“Lads, keep your eyes on the deck and play the
game until I give the word! If the wind of this
comes to the captain, it’s overboard for Jerry
Hovey. I’d rather give myself to the sharks
than to White Henshaw. That’s all.
“Now, lads, it’s come to the point where
we’ve got to know what we’ll do.
There’s two ways. One is to crowd all them
what ain’t in the mutiny into one cabin an’
keep ’em there till we beach the boat.”
“So that they can get out and tell the land
sharks what we’ve done?” suggested Garry
Cochrane in disgust.
“Garry,” said Hovey with deep feeling,
“you’re a lad after my heart. And
you’re right. If one of them lives, he’ll
be enough to put a halter around the necks of each
of us. We couldn’t get away. If we’re
once described, there ain’t no way we could
dodge the law.”
He grinned sardonically as he looked about the circle:
“There’s something about us, lads, that
makes us different from other men.”
The sailors glanced appreciatively at the scarred
countenances of their fellows and laughed hoarsely.
“So the second way is the only way,” went
on Hovey, seeing that he had scored his point.
“The rest of the crew that ain’t with us
has got to go under. Are you with me?”
“Aye,” croaked the chorus, and every man
looked down at the floor. Each one had picked
out the man he hated the most, and was preparing the
manner of the killing.
“Good,” said Hovey; “and now that
we’ve agreed on that, we’ve got to choose—”
He stopped, going rigid and blank of face. He
had seen the open, chilling blue eye of Harrigan,
who, drawn on into forgetfulness, had lain for some
time on his bunk watching the scene without caution.
“He’s heard!” stammered Hovey, pointing.
“Guard the door! Get him!”
“Bash in his head an’ overboard with the
lubber!” growled Sam Hall.
Not one of the others spoke; their actions were the
more significant. Some leaped to the door and
barred the exit.
Others started for Harrigan. The latter leaped
off his bunk and, sweeping up a short-legged, heavy
stool, sprang back against the wall. This he
held poised, ready to drive it at the first man who
approached. Their semicircle grew compact before
him, but still they hesitated, for the man who made
the first move would die.
“You fools!” said Harrigan, brandishing
his stool. “Keep off!”
He was thinking desperately, quickly.
“Harrigan,” said Hovey, edging his way
to the front of the sailors, “you heard!”
“I did!”
They growled, infuriated. His death was certain
now, but they kept back for another moment, astonished
that this man would sign his own sentence of doom.
From marlinspikes to pocketknives, every man held
some sort of a weapon. Garry Cochrane, flattening
himself against the wall at one side, edged inch by
inch toward Harrigan.
