When he was out of the lazaret, the situation would be managed by Mister Lynch. The ship's longboat, in the port skids, was ready for the water. They planned, said the lady, to launch this boat at night, in the second mate's watch, and she and Newman were to sail away together.

For it was no haphazard plan born of desperation after Newman's arrest.

Newman knew all about it. It had kept him occupied this past week; it was responsible in large measure for the mysterious happenings of the past week, for Newman's absences, and for the lady's masquerade in Nils' clothes. She had access to Nils' chest through Wong, who had charge of it, and she first dressed up in Nils' clothes so that she might, as she thought, move about at night on deck un.o.bserved. When she was observed, and taken for a ghost, both Newman and Lynch told her to continue the masquerade; it helped their business with the longboat, because it kept spying eyes away from that part of the ship. They had been provisioning and preparing this boat for a week, working thus in the night, and by stealth. Another day or two, and they would have been away.

But the captain's blow this afternoon had jeopardized the entire scheme. Indeed, it was on the verge of utter ruin. For Newman was in the black hole in irons, and the crew were preparing to mutiny.

It was this last, the threatened uprising, that terrified the lady. It would finally ruin their chances of escape, she told me. At all hazards, we must get Newman out of the lazaret before the sailors'

attack occurred. We must get him forward, she said, so that he might squelch the mutiny before it began. Oh, Newman could tame Boston and Blackie, he could tame the stiffs and compose the squareheads; she had no doubt he could do all that, and instantly. I was not so sure. I didn't think that anything or anybody could stop the crew--unless it was killing Swope, which she forbade. But I didn't say so.

And in any event, the immediate thing to do was to release Newman. It would at least give him a fighting chance. She urged haste, and I worked like a fiend. It was hard work. The deck planking was three inches thick, and the number of holes I must bore seemed endless. I was surprised at the amount of work already accomplished; it did not seem possible that this slender woman had done the two long rows of holes. Nor had she, I learned. Wong had bored most of them, during the odd moments he could slip away un.o.bserved from his work. The tradesman who furnished the tool had even driven a few. The lady had done some of the work, as the condition of her hands proved. But my coming was really providential. She could never have finished the job on time, and now she knew of the crew's intention, she recognized the need of haste.

I longed mightily for a saw. Yet I knew I could not have used a saw had I possessed one. A saw makes a carrying noise. The tool I had was nearly noiseless. I sweated and wondered, and now and then asked a question.

I wondered what Lynch would do when the lads came aft. Aye, and I discovered that this was one reason the lady was so terrified at the prospect of mutiny. For Lynch, she was certain, would make common cause with the rest of the afterguard against any uprising forward. He was helping her and Newman. But he had no interest in helping the hands. The hands were just hands to him, so much beef to work and beat. He would never side with the foc'sle against the cabin.

"I have sailed three voyages with Lynch," said she. "He is a hard man, a cruel man; I have seen him do terrible things to sailors. But he is also, according to his lights, a just man. His brutality is always for what he considers the ship's welfare, never for any personal reason.

You know how he has treated you, and Roy, and other men who know and do their work."

"Fair enough," I admitted.

"When my--my husband tried to kill Roy, that night you and he were aloft together, he violated James Lynch's very strict code. He considered that attempt a serious blot upon his honor. He told him--Angus--as much. He told him he would not have that sort of thing in his watch. It wasn't regard for Roy that made him say that; it was just that he thinks it is not right to kill or even hurt a man for personal reasons, but only when the welfare of the ship is at stake.

And also, I think--well, he--likes me. He is willing to help me. That is why, a week ago, he came to me and offered his help. He had discovered what my--my husband really intended doing; I think he overheard a conversation between my--between Angus and the mate. He said we were both in danger, I as well as Roy, and that we must leave the ship.

"Roy suggested the longboat, and he agreed. Roy can navigate, of course, and there are islands not distant from our present position.

So we have been preparing the boat, and Mr. Lynch planned to launch it some midwatch when the mate and--and Captain Swope were in their berths. He hoped to get us away so quietly they would know nothing about it until hours later."

"But surely Lynch didn't intend staying by the ship? Why, when the Old Man found out he'd skin him alive!" I exclaimed.

