The Mutineers by Charles Boardman Hawes

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A sail there had been, beyond all question, where now there was none.
Driven by the storm, it had vanished completely from our sight.

As well as we could judge by our lunar observations, the land was between
Paga River and Stony Point, and when we had sailed along some forty miles,
the shore, as it should be according to our reckoning, was less
mountainous.

It was my first glimpse of the Sunda Islands, of which I had heard so much,
and I well remember that I stood by the forward rigging watching the
distant land from where it seemed on my right to rise from the sea, to
where it seemed on my left to go down beyond the horizon into the sea
again, and that I murmured to myself in a small, awed voice:--

"This is Java!"

The very name had magic in it. Already from those islands our Salem
mariners had accumulated great wealth. Not yet are the old days forgotten,
when Elias Hasket Derby's ships brought back fortunes from Batavia, and
when Captain Carnes, by one voyage in Jonathan Peele's schooner Rajah to
the northern coast of Sumatra for wild pepper, made a profit of seven
hundred per cent of both the total cost of the schooner itself and the
whole expense of the entire expedition. I who lived in the exhilarating
atmosphere of those adventurous times was thrilled to the heart by my first
sight of lands to which hundreds of Salem ships had sailed.

It really was Java, and night was falling on its shores. Far to the
northeast some tiny object pricked above the skyline, and a point of light
gleamed clearly, low against the blue heavens in which the stars had just
begun to shine.

"A sail!" I cried.

Before the words had left my lips a deep voice aloft sonorously
proclaimed:--

"Sa-a-ail ho!"

"Where away?" Mr. Thomas cried.

"Two points off the larboard bow, sir."

The little knot of officers on the quarter-deck already were intent on the
tiny spot of almost invisible canvas, and we forward were crowding one
another for a better sight of it. Then in the gathering darkness it faded
and was gone. Could it have been the same that we had seen before?

There was much talk of the mysterious ship that night, and many strange
theories were offered to account for it. Davie Paine, in his deep, rolling
voice, sent shivers down our backs by his story of a ghost-ship manned by
dead men with bony fingers and hollow eyes, which had sailed the seas in
the days of his great-uncle, a stout old mariner who seemed from Davie's
account to have been a hard drinker. Kipping was reminded of yarns about
Malay pirates, which he told so quietly, so mildly, that they seemed by
contrast thrice as terrible. Neddie Benson lugubriously recalled the
prophecy of the charming fortune-teller and argued the worst of our
mysterious stranger. "The lady said," he repeated, "that there'd be a dark
man and a light man and no end o' trouble. She was a nice lady, too." But
Neddie and his doleful fortune-teller as usual banished our gloom, and the
forecastle reechoed with hoarse laughter, which grew louder and louder when
Neddie once again narrated the lady's charms, and at last cried angrily
that she was as plump as a nice young chicken.

"If you was to ask me," Bill Hayden murmured, "I'd say it was just a sail."
But no one asked Bill Hayden, and with a few words about his "little wee
girl at Newburyport," he buried himself in his old blankets and was soon
asleep.

During the mid-watch that same night, the cook prowled the deck forward
like a dog sneaking along the wharves. Silently, the whites of his eyes
gleaming out of the darkness, he moved hither and thither, careful always
to avoid the second mate's observation. As I watched him, I became more and
more curious, for I could make nothing of his veering course. He went now
to starboard, now to larboard, now to the forecastle, now to the steerage,
always silently, always deliberately. After a while he came over and stood
beside me.

"It ain't right," he whispered. "Ah tell you, boy, it ain't right."

"What's not right?" I asked.

"De goin's on aboa'd dis ship."

"What goings on?"

"Boy, Ah's been a long time to sea and Ah's cooked foh some bad crews in my
time, yass, sah, but Ah's gwine tell you, boy, 'cause Ah done took a fancy
to you, dis am de most iniquitous crew Ah eveh done cook salt hoss foh.
Yass, sah."

"What do you mean?"

The negro ignored my question.

"Ah's gwine tell you, boy, dis yeh crew am bad 'nough, but when dah come a
ha'nt boat a-sailin' oveh yondeh jest at dahk, boy, Ah wish Ah was back
home whar Ah could somehow come to shoot a rabbit what got a lef'
hind-foot. Yass, sah."

For a long time he silently paced up and down by the bulwark; but finally I
saw him momentarily against the light of his dim lantern as he entered his
own quarters.

