CHAPTER 33
"Make Campbell run the ship," said Cochrane.
"You can't _make_ a Scotchman do anything."
"Persuade him, then," went on Cochrane. "He'd sell his soul for a drinkof that whisky. But if you can't persuade him, I'd trust to thosefellows to make him do what you want."
And he pointed to the firemen.
"I'll let 'em play their little game till they're tired of it,"answered Hovey, "an' then we'll bring up Campbell an' try what we cando with him."
The "little game" had now become a wild debauch. Except for the fewunfortunates who had been detailed by Hovey to guard the prisoners andsee that the fugitives in the wireless house made no attempt to rushthe main cabin as a forlorn hope, every man of the crew was gathered inthe captain's cabins or on the deck nearby. The fireroom was deserted;the engines stopped; the _Heron_ floated idly on the swell of the sea;but heedless of this the mutineers celebrated their victory.
They divided their attention between drinking and gambling. They seemedfeverishly eager to throw away their piles of gold. Some of themflipped coins at ten dollars a throw. Others tossed dice. One group offour sat around a greasy pack of cards betting on which man would drawthe first jack.
Those who lost did not envy the winners. They looked about; gold was onall sides, heaps of it; if their hands were empty, their eyes wererich. Sam Hall lost his entire share within an hour, bettingrecklessly. He approached a gigantic fireman who squatted by the wallwith a canvas bag clutched in one hand and a broken bottle in theother. The whisky had run out on the floor, but the fellow was too fargone to know the difference, and from time to time he raised the emptybottle to his lips.
"Money gone," said Hall. "Gimme!" And he held out his hand.
The fireman, with a vast grin, delved his hand into the bag and broughtit forth loaded with gold, which Hall took without a word and returnedto his game of rolling dice, one throw at five hundred dollars a throw.In ten minutes he went back to the fireman with a double handful ofcorns.
"Principal an' interest," grunted the big sailor, and dumped his goldinto the canvas bag which, filled to overflowing, spilled a dozen coinsupon the floor.
The fireman, with a groan of dull content, slipped prone on the floorand was instantly asleep, embracing the canvas bag in both arms. Everyman in the crew was in a somewhat similar condition, saving Hovey, withhis gray-blue, steady eyes, and Cochrane, with his glittering, shiftyblack. These two watched the rest descend toward swinishunconsciousness; they saw, and waited coolly, and now and then glancedat each other with faint smiles of understanding.
Somewhere in the waist of the ship Jacob Flint was singing shrill songsof infinite profanity, but otherwise there was no sound on the _Heron_as the sun went down, and all night long the old freighter wallowedsluggishly up and down on the waves, as if she waited for dawn beforeresuming her journey toward the shore.
There was a wisdom, however, in Hovey's laxness of discipline duringthe first day of his mastery. The next morning the men slept late,sprawling about the deck, and Hovey and Cochrane first roused ominousJacob Flint and Sam Hall and Kyle. With this nucleus of five mightymen, men to be feared on land or sea, Hovey started to rouse the restof the mutineers. They woke cursing and sad of stomach and head, and tothe first orders they responded with cursing; the reply was asledge-hammer blow from the fist of Hall or Kyle, and while the man layon the deck, it was explained curtly and forcibly to him that while the_Heron_ was at sea, he would have to obey Bos'n Hovey; but as soon asthe ship reached land, each man could be his own master.
First of all the firemen were commanded to the hole to get up steam,but when this was done, it was found that there was some minor troublewith the machinery. An engineer was needed; Hovey, with Cochrane, Flintand Hall beside him, sent for Campbell, and retired to the cabin toawait his coming.
There sat the body of Fritz Klopp as it had remained ever since thebeginning of the revels the day before, grinning up at the ceiling.Hall and Flint raised the body, and the clutching fingers were found tobe frozen by death immovably around a whole handful of gold. As Hallsuggested, this would serve as lead to take him to the bottom of thesea. The others applauded the thought, and with his hand still full ofgold, they carried Fritz Klopp to the rail and dumped him into thewater.
