The Mutineers by Charles Boardman Hawes

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Falk was sitting down now; his chin rested on his hands and his face was
ghastly pale; the bandage round his head appeared bloodier than ever and
dirtier. The men, too, were white and woe-begone, and Kipping was scowling
disagreeably.

It seemed shameful to take arms against human beings in such a piteous
plight, but we stood with our muskets cocked and waited for them to speak
first.

"Haven't you men hearts?" Falk cried when he had come within earshot. "Are
you going to sit there aboard ship with plenty of food and drink and see
your shipmates a-dying of starvation and thirst?"

The men rested on their oars while he called to us; but when we did not
answer, he motioned with his hand and they again rowed toward us with
short, feeble strokes.

"All we ask is food and water," Falk said, when he had come so near that we
could see the lines on the faces of the men and the worn, hunted look in
their eyes.

They had laid their weapons on the bottom of the boat, and there was
nothing warlike about them now to remind us of the bloody fight they had
waged against us. With a boy's short memory of the past and short sight for
the future, I was ready to take the poor fellows aboard and to forgive them
everything; and though it undoubtedly was foolish of me, I am not ashamed
of my generous weakness. They seemed so utterly miserable! But fortunately
wiser counsels prevailed.

"You ain't really going to leave us to perish of hunger and thirst, are
you?" Falk cried. "We can't go ashore, even to get water. Those cursed
heathen are laying to butcher us. Guns pointed at friends and shipmates is
no kind of a 'welcome home.'"

"Give us the money, then--" Roger began.

The cook interrupted him in an undertone that was plainly audible though
probably not intended for all ears.

"Yeee-ah! Heah dat yeh man discribblate! He don't like guns pointed at
shipmates, hey? How about guns pointed at a cap'n when he ain't lookin'?
Hey?"

Falk obviously overheard the cook's muttered sally and was disconcerted by
it; and the murmur of assent with which our men received it convinced me
that it went a long way to reinforce their determination to withstand the
other party at any cost whatsoever.

After hesitating perceptibly, Falk decided to ignore it. "All we want's
bread and water," he whined.

"Give us the money, then," Roger repeated, "and we'll see that you don't
starve." His voice was calm and incisive. He absolutely controlled the
situation.

Falk threw up his hands in a gesture of despair. "But we ain't got the
money. So help me God, we ain't got a cent of it."

"Hand over the money," Roger repeated, "and we'll give you food and water."
He pointed at the quarter-boat, which swung at the end of a long painter.
"Come no nearer. Put the money in that boat and we'll haul it up."

"We _ain't got the money_, I tell you. I swear on my immortal soul, we
ain't got it." Falk seemed to be on the point of weeping. He was so weak
and white!

When Roger did not reply, I turned to look at him. There was a thoughtful
expression on his face, and following the direction of his eyes, my own
gaze rested on the face of the man from Boston. He was smiling. But when
he saw us looking at him, he stopped and changed color.

"I believe you," Roger declared suddenly. "You'll have to keep your
distance or I'll blow your boat to pieces; but if you obey orders, I'll
help you out as far as a few days' supply of food will go. Cook, haul in
that boat and put half a hundredweight of ship's bread and four buckets of
water in it. That'll keep 'em for a while."

"You ain't gwine to feed dat yeh Kipping, sah, is you?"

"Yes."

The cook turned in silence to do Roger's bidding.

Twice the man from Boston started forward as if to speak. The motion was so
slight that it almost escaped me, but the second time I was sure that I
really had detected such an impulse, and at the same moment I perceived
that Falk, whose fingers were twitching nervously, was shooting an angry
glance at him. This byplay to a considerable extent distracted my
attention; but when the fellow finally did get up courage to speak, I saw
that the eyes of every man in Falk's boat were on him and that Kipping had
clenched both fists.

"Stop!" the man from Boston cried. "Stop!" He stepped toward Roger with one
hand raised.

Roger soberly turned on him. "Be still," he said.

"But, sir--"

"Be still!"

"But, sir, there ain't no--"

Certainly as far as we could see, the man's feverish persistence was arrant
insubordination. What Roger would have done we had no time to learn, for
Blodgett, bursting with zeal for our common cause, grasped him by the
throat and choked his words into a gurgle. A queer expression of spite and
hatred passed over the man's face, and when he squirmed away from
Blodgett's grip I saw that he was muttering to himself as he rubbed his
bruised neck. But the others were paying him no attention and he presently
folded his arms with an air that continued to trouble me and stood apart
from the rest.

