"Sit down here," said Carew, "and speak to me. No one can overhear us here, I think."

"No; it will be all right if we do not raise our voices," replied Baptiste, looking round.

"How is this going to end?" whispered Carew.

"What do you mean, captain?"

"How are we four to seize a vessel with a crew of seventeen strong men on board?"

"Strong men, indeed!" replied the Frenchman. "They will be as weak as babies in a few days' time. By the way, I see that you did not omit to bring your medicine chest on board with you."

Carew shuddered. "Poison!" he whispered, in a terrified voice. "Do you mean that?"

"Why not, captain? It is a merciful and painless death if the right stuff is used."

Carew said nothing for some time. "Whatever is done must be done soon,"

he muttered.

"That is so, captain. This vessel must be ours while we are still in the trades and within a few days' run of a South American port. It will be difficult enough for four of us to work her, even in these calm waters.

We must not postpone action till we get into the region of rougher weather."

"Oh, that this dreadful thing were not necessary!" Carew groaned.

"Ah, sir, don't allow those fatal scruples of yours to torment you. If I had some of your courage, and you some of my philosophy, what a fine couple we should be! But as it is at present, I am the more useful man of the two, despite my physical cowardice. Believe me, Mr. Carew, the ancient was right who said that to know oneself is the secret of happiness. If a man has a conscience at all, it ought to be a stable one that does not vary. You have got a set of moral principles of a sort, but you have not the slightest idea of what they are. One day you will commit an action with a light heart; on the morrow your remorse will madden you. Such inconsistency means misery. Know thyself. If you will have a code of ethics, know it and stick to it, and be happy. But now that you have gone so far, I recommend you to abjure conscience and moral principles, and subst.i.tute for them my beautifully simple code of ethics, which is summed up in three words--fear of consequences."

"I wish, indeed, that I could do so, Baptiste."

"If you wish it, this satisfactory result will come in time. All changes in the moral sense are arrived at by wishing. _Experto crede_, as they taught me in the _lycee_ at Nimes."

Neither spoke for some time; then Baptiste said--

"You were born under a lucky star, captain. I think that Providence has found a way of sparing your sensitive conscience. She will do most of the killing for you."

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Carew.

"Hush! not so loud. You remember that a young man fell from the mizzen rigging while we were below drinking with the captain?"

"Yes."

"He is our unconscious ally. He will kill off a good many of his comrades for us. But I will not mystify you any longer. Why did he fall off the rigging--because he was awkward, as Duval said? Not a bit of it.

He fell because he was dizzy. Why was he dizzy? Because he was ill. This afternoon, when I saw him first, I more than suspected that a fall could not account for all his symptoms. I have just examined him again. I know the signs well. He is in the first stage of _yellow fever_!"

"Yellow fever?"

"Yes, yellow fever has come to help us. The man has been very sick and is now delirious. The stupid captain has seen him, and puts it all down to his fall; says he must have injured his spine. How lucky for us was that fall! Led off the scent by it, the idiots will not suspect what is the matter with the man until the _vomito negro_ declares itself. They have not separated him from the rest. He is now lying in his bunk in the forecastle. All the watch below are sleeping round him. It is a small forecastle, and the crew, imagining that fresh air is bad for a sick man, have closed the ports. It is stifling down there at present. It is a pest-house. All those men are breathing in contagion. Do you know that it is the worst form of yellow fever that is now raging at Rio--very contagious, very fatal? If it breaks out in a vessel like this it will spread like wildfire. Man after man will fall sick and die."

"Ourselves included," said Carew recklessly.

"No, sir. We will take precautions in time. I have had the fever once, and am not likely to have it again. I have hinted the truth to El Chico and El Toro, and they have suddenly developed a hygienic craze for fresh air, and insist on sleeping on deck to-night, to the amazement of the French sailors. I would not like to insure the lives of the men who sleep in that forecastle; most of them are doomed by this time."

Carew felt his skin turn cold and tingle with horror as he listened to the Frenchman's cold-blooded exultation in the dreadful prospect.

"Good-night, captain. I am going to turn in now; and, by the way, let me advise you to keep on deck in the cool wind as much as possible, and smoke perpetually. Tobacco is a splendid disinfectant."

CHAPTER XIII

On the day after the crew of the _Petrel_ had been taken on board the barque the wind freshened and was so much to the south of east that the vessel was enabled to sail in a north-easterly direction, a course which would bring her to the vicinity of the Trinidad and Martin Vas Archipelago.

When Carew came on deck in the morning he found Baptiste there before him. The Provencal walked up to him jauntily, twirling his long black moustache, and looking jubilant. "I have seen young Halle again," he said, in a low voice. "He is very bad. The symptoms are unmistakable; but no one suspects the truth so far. Two other men are complaining of headache."

"Let the accursed plague work its way," said Carew gloomily, "but tell me nothing about it."

"So be it, sir," said Baptiste, with a shrug of his shoulders.

The springing up of so favourable a wind put the captain of _La Bonne Esperance_ in a very contented frame of mind. In his delight he became more talkative than was his wont, and at frequent intervals during the day sought out Carew in order to converse with him.

Carew, for his part, did his utmost--without appearing churlish--to avoid the company of Captain Mourez; for he recognised him as being a kind-hearted and an honest man.

The captain observed his pa.s.senger's unsociable mood, and, attributing this to his sorrow at the loss of his yacht, endeavoured to cheer him with lively gossip, but produced the opposite result.

Nothing noteworthy occurred during the day; the wind held steady, and the vessel made good progress. At about ten o'clock that night, Carew was sitting alone in the saloon, killing thought by reading a French novel which the captain had lent him, when Mourez himself came in. His face bore a very anxious expression.

"Mr. Allen," he said, "I am seriously alarmed about that man Halle. I fear that he has the fever."

"The yellow fever?" exclaimed Carew, not raising his eyes from his book.

"It seems so to me; but I have never seen a case of yellow fever. Do you mind coming with me to the forecastle and giving me your opinion?"

"I will do so with pleasure," replied Carew, rising from his seat; "but my opinion is not worth much."

They entered the forecastle, which was dimly lighted by a small lantern.

Halle was lying on his bunk, keeping up a constant delirious chatter.

The other men, instead of sleeping soundly through their watch below after the manner of sailors, were sitting together in a group at the corner of the forecastle farthest removed from the sick man, looking scared and talking to each other in subdued voices.

Carew stood by Halle's bunk and looked at him. A change for the worse had recently come on. His face wore an expression of intense anxiety.

His skin was wrinkled and of a dark yellow colour.

The captain made a sign to Carew, and they went on deck again. "I have never seen yellow fever," said the latter; "ask my mate, Baptiste Fortier, what he thinks about it; he has had the fever himself." Thus did this strange man trifle with his conscience as usual, and attempt to shift the responsibility for the next step in the tragedy on to his companion.

Baptiste was found, and was sent into the forecastle. It would be quite useless to lie about the facts now, so, returning to where Carew and Mourez were standing, he said, "It is yellow fever. I am sure of it."

On hearing this the captain began to pace up and down the deck in a state of great agitation, wringing his hands. "Good heavens! this is a terrible affair," he cried. "For thirty hours Halle has been spreading contagion in the forecastle. Who knows where this will end?"

Then Captain Mourez stood still, and after pondering a little while addressed Carew. "I must at once convert some portion of the vessel into a hospital. The forecastle is no longer a fit place for the healthy men, so we will give it up to the sick. Sir, we must pray for a fresh breeze to carry us quickly into northern lat.i.tudes, where the cold will kill the plague that has come to us."