Mr Midshipman Easy (18 page)

The coxswain was spokesman. He said that they had had hard work, and required now to have some rest—that there were provisions on board for three months, so that there could not be any hurry, and that they had found they could pitch a tent very well on shore, and live there for a short time; and that, as there was no harm in getting drunk on shore, they expected that they might be allowed to take provisions and plenty of wine with them, and that the men had desired him to ask leave, because they were determined to go whether or no. Jack was about to answer with the handspike, but perceiving that the men had all put on their cutlasses, and had their pistols at their belts, he thought proper to consult Mesty, who, perceiving that resistance was useless, advised Jack to submit, observing, that the sooner all the wine was gone the better, as there would be nothing done while it lasted. Jack, therefore, very graciously told them that they should have their own way, and he would stay there as long as they pleased. Mesty gave them the keys of the provision-hatch, and told them, with a grin, to help themselves. The men then informed Jack that he and Mesty should stay on board and take care of the ship for them, and that they would take the Spaniard on shore to cook their victuals. But to this Jack observed that if he had not two hands he could not obey their orders, in case they wished him to come on shore for them. The men thought there was good argument in that observation, and therefore allowed Jack to retain the Spaniard, that he might be more prompt to their call from the beach. They then wished him good day, and begged that he would amuse himself with the “articles of war.”

As soon as they had thrown a spare sail into the boat, with some spars to make a tent, and some bedding, they went down below, hoisted up two pipes of wine out of the three, a bag or two of biscuit, arms and ammunition, and as much of the salt provisions as they thought they might require. The boat being full, they shoved off with three cheers of derision. Jack was sensible to the compliment: he stood at the gangway, took off his hat, and made them a polite bow.

As soon as they were gone, Mesty grinned with his sharp-filed teeth, and looking at our hero, said—

“I tink I make um pay for all dis—stop a little; by de piper as played before Moses, but our turn come by-and-bye.”

As for Jack, he said nothing, but he thought the more. In about an hour the men returned in the boat: they had forgotten many things they wanted— wood to make a fire, and several utensils; they helped themselves freely, and having now everything that they could think of, they again went on shore.

“How d——n lucky, we nebber tell dem about the dollars,” said Mesty, as Jack and he were watching the motions of the men.

“It is, indeed,” replied Jack; “not that they could spend them here.”

“No, Massa Easy, but suppose they find all that money, they take boat and go away with it. Now, I hab them in my clutch—stop a little.”

A narrow piece of salt pork had been left at the gangway: Jack, without knowing why, tossed it overboard; being almost all fat, it sank very gradually: Jack watched it as it disappeared, so did Mesty, both full of thought, when they perceived a dark object rising under it: it was a ground shark, who took it into his maw, sank down, and disappeared.

“What was that?” said Jack.

“That ground shark, Massa Easy—worst shark of all; you nebber see him till you feel him;” and Mesty's eyes sparkled with pleasure. “By de powers, they soon stop de mutiny; now I hab 'em.”

Jack shuddered and walked away.

During the day, the men on shore were seen to work hard, and make all the preparations before they abandoned themselves to the sensual gratification of intemperance. The tent was pitched, the fire was lighted, and all the articles taken on shore rolled up and stowed away in their places; they were seen to sit down and dine, for they were within hail of the ship, and then one of the casks of wine was spiled. In the meantime the Spaniard, who was a quiet lad, had prepared the dinner for Easy and his now only companion. The evening closed, and all was noise and revelry on shore; and as they danced, and sung, and tossed off the cans of wine by the light of the fire, as they hallooed and screamed, and became more and more intoxicated, Mesty turned to Jack with his bitter smile, and only said—

“Stop a little.”

At last the noise grew fainter, the fire died away, and gradually all was silent. Jack was still hanging over the gangway when Mesty came up to him. The new moon had just risen, and Jack's eyes were fixed upon it.

“Now, Massa Easy, please you come aft and lower down little boat; take your pistols, and then we go on shore and bring off the cutter; they all asleep now.”

“But why should we leave them without a boat, Mesty?” for Jack thought of the sharks, and the probability of the men attempting to swim off.

