CHAPTER VI--I AM CONCERNED IN A MUTINY
I have neither space nor patience to describe in any detail that longand tedious voyage. For we were months at sea. I saw whales spoutingwater into the air, and schools of porpoises; and at one time, for awhole month on end, we were becalmed, the ship lying idle in the midstof a vast floating mass of seaweed, where there were all kinds ofjelly-fish and squids. The heat was excessive, and there was a rank,almost putrid, smell in the air, which came from the decaying seaweed.That in itself was enough to try the temper of every member of the crew;but, to make matters worse, much of the tinned meat on board exploded inthe hold. I cannot explain this, but I know that it happened, and amcontent to leave the explanation to the scientific reader. Thesecircumstances, together with the surly nature of James Dagg, thecaptain, led from dissatisfaction to open grumbling, and thence to themutiny of which I have now to tell.
My own fortunes were, to some extent, involved in that affair; and inany case, I must describe the incident more or less as it occurred,since nothing could better serve to illustrate the true character ofAmos Baverstock, who plays as important a part as myself in thenarrative that follows.
I had not been a week at sea, and just recovered from my sickness, whenI was given clearly to understand that I was to hold no intercourse withany of the crew. I cannot say that I wished to, for they were aruffianly lot--half of them, I verily believe, prison-birds, like JoshuaTrust, and the remainder West Indian negroes, Chinamen, and Lascars fromthe coast of Malabar.
I had to share a cabin with Amos himself, who seldom let me out of hissight. Thrown into such close intimacy with the man, I learned muchconcerning him, and he more of me. He seldom allowed a day to passwithout questioning me in regard to what I knew of the map; and soterrible did his threats become that I was filled with fear for thefuture.
On that account, I yearned for a friend, someone in whom I couldconfide; and it was not long before I found such a man on board thatpestilential ship. Now that I can look back upon my series ofadventures, I can see both men and matters in their true perspective,and I realise that, had it not been for William Rushby, the boatswain ofthe _Mary Greenfield_, the most honest and the whitest man that everpiped all hands on deck, this tale had never been told.
When I saw him first, I sized him up as the true seaman that he was; butI dared not speak to him, because of the threats that had been heapedupon me. I knew also that I could go to none of the ship's officerswith my story, for they were all tarred with the same brush as theskipper; but Providence before long gave me the chance I wanted.
When we were in mid-ocean Amos tired of the voyage, and required littlepersuasion from Mr. Forsyth to take to playing cards. Captain Dagg wasa card-player, too, and Joshua made the fourth; and this was the partythat sat down nightly after supper to gamble, drink and smoke, by thelight of a reeking paraffin lamp in the little stuffy saloon.
I watched them play for many nights, and though I knew nothing of thegame, it was quite clear to me that they were three babes at thebusiness by the side of Mr. Forsyth. For it was he who always won, nomatter with whom he played or what cards he held, and it was he whoraked in their money.
This was all one to me. I soon tired of watching them; and when I hadonce slipped away from them, to breathe the fresh air on deck, and noquestions had been asked, I made it my constant practice to sit of anevening upon the poop, whence I could look down into the water and seethe phosphorus as if smouldering in the wake of the ship.
And here it was that I talked with William Rushby. At that hour it washis duty to see that the ship's lamps were lighted, and when he hadhoisted the mast-head lights, and put the red light to port and thegreen to starboard, he would come aft, haul in the log, and speak to mein whispers.
That he took that precaution from the first makes it plain enough thathe guessed some mischief was afoot. He questioned me concerning who Iwas and what business I had in such company on board that ship. It wassome time before I dared tell him the truth, for fear of AmosBaverstock; but I did so in the end, making him swear to keep my secret;which he did.
"It is all like a fairy tale," said he, when he had heard my story; "andit's hard to tell the best way to help you. Of this much I am certain:if you set forth into the back country of Venezuela with a man likeBaverstock, you'll not come back alive."
"But I cannot escape!" I protested. "Even on board this ship, I amwatched at all hours of the night and day."
Rushby thought for a while, stroking his short black beard which waslike that of a Russian Czar.