Morning came with fine breezes and pleasant weather. At half-past four we
saw Winerow Point bearing northwest by west. At seven o'clock we took in
all studding-sails and staysails, and the fore and mizzen topgallant-sails.
So another day passed and another night. An hour after midnight we took in
the main topgallantsail, and lay by with our head to the south until six
bells, when we wore ship, proceeding north again, and saw Java Head at nine
o'clock to the minute.

We now faced Sunda Strait, the channel that separates Java from Sumatra and
unites the Indian Ocean with the Java Sea. From the bow of our ship there
stretched out on one hand and on the other, far beyond the horizon, Borneo,
Celebes, Banka and Billiton; the Little Sunda Islands--Bali and Lombok,
Simbawa, Flores and Timor; the China Sea, the Philippines, and farther and
greater than them all, the mainland of Asia.

While we were still intent on Java Head there came once more the cry, "Sail
ho!"

This time the sail was not to be mistaken. Captain Whidden trained on it
the glass, which he shortly handed to Mr. Thomas. "See her go!" the men
cried. It was true. She was running away from us easily. Now she was hull
down. Now we could see only her topgallant-sails. Now she again had
disappeared. But this time we had found, besides her general appearance and
the cut of her sails, which no seaman could mistake, a mark by which any
landsman must recognize her: on her fore-topsail there was a white
lozenge-shaped patch.

At eleven o'clock in the morning, with Prince's Island bearing from north
to west by south, we entered the Straits of Sunda. At noon we were due east
of Prince's Island beach and had sighted the third Point of Java and the
Isle of Cracato.

Fine breezes and a clear sky favored us, and the islands, green and blue
according to their distance, were beautiful to see. Occasionally we had
glimpses of little native craft, or descried villages sleeping amid the
drowsy green of the cocoanut trees. It was a peaceful, beautiful world
that met our eyes as the Island Princess stood through the Straits and up
the east coast of Sumatra; the air was warm and pleasant, and the leaves of
the tufted palms, lacily interwoven, were small in the distance like the
fronds of ferns in our own land. But Captain Whidden and Mr. Thomas
remained on deck and constantly searched the horizon with the glass; and
the men worked uneasily, glancing up apprehensively every minute or two,
and starting at slight sounds. There was reason to be apprehensive, we
all knew.

On the evening of Friday, August 11, beyond possibility of doubt we sighted
a ship; and that it was the same which we already had seen at least once,
the lozenge-shaped patch on the foresail proved to the satisfaction
of officers and men.

CHAPTER VIII

ATTACKED

In the morning we were mystified to see that the sail once again had
disappeared. But to distract us from idle speculations, need of fresh water
now added to our uneasiness, and we anchored on a mud bottom while the
captain and Mr. Thomas went ashore and searched in vain for a
watering-place.

During the day we saw a number of natives fishing in their boats a short
distance away; but when our own boat approached them, they pulled for the
shore with all speed and fled into the woods like wild men. Thus the day
passed,--so quietly and uneventfully that it lulled us into confidence that
we were safe from harm,--and a new day dawned.

That morning, as we lay at anchor, the strange ship, with the sun shining
brightly on her sails, boldly reappeared from beyond a distant point, and
hove to about three miles to the north-northeast. As she lay in plain sight
and almost within earshot, she seemed no more out of the ordinary than any
vessel that we might have passed off the coast of New England. But on her
great foresail, which hung loose now with the wind shaken out of it, there
was a lozenge-shaped patch of clean new canvas.

Soon word passed from mouth to mouth that the captain and Mr. Falk would go
in the gig to learn the stranger's name and port.

To a certain extent we were relieved to find that our phantom ship was
built of solid wood and iron; yet we were decidedly apprehensive as we
watched the men pull away in the bright sun. The boat became smaller and
smaller, and the dipping oars flashed like gold.

With his head out-thrust and his chin sunk below the level of his
shoulders, the cook stood by the galley, in doubt and foreboding, and
watched the boat pull away.

His voice, when he spoke, gave me a start.

"Look dah, boy! Look dah! Dey's sumpin' funny, yass, sah. 'Tain't safe foh
to truck with ha'nts, no sah! You can't make dis yeh nigger think a winkin'
fire-bug of a fly-by-night ship ain't a ha'nt."

"Ha'nts," said Kipping mildly, "ha'nts is bad things for niggers, but they
don't hurt white men."

"Lemme tell you, you Kipping, it ain't gwine pay you to be disrespectable
to de cook." Frank stuck his angry face in front of the mild man's. "Ef you
think--ha!"--He stopped suddenly, his eyes fixed on something far beyond
Kipping, over whose shoulder he now was looking. "Look dah! Look dah! What
Ah say? Hey? What Ah say? Look dah! Look dah!"