“I tell you, sar, this night they get drunk, to-morrow they get drunk again, but drunken men never keep quiet,—suppose one man say to others, ‘Let's go board and kill officer, and then we do as we please,' they all say yes, and they all come and do it. No, sar—must have boat—if not for your sake, I must hab it, save my own life anyhow, for they hate me and kill me first; by de powers, stop a little.”

Jack felt the truth of Mesty's observation; he went aft with him, lowered down the small boat, and they hauled it alongside. Jack went down with Mesty into the cabin and fetched his pistols. “And the Spaniard, Mesty, can we leave him on board alone?”

“Yes, sar, he no got arms, and he see dat me have—but suppose he find arms he never dare do anything—I know de man.”

Our hero and Mesty went into the boat and shoved off, pulling gently on shore; the men were in a state of intoxication, so as not to be able to move, much less hear. They cast off the cutter, towed her on board, and made her fast with the other boat astern.

“Now, sar, we may go to bed; to-morrow morning you will see.”

“They have everything they require on shore,” replied Easy, “all they could want with the cutter would be to molest us.”

“Stop a little,” replied Mesty.

Jack and Mesty went to bed, and as a precaution against the Spaniard, which was hardly necessary, Mesty locked the cabin door—but Mesty never forgot anything.

Jack slept little that night—he had melancholy forebodings which he could not shake off; indeed, Jack had reflected so much since he had left the ship, he had had his eyes so much opened, and had felt what a responsibility he had taken by indulging himself in a whim of the moment, that it might be almost said, that in the course of one fortnight he had at once from a boy sprung up into a man. He was mortified and angry, but he was chiefly so with himself.

Mesty was up at daylight, and Jack soon followed him: they watched the party on shore, who had not yet left the tent. At last, just as Jack had finished his breakfast, one or two made their appearance; the men looked about them as if they were searching for something, and then walked down to the beach, to where the boat had been made fast. Jack looked at Mesty, who grinned, and answered with the words so often repeated,—

“Stop a little.”

The men then walked along the rocks until they were abreast of the ship.

“Ship ahoy!”

“Halloo,” replied Mesty.

“Bring the boat ashore directly, with a beaker of water.”

“I knew dat,” cried Mesty, rubbing his hands with delight. “Massa Easy, you must tell them No.”

“But why should I not give them water, Mesty?”

“Because, sar, den they take boat.”

“Very true,” replied Easy,

“Do you hear on board?” cried the coxswain, who was the man who hailed—“send the boat immediately, or we'll cut the throats of every mother's son of you, by God!”

“I shall not send the boat,” replied Jack, who now thought Mesty was right.

“You won't—won't you?—then your doom's sealed,” replied the man, walking up to the tent with the other. In a short time all the seamen turned out of the tent, bringing with them four muskets, which they had taken on shore with them.

“Good heavens! they are not, surely, going to fire at us, Mesty.”

“Stop a little.”

The men then came down abreast of the ship, and the coxswain again hailed, and asked if they would bring the boat on shore.

“You must say, No, sar,” replied Mesty.

“I feel I must,” replied Jack; and then he answered the coxswain, “No.”

The plan of the mutineers had been foreseen by the wily negro—it was to swim off to the boats which were riding astern, and to fire at him or Jack, if they attempted to haul them up alongside and defend them. To get into the boats, especially the smaller one, from out of the water was easy enough. Some of the men examined their priming and held the muskets at their hips all ready, with the muzzles towards the ship, while the coxswain and two men were throwing off their clothes

“Stop, for God's sake, stop!” cried Jack. “The harbour is full of ground sharks,—it is, upon my soul!”

“Do you think to frighten us with ground sharks?” replied the coxswain; “keep under cover, my lad; Jack, give him a shot to prove we are in earnest, and every time he or that nigger show their heads, give them another, my lads.”

“For God's sake, don't attempt to swim,” said Jack, in an agony; “I will try some means to give you water.”

