Part 50 (1/2)
And one does this--a ruffian of unmitigated type, whose breast is not stirred by the slightest throb of humanity. It is the second mate, Padilla. Breaking silence, he says:
”Let us cut their throats, and have done with it!”
The horrible proposition, more so from its very laconism, despite the auditory to whom it is addressed, does not find favourable response.
Several speak in opposition to it; Harry Blew first and loudest. Though broken his word, and forfeited his faith, the British sailor is not so abandoned as to contemplate murder in such cool, deliberate manner.
Some of those around him have no doubt committed it; but he does not feel up to it. Opposing Padilla's counsel, he says:
”What need for our killin' them? For my part, I don't see any.”
”And for your part, what would you do?” sneeringly retorts the second mate.
”Give the poor devils a chance for their lives.”
”How?” promptly asks Padilla.
”Why; if we set the barque's head out to sea, as the wind's off-sh.o.r.e, she'd soon carry them beyond sight o' land, and we'd niver hear another word o' 'em.”
”No, no! that won't do,” protest several in the same breath. ”They might get picked up, and then we'd be sure of hearing of them--may be something more than words.”
”_Carrai_!” exclaims Padilla scornfully; ”that _would_ be a wise way.
Just the one to get our throats in the _garrota_. You forget that Don Gregorio Montijo is a man of the big grandee kind. And should he ever set foot ash.o.r.e, after what we'd done to him, he'd have influence enough to make most places--ay, the whole of the habitable globe--a trifle too hot for us. There's an old saw, about dead men telling no tales. No doubt most of you have heard it, and some have reason to know it true.
Take my advice, _camarados_, and let us act up to it. What's your opinion, Senor Gomez?”
”Since you ask for it,” responds Gomez, speaking for the first time on this special matter, ”my opinion is, that there's no need for any difference among us. Mr Blew's against the spilling of blood, and so would I, if it could be avoided. But it can't, with safety to ourselves; at least not in the way he has suggested. To act as he advises would be madness on our part--nay more, it might be suicide.
Still, there don't seem any necessity for a cold cutting of throats, which has an ugly sound about it. The same with knocking on the head; they're both too brutal. I think I know a way that will save us from resorting to either, and, at the same time, ensure our own safety.”
”What way?” demanded several voices. ”Tell us!”
”One simple enough; so simple, I wonder you haven't all thought of it, same as myself. Of course, we intend sending this craft to the bottom of the sea. But she's not likely to go down all of a sudden; nor till we're a good way off out of sight. We can leave the gentlemen aboard, and let them slip quietly down along with her!”
”Why, that's just what Blew proposes,” say several.
”True,” returns Gomez; ”but not exactly as I mean it. He'd leave them free to go about the s.h.i.+p--perhaps get out of her before she sinks, on a sofa, or hencoop, or something.”
”How would _you_ do with them?” asks one, impatiently.
”Tie, before taking leave of them.”
”Bah!” exclaims Padilla, a monster to whom spilling blood seems congenial. ”What's the use of being at all that bother? It's sure to bring some. The skipper will resist, and so'll the old Don. What then?
We'll be compelled to knock them on the head all the same, or toss them overboard. For my part, I don't see the object of making such a worry about it; and still say, let's stop their wind at once!”
”Dash it, man!” cries Striker, hitherto only a listener, but a backer of Harry Blew; ”you 'pear to 'a been practisin' a queery plan in jobs o'
this sort. Mr Gomez hev got a better way o't, same as I've myself seed in the Australian bush, wheres they an't so bloodthirsty. When they stick up a chap theer, so long's he don't cut up nasty, they settle things by splicin' him to a tree, an' leavin' him to his meditashuns.
Why can't we do the same wi' the skipper, an' the Don, an' the darkey-- supposin' any o' 'em to show reefractry?”
”That's it!” exclaims Davis, strengthening the proposal thus endorsed by his chum, Striker. ”My old pal's got the correct idea of sich things.”