Part 18 (2/2)
Mr. d.y.k.es groaned, but decided that it was not safe to offer any further objections. To be placed in command of a steamer without even one reliable officer under him, and with, perhaps, twenty or more prisoners on board, was a great deal more than he had bargained for.
”What about an engineer, sir?” he asked.
”You can have Sims.”
The mate choked back the remark he was about to make concerning the qualities of Mr. Sims. But inwardly he vowed that, if the second-engineer had no conception of what h.e.l.l might be like, he would be in possession of a good working theory before he left the gunboat.
”Now that's settled,” went on the Captain, ”you had better go aboard her and make preparations for coaling and victualling.”
”Very good, sir,” answered Mr. d.y.k.es in a spiritless voice, and departed in deep dudgeon. Had the Captain shown any inclination to listen to his advice, he would have suggested leaving the prisoners on the island under a strong guard, till the British authorities were informed and could send a vessel to take them away. However, to argue with Calamity would be about as cheerful a job as trying experiments with a live sh.e.l.l, and so the mate wisely accepted his burden with what fort.i.tude he could muster.
Having acquainted himself with what resources the one-time German colony possessed, Calamity returned to the _Hawk_. He was anxious to consult McPhulach concerning the repairs to the engines and other parts of the s.h.i.+p which had suffered from the fort's guns on the preceding night.
There was to be explained, also, the mystery of the engineer's presence in the fort, when, according to orders, he should have been in the engine-room of the _Hawk_.
”Where is Mr. McPhulach?” asked the Captain as soon as he stepped on board.
”In his cabin, sir,” answered one of the men.
”Then go and fetch him--no, stay though, I'll go to him myself,” and Calamity made his way to the engineer's abode.
”Wha's there?” inquired a feeble voice in answer to the Captain's knock.
Calamity, instead of answering, opened the door and stepped in. The cabin was darkened by having the curtains drawn across the ports, but he could make out the figure of McPhulach propped up in his bunk with the aid of a battered leather bag and a pillow. The engineer presented a sorry spectacle; his head was enveloped in a wet towel, and on a locker by his side stood a cup of tea and a half-eaten slice of dry toast.
”How are you?” inquired the Captain, drawing the curtains apart to admit the daylight.
”I'm no verra weel, an' I thank ye,” replied McPhulach, still in a feeble voice. ”Ma heid is like a footba' filled wi' lead.”
”Naturally,” remarked the Captain coldly.
”Aye, I ken it weel,” groaned the sufferer.
”What I want to know is, how the devil you got into the fort and what you did when you got there,” went on Calamity.
”It's a michty quare business, skeeper, an' I dinna a'togither ken it mesel'.”
”You were ordered to remain on board, instead of which, I suppose, you smuggled yourself into one of the boats when they put off.”
”Weel, I didna swim,” answered McPhulach testily, and held his aching head in both hands.
”You disobeyed orders.”
There was an ominous ring in the Captain's voice which made the victim of alcoholic excess pull himself together sharply.
”It was a' due to a nichtmare I had, d'ye ken?” he said, thinking as hard as his befuddled brain would permit.
<script>