Hurricane Island by H. B. Marriott Watson (free novels to read .TXT) 📕

be on the bridge."

"I have no doubt that is what they mean," I said.

"Very well, gentlemen," said Day. "We know exactly where we are now, thanks to Dr. Phillimore. You have your stations. I shall be obliged if you will take them. We are likely to have a lively night."

"And let me say, gentlemen," said the Prince, raising his voice, "that I do not conceive it possible that a pack of mutineers can secure the control of their ship from their officers. It is inconceivable, I repeat. I shall be at your disposal, captain," he turned to Day, "when it is necessary. I will take my share in the common danger and struggle."

There was a murmur of applause at this, and we dispersed to our quarters. Legrand had the bridge, and the man at the wheel was turning the spokes as calmly as if there had been no such thing as an alarm or a rising. Down below all was quiet, and the engines were moving slowly. It was now about one in the morning, and on our beams the wind was rising. The yacht was making about eight knots and no more, and we were still a day's steam from Buenos Ayres. I paced the deck in cover of the chart-house for an hour or more in a condition of nervous impatience. Holgate, I knew, would move deliberately, but when he moved this time he would strike hard.

It was towards the dawn that, stopping in my walk, I listened, and heard amid the whistling of the wind and the wash of the water a little mutter of sound somewhere in the disintegrating darkness below. I called to Legrand under my breath, and I heard his "hist." He was at attention, his ears straining in the wind to get news of what was passing. Then there was a shot, and the noise of a _melee_ at the ladder. Oaths and shouts and the reports of revolvers echoed from the wooden walls.

"Can you see, Phillimore?" screamed Legrand against the wind.

"They are attacking the gangway," I shouted back. One of the two men who stood armed near me rushed forward.

"Go back, go back," thundered Legrand from the bridge. "Go to your post."

I was aware that the Prince had come out on the hurricane deck, which was on the level of the bridge, and as I peered into the gloom, suddenly a shout from the second man in my neighbourhood made me wheel sharply about. I turned in time to see him fire at some figures that came over the port side of the yacht. Immediately I guessed that this was the real attack, and that the assault on the ladder was but a diversion, I ran forward, calling to Legrand, I found Barraclough on the other side of the deck-houses, using a cutlass, and I moved to his assistance. Three men had reached the deck, and a fourth was clambering over. The seaman who had called out fired wide, and the next moment went down under a heavy blow from the figure in front. I discharged a shot, but missed the man as he made his rush. Barraclough simultaneously gave way, and I saw him being pushed backwards against the side of the saloon. I fired again at one of his assailants, who fell away with a curse, and just then the first flush of the coming dawn moved over the waters, and shed a little light on the scene. It disclosed the burly form of Holgate in grips with Legrand, who had descended from the bridge, and Barraclough still struggling with his opponent. I had just time to make this out when one of the mutineers struck at me with a heavy bar, and the blow, owing to a movement on my part, fell on my right arm and paralysed it. He raised his weapon again while I fumbled to get the revolver out of my useless hand into my left, when Day suddenly emerged from somewhere with a levelled pistol. My antagonist dropped like a log. Day fired again, and then with an oath Holgate threw the second officer heavily to the deck, and pointed a revolver. There was a pause of two seconds, then a report, and Day slipped, moved his arms helplessly, and slid along the deck. A shout now came from the other side of the ship where the struggle at the gangway had been going on; and in a moment a stampede was upon us.

I was forced back by sheer weight of numbers to the head of the companion-way, using my weapon with some wildness, for all was passing before me in confusion. I had received a hard crack on the head and scarcely knew what I was doing, but was merely sustained in my resistance by a sense of continuity, inherited, as it were, from the earlier part of the struggle. Somehow I found myself in the shelter of the corridor that led to the apartments of the Prince, his sister and his guest, and, for some reason I could not with my dizzy head conjecture, I was alone. I looked down the corridor, which was in gentle light, but saw nothing; it was as silent as though it had been plunged in the profound peace and slumber of the night. Without, the racket of noises reached me as in a dream, and I remember that I sat down on a couch in the corridor, my empty revolver in my hand.

