Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake. Fenn George Manville
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out in the great estuary, fast to one of the buoys.
“We might have some of the lads taking a fancy to go on shore,” he had said to Mr Parkley, when he complained of having to take a boat to come off; “and we shall be all the more ready to drop down with the tide. I don’t want to find my crew like yours to-morrow morning – missing.”
Finding all apparently quite right, and the lanterns burning, brightly, Captain Studwick took another turn round the deck, peeped down into the forecastle, where the men were talking and smoking, then went right forward and looked over at the hawser fast to the buoy, said a word or two of warning to the men, and went below.
It was now ten o’clock, and excessively dark – so dark that it was impossible to see across the deck, and the lights hoisted up in the rigging seemed like great stars. The buzz of conversation in the forecastle had grown much more subdued, and then suddenly ceased, though a dull buzzing murmur could be heard from the deckhouse, where the dim light of a smoky lantern, hung from the roof, shone upon the bright cooking apparatus with which the place was furnished, and upon the glistening teeth of ’Pollo, the black cook, and Oakum, the old sailor, both smoking, and in earnest converse.
“Yes, ’Pollo,” said Oakum, “it seemed to bring up old times, and some of our vyges, so I thought I’d come and have a palaver before we turned in.”
“I glad to see you, Mass’ Sam Oakum, sah, and I hope you often gin me de pleasure ob your company during de voyage. I ’spect you, Mass’ Oakum, and you always ’spect colour genlum, sah, dough we use quarrel some time.”
“Only chaff, ’Pollo.”
“Course it was, sah, only chaff, and nuffum at all. And now I tink ob it, sah, I hav ’plendid ’rangement here, and supply for de cooking; and when, by an’ by, you find de beef too salt, and de biscuit too hard, juss you drop in here, sah, after dark, and ’Pollo most likely find lilly bit ob somefin nice leff from de cabin dinner.”
“Thanky, ’Pollo, thanky,” said Oakum. “But what do you say, eh ship-mate? I think we can find the old galleons again?”
“I quite ’tent, sah, to put dis ship in de hands ob such sperienced navigator as Mass’ Sam Oakum, who know all ober de world quite perfeck. You tink we sail in de morning?”
“If they catch them two skulking scoundrels of divers, ’Pollo. I’d just like to ropesend that Mr John Tolly. Gets three times the pay o’ the other men, and is ten times as saucy.”
“’Top!”
“Eh?” said Oakum.
“What dat, Mass’ Oakum, sah?” said the black, whose eyes were rolling and ears twitching.
Oakum listened attentively for a few moments, and then went on.
“Nothing at all, my lad, that I could hear.”
“I sure I hear somefin, sah. Let’s go and see.”
They both stepped out on to the deck, and stood and listened, for it was impossible for them to see, though the light from the deckhouse made them stand out plainly in view if anyone else was on the watch.
They saw nothing, for as they stepped out, a man, who was stealing aft, dropped softly down and crouched under the bulwarks.
The hawsers creaked softly as they swung in the tide, and a faint light shone up from the forecastle hatch, while from aft there was a tolerably bright glow from the cabin skylight. Here and there the riding lights of other vessels rose and fell as they were swayed by the hurrying waters, while the lights of the shore twinkled like stars on a black background, but, saving the rippling noise of the tide against the great schooner’s side, all was perfectly still.
“False alarm, ’Pollo,” said Oakum, leading the way back.
“No, sah,” said ’Pollo, reseating himself, cross-legged, beneath the lantern. “I sure I hear somefin, sah, dough I no say what it was.”
“I’ve often wished for you as a mate in a dark watch, ’Pollo,” said Oakum, hewing off a quid of tobacco, and thrusting it into one cheek. “You would not go to sleep.”
“Not ob a night, sah,” said ’Pollo, complacently, “but I no so sure bout dat if de sun shine hot; I go sleep den fass enough.”
They had hardly resumed their conversation when the man who had dropped down under the bulwarks rose, and went softly by the deckhouse, walking rapidly aft to the side, where he climbed over, after running his hand along and finding a rope, slid down, and took his place in a large boat already half-full.
A few moments later and another man crept softly along the deck, went over the side, and slid into the boat.
Another and another followed, and then one man who had been waiting by the forecastle hatch, instead of going aft, opened a sharp knife and crept forward to where the stout coir hawser was made fast to the buoy. It was drawn very tight, for the tide was running in fast, and a few sharp cuts would have divided the strands, with the result that the schooner would have drifted up with the current, and, if it had not fouled, and perhaps sunk some smaller vessel in its course, have run ashore.
The man listened attentively but all was still, and raising his knife he began to saw through the strands, when, rising, he shut the knife with a snap and exclaimed:
“No, hang it all, I won’t. It’s too bad; and there’s a woman aboard. Bad enough as it is.”
Then following the example of those who had gone before, he went softly aft, feeling his way along the bulwarks till his hand came in contact with the rope, and he, too, slid down into the boat.
“Well, did you cut the great rope?” whispered a voice.
“Yes, gov’nor, all right. But not deep,” added the man to himself.
“Quick then, quick then,” whispered the former speaker, “undo this little rope and let the boat float away.”
The boat’s painter was loosened – but not without rattling the iron ring through which it was run – dropped over the side with a splash, and just faintly grating against the vessel’s side the boat glided away, appearing for a few moments in the faint glow cast from the stern windows, and then seeming to pass into a bank of utter darkness.
“I no care what you say, Mass’ Oakum, sah,” said ’Pollo a few moments before; and his great black ears seemed to start forward like those of a hare, “I sure I hear de rattle ob a rope; and you see if dare isn’t a boat under de side.”
He leaped softly up, and ran on deck, followed by Oakum.
“Dere, I sure I right,” whispered the black, pointing astern. “Boat full ob men.”
“I can’t see nowt,” growled Sam. “Let’s go forward and ask the look-out if they heerd anything. Hear a boat touch the side, mates?” he said aloud.
There was no answer.
“The lubbers are asleep,” he cried, angrily; and hurrying to where the men should have been, he found that they were missing, and ran to the hatchway. “Below there!” he shouted. “On deck here, some of yer!”
All silent, and he lowered himself down to find a lantern burning, but not a soul there even in the bunks, the men’s kits being also gone.
“Deserted, by jingo!” cried Oakum, slapping his thigh, as he began to ascend the ladder. “Here, ’Pollo, run and call the skipper.”
“What’s wrong?” cried Captain Studwick, from out of the darkness.
“Not a blessed man, sir, left aboard;” and the captain brought his foot down with a savage stamp upon deck.
Story 1-Chapter X.
Off at Last
The outcry brought the doctor, Mr Wilson, and John Studwick on deck the latter panting, and evidently in a terrible state of alarm.
“Quick, father, the boat, save Bessy, don’t mind me,” he gasped.
“There’s nothing to fear,