"Maybe," said he, "at Caracas, I could desert and take you with me. Ihave no liking for my shipmates here, as you may well imagine. In themeantime, many weeks must pass before we sight the mainland, and in thattime much may happen."
As he said this with some significance, I asked him what he meant.
"Why, just this," he answered; "there's trouble brewing aboard, whichwill come to a head before we touch port. The crew are a low-down,blackguard lot, no better men than sailors; and though they may be heldto blame for that, it's no fault of theirs if they are fed worse thanswine and cursed from dawn to sunset. Dagg I had heard about, though Inever signed on under him before, nor will again, and the mate's evenworse. There's high talk in the fo'c'sle, as it is, where theringleader is that nigger cook. Mark my words--and I've sailed the seasfor more than twenty years--a prize-fighting negro in the galley cancause more mischief aboard a sailing-ship than a monkey and a woman,both in one."
I laughed, for I was not then accustomed to the talk of sailors.
"And they've run out of lime-juice," he went on; "and that's a seriousthing."
"Lime-juice!" I repeated, thinking he was joking still.
"A man must eat vegetables," he explained to me, "to keep his blood cooland his liver nicely trimmed. You can't eat green cabbages andBrussels-sprouts in mid-Atlantic, so you must carry lime-juice aboard;and we've run out. The men have much to complain of. They are in illhealth, and one or two should be lying up in a sick berth, instead ofbeing sworn at left and right for not moving quicker. So I see troubleahead. It may be a hurricane, or just a summer squall; and if thefirst, Heaven help James Dagg and his officers, for they're a tough lotfor'ard, as I know who've listened to their talk."
And Rushby was proved to be in the right. We ran into a great calm as Ihave said. The sea was like glass; and though the sun was blotted outby a steam-like fog, the heat was so intense that we went about the deckin naught but vests and trousers, with the sweat dripping from ourfinger-tips.
Without a doubt, the crew suffered for lack of lime-juice; some brokeout with a horrid skin disease. And then the news came that the tinnedmeat had all gone bad, and we were forced to live on salted ling-fish,so that we went thirsty all day long.
It was Ebenezer Hogg, the negro cook, who started all the trouble. Hewas a long, raw-boned Jamaica man, who had cut a figure in theprize-ring in his younger days. He had never forgiven the skipper for ablow across the mouth because the cabin potatoes had not been properlypeeled, though this was the work of Ah Chin, the cook's mate, ahalf-daft Canton Chinaman, who would fire off crackers at all hours ofthe night, in honour (I suppose) of the heathen gods he worshipped.
Hogg told his shipmates he cared not a "dime with a hole in it" forJames Dagg or any man. They had no food fit to eat, so they might aswell help themselves to the ship's grog, to keep--as he describedit--body and soul together.
Rushby--as his duty was--warned the captain of what was coming; butDagg, who had been losing heavily at cards to Mr. Forsyth, only abusedthe boatswain for his pains, and said that he himself was the best judgeof such matters and would know how to deal with insubordination.
And that night the crew, led by Hogg, the nigger, broke into thestoreroom with a hatchet and broached the rum casks. Withinhalf-an-hour, they were all roaring drunk; and that was a night that Ishall never live to forget.
The moon came out from the white sea-mist, as if
to look down inscandalised amazement upon a scene of debauchery and violence--a round,red ball of fire, casting its rays upon the stagnant, reeking seaweed,illuminating the deck of that floating madhouse with a dull crimsonglare, whereby you might see the whites of men's eyes and the glitter ofthe sharp blades they handled.
Dagg appeared on deck, his face livid with passion; and I could see byhis walk that he, too, had been drinking heavily at his card-playing.
"What's all this?" he shouted at the top of his voice. "Understand,I'll have no monkey-tricks aboard the ship that I command."
Hogg at once squared up to him, his two fists before his face, verydrunk and brazen.
"Come on, James Dagg!" he cried, with his Christy-minstrel accent. "Timeyer and me settled de account."
"This here's mutiny!" exclaimed the captain.
"Dat's de right word, boss," said Hogg. "Mutiny it is."
And at that, he struck the captain with his fist, so that Dagg rolledover and over upon the deck, groaning loudly.
