CHAPTER 27
But McTee wrenched his arms away and fled out on the deck. He blunderedinto Jerry Hovey, who started back at sight of him.
"What's happened, sir?" asked the bos'n. "Been seein' ghosts?"
"Damn you," growled McTee, "I had a nap and a bad dream--a hell of anightmare."
"You look it! You heard what Harrigan said? Does that sound as if I hadenough backing?"
"If the rest of them are as strong for it as Harrigan, it does."
"As strong for it as Harrigan? Between you and me--just a whisper inyour ear--I don't think Harrigan is half as strong for it as he talks.I don't trust him, somehow."
"No?"
"Look here," said the bos'n cautiously. "We hear there was once sometrouble between you and Harrigan?"
"Well?"
"Would you waste much tune if somethin' was to happen to him--say inthe middle of the night, silent and unexpected?"
"I would not! Take him by the foot and heave him into the sea. Verygood idea, Hovey. Is he getting the eyes of the lads too much?"
Hovey fenced: "He's a landlubber, and he don't understand sea things.He's better out of the way."
"How'll you do it?" asked McTee softly. "Speak out, Hovey. Would youtry your own hand on Harrigan?"
"Not me! I know a better way. There's one that's in the mutiny who hasa hand as strong as mine--almost--and a foot as silent as the paw of acat. I'll give him the tip."
"And now for the details of the attack," said McTee, anxious not to laytoo much stress upon the destruction of Harrigan.
"Here it is," answered Hovey, and entered into an elaborate descriptionof all their plans. McTee listened with faraway eyes. He heard thewords, but he was thinking of the death of Harrigan.
That invincible Irishman, after his talk with Hovey in front of thecabin of Kate, returned to the cool room of the chief engineer. Theworthy Campbell, in wait for the ultimatum of White Henshaw, had beenfortifying himself steadily with liquor, and by the middle of theafternoon he had reached a state in which he had no care forconsequences; he would have defied all the powers upon earth and beyondit.
The next morning, as he went up to his usual task of scrubbing thebridge, Harrigan thought he perceived a possible reason why hispersecution was being neglected. It was the picture of McTee and KateMalone leaning at the rail. McTee was content. There was no doubt ofthat. He leaned above Kate and talked seriously down into her face.Harrigan was mightily tempted to turn about and climb to the bridgefrom the other side of the deck, but he made himself march on and beginwhistling a tune.
McTee raised his head instantly, and, staring at the Irishman, hemurmured a word to Kate, and she turned and regarded Harrigan with analmost painful curiosity. He was about to swagger past her when sheshook off the detaining hand of McTee and ran to the Irishman.
"Dan," she said eagerly, and laid a hand on his arm.
"Come back, Kate," growled McTee. "You've promised me not to speak--"
"Did you promise him not to speak with me again?" broke in Harrigan.
"I only meant--" she began.
"It's little I care what you meant," said the Irishman coldly, and heshook off her hand. "Go play with McTee. I want none of ye! After I'veslaved for ye an' saved ye from God knows what, ye dare to turn andmake them eyes cold and distant when ye look at me? Ah-h, get back toMcTee! I'm through with ye!"
She only insisted the more: "I _will_ speak to you, Dan!"
"Come away, Kate," urged McTee, grinding his teeth. "Doesn't this provewhat I told you?"
"I don't care what it proves," she said hotly. "Dan, I've been thinkinggrisly things of you. I simply can't believe them now that I look youin the face."
"Whisht!" said Harrigan, and his face was black. "Have you the right todoubt me?"
She answered sadly: "I have, Dan."
The Irishman turned slowly away and started up for the bridge withoutanswer. As he went, he groaned beneath his breath: "Ochone! Ochone!She's heard!"
He could not dream how she knew of the mutiny, but if it was carriedthrough, he was damned in her eyes forever. What she guessed McTee mustknow. What McTee knew must be familiar to White Henshaw, yet Henshawcould not know, for if he did, the ring-leaders would be instantlyclapped into irons. Once or twice he looked down from his work to Kateand McTee. They still leaned at the rail, talking seriously.
And McTee was saying: "I have learned what I want to know. Every detailof the plot is in my hands. Now I am going to the cabin of WhiteHenshaw and tell him everything. It's the simplest way. And you'vestarted a suspicion in the mind of Harrigan. He'll spread the word tothe rest of the mutineers, and they'll be on their watch against us."
She made a little gesture of appeal. "I couldn't help speaking to him,Angus. Suspecting him of such a thing is like--is like suspectingmyself!"
"Let it go. It's done. Now I'm going up to see White Henshaw. The oldman will be crazy when he hears it."
He found the captain giving some orders to Salvain, and waited untilthey were alone. Then he said: "There are about ten of us against therest of the crew of the ship. Can we hold them in case of a mutiny?"
He had planned this laconic statement carefully, expecting to seeHenshaw turn pale and stammer in terror. Instead, the captain regardedMcTee with quietly contemplative eyes.