And Falk and Kipping and all their men now were grinning broadly!

The water slopped over the edges of the buckets and wet some of the bread
as the cook pushed the boat out toward Falk; but the men in the pinnace
watched it eagerly, and when it floated to the end of the painter, they
clutched for it so hastily that they almost upset the precious buckets.

When they had got it, they looked at each other and laughed and slapped
their legs and laughed again in an uproarious, almost maudlin mirth that we
could not understand.

We covered them with our muskets lest they try to seize the boat, which I
firmly believe they had contemplated before they realized how closely we
were watching them, and we smiled to see them cram their mouths with bread
and pass the buckets from hand to hand. When they had finished their
inexplicable laughter, they ate like animals and drew new strength and
courage from their food. Though Falk was still white under his bloody
bandage, his voice was stronger.

"I'll remember this," he said. "Maybe I'll give you a day or two of grace
before you swing. Oh, you can laugh at me now, you white-livered sons of
sea-cooks, but the day's coming when you'll sing another song to pay your
piper."

He looked round and laughed at his own men, and again they all laughed as
if he had said something clever, and he and Kipping exchanged glances.

"They ain't found the gold," he caustically remarked to Kipping. "We'll see
what we shall see."

"Ay, we'll see," Kipping returned, mildly. "We'll see. It'll be fun to see
it, too, won't it, sir?"

It was all very silly, and we, of course, had nothing to say in return; so
we watched them, with our muskets peeping over the bulwark and with the
long gun and the stern-chasers cleared in case of trouble, and in
undertones we kept up an exchange of comments.

After whispering among themselves, the men in the boat once more began to
row toward us. Singularly enough they showed no sign of the exhaustion that
a little before had seemed so painful. It slowly dawned upon me that their
air of misery had been nothing more than a cheap trick to play upon our
compassion. We watched them suspiciously, but they now assumed a frank
manner, which they evidently hoped would put us off our guard.

"Now you men listen to me," said Falk. "After all, what's the use of
behaving this way? You're just getting yourselves into trouble with the
law. We can send you to the gallows for this little spree, and what's more
we're going to do it--unless, that is, unless you come round sensible and
call it all off. Now what do you say? Why don't you be reasonable? You take
us on board and we'll use you right and hush all this up as best we can.
What do you say?"

"What do we say?" said Roger, "We say that bread and water have gone to
your head. You were singing another time a while back."

"Oh well, we _were_ a little down in the mouth then. But we're feeling a
sight better now. Come, ain't our plan reasonable?"

All the time they were rowing slowly nearer to the ship.

"Mistah Falk, O Mistah Falk!"

"Well?" Falk received the cook's interruption with an ill temper that made
the darkey's eyes roll with joy.

"Whar you git dat bootiful head-piece?"

A flush darkened Falk's pale face under the bandage, and with what dignity
he could muster, he ignored our snickers.

"What do you say?" he cried to Roger. "Evidently you haven't found the
money yet."

To us Roger said in an undertone, "Hold your fire." To Falk he
replied clearly, "You black-hearted villain, if you show your face in a
Christian port you'll go to the gallows for abetting the cold-blooded
murder of an able officer and an honorable gentleman, Captain Joseph
Whidden. Quid that over a while and stow your tales of piracy and mutiny.
Back water, you! Keep off!"

Here was no subtle insinuation. Falk was stopped in his tracks by the flat
statement. He had a dazed, frightened look. But Kipping, who had kept
himself in the background up to this point, now assumed command.

"Them's bad words," he said mildly, coldly. "Bad words. _But_--" he
slightly raised his voice--"we ain't a-goin' to eat 'em. Not we." All at
once he let out a yell that rang shrilly far over the water. "At 'em, men!
At 'em! Pull, you sons of the devil, pull! Out pikes and cutlasses! Take
'em by storm! Slash the netting and go over the side."

"Hold your fire,"--Roger repeated,--"one minute--till I give the word."

My heart was pounding at my ribs. I was breathing in fast gulps. With my
thumb on the hammer of the musket, I gave one glance to the priming, and
half raised it to my shoulder.

From the bottom of the boat Falk's men had snatched up the weapons that
hitherto they had kept out of sight. I had no time then to wonder why they
did not shoot; afterwards we agreed that they probably were so short of
powder and balls that they dared not expend any except in gravest
emergency. Kipping was standing as they rowed, and so fiercely now did they
ply their oars, casting to the winds every pretence of weakness, that the
boat rocked from side to side.

