Within the Capes

His voice rang like a bell, and every man aboard of the sinking ship heard it, and listened eagerly for the captain’s answer. Captain Knight stood where he was, and looked Jack from top to toe, and back again.

“No, sir,” said he, coldly, “I am not going to signal that vessel.”

“Do you mean to say that you’re going to drown every man aboard this ship, as you might a cage full of rats, just because you’re too proud to signal an Englishman.”

Captain Knight made no answer; he only looked at Jack and smiled, and Tom Granger thought that it was as wicked a smile as he had ever seen in all of his life.

“Now, by the eternal,” roared Jack, “I’ll run the signals up myself!”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Captain Knight. He spoke very quietly, but his face was as white as the other’s was red.

“Won’t I? That you’ll see,” said Jack, passionately, and he made a movement to turn.

“Wait a moment, sir,” said the captain, in his quiet voice. But the words were hardly out of his mouth, when, as quick as a flash, a pistol was leveled at Jack’s head, with a pair of wicked grey eyes behind it.

There was a dead pause for about as long as you could count ten; the captain’s finger lay on the trigger, and every instant Tom expected to see the flash that was to come. He held his breath, for there was death in the captain’s eyes, but he did not draw the trigger.

It was Tom that broke the silence. “For God’s sake, don’t shoot, captain,” cried he, from where he stood. The captain did not seem to hear him.

“You mutinous scoundrel,” said he at last, “down on your knees and ask pardon!”

Jack did not move.

“You hear me? Down on your knees and ask pardon, or you’re a dead man!”

He spoke as quietly as ever, but there was a deadly ring in his voice for all that.

“I’ll give you till I count three,” said he, at last, and then he began to count, “one, – two – ”

Jack looked around, with despair in his eyes. The captain smiled. “Stand where you are,” said he, and then his teeth and tongue began to form the “th – ”

Jack Baldwin was no coward; but would you yourself have stood still and be shot down like a dog? It would have been a brave man indeed – a foolishly brave man – that would have done such a thing. I will not tell the rest. It is enough to say that Jack did do that which the captain ordered him, and that before the whole ship’s company.

“You are wise,” said Captain Knight, dryly, and then he thrust the pistol back again into his belt, and, turning on his heel, went into his cabin.

Jack got up slowly from his knees. His face was haggard and drawn. He looked at no one, but went to the side of the ship and stood gazing into the water. Tom saw him a half an hour afterward, standing just in the same way, and in the same place.

When the captain had gone into his cabin, Tom turned to the pumps again. “Shake her up! – your eyes! Shake her up!” roared he.

It was the first time that he ever used an oath to the men under him, and it is hard to tell why he used it then, for in his heart he did not believe that he was long for this life. Then the men fell to pumping again, but what little life they had left was all gone out of them now.

CHAPTER VIII

THAT evening Tom took a scrambling meal in the cuddy; it was the last that he had aboard of the Nancy Hazlewood.

The darkness came on early, and the wind still held as heavy as ever when night fell. At that time the ship was very low in the water astern, and Tom did not expect her to live till morning. Even to this day it is a mystery to him why she did not founder long before she did.

It was plain that even the sailors themselves felt that there was no hope; they were dull, lifeless and spiritless. Those who were not working at the pumps, stood around the forecastle, or lay in their hammocks; all were quiet, excepting where one or two were talking together in low tones.

Of course, there was no sleep to be had for Tom that night. He had stood by the pumps since early in the morning, and was nearly exhausted, for there were times when he could feel the water washing around his waist. One after another the men would drop the brakes, altogether done up, but there was no chance for him to leave his station and get a little rest. Jack had done nothing since his encounter with Captain Knight, the afternoon before. Captain Knight himself did not come out of his cabin, so Tom seemed to be the only officer in charge of the ship.

“Shake her up, lads! Shake her up!” cried he, whenever there were signs of flagging at the pumps, and he repeated these words so often that he began to say them mechanically.

So the weary night dragged slowly along, and at last the dull light of the morning came, and the Nancy Hazlewood was still afloat. One by one the things stood out in the pallid light of the dawning; first of all the black troubled field of water was seen, sharply marked against the slowly greying sky; then came a faint light across the flooded deck, against which the men stood out as black as ink, as they worked at the pumps.

About eight o’clock in the morning Captain Knight came upon deck again. He, Jack Baldwin, Mr. Wilde (the surgeon), the boatswain and one or two of the men were standing on the poop together. No attention was paid to these men standing aft the quarter deck, and Tom could not see that any orders were given, for the helm was lashed, keeping the vessel before the wind.