Startled by the cook's fierce yell, we turned as if a gun had been fired;
but we saw only that the boat was coming about.

"Look dah! Look dah! See 'em row! Don' tell me dat ain't no ha'nt!" Jumping
up and down, waving his arms wildly, contorting his irregular features till
he resembled a gorilla, he continued to yell in frenzy.

Although there seemed to be no cause for any such outburst, the rest of us
now were alarmed by the behavior of the men in the boat. Having come about,
they were racing back to the Island Princess as fast as ever they could,
and the captain and Mr. Falk, if we could judge by their gestures, were
urging them to even greater efforts.

"Look dah! Look dah! Don't you tell me dey ain't seen a ha'nt, you
Kipping!"

As they approached, I heard Roger Hamlin say sharply to the mate, "Mr.
Thomas, that ship yonder is drifting down on us rapidly. See! They're
sheeting home the topsail."

I could see that Mr. Thomas, who evidently thought Roger's fear groundless,
was laughing, but I could not hear his reply. In any case he gave no order
to prepare for action until the boat came within earshot and the captain
abruptly hailed him and ordered him to trip anchor and prepare to make
sail.

As the boat came aboard, we heard news that thrilled us. "She's an Arab
ship," spread the word. "They were waiting for our boat, with no sign of
hostility until Mr. Falk saw the sunlight strike on a gun-barrel that was
intended to be hidden behind the bulwark. As the boat veered away, the man
with the gun started to fire, but another prevented him, probably because
the distance was so great."

Instantly there was wild activity on the Island Princess. While we loosed
the sails and sheeted them home and, with anchor aweigh, braced the yards
and began to move ahead, the idlers were tricing up the boarding nettings
and double-charging our cannon, of which we carried three--a long gun
amidships and a pair of stern chasers. Men to work the ship were ordered to
the ropes. The rest were served pikes and loaded muskets.

We accomplished the various preparations in an incredibly short time, and,
gathering way, stood ready to receive the stranger should she force us to
fight.

For the time being we were doubtful of her intentions, and seeing us armed
and ready, she stood off as if still unwilling to press us more closely.
But some one aboard her, if I guess aright, resented so tame an end to a
long pursuit and insisted on at least an exchange of volleys.

[Illustration: Suddenly, in the brief silence that followed the two
thunderous reports, a pistol shot rang out sharply and I saw Captain
Whidden spin around and fall.]

Now she came down on us, running easily with the wind on her quarter, and
gave us a round from her muskets.

"Hold your fire," Captain Whidden ordered. "They're feeling their way."

Emboldened by our silence, she wore ship and came nearer. It seemed now
that she would attempt to board us, for we spied men waiting with
grapnels, and she came steadily on while our own men fretted at their
guns, not daring to fire without the captain's orders, till we could see
the triumphant sneer on the dark face of her commander.

Now her muskets spoke again. I heard a bullet sing over my head and saw one
of our own seamen in the waist fall and lie quite still. Should we never
answer her in kind? In three minutes, it seemed, we should have to meet her
men hand to hand.

Now our helmsman luffed, and we came closer into the wind, which gave our
guns a chance.

"Now, then," Captain Whidden cried, "let them have the long gun and hold
the rest."

With a crash our cannon swept the deck of the Arab, splintering the cabin
and accomplishing ten times as much damage as all her muskets had done to
us. But she in turn, exasperated by the havoc we had wrought, fired
simultaneously her two largest guns at point-blank range.

I ducked behind the bulwark and looked back along the deck. One ball had
hit the scuttle-butt and had splashed the water fifteen feet in every
direction. Another had splintered the cross jack-yard. Suddenly, in the
brief silence that followed the two thunderous reports, a single
pistol-shot rang out sharply and I saw Captain Whidden spin round and fall.

Our own guns, as we came about, sent an answer that cut the Arab's lower
sail to ribbons, disabled many men and, I am confident, killed several. But
there was no time to load again. Although by now we showed our stern to the
enemy, and had a fair--chance to outstrip her in a long race, her greater
momentum was bringing her down upon us rapidly. From aft came the order--it
was Mr. Thomas who gave it,--"All hands to the pikes and repel boarders!"

There was, however, no more fighting. Our assailants took measure of the
stout nets and the strong battery of pikes, and, abandoning the whole
unlucky adventure, bore away on a new course.

One man forward was killed and four were badly hurt. Mr. Thomas sat with
his back against the cabin, very white of face, with streams of red running
from his nostrils and his mouth; and Captain Whidden lay dead on the deck.
An hour later word passed through the ship that Mr. Thomas, too, had died.