What ensued or how long I sat there I do not know; but I think it could not have been very long. I was aroused by a voice, and looked up stupidly. A face floated in the mists before me, and I nodded in a friendly way, smiling, and opened my mouth to speak. Instead I lurched forward and was conscious of warm arms, the soft pressure of a human body, and the fragrance of a dress. There was a time when I seemed to sway alone in a cold and dreary vacancy, but soon there returned to my senses the warmth and the fragrance and the ineffable comfort of some presence. Some liquid was forced between my lips, and I drank; and as I drank my brain cleared, and I looked and was aware who was supporting me with her arm. It was Princess Alix.

"Madam----" I began stuttering.

"Hush! Drink this," she said quickly. "We have need of you. We cannot spare a man like you. You have no dangerous wound?"

"I think not," I said with difficulty. "A blow on the head----"

My hand went feebly to it as I spoke, and came away with a patch of red. I rose and totteringly picked up my revolver, which had fallen. "What has happened?"

She shook her head. "I was up in the hurricane-deck, but my brother sent me down. There is nothing to be heard. I was going out when I found you here."

"It is good of you," I said vaguely. "Let us go out, then. Take this weapon."

"I have one," said she quickly.

I nodded. "Brave girl!" said I gravely. "Brave heart, as brave as beautiful!" I felt vaguely I was paying her a necessary compliment, but that was all. Yet the corridor was clearing before me now, and the light of dawn was filtering through the curtained windows.

Princess Alix had turned to the door which gave on the deck.

"If they have won," she said suddenly in a low voice, "why have they not come here?"

I shook my head. "They do not want the saloon. They want other things," said I. "They want the strongrooms."

"Then are they----?" she began.

"I cannot tell," said I. "I will go out."

"No," she said imperatively. "Wait." Of a sudden a voice was raised in a scream from the farther end of the corridor. "It is Mademoiselle," said she, with a little frown. "She is impatient of my return. I must go back."

She glided off swiftly, and I stood by the door waiting for some moments. As she did not return, I opened it softly, and the strong wind off the morning sea took me in the face, refreshing me. I stepped out upon the deck. The sky was as grey as the sea, and the silhouette of the spars and funnel was ghost-like. The _Sea Queen_ thundered on her course, heeling to the broad wash of the water. As I stood watching, my ears alert for any sound that would give me information, I saw a figure detach itself from the bulwarks and move uncertainly about, and as it drew near I discovered it was Pye's. His face was of a colour with the gray steel of his revolver, which he held loosely, as if he was not aware he held it.

"Oh, my God!" he said in a hoarse whisper. "Oh, my God! I didn't know it was like this. Oh, my God!"

"Pye!" I called softly; and he started and dropped his pistol.

"Pick it up, man, and keep silence," I whispered. "Come this way." I took his arm and stealthily withdrew him into the corridor. "What has happened?"

He gazed at me wildly. "They've got the ship," he said with a whisper. "Oh, I didn't know it would be like this."

I gave him a dose of the brandy which the Princess had brought for me, and it seemed to pull him together. He blinked at me through his glasses, and eyed me with some terror and distrust.

"Do you know how things stand?" I asked.

He shook his head. "The captain's killed," he said falteringly. "I don't know about the others."

"We've got to find out," I said, and thought. Then, for I saw he would be of little use to me in his present state, I said, "Look here, Pye, I'm going to explore, while you keep this door. Mind you let no one in. We'll bolt it, see."

I did so as I spoke, and turning found the Princess coming down the corridor. I explained to her the situation, and added that Pye would be placed on guard. She cast a glance at him, and looked at me inquiringly.

"I'm going down to the saloon below," I said. "This set of cabins is isolated, except for the doors at each end to the deck and the door that gives on the staircase to the saloon. Can I depend on you to hold out for five minutes? A shout will bring me up at a moment's notice."

"Yes," she said breathlessly.

I opened the second door that admitted to the staircase and glanced down. No one was visible, and no sound was audible. I turned, nodded reassuringly to the Princess, and descended. The saloon was empty, and there were no signs of any struggle. I passed along the passage towards the officers' quarters, but everything was in order; and finally retraced my way towards the kitchens, which abutted on the engine-room, but were separated from it by a thick partition of steel and wood. As I went, the yacht rolled and sent me against a closed door with a heavy bump. From within issued a sound, subdued but unmistakable as that of a human voice. I reflected that the mutineers would not be here, for it was evident that the door was locked, and no mutineer would secure himself in a cabin in the midst of his triumph. I rapped loudly on the door and called out:

"It's Phillimore. Who is in here?"

After a pause I heard the bolt go back and the door opened a little, disclosing the face