CHAPTER XXXIII
_In Which Billy Topsail, Besieged by Wreckers, Sleeps on Duty and Thereafter Finds Exercise For His Wits. In Which, also, a Lighted Candle is Suspended Over a Keg of Powder and Precipitates a Critical Moment While Billy Topsail Turns Pale With Anxiety_
At Jolly Harbour, meantime, where Billy Topsail kept watch, exceptfor the flutter of an apron or skirt when the women went to the wellfor water, there was no sign of life at the cottages the livelong day.No boats ran out to the fishing-grounds; no men were on the flakes;the salmon nets and lobster-traps were not hauled. Billy prepared aspirited defense with the guns, which he charged heavily with powder,omitting the bullets. This done, he awaited the attack, meaning tolet his wits or his arms deal with the situation, according todevelopments.
The responsibility was heavy, the duty anxious; and Billy could notforget what Archie had said about the firm of Topsail, Armstrong,Grimm & Company.
"I 'low there was nothing for it but t' leave me in charge," hethought, as he paced the deck that night. "But 'twill be a job now tosave her if they come."
Billy fancied, from time to time, that he heard the splash of oars;but the night was dark, and although he peered long and listenedintently, he could discover no boat in the shadows. And when the daycame, with the comparative security of light, he was inclined to thinkthat his fancy had been tricking him.
"But it might have been the punts slippin' in from the harbours aboveand below," he thought, suddenly. "I wonder if 'twas."
He spent most of that day lying on a coil of rope on the deck of thecabin--dozing and delighting himself with long day-dreams. When thenight fell, it fell dark and foggy. An easterly wind overcast the skyand blew a thick mist from the open sea. Lights twinkled in thecottages ashore, somewhat blurred by the mist; but elsewhere it wasdark; the nearer rocks were outlined by their deeper black.
"'Twill be now," Billy thought, "or 'twill be never. Skipper Bill willsure be back with the _Grand Lake_ to-morrow."
Some time after midnight, while Billy was pacing the deck to keephimself warm and awake, he was hailed from the shore.
"'Tis from the point at the narrows," he thought. "Sure, 'tis SkipperBill come back."
Again he heard the hail--his own name, coming from that point at thenarrows.
"Billy, b'y! Billy!"
"Aye, sir! Who are you?"
"Skipper Bill, b'y!" came the answer. "Fetch the quarter-boat. We'reaground and leakin'."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"Quick, lad! I wants t' get aboard."
Billy leaped from the rail to the quarter-boat. He was ready to castoff when he heard a splash in the darkness behind him. That splashgave him pause. Were the wreckers trying to decoy him from the ship?They had a legal right to salve an abandoned vessel. He clamberedaboard, determined, until he had better assurance of the safety of hischarge, to let Skipper Bill and his crew, if it were indeed they, makea shift for comfort on the rocks until morning. "Skipper Bill, sir!"he called. "Can you swim?"
"Aye, b'y! But make haste."
"I'll show a light for you, sir, if you want t' swim out, but I'll notleave the schooner."
At that there was a laugh--an unmistakable chuckle--sounding whencethe boy had heard the splash of an oar. It was echoed to right andleft. Then a splash or two, a creak or two and a whisper. After thatall was still again.
"'Tis lucky, now, I didn't go," Billy thought. "'Twas a trick, forsure. But how did they know my name?"
That was simple enough, when he came to think about it. When theskipper had warned the first fisherman off, he had ordered Billyforward by name. Wreckers they were, then--simple, good-hearted folk,believing in their right to what the sea cast up--and now bent on"salving" what they could, but evidently seeking to avoid a violentseizure of the cargo.
Billy appreciated this feeling. He had himself no wish to meet anassault in force, whether in the persons of such good-natured fellowsas the man who had grinned at him on the morning of the wreck, or inthose of a more villainous cast. He hoped it was to be a game of wits;and now the lad smiled.
"'Tis likely," he thought, "that I'll keep it safe."
For an hour or more there was no return of the alarm. The harbourwater rippled under the winds; the rigging softly rattled and sangaloft; the swish of breakers drifted in from the narrows.
Billy sat full in the light of the deck lamps, with a gun in hishands, that all the eyes, which he felt sure were peering at him fromthe darkness roundabout, might see that he was alive to duty.
As his weariness increased, he began to think that the wreckers haddrawn off, discouraged. Once he nodded; again he nodded, and awokewith a start; but he was all alone on the deck, as he had been.
Then, to occupy himself, he went below to light the cabin candle. Fora moment, before making ready to go on deck again, he sat on thecounter, lost in thought. He did not hear the prow of a punt strikethe _Spot Cash_ amidships, did not hear the whispers and soft laughterof men coming over the side by stealth, did not hear the tramp of feetcoming aft. What startled him was a rough voice and a burst oflaughter.
