At the Fall of Port Arthur/Chapter 6
CHAPTER VI
THE FIGHT FOR THE SHIP
The day to follow was Sunday, and contrary to expectations, it passed quietly. As there was hardly any wind, the old Columbia made slow progress, and the sailors had little or nothing to do. As was his usual habit, Larry read his Bible, and Captain Ponsberry held a short church service, which less than half the crew attended.
"It's plain to see that the men are sulky," said Tom Grandon, towards evening. "We are certain to hear something from them shortly."
Luke had been told to report anything unusual, but it was not until after dark that he sought out Captain Ponsberry.
"I ain't got much to say," said the old tar. "But to my mind Peterson, Groot, and Shamhaven are doin' a powerful lot of confabbin'. More'n that, I saw Peterson cleaning up a pistol he's got."
"Are any of the other hands armed?"
"I ain't seen no other shootin'-irons," answered Luke.
The captain had expected to interview Semmel once more, but found the fellow so surly he gave up the attempt. As the brig was so hot and uncomfortable, the master of the schooner had the door fixed so it could be left open several inches, with a chain at the bolt to keep it from going further.
At four o'clock Monday morning Peterson came on duty, followed by Shamhaven and some others. All made their way to the bow and began to talk in a low but earnest fashion. Then Peterson went below, to where Semmel was still confined in the brig.
"We are ready to move now," said he, in Russian. "What do you think?"
"Let me out and I will show you what I think," growled Ostag Semmel. "The captain is a dog—and Grandon and Russell are dogs, too!"
Peterson was prepared to unlock the chain which held the brig door and did so. Then he handed a pistol to the Russian.
"The captain and Russell are in their staterooms," said Peterson. "Only Grandon is on deck, with Vincent and with the men we can trust to help us."
"We can't trust Vincent."
"I know that."
"Where is Striker?"
"Asleep in his berth."
But on this score Carl Peterson was mistaken. Luke had pretended to go to sleep, but he was now in a corner on deck, watching with keen eyes all that was occurring. Presently he saw Semmel in company with Peterson hurry towards the bow, and he felt that the time for action had arrived.
"Hi, Mr. Grandon!" he called out, running up to the first mate.
"What is it, Striker?"
"They've released Semmel and they are arming themselves."
"You don't say!" Tom Grandon was stunned for the instant. "Tell the captain and Russell of this at once!"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
Rushing down the companionway, Luke entered the cabin and knocked on the door of Captain Ponsberry's stateroom.
"Wake up, captain!" he called, loudly. "Wake up! There is going to be trouble putty quick, to my way o' thinkin'!"
"What has gone wrong now?" demanded the master of the Columbia, as he hurried into his clothes and armed himself. "Where is Grandon?"
"On deck; he sent me to tell you. They have set Semmel free and some of 'em are arming themselves."
"A mutiny!" roared Captain Ponsberry. "Striker, you'll stand by me, of course?"
"That I will, sir—to the end."
"Good. I know Vincent will do the same. Do you know anything about the others?"
"I think you can count on Jeff the cook."
"What of Wilbur?"
"He's so weak-kneed I don't know what he'll do," answered Striker.
By this time Larry was out of his stateroom. With his door ajar he had heard all that had been said.
"Oh, Luke, do you think they'll try to seize the ship?" he gasped.
"Don't know what they'll do. They're a plumb crazy lot," growled the old tar. "It was a mistake to take such fellers as Semmel and Peterson and Shamhaven aboard."
"That is true, but when Devine and Larson got sick and went to the hospital at Manila I had to get somebody," answered Captain Ponsberry. He brought out several pistols. "Here, Larry, take one of these, and a cutlass, too, and you, Striker, can arm yourself likewise."
There was no time to answer, for the master of the schooner was already striding through the cabin in the direction of the companionway. An instant later came a yell from the deck, followed by heavy footsteps and then the report of a pistol.
"Drive dem to de cabin!" came in the voice of Semmel. "Drive dem along, kvick!" And then followed another yell and the sounds of half a dozen blows.
"Below there!" came in Tom Grandon's voice. "Help! help!"
"I'm coming!" called up Captain Ponsberry.