"He said not, and I think not," she said. "He has sailed under my--my husband for years. He is not like Mr. Fitzgibbon, and the others. He does not fear my husband. I think Angus fears him. He knows things that have happened in this ship that my--my husband dare not have told on sh.o.r.e. He refused when we urged him to come with us; he declared he would be in no danger, that he could guard himself. I think he can."

The lady clenched her hands, and her voice broke a little, as she disclosed the anxiety that was wrenching her soul.

"But now--I don't know what he will do. If we can free Roy in time; if we can stop trouble forward! Then I know Mr. Lynch will keep his promise; he will lock up Angus and the mate, get them out of the way somehow, until Roy and I have left the ship. But if the men rise before we have gone--then he will think his duty is to the ship. He will not think of us, and my--my husband will do what he wishes. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am. But we have until midnight, or after, and it's just a little past two bells, now. Ten minutes more, ma'am, and I'll have this hole open."

But it took a little longer than ten minutes. Three bells struck while I was still whittling and digging at the caulking in the seams with my sheath knife. But the echo of the big ship's bell forward had hardly died away when I carefully, ever so carefully, lifted up and laid back the cut-away section of the deck. I had left the caulking at one end nearly intact, so the solid piece laid back like a trap-door.

The lady and I knelt by the side of the hole and peered down into the littered darkness. We could make out, dimly, heaps of barrels and boxes. A damp, chill air rushed up into our faces, carrying with it the sound of a scurrying rat, and another sound which made the lady gasp and tremble, and caused me to grind my teeth with rage. It was a long, drawn-out sigh, the moan of a man in agony of flesh or spirit.

It was Newman's voice. Mingling with it, and following it, came the low, demoniac chuckle of Captain Swope.

Lying flat and craning my neck into the hole, I saw, far over on the other side of the ship, the flicker of a lantern upon boxes. I immediately drew back, got to my feet, and extinguished the lamp in the gimbals. Then I s.n.a.t.c.hed a blanket from the steward's bunk, and spread it across the hole. That done, there was no danger of light or draught betraying us to the man below.

I asked orders of the lady, and discussed ways and means with her. It was decided at once that I should go below and effect Newman's release--and she gave me the small key that the Chinaman had filched.

I was the stronger and more active, and could more easily make my way about in the dark, cluttered lazaret; besides, her work lay above.

Swope was evidently pleasuring himself by viewing and taunting his helpless prisoner; he must be drawn away from this amus.e.m.e.nt.

She could not go on deck herself, she said; Fitzgibbon was up there, and would see her--and she was supposed to be locked in her room. But she would send Wong on deck with a message to Mister Lynch; she would have Lynch sing out for the captain's presence on the p.o.o.p. When the captain responded to the hail, I was to accomplish my task. I was to bring Newman to this room. What happened then depended upon chance--and Lynch. Newman and I must get forward, some way, and quiet the men; Lynch would take care of Swope. She had a fine faith in the second mate, had the lady.

I had never been in the lazaret, the task of breaking out stores having usually fallen to the stiffs. But from foc'sle gossip I knew it was a big storeroom, comprising the whole 'tweendeck beneath the cabin s.p.a.ce.

The _Golden Bough_, like most clippers of her day, sometimes carried emigrant pa.s.sengers, and had need of a s.p.a.cious lazaret.

The lady sketched the lay of the land for me. The hatch to the lazaret was in the saloon floor, well aft, on the starboard side. Wong was more familiar than any man with the lazaret's interior, and he had decided the deck should be cut through from this room, rather than at any other point. This, said the lady, was because farther aft, on this side of the ship, a strong room occupied the lazaret s.p.a.ce (aye, the same strong room which so tickled the fancy of some of my shipmates!).

The Chinaman had planned with foresight; he had even disposed stores below to convenience and shield the man who played rescuer. When I dropped through the hole, the lady told me, I would find myself in a narrow alleyway, walled with tiers of beef casks and other stores; if I followed this alleyway I would come to the lazaret hatch, near where Newman was secured.

She thought I should wait until I heard the captain leave the lazaret.

But to this I demurred. The success of the scheme might well depend upon the leeway of a moment's time. The ship's noises, always present in a ship's hold, would cover any slight noise I might make. Truth to tell, that sound of Newman in pain had thrown me into a fever of impatience to get to his side; and I suspect it rendered the lady less cautious, too.

"G.o.d bless you, Boy--and, oh, be careful," she whispered.

