Part 12 (1/2)

This question was prompted by the urgency with which the advice to go below had been given.

Seeing that nothing was to be made of his pa.s.senger in this way, Morley Jones cast about in his mind to hit upon another expedient to get rid of him, and reproached himself for having been tempted by a good fare to let him have a pa.s.sage.

Suddenly his eye was attracted by a dark object floating in the sea a considerable distance to the southward of them.

”That's lucky,” muttered Jones, after examining it carefully with the gla.s.s, while a gleam of satisfaction shot across his dark countenance; ”could not have come in better time. Nothing could be better.”

Shutting up the gla.s.s with decision, he turned round, and the look of satisfaction gave place to one of impatience as his eye fell on Stanley Hall, who still sat with folded arms on the skylight, looking as composed and serene as if he had taken up his quarters there for the night. After one or two hasty turns on the deck, an idea appeared to hit Mr Jones, for he smiled in a grim fas.h.i.+on, and muttered, ”I'll try that, if the breeze would only come.”

The breeze appeared to have been waiting for an invitation, for one or two ”cat's-paws” ruffled the surface of the sea as he spoke.

”Mind your helm, boy,” said Mr Jones suddenly; ”let her away a point; so, steady. Keep her as she goes; and, harkee” (he stooped down and whispered), ”_when I open the skylight_ do you call down, `breeze freshenin', sir, and has s.h.i.+fted a point to the west'ard.'”

”By the way, Mr Hall,” said Jones, turning abruptly to his pa.s.senger, ”you take so much interest in navigation that I should like to show you a new chart I've got of the channels on this part of the coast. Will you step below?”

”With pleasure,” replied Stanley, rising and following Jones, who immediately spread out on the cabin table one of his most intricate charts,--which, as he had expected, the young student began to examine with much interest,--at the same time plying the other with numerous questions.

”Stay,” said Jones, ”I'll open the skylight--don't you find the cabin close?”

No sooner was the skylight opened than the small voice of Billy Towler was heard shouting--

”Breeze freshenin', sir, and has s.h.i.+fted a pint to the west'ard.”

”All right,” replied Jones;--”excuse me, sir, I'll take a look at the sheets and braces and see that all's fast--be back in a few minutes.”

He went on deck, leaving Stanley busy with the chart.

”You're a smart boy, Billy. Now do as I tell 'ee, and keep your weather eye open. D'ye see that bit o' floating wreck a-head? Well, keep straight for that and _run right against it_. I'll trust to 'ee, boy, that ye don't miss it.”

Billy said that he would be careful, but resolved in his heart that he _would_ miss it!

Jones then went aft to a locker near the stern, whence he returned with a mallet and chisel, and went below. Immediately thereafter Billy heard the regular though slight blows of the mallet, and pursed his red lips and screwed up his small visage into a complicated sign of intelligence.

There was very little wind, and the sloop made slow progress towards the piece of wreck although it was very near, and Billy steered as far from it as he could without absolutely altering the course.

Presently Jones returned on deck and replaced the mallet and chisel in the locker. He was very warm and wiped the perspiration frequently from his forehead. Observing that the sloop was not so near the wreck as he had expected, he suddenly seized the small steersman by the neck and shook him as a terrier dog shakes a rat.

”Billy,” said he, quickly, in a low but stern voice, ”it's of no use. I see what you are up to. Your steerin' clear o' that won't prevent this sloop from bein' at the bottom in quarter of an hour, if not sooner! If you hit it you may save yourself and me a world of trouble. It's so much for your own interest, boy, to hit that bit of wreck, _that I'll trust you again_.”

So saying, Jones went down into the cabin, apologised for having kept Stanley waiting so long, said that he could not leave the boy at the helm alone for more than a few minutes at a time, and that he would have to return on deck immediately after he had made an entry on the log slate.

Had any one watched Morley Jones while he was making that entry on the log slate, he would have perceived that the strong man's hand trembled excessively, that perspiration stood in beads upon his brow, and that the entry itself consisted of a number of unmeaning and wavering strokes.

Meanwhile Billy Towler, left in sole possession of the sloop, felt himself in a most unenviable state of mind. He knew that the crisis had arrived, and the decisive tone of his tyrant's last remark convinced him that it would be expedient for himself to obey orders. On the other hand, he remembered that he had deliberately resolved to throw off his allegiance, and as he drew near the piece of wreck, he reflected that he was at that moment a.s.sisting in an act which might cost the lives of all on board.

Driven to and fro between doubts and fears, the poor boy kept changing the course of the sloop in a way that would have soon rendered the hitting of the wreck an impossibility, when a sudden and rather sharp puff of wind caused the Nora to bend over, and the foam to curl on her bow as she slipped swiftly through the water. Billy decided at that moment to _miss_ the wreck when he was close upon it, and for that purpose deliberately and smartly put the helm hard a-starboard.

Poor fellow, his seamans.h.i.+p was not equal to his courage! So badly did he steer, that the very act which was meant to carry him past the wreck, thrust him right upon it!

The shock, although a comparatively slight one, was sufficiently severe to arouse the sleepers, to whom the unwonted sensation and sound carried the idea of sudden disaster. Jim and Grundy rushed on deck, where they found Morley Jones already on the bulwarks with a boat-hook, shouting for aid, while Stanley Hall a.s.sisted him with an oar to push the sloop off what appeared to be the topmast and cross-trees of a vessel, with which she was entangled.