"So," he murmured, "you've heard of the mutiny?"
The tables were completely turned on the Scotchman. He gasped: "Youhave known all the time?"
"Certainly," said Henshaw; "I even know every word that Hovey said toyou."
McTee turned crimson.
"I have eyes that see everything on the ship," went on Henshaw, as ifhe wished to cover the embarrassment of the Scotchman, "and I have earswhich hear everything. I have lines of information tangled through theforecastle. I can almost guess what they are about to think, let alonewhat they will speak or do. The blockheads are always planning amutiny, though I confess none of them have ever taken the proportionsof this one. However, this will go the way of the rest."
"The way of the rest?" queried McTee almost stupidly.
"Yes. They plan to hold their action till we're close to the land.About that time I'll call up one or two of the ring-leaders and tellthem just what they have planned to do. That'll make them think I haveunknown means of meeting the mutiny. It will die."
McTee sat down, loosened his shirt at the throat, and gaped uponHenshaw as a child might gape upon a magician.
"I don't blame you for taking a day to think over the temptation,"smiled the old buccaneer. "The gold I showed you would have tempted anyman. But I'm glad you came to me. I expected you last night. It tookyou a little longer to settle the details in your mind, eh?"
"Henshaw, I feel like a yellow dog!"
"Come! Come! You're a man after my own heart. You took the temptationin your hand--you looked it over--and then you turned away from it.Well, and suppose the mutiny should actually come to the breakingpoint; they would be right in thinking I have means of fighting them. Ihave no firearms on the ship; they know that. They don't know that Ihave these."
He went into the next room and returned carrying a heavy box. This heplaced on the desk and took a small, heavy ball of metal from it.
"A bomb?" queried McTee.
"It is. The moment a group gathers, one of these tossed among them willend the mutiny the moment it begins."
McTee handed back the bomb in silence. There was something about thiscold-blooded way of speaking of death which was not cruelty--it wassomething greater--it was an absolute disregard of life.
"Of course," said Henshaw, as he came back from depositing the box inthe next room, "there are only half a dozen of those bombs, but thatwill be enough. The explosion of a couple of them would just aboutwreck the deck. However, the mutiny will never reach the point ofaction. I'll see to that. What always ties the hands of the crew isthat it lacks real leaders. Hovey, for instance, will turn to waterwhen I say three words about the mutiny to him."
"But Harrigan
," said McTee quietly, "will not."
"The Irishman!" Henshaw muttered. "I forgot. McTee, I'm getting old!"
"Only careless," answered the other, "but it's a bad thing to becareless where Harrigan is concerned. A man like that, Henshaw, couldlead your mutineers, and lead them well. Hovey told me that every oneof the crew looks up to the Irishman."
"He's got to be crippled--or put out of the way," stated Henshawcalmly. "I was a fool. I forgot about Harrigan."
"It may be," said McTee, "that he'll be put out of the way tonight."
"McTee, I begin to see that you have brains."
The latter waved the sinister compliment aside.
"Suppose the little--er--experiment fails? Doesn't it occur to you thatthat message might be written out and sent to Campbell?"
The captain changed color, and his eyes shifted.
"I've told you--" he began.
"Nonsense," said McTee. "I'll write the thing, if you want, and allyou'll have to do is to sign it."
"Would that make any difference?" asked Henshaw wistfully.
"Of course," said McTee. "Here we go. You've got to do something totame Harrigan, captain, or there'll be the deuce to pay."
And as he spoke, he picked up pen and paper and began to write, Henshawin the meantime walking to the door in an agony of apprehension as ifhe expected to see the dreaded figure of Sloan appear. McTee wrote:
_From Captain Henshaw to Chief Engineer Douglas Campbell
Sir:
On the receipt of this order, you will at once place Daniel Harrigan atwork passing coal, beginning this day with a double shift, andcontinuing hereafter one shift a day.
(Signed)_
"Here you are, captain," he called, and Henshaw turned reluctantly fromthe door and sat down at the table.
"Bad luck's in it," he muttered, "but something has to be done--something has to be done!"
He wrote: "Captain Hensh--" but at this point the voice of Sloan spokefrom the open door.
"A message, captain."
With a choked cry Henshaw whirled and rose, supporting himself againstthe edge of the table with both trembling hands. His accusing eyes wereon McTee.
"Sloan!" he called in his hoarse whisper at last, but stillhis damning gaze held hard upon McTee.
The wireless operator advanced a step at a time into the room, placedthe written message on the edge of the table, and then sprang back asif in mortal fear. Henshaw, still keeping his glance upon the Scotchmanwith a terrible earnestness, picked up the sheet of paper on which hehad been signing his name, and tore it slowly, methodically, into smallstrips. As the last of the small fragments fluttered to the floor, hishand went out to the message Sloan had brought and drew it to his side.He waved his arm in a sweeping gesture that commanded the other twofrom his presence, and they slipped from the cabin without a word.