"At 'em!" Kipping snarled. "We'll show 'em! We'll show'em!"

"Hold your fire, men," said Roger the third time. "I'll wing that bird."
And aiming deliberately, he shot.

The report of his musket rang out sharply and was followed by a groan.
Kipping clutched his thigh with both hands and fell. The men stopped rowing
and the boat, gradually losing way, veered in a half circle and lay
broadside toward us. In the midst of the confusion aboard it, I saw Kipping
sitting up and cursing in a way that chilled my blood. "Oh," he moaned,
"I'll get you yet! I'll get you yet!" Then some one in the boat returned a
single shot that buried itself in our bulwark.

"Yeeeehaha! Got Kipping!" the cook cackled. "He got Kipping!"

"Now then," cried Roger, "bear off. We've had enough of you. If ever again
you come within gunshot of this ship, we'll shoot so much lead into you
that the weight will sink you. It's only a leg wound, Kipping. I was
careful where I aimed."

In a disorderly way the men began to pull out of range, but still we could
hear Kipping shrieking a stream of oaths and maledictions, and now Falk
stood up and shook his fist at us and yelled with as much semblance of
dignity as he could muster, "I'll see you yet, all seven of you, I'll see
you a-swinging one after another from the game yard-arm!" Then, to our
amazement, one of them whispered to the others behind his hand, and they
all began to laugh again as if they had played some famous joke on us.

Instead of going toward the island, they rowed out into the ocean. We could
not understand it. Surely they would not try to cross the China Sea in an
open boat! Were they so afraid of the natives?

Still we could hear Kipping, faintly now, bawling wrath and blasphemy. We
could see Captain Falk shaking his fist at us, and very clearly we could
hear his faint voice calling, "I'll sack that ship, so help me! We'll see
then what's become of the money."

Where in heaven's name could they be going? Suddenly the answer came to us.
Beyond them in the farthest offing were the tiny sails of the almost
becalmed junk. They were rowing toward it. Eight mariners from a Christian
land!

In that broad expanse of land and sea and sky, the only moving object was
the boat bearing Captain Falk and his men, which minute after minute
labored across the gently tossing sea.

Already the monsoon was weakening. The winds were variable, and for the
time being scarce a breath of air was stirring.

From the masthead we watched the boat grow smaller and smaller until it
seemed no bigger than the point of a pin. The men were rowing with short,
slow strokes. They may have gone eight or ten miles before darkness closed
in upon them and blotted them out, and they must have got very near to the
junk.

The moon, rising soon after sunset, flooded the world with a pale light
that made the sea shine like silver and made the island appear like a dark,
low shadow. But of the boat and the junk it revealed nothing.

The cook and Blodgett and I were talking idly on the fore hatch when
faintly, but so distinctly that we could not mistake it, we heard far off
the report of a gun.

"Listen!" cried Blodgett.

It came again and then again.

The cook laid his hand on my shoulder. "Boy," he gasped out, "don' you heah
dat yeh screechin'?"

"No," said I.

"Listen!"

We sat for a long time silent, and presently we heard one more very distant
gunshot.

Neither Blodgett nor I had heard anything else, but the cook insisted that
he had heard clearly the sound of some one far off shrieking and wailing in
the night. "Ah heah dat yeh noise, yass, sah. Ah ain't got none of dem
yamalgamations what heahs what ain't."

He was so big and black and primitive, and his great ears spread so far out
from his head, that he reminded me of some wild beast. Certainly he had a
wild beast's keen ears.

But now Blodgett raised his hand. "Here's wind," he said.

And wind it was, a fresh breeze that seemed to gather up the waning
strength of the light airs that had been playing at hide and seek with our
ropes and canvas.

At daybreak, cutting the cable and abandoning the working bower, we got
under way on the remainder of our voyage to China, bearing in a generally
northwesterly course to avoid the dangerous waters lying directly between
us and the port of our destination.

As we hauled at halyard and sheet and brace, and sprang quickly about at
Roger's bidding, I found no leisure to watch the dawn, nor did I think of
aught save the duties of the moment, which in some ways was a blessed
relief; but I presently became aware that David Paine, who seemed able to
work without thought, had stopped and was staring intently across the heavy
seas that went rolling past us. Then, suddenly, he cried in his deep voice,
"Sail ho!"

Hazily, in the silver light that intervened between moonset and sunrise, we
saw a junk with high poop and swinging batten sails bearing across our
course. She took the seas clumsily, her sails banging as she pitched, and
we gathered at the rail to watch her pass.

