either. He insists upon taking his meals on deck. Nor will he permit Tandy or Ransey to come forward. If _he_ can, he means to confine the awful plague to the fore part of the s.h.i.+p.

They say that in a case of this kind it is always the good who go first.

In this instance the adage spoke truly.

Terrible to say, in less than a fortnight no less than thirteen fell victims to the scourge. But still more, more awful, the crew now became mutinous.

Luckily, all arms, and ammunition as well, were safely stored aft.

Durdley was chief mutineer--chief scoundrel! Out of the fourteen men left alive, only four were true to the captain, the others were ready to follow Durdley.

This fellow became a demon now--a demon in command of demons; for they had found some grog which had been in charge of the second mate--who was dead--and excited themselves into fury with it.

Durdley, the dark and ugly man, rushed to the screen-berth where Halcott was trying to ease the sufferings of a poor dying man.

He was as white as a ghost; even his lips were pale.

Beware of men, reader, who get white when angry. They are dangerous!

"Here, Halcott," cried Durdley, "drop your confounded mummery, and listen to _me_. Lay aft here, my merry men, lay aft."

Nine men, chiefly Finns and other foreigners, armed with ugly knives and iron marline-spikes, quickly stationed themselves behind him.

"Now, Halcott, your game's up. You brought this plague into the s.h.i.+p yourself. By rights you should die. But I depose you. I am captain now, and my brave boys will obey me, and me alone.

"You _hear_?" he shouted, for Halcott stood a few paces from him, calmly looking him in the face.

"I _hear_."

"Then, cusses on you, why don't ye speak? You'll be allowed to live, I say, both you and Tandy, on one condition."

"And that is--?"

"That you alter your course, and steer straight away to the nearest land--the Falkland Isles--at once."

"I refuse. Back, you mutinous dog! back! I say. Would you dare to stab your captain? Your blood be,"--here the captain's revolver rang sharp and clear, and Durdley fell to the deck--"on your own cowardly head."

There was a wild yell and a rush now, and though the captain fired again and again, he was speedily overpowered.

The revolver was s.n.a.t.c.hed from his hand, and he was borne down by force of numbers.