"I'll give all hands a minute to get up, and if they ain't, I'll be down," thundered Harris. "I know yer down thar, Buckrow, along with Jim and the red chap, and I know yer game. If I have to go down I'll kill a couple of ye, lay to that; so ye can come up and save yer necks, or take yer chances if I go below."

"Pa.s.s him some insolence," said Thirkle. "We've got to get out of here.

Give him lip, Buckrow, so he'll come down, or he'll batten down on us until morning, and ye know what that means."

"What ye want of me?" called Buckrow.

"Ye stabbed the Dutchman, ye murderin' hound," said Harris. "Ye know what I want ye for well enough, and if ye don't come up I'll see that Jim and Petrak swing with ye."

"I didn't kill n.o.body," said Buckrow. "Ye want to blame it on me, don't ye, ye big monkey."

"It was you that stabbed him and then took a shot at me. I know ye, Buckrow, and I'll have the life of ye if ye don't come up."

"Petrak was the one what killed the mate," said Buckrow. "It was Petrak done for the Dutchman, sir. I ain't no murderer, sir, Mr. Harris, but a sailorman what does his duty as he sees it, sir."

"Come on deck then and we'll see about that," said Harris, who seemed to think that Buckrow's play of fear of him was genuine.

"Come down and get me. Ye don't dare come down, ye big bucko. I know the likes of ye! Come down and get me, if ye dare."

"Is this mutiny? I'll have the lot of ye hanged! I don't stand for no such business aboard me," cried Captain Riggs, and the trio below stifled their laughter.

"Naow let me handle this, cap'n," we heard Harris say. "I'll go down and break this myself. This ain't no time to argue 'bout mutinies; this ain't."

"Give him a dirty insult, Bucky," whispered Thirkle. "Give it to him hard or the old master will argue him out of coming down."

"Come down, ye swine! Come down ye low-born coward and take me if ye can.

That's what I say to ye. It's me, Buckrow, foremast hand that's talkin'

to the mate of the _Kut Sang_, who's a dog."

This brought a cry of rage from Harris, and we heard him enter the scuttle, while Captain Riggs begged him not to go down.

"Stay up here, Mr. Harris, and let the murdering dogs stay there. We'll fix 'em fast enough when day comes."

"Leggo me, cap'n! I say I'll break that sp.a.w.n's neck! Let me down!"

"I can't let you risk your life this way, Mr. Harris. I can't, I say.

Where will I have officers if ye get hurt down there? Let 'em stop for now."

"Leggo my arm!" shrieked Harris. "Cap'n, if ye don't leggo my arm I can't say what I'll do. I never let no man talk to me like that!"

"But, Mr. Harris! Ye know what it means! Ye know I can't work the ship!

Ye know what's below and what they want! Mr. Harris! Mr. Harris!"

"Now, will ye let go?" demanded Harris, and then he crashed down the wooden ladder. The forecastle was illumined by a flash, and Buckrow's pistol boomed, and then a second flash on the other side of the forecastle showed me the face of the Rev. Luther Meeker at the entrance to the forecastle behind a pistol which had sent a second bullet at the mate. And the Rev. Luther Meeker was the man who had been addressed as Thirkle, and who seemed to be in command of the others.

Something rolled into the smoke-laden hole and sprawled on the planks near me, and I could hear it gasping and choking.

"Leggo my coat, cap'n. Leggo my coat!" said the form, and I knew it was Harris wounded to death. In a minute he was still, and then the scuttle above rattled peremptorily.

"Mr. Harris! Be ye hurt, Mr. Harris? Oh, Mr. Harris!"

"We got him all right," whispered Buckrow. "That settles Mr. Matey, well and good. Hey, Thirkle?"

"Good, clean job," replied Thirkle. "Good, clean job, Bucky, and smart as could be the way you drew him down. See what you can do with the skipper now."

"Anything wrong, Mr. Harris?" called the captain from the scuttle. "Good Lord! ain't I to have no officers? What's to become of my ship with such a crew aboard me? Sally Ann! Sally Ann!"

"Come on down, cap'n," said a voice startlingly like Harris's. It was Meeker, or Thirkle, as his men called him, imitating the high-pitched nasal tw.a.n.g of the dead mate.