"See there, men!" old Blodgett cried.

He pointed his finger at the strange vessel. We drew closer and stared
incredulously.

On the poop of the junk, beside the cumbersome rudder windlass, leaning
nonchalantly against the great carved rail, were Captain Nathan Falk and
Chief Mate Kipping. That the slow craft could not cross our bows, they saw
as well as we. Indeed, I question if they cared a farthing whether they
sighted us that day or not. But they and their men, who gathered forward to
stare sullenly as we drew near, shook fists and once more shouted curses. I
could see them distinctly, Falk and Kipping and the carpenter and the
steward and the sail-maker and the rest--angry, familiar faces.

When we had swept by them, running before the wind, some one called after
us in a small, far-off voice, "We'll see you yet in Sunda Strait."

There was a commotion on the deck of the junk and Blodgett declared that
Falk had hit a man.

Were they changing their time for some reason that they did not want us to
suspect? _Did they really wish to cut us off on our return?_

Speculating about the fate of the yellow mariners who once had manned those
clumsy sails, and about what scenes of bloody cruelty there must have been
when those eight mad desperadoes attacked the ancient Chinese vessel, we
sailed away and left them in their pirated junk. But I imagined, even when
the old junk was hull down beyond the horizon, that I could hear an angry
voice calling after us.

CHAPTER XXVII

WE REACH WHAMPOA, BUT NOT THE END OF OUR TROUBLES

We were only seven men to work that ship, and after all these years I
marvel at our temerity. Time and again the cry "All hands" would come down
the hatch and summon the three of us from below to make sail, or reef, or
furl, or man the braces. Weary and almost blind with sleep, we would
stagger on deck and pull and haul, or would swarm aloft and strive to cope
with the sails. The cook, and even Roger, served tricks at the wheel, turn
and turn about with the rest of us; and for three terrible weeks we forced
ourselves to the sheets and halyards, day and night, when we scarcely could
hold our eyes open or bend our stiffened fingers.

A Divine Providence must have watched over us during the voyage and have
preserved us from danger; for though at that season bad storms are by no
means unknown, the weather remained settled and fine. With clear water
under our keel we passed shoal and reef and low-lying island. Now we saw a
Tonquinese trader running before the wind, a curious craft, with one mast
and a single sail bent to a yard at the head and stiffened by bamboo sprits
running from luff to leech; now a dingy nondescript junk; now in the offing
a fleet of proas, which caused us grave concern. But in all our passage
only one event was really worth noting.

When we were safely beyond London Reefs and the Fiery Cross, we laid our
course north by east to pass west of Macclesfield Bank. All was going as
well as we had dared expect, so willing was every man of our little
company, except possibly the man from Boston, whom I suspected of a
tendency to shirk, when late one evening the cook came aft with a very long
face.

"Well," said Roger, his eyes a-twinkle. "What's wrong in the galley,
doctor?"

"Yass, sah, yass, sah! S'pose, sah, you don't' know dah's almost no mo'
wateh foh to drink, sah."

"What's that you say?"

"Yass, sah, yass, sah, we done share up with dat yeh Kipping and dah ain't
no mo' to speak of at all, sah."

It was true. The casks below decks were empty. In the casks already broken
out there was enough for short rations to last until we made port, so our
predicament as yet was by no means desperate; but we remembered the
laughter of Falk and his men, and we were convinced that they knew the
trick they played when they persuaded us to divide the ship's bread and
water. By what mishap or mismanagement the supply of food had fallen
short--there had been abundant opportunity for either--we were never to
learn; but concerning the water-supply and Falk's duplicity, we were very
soon enlightened.

"Our friend from Boston," Roger said slowly, when the cook had gone, "seems
to have played us double. We'll have him below, Ben, and give him a chance
to explain."

I liked the fellow less than ever when he came into the cabin. He had a
certain triumphant air that consorted ill with his trick of evading one's
eyes. He came nervously, I thought; but to my surprise Roger's caustic
accusal seemed rather to put him at ease than to disconcert him further.

"And so," Roger concluded, after stating the case in no mincing terms, "you
knew us to be short of water, yet you deliberately neglected to warn us."

"Didn't I try to speak, sir? Didn't you cut me off, sir?"

Roger looked at him gravely. Although the fellow flinched, he was telling
the truth. In justice we had to admit that Roger had given him no hearing.