“Too late now—you're doomed;” and the coxswain sprang off the rock into the sea, and was followed by two other men: at the same moment a musket was discharged, and the bullet whistled close to our hero's ear.

Mesty dragged Jack from the gangway, who was nearly fainting from agonising feelings. He sank on the deck for a moment, and then sprang up and ran to the port to look at the men in the water. He was just in time to see the coxswain raise himself with a loud yell out of the sea, and then disappear in a vortex, which was crimsoned with his blood.

Mesty threw down his musket in his hand, of which he had several already loaded, in case the men should have gained the boats.

“By the powers, dat no use now!”

Jack had covered his face with his hands. But the tragedy was not complete: the other men, who were in the water, had immediately turned and made for the shore; but before they could reach it, two more of these voracious monsters, attracted by the blood of the coxswain, had flown to the spot, and there was a contention for the fragments of their bodies.

Mesty, who had seen this catastrophe, turned towards our hero, who still hid his face.

“I'm glad he no see dat, anyhow,” muttered Mesty.

“See what!” exclaimed Jack.

“Shark eat 'em all.”

“Oh, horrid! horrid!” groaned our hero.

“Yes, sar, very horrid,” replied Mesty, “and dat bullet at your head very horrid. Suppose the sharks no take them, what then? They kill us and the sharks have our body. I think that more horrid still.”

“Mesty,” replied Jack, seizing the negro convulsively by the arm, “it was not the sharks—it was I,—I who have murdered these men.”

Mesty looked at Jack with surprise.

“How dat possible?”

“If I had not disobeyed orders,” replied our hero, panting for breath, “if I had not shown them the example of disobedience, this would not have happened. How could I expect submission from them? It's all my fault—I see it now—and, O God! when will the sight be blotted from my memory?”

“Massa Easy, I not understand that,” replied Mesty: “I think you talk foolish—might as well say, suppose Ashantee men not make war, this not happen; for suppose Ashantee not make war, I not slave, I not run away,— I not come board
Harpy
—I not go in boat with you—I not hinder men from getting drunk—and dat why they make mutiny—and the mutiny why the shark take um?”

Jack made no reply, but he felt some consolation from the counter-argument of the negro.

The dreadful death of the three mutineers appeared to have had a sensible effect upon their companions, who walked away from the beach with their heads down and with measured steps. They were now seen to be perambulating the island, probably in search of that water which they required. At noon, they returned to their tent, and soon afterwards were in a state of intoxication, hallooing and shouting as the day before. Towards the evening they came down to the beach abreast of the ship, each with a vessel in their hands, and perceiving that they had attracted the notice of our hero and Mesty, tossed the contents of the vessels up in the air to show that they had found water, and hooting and deriding, went back, dancing, leaping, and kicking up their heels, to renew their orgies, which continued till after midnight, when they were all stupefied as before.

The next day Jack had recovered from the first shock which the catastrophe had given him, and he called Mesty into the cabin to hold a consultation.

“Mesty, how is this to end?”

“How you mean, sar?—end here, or end on board of the
Harpy?“

“The
Harpy,
—there appears little chance of our seeing her again—we are on a desolate island, or what is the same thing; but we will hope that it will be so: but how is this mutiny to end?”

“Massa Easy, suppose I please, I make it end very soon, but I not in a hurry.”

“How do you mean, Mesty, not in a hurry?”

“Look, Massa Easy; you wish take a cruise, and I wish the same ting: now because mutiny you want to go back—but by all de powers, you tink that I, a prince in my own country, feel wish to go back and boil kettle for de young gentlemen. No, Massa Easy, gib me mutiny—gib me anyting— but—once I was prince,” replied Mesty, lowering his voice at the last few emphatic words.

“You must one of these days tell me your history,” replied Jack; “but just now let us argue the point in question. How could you put an end to this mutiny?”

“By putting an end to all wine. Suppose I go shore after they all drunk, I spile the casks in three or four places, and in the morning all wine gone— den dey ab get sober, and beg pardon—we take dem on board, put away all arms, 'cept yours and mine, and I like to see the mutiny after dat. Blood and 'ounds—but I settle um, anyhow.”