CHAPTER IX

BAD SIGNS

It was strange that, while some of us in the forecastle were much cast down
by the tragic events of the day, others should seem to be put in really
good humor by it all. Neddie Benson soberly shook his head from time to
time; old Bill Hayden lay in his bunk without even a word about his "little
wee girl in Newburyport," and occasionally complained of not feeling well;
and various others of the crew faced the future with frank hopelessness.

For my own part, it seemed to me as unreal as a nightmare that Captain
Joseph Whidden actually had been shot dead by a band of Arab pirates. I was
bewildered--indeed, stunned--by the incredible suddenness of the calamity.
It was so complete, so appallingly final! To me, a boy still in his 'teens,
that first intimate association with violent death would have been in
itself terrible, and I keenly felt the loss of our chief mate. But Captain
Whidden to me was far more than master of the ship. He had been my father's
friend since long before I was born; and from the days when I first
discriminated between the guests at my father's house, I had counted him as
also a friend of mine. Never had I dreamed that so sad an hour would darken
my first voyage.

Kipping, on the other hand, and Davie Paine and the carpenter seemed
actually well pleased with what had happened. They lolled around with an
air of exasperating superiority when they saw any of the rest of us looking
at them; and now and then they exchanged glances that I was at a loss to
understand until all at once a new thought dawned on me: since the captain
and the first mate were dead, the command of the ship devolved upon
Mr. Falk, the second mate.

No wonder that Kipping and Davie and the carpenter and all the rest of that
lawless clique were well pleased. No wonder that old Bill Hayden and some
of the others, for whom Kipping and his friends had not a particle of use
were downcast by the prospect.

I was amazed at my own stupidity in not realizing it before, and above all
else I now longed to talk with someone whom I could trust--Roger Hamlin by
preference; as second choice, my friend the cook. But for the time being I
was disappointed in this. Almost immediately Mr. Falk summoned all hands
aft.

"Men," he said, putting on a grave face that seemed to me assumed for the
occasion, "men, we've come through a dangerous time, and we are lucky to
have come alive out of the bad scrape that we were in. Some of us haven't
come through so well. It's a sad thing for a ship to lose an officer, and
it is twice as sad to lose two fine officers like Captain Whidden and Mr.
Thomas. I'll now read the service for the burial of the dead, and after
that I'll have something more to say to you."

One of the men spoke in an undertone, and Mr. Falk cried, "What's that?"

"If you please, sir," the man said, fidgeting nervously, "couldn't we go
ashore and bury them decently?"

Others had thought of the same thing, and they showed it by their faces;
but Mr. Falk scowled and replied, "Nonsense! We'd be murdered in cold
blood."

So we stood there, bareheaded, silent, sad at heart, and heard the droning
voice of the second mate,--even then he could not hide his unrighteous
satisfaction,--who read from a worn prayer-book, that had belonged to
Captain Whidden himself, the words committing the bodies of three men to
the deep, their souls to God.

When the brief, perfunctory service was over, Mr. Falk put away the
prayer-book,--I verily believe he put away with it all fear of the
Lord,--folded his arms and faced us arrogantly.

"By the death of Captain Whidden and Mr. Thomas," he said, "I have become
the rightful master of this ship. Now I've got a few things to say to you,
and I'm going to have them understood. If you heed them and work smartly,
you'll get along as well as you deserve. If you don't heed them, you'd
better be dead and done with it. If you don't heed them--" he sneered
disagreeably--"if you don't heed them I'll lash the skin off the back of
every bloody mother's son of ye. This voyage from now on is to be carried
out for the best interests of all concerned." He stopped and smiled and
repeated significantly, "_Of_ ALL _concerned_." After another pause, in
which some of the men exchanged knowing glances, he went on, "I have no
doubt that the most of us will get along as well as need be. So far, well
and good. But if there's those that try to cross my bows,"--he swore
roundly,--"heaven help'em! They'll need it. That's all. Wait! One thing
more: we've got to have officers, and as I know you'll not be bold to pick
from among yourselves, I'll save you the trouble. Kipping from this time on
will be chief mate. You'll take his things aft, and you'll obey him from
now on and put the handle to his name. Paine will be second mate. That's
all. Go forward."

Kipping and Davie Paine! I was thunderstruck. But some of the men exchanged
glances and smiles as before, and I saw by his expression that Roger,
although ill pleased, was by no means so amazed as I should have expected
him to be.