"That you, Harris?" cried Riggs hopefully. "What's the matter, Mr.

Harris?"

"I hurt myself, cap'n. Come on down," pleaded Thirkle in a constrained voice like a man in pain. "I done for Buckrow, but I hurt my ribs. Why don't ye come down? I can't navigate this way--I'm hurt."

"Who was my mate in the _Jennie Lee_?" demanded Riggs. "Tell me that, Mr.

Harris, and I'll come down, and not before."

"We'll have to go up and get him," whispered Thirkle. "He's too wise an old crab to be caught that way. I'll take the lead, Bucky, and Long Jim last, and we've got the ship. We can let the fire-room c.h.i.n.ks and the n.i.g.g.e.r go until morning. We'll take the bridge and keep the old tub going until day and then pick out a good place to drop her when we've got what we want. Petrak's got the wheel now, and we can do for the c.h.i.n.ks, come day. Blessed if I know what has become of Trenholm, but we'll find him in time and attend to him proper. Remember: make for the bridge once we've got the skipper. Quick now!"

The three of them sneaked up the companionway.

CHAPTER X

THE DEVIL'S ADMIRAL

For several minutes I listened breathlessly, waiting for some sound which would indicate that Captain Riggs had been killed or captured by the three who had gone up the companionway after him. But when I heard no cry, or shot, or sounds of a struggle, I began to formulate plans for getting back to my room or finding the captain and begging him to let me help him fight against Thirkle and his men.

Lying huddled under the bunk in the bilge-water, which swung from side to side as the vessel rolled, I must admit that I would have presented a sorry spectacle to any one who could have seen me, clad only in the trousers of my pajamas, and suggesting anything but a fighting man.

But, in spite of the poor part I had taken so far in the fighting, I had no fear of an encounter with the men who seemed likely enough to take possession of the _Kut Sang_ and murder all on board. I told myself that it was not my fault that I had been stripped of my arms and made a prisoner, and blamed Captain Riggs for allowing Thirkle--in the character of the Rev. Luther Meeker--to throw all the suspicion of the murder of Trego on me and hold his own liberty and good-standing as a pa.s.senger.

I fully realized the danger which confronted me and the ship, and as I crawled from under the bunk in the forecastle I had little hope of ever escaping from the vessel alive. It was no time to go over past mistakes, no time to moan over what had happened. I longed for action, but, with both Captain Riggs and Thirkle and his men against me, it looked as if I would have little chance, no matter which side was victorious in the battle that was being fought for the ship.

I had to crawl over the body of the mate in order to get clear of the tier of bunks, and, thinking it possible that Harris might have a pistol in his clothing, or had dropped one as he fell into the forecastle, I examined his pockets. I got no pistol, but did find a box of matches, and, standing with my back to the scuttle to protect the flame from the wind, and also to shade the light from the open scuttle, I struck a match and hurriedly looked over the littered deck of the forecastle.

I struck several matches at intervals in this way, waiting between lights to make sure that no one had seen the flashes from the upper deck. If Harris had had pistols his murderers must have taken them. I did find a dozen or more cartridges of heavy calibre loose in the side-pocket of his coat, but those and the matches were all that resulted from my ghoulish work.

In the brief illuminations of the forecastle I had seen clothing of the crew hanging from nails, and I dressed myself in light-blue nankeen frock and trousers which had belonged to a Chinese sailor, for the jacket b.u.t.toned in the back and smelled strongly of opium, as did the whole forecastle.

The ports were all fast, but leaked, and what little air came in descended through the scuttle, so the place still reeked with acrid powder-smoke that bit the throat and eyes. The deck was strewn with panniers and cups, that clattered to and fro with the motion of the ship.

The water under foot, and the acc.u.mulations of refuse, rice, and food, made it difficult to keep a footing without clinging to the bunks at either side.

There was a slush-lamp swinging from a string, and I had a mind to light its rope wick and search through the chests for a weapon; but I did not want to remain too long below, although I could not bring myself to leave empty-handed the only place which offered a weapon.

Making a hasty search in the dark, I found a broken knife and an iron belaying-pin. The knife-blade was broken within a couple of inches of the handle, but diagonally from the point, so that it presented an end that might be dangerous at close quarters.