I drew back the blanket, and lowered my body into the opening. I hung by my hands an instant, and felt her draw the blanket over my head as she covered the hole again. Then I let go, and dropped.

CHAPTER XXI

I crouched behind a row of flour barrels, which stood on end handy to the hatch, and peered through the c.h.i.n.ks. The captain had hung his lantern on a beam overhead, and its rays limned like a stage-setting an open s.p.a.ce some six feet square. Aye, a stage-setting, and the scene a torture chamber. I bit my lips to restrain a cry of horror and rage when I looked through the c.h.i.n.ks between the barrels, and it was with difficulty I kept myself from rushing forth and falling upon the fiend who had contrived and was enjoying the scene.

Captain Swope was seated upon an upturned keg. He had placed the lantern so its light fell full upon Newman (it illumined himself, for my eyes, as well) and he was talking to the prisoner, mocking him.

And Newman! It was the sight of him that made me choke, that made me finger my knife hilt. Newman--my friend!

He was at the far end of that open s.p.a.ce, trussed up to the starboard limbers. Trussed up--and in what way! You will remember, when they placed him under arrest, the captain ordered his hands ironed behind his back. The reason was now apparent. His hands were still behind his back; aye, when they trussed him up, they drew up his hands until they were on a level with his head, and secured him in that position.

His feet were also ironed, and the chain lashed to a limber. So he stood, or rather hung--for he could not stand properly with his arms wrenched back in that position--and the whole weight of his body dragged upon his wrists and shoulder blades. So he had stood during the hours that had pa.s.sed since afternoon. Torture, agony--that is what it meant to be trussed up in that position.

I thought I recognized Fitzgibbon's handiwork in this torture; though I dare say it was originally Swope's invention. But we had seen Fitzgibbon use this same method of inflicting pain and terror, we men forward. One day, for an imagined insolence, he had trussed up n.i.g.g.e.r to the mainmast in this very fashion, and left him there for a short half-hour. After five minutes n.i.g.g.e.r was wild with pain. When he was cut down, his arms seemed paralyzed, and it was a full day ere the ache pa.s.sed from them.

And Newman had been enduring this pain for hours. But now, I thought, he must be mercifully unconscious, for his head hung upon his breast, and he made no sign that he heard the captain's gibes.

It was sport to Swope's liking, and he was enjoying himself right royally. Aye, I could tell. The words that slid between his full lips were laden with the sensuous delight their utterance gave the speaker.

I lay in my retreat waiting for the hail that would draw the beast on deck, and while I waited I listened to him, and observed his manner.

Oh, Swope was having a fine time, a happy time. If the lady had not taken the revolver from me, I fear I should have shot the man despite my promise. As it was my sheath knife lay bared in my hand, and I had to fight myself to keep from leaping the barrier and confronting him.

Aye, to face him, and make him eat the steel out of my hand!

Yes, Swope was in a happy mood. A rollicking, loquacious mood. He talked. Unconsciously he made me witness to his confession of black treacheries, and deeds more loathsome than I could have imagined myself.

When I reached my position behind the barrels, and was able to distinguish his words--he was boasting of and baring his secrets in a voice not meant to carry beyond Newman's ears--he was taunting Newman.

"Well, why don't you call upon G.o.d to help you?" says he. "He has helped you a lot in the past, hasn't he, Roy? And He has helped her a lot, hasn't he? Helped her to stand me. Oh, that's a joke! The just and merciful One--d'you remember how old Baintree used to rant? You approved, didn't you. You agreed with old Baintree. So did I, Roy, to his face.

"But you--why you were a d.a.m.ned Puritan, Roy. You wouldn't do this, you wouldn't do that, you would be clean of vice--your very words, Roy!--and you would be honest and just with men. That's the sort of thing that paid, says you.

"And didn't it pay you, though! Ho, ho; it's too rich, Roy! You would make yourself as good a man as old Baintree; you would make yourself worthy of his daughter. Remember telling me that? And didn't you, though--with my help! My help, Roy--not G.o.d's! It was Black Angus and the Devil did it!

"Well, well, I thought I would surprise you with my little tale of how I used the Twigg girl to spoil your chance with Mary. But Beasley surprised you instead. Didn't he, now? A neat trick, eh, Roy? You never guessed?

"You never guessed, either, all that I had planned for you that time.