"Ay, and that skinny old money-chaser tried to throttle me," he continued.
"Falk lay off that island only because we needed water. Ay, we all knew we
needed it--Falk and all of us. But them murderin' natives was after our
heart's blood whenever we goes ashore, just because Chips and Kipping
drills a few bullet-holes in some of 'em. I knew what Falk was after when
he asks you for water, sir. The scuttlebutts with water in 'em was on deck
handy, and most of them below was empty where you wa'n't likely to trouble
'em for a while yet. He see how't would work out. Wasn't I going to tell
you, even though he killed me for it, until you cut me off and that 'un
choked me? It helps take the soreness--it--I tried to tell you, sir."

In petty spite, the fellow had committed himself, along with the rest of
us, to privation at the very least. Yet he had a defense of a kind,
contemptible though it was, and Roger let him go.

It was a weary voyage; but all things have an end, and in ten days we had
left Helen Shoal astern. Now we saw many junks and small native craft,
which we viewed with uncomfortable suspicion, for though our cannon were
double-charged and though loaded muskets were stacked around the
mizzenmast, we were very, very few to stand off an attack by those yellow
demons who swarmed the Eastern seas in the time of my boyhood and who, for
all I know, swarm them still.

There came at last a day when we went aloft and saw with red eyes that
ached for sleep hills above the horizon and a ship in the offing with all
sails set. A splendid sight she was, for our own flag flew from the ensign
halyards, and less than three weeks before, any man of us would have given
his right hand to see that ship and that flag within hail; but now it was
the sight of land that thrilled us to the heart. Hungry, thirsty, worn out
with fatigue, we joyously stared at those low, distant hills.

"Oh, mah golly, oh, mah golly!" the cook cried, in ecstasy, "jest once Ah
gits mah foots on dry land Ah's gwine be de happies' nigger eveh bo'n. Ah
ain' neveh gwine to sea agin, no sah, not neveh."

"Ay, land's good," Davie Paine muttered, "but the sea holds a man."

Blodgett said naught. What dreams of wealth were stirring in his head, I
never knew. He was so very pale! He more than any one else, I think, was
exhausted by the hardships of the voyage.

Roger, gaunt and silent, stood with his arms crossed on the rail. He had
eaten almost nothing; he had slept scarcely at all. With unceasing courage
he had done his duty by day and by night, and I realized as I saw him
standing there, sternly indomitable, that his was the fibre of heroes. I
was proud of him--and when I thought of my sister, I was glad. Then it was
that I remembered my father's words when, as we walked toward Captain
Whidden's house, we heard our gate shut and he knew without looking back
who had entered.

We came into the Canton River, or the Chu-Kiang as it is called, by the
Bocca-Tigris, and with the help of some sailing directions that Captain
Whidden had left in writing we passed safely through the first part of
the channel between Tiger Island and Towling Flat. Thence, keeping the
watch-tower on Chuen-pee Fort well away from the North Fort of Anung-hoy,
we worked up toward Towling Island in seven or eight fathoms.

A thousand little boats and sampans clustered round us, and we were annoyed
and a little frightened by the gesticulations of the Chinese who manned
them, until it dawned on us that they wished to serve as pilots. By signs
we drove a bargain--a silver dollar and two fingers; three fingers; five
fingers--and got for seven silver dollars the services of several men in
four sampans, who took their places along the channel just ahead of us and
sounded the depth with bamboo poles, until by their guidance we crossed the
second bar on the flood tide, which providentially came at the very hour
when we most needed it, and proceeded safely on up the river.

That night, too tired and weak to stand, we let the best bower go by the
run in Whampoa Roads, and threw ourselves on the deck. By and by--hours
later it seemed--we heard the sound of oars.

"Island Princess ahoy!" came the hearty hail.

"Ahoy," some one replied.

"What's wrong? Come, look alive! What does this mean?"

I now sat up and saw that Roger was standing in the stern just as he had
stood before, his feet spread far apart, his arms folded, his chin
out-thrust. "Do you, sir," he said slowly, "happen to have a bottle of wine
with you?"

I heard the men talking together, but I could not tell what they were
saying. Next, I saw a head appear above the bulwark and realized that they
were coming aboard.

"Bless my soul! What's happened? Where's Captain Whidden? Bless my soul!
Who are _you_?" The speaker was big, well dressed, comfortably well fed. He
stared at the six of us sprawled out grotesquely on the deck, where we had
thrown ourselves when the ship swung at her anchor. He looked up at the
loose, half-furled sails. He turned to Roger, who stood gaunt and silent
before him. "Bless my soul! _Who are you?_"

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