"Don't you dare to step on deck, captain!" yelled down the voice of Shamhaven. "Don't you dare to do it! "And the sailor appeared, pistol in hand, at the top of the companionway.
"Shamhaven, what does this mean?" demanded the master of the Columbia.
"It means that we have taken possession of the ship, that's what it means," came from Groot.
"Of you come up here, you maybe git killed," put in Ostag Semmel. "You stay down dare, you hear?" And then, as the captain started to mount the stairs, he threw down a belaying pin. In the semi-darkness the captain did not see the object, and it struck him on the top of the head, rendering him partly unconscious.
Larry and Luke were close behind their leader and both were alarmed to see him go down, uttering a deep groan as he did so.
"Is he killed?" questioned the young second mate.
"I don't know," was the old tar's response. "Shall we go up?"
"Keep back there!" was the call from above. "Put a step on those stairs and it will be the worse for you!"
At that moment came a cry from Cal Vincent. The boatswain had been attacked from behind and was given no chance to defend himself. Then came a roar from Jeff, who came rushing toward the companionway as if all the demons of the deep were behind him.
"Sabe me! sabe me!" he screamed. "Da is gwine to pirate de ship! Sabe me!" And then he came plunging down headlong, directly on top of Larry, Luke, and the prostrate captain.
This unexpected coming of Jeff sent the young second mate and the old tar flat on Captain Ponsberry, and for the moment there was a struggle all around. In the meantime some sailors on the deck began to drag a heavy hatch toward the stairs. Soon this was placed in position, and then those below were virtually prisoners.
"Oh my, sabe me!" groaned Jeff once more, as he managed to get on his feet in the cabin, followed by Larry and Luke. "Don't you let dem swing me from de yardarm!"
"Jeff, where are Grandon and Vincent?" demanded Larry.
"I dunno, sah—dead, I guess," answered the cook. "Oh, dis am de awfulest t'ing wot I eber heard tell ob!" he added, woefully, and wrung his hands.
The lantern in the cabin was turned up and Larry gave his attention once more to Captain Ponsberry, who was now opening his eyes.
"Oh, my head!" came with a shiver. "My head!"
"I'm glad they didn't kill you," said Larry, kindly. "Luke, help me carry him into the cabin. We'll put him on the couch."
This was done, and they did what they could to make the master of the schooner comfortable. But it was a good half-hour before Captain Ponsberry could sit up and do any rational thinking.
On deck all had become suddenly quiet. Occasionally those below could hear a footstep near the companionway, showing that one or more of the mutineers were on guard. The hatch shut off the view on deck, and the windows in the ceiling of the cabin were also boarded over from the outside.
"They have us like rats in a trap," said Larry, bitterly.
"And for all we know Vincent and Grandon are both dead," returned Luke Striker, soberly. "I must say, lad, we seem to be in a bad way and no mistake."
"Dey'll throw us overboard, I know dey will!" groaned Jeff, who was almost white with terror. "I neber see sech goin's-on in all ma life!"
To fight the mutineers further was, just then, out of the question, and Larry turned his attention again to Captain Ponsberry. At last the captain seemed fully to comprehend what had occurred. He once more moved toward the companionway, pistol in hand.
"You can't get out that way, sir," said Larry. "They have placed the fore hatch over the stairs."
"And they are armed, too," put in Luke. "Be careful, sir, or they'll shoot you down."
"And this on my own ship!" came bitterly from the master of the Columbia. "That is what I get for treating the dogs better than they deserve. Where are Grandon and Vincent?"
"Either shot down or taken prisoners. They called for help, and that was the last we heard of them."
"And are all the others in this dastardly plot?" "I reckon they are," answered Luke. "Them foreigners, Semmel an' Peterson, must have stirred 'em up powerfully."
Still weak from the blow received, Captain Ponsberry sank down once more on the cabin couch. There was a lump as big as a walnut on the top of his head, and he had Jeff bathe it with water and then with witch-hazel, which made it a trifle more comfortable.
A short while later came a sudden wild song from the deck of the schooner, followed by a clinking of glasses.
"They are treating themselves to grog," said Luke. "I suppose, now they have the run of things, they'll drink all they want of the stuff."
"More than likely," returned the captain. "Well, it is their turn just now—perhaps before long it will be my turn!" And he smiled significantly.