As they re-entered the cabin, Campbell was kicked in from the oppositedoor. His hands were manacled behind him, and the force of the kick,together with a sway of the ship, threw him off his balance. He crashedon his face at the feet of Hovey. The bos'n grew positively pale withpleasure. He selected a cigar from an open box on the table and lightedit leisurely.
At last he ordered: "Pick him up."
The chief engineer was jerked to his feet and stood with a trickle ofblood running down from his split lip. His face was rather purple thanred, and the dark pouches underneath his eyes told the horror of thenight he had passed. Nevertheless, the eyes themselves were bright.
Far away, half heard, and drowned by any noise near at hand, was asound of singing. It was Black McTee in the wireless house, halfmaddened by thirst and hunger and despair, and singing in defiancesongs of bonny Scotland.
"There's been trouble aboard, chief," he said, "but now trouble's over.All over! We want you to take charge of the engines again and bring usto shore."
Campbell waited, not as if he had not heard. In spite of himself, Hoveystirred a trifle and grew uneasy. From a corner of the room he pickedup a canvas bag and dropped it with a melodious jingling on the tablein front of the engineer.
"This is your share," he said.
Campbell smiled faintly.
"And this," said Hovey, with a glance at his companions.
The smile had not altered on the lips of the Scotchman.
"With this money," said Hovey, forcing himself to remain calm, "you canretire from active work. You can get yourself a little place on thecoast somewhere"--he had heard Campbell name some of his dreams--"andhave a little cellar full of the right stuff, and have your friends runout to see you now an' then, an' talk over things that're goin' on atsea--where you ain't."
Here he placed a third bag of money on the table.
"You could do all that and more, chief--a lot more--with this money."
Hovey cut the lace which tied the mouth of one of the bags; he pouredthe gleaming contents across the table.
"Well?" he asked softly.
"Damn you!" whispered Campbell, and then, "You fool, am I not Scotch?"
"At least," went on the bos'n easily, "think it over, chief, and whileyou're thinkin', what d'you say to a drop of the real stuff?"
Campbell had not tasted either food or liquid since early the daybefore, and his eyes were moist as they stared at the two bottles.
"Set his hands free," said Hovey, "so that the chief can drink. Weain't half-bad fellers, Campbell; but we've got good cause for raisin'the hell you've seen on the _Heron._"
While he spoke, the arms of Campbell were set free, and glasses wereshoved toward him, one full of Scotch and the other of seltzer. Themutineers were already raising their drinks for a toast when Campbelltook his with a violently trembling hand. But as he lifted the liquor,he was fully conscious for the first time of a singing which had beenfaint in the air for some time, the songs of Black McTee in thewireless house, and now the big-throated Scotchman swung into a newair, plaintive and rapid in cadence, a death song and a war song atonce, the speech of Bruce before Bannockburn, as Burns conceived it.Loud and true rang the voice of Black McTee, breaker of men:
"Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots wham Bruce hae aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victory!"
And the hand of Campbell checked on its way to his lips. "We're lookin'in your eyes, chief," said Hovey. And the song broke in:
"Wha would be a traitor slave,Let him turn and flee!"
Campbell was staring at the wall like one who sees avision but cannot make out its meaning.
The voice of Black McTee swelled high and strong:
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"Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freemen stand and freemen fa', Let him on wi' me!"
And the glass dropped from the lips of the Scotchman. It crashedagainst the hard floor. Broad Scotch was on his tongue.
"I canna drink wi' murderers!" he cried.
"Damn you!" said Hovey, and drove his fist into Campbell's face,hurling him to the deck.
The manacles were clapped on his wrists again; he was dragged once moreto his feet.
"Take him out," said Hovey to the grinning sailors who had lingered inthe door. "Take him back to the waist of the ship before the wirelesshouse. Wait for me there. And see that Van Roos and Borgson are broughtthere also."