For the last time as seaman, Kipping, mild and quiet, came to the
forecastle. But as he packed his bag and prepared to leave us, he smiled
constantly with a detestable quirk of his mouth, and before going he
stopped beside downcast old Bill Hayden. "Straighten up, be a man," he said
softly; "I'll see that you're treated right." He fairly drawled the words,
so mildly did he speak; but when he had finished, his manner instantly
changed. Thrusting out his chin and narrowing his eyes, he deliberately
drew back his foot and gave old Bill one savage kick.

I was right glad that chance had placed me in the second mate's watch.

As for Davie Paine, he was so overcome by the stroke of fortune that had
resulted in his promotion, that he could not even collect his belongings.
We helped him pile them into his chest, which he fastened with trembling
fingers, and gave him a hand on deck. But even his deep voice had failed
him for the time being, and when he took leave of us, he whispered
piteously, '"Fore the Lord, I dunno how it happened. I ain't never learned
to figger and I can't no more than write my name."

What was to become of us? Our captain was a weak officer. Our present chief
mate no man of us trusted.

Our second mate was inexperienced, incompetent, illiterate. More than ever
I longed to talk with Roger Hamlin, but there was no opportunity that
night.

Our watch on deck was a farce, for old Davie was so unfamiliar with his new
duties and so confused by his sudden eminence that, according to the men at
the wheel, he didn't know north from south or aloft from alow. Evading his
confused glances, I sought the galley, and without any of the usual
complicated formalities was admitted to where the cook was smoking his rank
pipe.

Rolling his eyes until the whites gleamed, he told me the following
astounding story.

"Boy," he said, "dis am de most unmitigated day ol' Frank ever see. Cap'n,
he am a good man and now he's a dead un. Mistah Thomas he am a good man and
now _he's_ a dead un. What Ah tell you about dem ha'nts? Ef Ah could have
kotched a rabbit with a lef' hind-leg, Ah guess we'd be better off. Hey?
Mistah Falk, he am cap'n--Lo'd have mercy on us! Dat Kipping, he am chief
mate--Lo'd have mercy on us mis'able sinners! Davie Paine, he am second
mate--Lo'd perserve ou' souls! Ah guess you don't know what Ah heah Mistah
Falk say to stew'd! He says, 'Stew'd, we got ev'ything--ev'ything. And we
ain't broke a single law!' Now tell me what he mean by dat? What's stew'd
got, Ah want to know? But dat ain't all--no, sah, dat ain't all."

He leaned forward, the whites of his eyes rolling, his fixed frown more
ominous than ever. "Boy, Ah see 'em when dey's dead, Ah did. Ah see 'em
all. Mistah Thomas, he have a big hole in de middle of his front, and dat
po' old sailo' man he have a big hole in de middle of his front. Yass, sah,
Ah see 'em! But cap'n, he have a little roun' hole in the back of his
head.--Yass, sah--_he was shot f'om behine_!"

The sea that night was as calm and as untroubled as if the day had passed
in Sabbath quiet. It seemed impossible that we had endured so much, that
Captain Whidden and Mr. Thomas were dead, that the space of only
twenty-four hours had wrought such a change in the fortunes of all on
board.

[Illustration: We helped him pile his belongings into his chest
and gave him a hand on deck.]

I could not believe that one of our own men had shot our captain. Surely
the bullet must have hit him when he was turning to give an order or to
oversee some particular duty. And yet I could not forget the cook's words.
They hummed in my ears. They sounded in the strumming of the rigging, in
the "talking" of the ship:--

"A little roun' hole in the back of his head--yass, sah--he was shot f'om
behine."

Without the captain and Mr. Thomas the Island Princess was like a strange
vessel. Both Kipping and Davie Paine had been promoted from the starboard
watch, leaving us shorthanded; so a queer, self-confident fellow named
Blodgett was transferred from the chief mate's watch to ours. But even so
there were fewer hands and more work, and the spirit of the crew seemed to
have changed. Whereas earlier in the voyage most of the men had gone
smartly about their duties, always glad to lend a hand or join in a
chantey, and with an eye for the profit and welfare of the owners as well
as of themselves, now there came over the ship, silently, imperceptibly,
yet so swiftly and completely that, although no man saw it come, in
twenty-four hours it was with us and upon us in all its deadening and
discouraging weight, a spirit of lassitude and procrastination. You would
have expected some of the men to find it hard to give old Davie Paine quite
all the respect to which his new berth entitled him, and for my own part I
liked Kipping less even than I had liked Mr. Falk. But although my own
prejudice should have enabled me to understand any minor lapses from the
strict discipline of life aboard ship, much occurred in the next
twenty-four hours that puzzled me.

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