Tom left the pumps for a minute or two, and slipped into the cuddy for a dram of rum, which he very much needed. He found that the cuddy was awash with several inches of water. He took the dram of rum, and then looking around his state room he saw his sea-chest, and opened it and took out his watch and purse. He slipped the watch into his pocket, but the ship giving a sudden lurch at the time, he dropped his purse. He smiled when he found himself groping in the swashing water for it, for he could not take it with him where he expected that he would have to go.

The men had left the pumps when he came upon deck again. A crowd of them were standing foreward, some on the top-gallant forecastle. There was no drunkenness amongst them, and Tom found later that the spirit-room had been fastened securely, and in good time, which was about the only timely thing that was done in the whole business. He did not order them to work again, for there could be no use in it. Indeed, there had been but little use in it for some time past, and the only reason that he had kept the pumps going was because it seemed better to be doing something than to stand still, waiting for death. But Captain Knight gave no orders to lower the boats, and Jack Baldwin did not seem to care whether they were lowered or not.

At this time there were only two boats left. The whale-boat had been stove in the night before, and all of the cutters were gone but one. A part of one of them was hanging by the stern falls from the davits. The mate to it was good, however, and, with a pinnace, capable of holding maybe thirty men at a pinch, was all that was left of the six boats that the Nancy Hazlewood had carried with her when she first started on her cruise.

Tom saw that there was no prospect of Captain Knight’s giving the order to have the boats cleared away, so he went aft to the poop, where the captain stood, and touched his hat to him very respectfully.

“Captain Knight,” said he, “the ship’s sinking, and I can’t keep the men at their work any longer. Shall I get the boats cleared away?”

“They won’t work, you say?”

“No, sir.”

The captain took a pinch of snuff. “Then let ’em drown, and be d – d to ’em – the mutinous dogs,” said he. And he shut the snuff-box lid with a snap.

“But, captain – ” began Tom.

“Mr. Granger,” said the captain, sternly, “I wish to hear no more. When I want to have the boats lowered I’ll give the orders, and not till then. You hear me?”

Tom turned away, sick at heart. He still hoped that the captain meant to have the boats cleared away, but in his heart he felt that he intended nothing of the kind. The men had gathered aft when they saw that Tom was talking to the captain. When they heard what came of it, a deep groan arose from them.

About half an hour passed, and nothing was done. At the end of that time a number of men who had been talking together, went over to the pinnace and began clearing it away, and Tom saw that they were about to lower it.

Nothing was said to them at the time, and no one interfered with them. He went forward to where they were at work, after a while, for he felt that he might be of some use to them. The boatswain was amongst them, and he asked him to join them, as they needed an officer. But Tom shook his head, for he could not bring himself to leave the ship. It was false pride on his part, for he should have gone and have done what he could. If Jack Baldwin would only have lent a hand with the other boat, he would not have hesitated, I think.

Well, it was a misfortunate piece of business, and there is no use in making more of it than need be. The boat was lowered safely enough; but, in spite of all that Tom could do, a number of the crew, maybe thirty or more, jumped into her from the ship, and she was swamped almost immediately. Most of the men came climbing back again; but, to the best of Tom’s recollection, eight or ten of them were drowned at this time. No one but he seemed to care very much for this; no doubt they felt that it was only a question of a few minutes, earlier or later.

When Tom went back to the poop, Captain Knight met him with a sneering smile. “You had better have let the matter alone, Mr. Granger,” said he; “their blood be on your head.”

Now, Tom had put all the restraint upon himself that he could. He had felt all the blunders and mismanagement that had brought them to this pass as deeply as ever Jack Baldwin could have done, and had also felt that most of the fault lay at Captain Knight’s door, but he had never been anything but respectful to the captain, nor had he ever let a questionable word pass his lips. But now, feeling the loss of the poor devils that had been drowned in the pinnace resting heavily on his mind, this speech was too much for his patience. He walked straight up to Captain Knight and looked him squarely in the eyes.

The captain looked back at him for a little while, but presently his eyes wavered, and he turned them aside. Then it was that a certain vague thought that had been floating about in Tom’s mind, took shape and form. At first he rejected the thought, but the longer he looked upon Captain Knight the more he felt sure that his surmise was right. At last he spoke:

“Look here, sir,” said he, sternly, “you’re not fit to be where you are. You’re not in your right mind – you’re crazy.”

Captain Knight looked up. His face was white and his eyes uncertain, and, for the first time, Tom noticed how bloodshot they were. Tom was standing within arm’s length of him, and presently he saw that his fingers were sliding furtively toward the pistol in his belt. Tom kept his eyes fixed upon him.

“Take care,” said he, as quietly as he could, “don’t touch that pistol.”

Then Captain Knight drew his fingers away. “You mutinous scoundrel!” whispered he, in a trembling voice. But he did not look directly at Tom when he spoke; neither did he again attempt to draw a pistol.