The fat was now in the fire. If discipline could be restored, Hoggwould be hanged at the yard-arm and his body cast into the sea; anddrunk as he was, the nigger knew it.
"I'm de captain of dis ship," he bellowed, "an' James Dagg's de cook."
He showed his white teeth in a grin, and then gave orders as if he hadbeen accustomed all his life to a position of authority; and the wonderwas he was instantly obeyed. Five minutes later, both Dagg and his matewere bound hand and foot; and the second mate had been locked in hiscabin, where he was fast asleep. The negro went staggering backwardsand forwards, from the forecastle to the poop, crying out that he it waswho was Captain and his name was Admiral Hogg.
There were two spectators of this comedy, who could not be considered aspartisans; and the one was William Rushby and the other was myself. Theboatswain's sense of duty would have held him to the captain, had it notbeen for me; for, though I had no liking for any of the crew, and afeeling of positive loathing for a great brute like Hogg, I saw in thediscomfiture of James Dagg and his officers some chance of my ownultimate deliverance. So that when the cook turned upon me, and caughtme by the scruff of the neck, I played the card that I thought safest atthe time, but which certainly lost me the trick that meant the game.
"And now, boy," said Hogg, "which way de wind blow wid you? Will yousign on to serve as cabin-steward under Admiral Hogg?"
"Why, sure," said I, having picked up something of the man's own way ofspeaking. "I was never a friend of Captain Dagg's, as you may have seenfor yourself."
And thereupon, I looked away from the negro's grinning countenance, andstraight in the black, pig-like eyes of Amos Baverstock.
If I had feared him before, I was well-nigh terrified of him then; forthere was black murder in the look he gave me, and his mouth was workinghorribly.
For all that, he straightened his face in half a second, and turned toHogg as calm as the sea itself.
"I'll settle with you in a moment," said he. "I've not lived more thanhalf my life without learning how to deal with a buck nigger who's threeparts tipsy. Bo's'n," said he to Rushby, pointing straight at me, "putthat boy in irons."
Rushby never moved.
"Did you hear my orders?" rapped out Amos.
"I heard right enough," said the boatswain. "But I'm not here to takeorders from you."
At that, the crew, who had gathered round, thinking that Rushby was withthem, became bolder than ever. Knives were drawn from belts, and one ofthese was flourished in the face of the captain who still lay upon thedeck, bound hand and foot.
"Ho!" cried Amos. "So that's your tune, is it? I see you must all betaught a lesson."
He talked with all the confidence in the world, though--with theexception of Mr. Gilbert Forsyth, who had just strolled on deck withboth hands in his trouser pockets--there was no one at his back, and hefaced a crowd of angry, drunken seamen who would not then have stoppedshort of murder.
From Rushby he turned once more to Hogg. "And so," said he, "you claimto be the captain of this ship?"
The negro glanced in his direction, but would not meet those cruel,steadfast eyes.
"If I'm not," he blurted out, "then who is de captain? Tell me dat?"
"Why, I am," roared Amos. "And what have you to say to it?"
Hogg realised he was challenged. Perhaps, under the influence of rum,he had already gone further than he meant to; but, in any case, so faras he was concerned there was no question of retreat.
"Put up your fists!" he shouted. "We fight for it and let de best manwin."
He grinned from ear to ear, as, standing in front of Amos--above whom hetowered by a good clear head and shoulders--he lifted his great, blackfists to the level of his face. I thought that he would kill Amos witha single blow; for the one was so big and bony, and the other so frailand shrivelled up. But I did not then know Amos Baverstock.
"Come on!" cried Hogg, still grinning.
I looked at Amos, thinking to find him alarmed; but never upon the faceof any man have I beheld an expression of such complete contempt.
"You black dog!" said he, with an oath.
He drew back his right hand, as if about to strike, and immediately Icaught the glint of a revolver barrel in the moonlight.
There was a flash, a single loud report, and then a dull, heavy thud asthe negro's great ungainly body came down upon the deck. And there helay, full in the red moonshine, upon that tropic night, huddled andstone-dead--the black, bragging fool who had claimed to be our captain.
"And now, then," said Amos, as cool as ever, turning to the crew, "isthere any man else who would like to command this ship?"