Part 52 (1/2)
THE SCUTTLERS.
Harry Blew is in the hold, Bill Davis beside him.
They are standing on the bottom-timbers on a spot they have selected for their wicked work, and which they have had some difficulty in finding.
They have reached it, by clambering over sandal-wood logs, cases of Manilla cigars, and piles of tortoise-sh.e.l.l. Clearing some of these articles out of the way, they get sight of the vessel's ribs, and at a point they know to be under the water-line. They know also that a hole bored between their feet, though ever so small, will in due time fill the barque's hold with water, and send her to the bottom of the sea.
Davis, auger in hand, stands in readiness to bore the hole; waiting for the first officer to give the word.
But something stays the latter from giving it, as the former from commencing the work.
It is a thought that seems to occur simultaneously to both, bringing their eyes up to one another's faces, in a fiance mutually interrogative. Blew is the first to put it in speech.
”Dang me, if I like to do it!”
”Ye've spoke my mind exact, Mr Blew!” rejoins Davis. ”No more do I.”
”'Tan't nothing short of murder,” pursues the chief mate. ”An' that's just why I an't up to it; the more, as there an't any downright needcessity. As I sayed to them above, I can see no good reason for sinking the s.h.i.+p. She'd sail right out, an' we'd never hear word o' her again. An' if them to be left 'board o' her shud get picked up, what matters that to us? We'll be out o' the way, long afore they could go anywhere to gi'e evidence against us. Neer a fear o' their ever findin'
us--neyther you nor me, anyhow. I dare say, Davis, you mean to steer for some port, where we're not likely to meet any more Spaniards. I do, when I've stowed my share o' the plunder.”
”Yes; I'm for Australia, soon's I can get there. That's the place for men like me.”
”There you'll be safe enough. So I, where I intend goin'. And we'll both feel better, not havin' a ugly thing to reflect back on. Which we would, if we send these three poor creeturs to Davy's locker. Now, I propose to you what you heerd me say to the rest: let's gi'e them a chance for their lives.”
”And not do this?”
As he puts the question, Davis points his auger to the bottom of the s.h.i.+p.
”There an't no need--not a morsel o' good can come from sinkin' her.
And not a bit harm in lettin' her slip.”
”What will the others say?”
”They won't know anything about it--they can't unless we tell 'em. And we won't be the fools to do that. As I argied to them, with the wind off-sh.o.r.e, as 'tis now, she'll scud out o' sight o' land long afore daylight. Bill Davis! whatsomever the others may do, or think they're doin', let's me an' you keep our consciences clear o' this foul deed.
Believe me, mate, we'll both feel better for't some day.”
”If you think they won't know, I'm agreed.”
”How can they? There an't none o' them to see what we do down here.
'Taint likely there's any listener. Gie a knock or two wi' the mallet!”
The s.h.i.+p's carpenter obeying, strikes several blows against an empty water-cask, the noise ascending through the open hatch. He suspends his strokes at hearing exclamations above; then screams in the shrill treble of female voices.
”You see they're not thinking o' us,” says the mate. ”Them Spaniards are too busy about their own share o' the job. They're gettin' the girls into the boat.”
”Yes; that's what they're doing.”
”Sweet girls both be. An't they, Davis?”
”Ay, that they are; a pair of reg'lar beauties.”