"Come aboard, skipper, sir!"
The companionway framed six weather-beaten, bearded faces. There was agrin on each, from the first, which was clear to its smallest wrinklein the candle-light, to those which were vanishing and reappearing inthe shadows behind. Billy seemed to be incapable of word or action.
"Come to report, sir," said the nearest wrecker. "We seed you wasaground, young skipper, and we thought we'd help you ashore with thecargo."
Billy rested his left hand on the head of a powder keg, whichstood on end on the counter beside him. His right stole towards thecandlestick. There was a light in his blue eyes--a glitter or atwinkle--which might have warned the wreckers, had they known himbetter.
"I order you ashore!" he said, slowly. "I order you _all_ ashore.You've no right aboard this ship. If I had my gun----"
"Sure, you left it on deck."
"If I had my gun," Billy pursued, "I'd have the right t' shoot youdown."
The manner of the speech--the fierce intensity of it--impressed thewreckers. They perceived that the boy's face had turned pale, that hiseyes were flashing strangely. They were unused to such a depth ofpassion. It may be that they were reminded of a bear at bay.
"I believe he'd do it," said one.
An uneasy quiet followed; and in that silence Billy heard the prow ofanother punt strike the ship. More footfalls came shuffling aft--otherfaces peered down the companionway. One man pushed his way through thegroup and made as if to come down the ladder.
"Stand back!" Billy cried.
The threat in that shrill cry brought the man to a stop. He turned;and that which he saw caused him to fall back upon his fellows. Therewas an outcry and a general falling away from the cabin door. Some menran forward to the punts.
"The lad's gone mad!" said one. "Leave us get ashore!"
Billy had whipped the stopper out of the hole in the head of thepowder keg, had snatched the candle from the socket, carefullyguarding its flame, and now sat, triumphantly gazing up, with the buttof the candle through the hole in the keg and the flame flickeringabove its depths.
"Men," said he, when they had gathered again at the door, "if I letthat candle slip through my fingers, you know what'll happen." Hepaused; then he went on, speaking in a quivering voice: "My friendsleft me in charge o' this here schooner, and I've been caught nappin'.If I'd been on deck, you wouldn't have got aboard. But now you areaboard, and 'tis all because I didn't do my duty. Do you think I carewhat becomes o' me now? Do you think I don't care whether I do my dutyor not? I tell you fair that if you don't go ashore I'll drop thecandle in the keg. If one o' you dares come down that ladder, I'lldrop it. If I hear you lift the hatches off the hold, I'll drop it. IfI hear you strike a blow at the ship, I'll drop it. Hear me?" hecried. "If you don't go, I'll drop it!"
The candle trembled between Billy's fingers. It slipped, fell an inchor more, but his fingers g
ripped it again before he lost it. Thewreckers recoiled, now convinced that the lad meant no less than hesaid.
"I guess you'd do it, b'y," said the man who had attempted to descend."Sure," he repeated, with a glance of admiration for the boy's pluck,"I guess you would."
"'Tis not comfortable here," said another. "Sure, he might drop it byaccident. Make haste, b'ys! Let's get ashore."
"Good-night, skipper, sir!" said the first.
"Good-night, sir!" said Billy, grimly.
With that they went over the side. Billy heard them leap into thepunts, push off, and row away. Then silence fell--broken only by theripple of the water, the noise of the wind in the rigging, the swishof breakers drifting in. The boy waited a long time, not daring toventure on deck, lest they should be lying in wait for him at the headof the ladder. He listened for a footfall, a noise in the hold, theshifting of the deck cargo; but he heard nothing.
When the candle had burned low, he lighted another, put the buttthrough the hole, and jammed it. At last he fell asleep, with his headresting on a pile of dress-goods; and the candle was burningunattended. He was awakened by a hail from the deck.
"Billy, b'y, where is you?"
It was Skipper Bill's hearty voice; and before Billy could tumble upthe ladder, the skipper's bulky body closed the exit.
"She's all safe, sir!" said the boy.
Skipper Bill at that moment caught sight of the lighted candle. Hesnatched it from its place, dropped it on the floor and stamped on it.He was a-tremble from head to foot.
"What's this foolery?" he demanded, angrily.
Billy explained.
"It was plucky, b'y," said the skipper, "but 'twas wonderful risky."
"Sure, there was no call to be afraid."
"No call to be afraid!" cried the skipper.
"No, sir--no," said Billy. "There's not a grain of powder in thekeg."
"Empty--an empty keg?" the skipper roared.
"Do you think," said Billy, indignantly, "that I'd have risked theschooner that way if 'twas a full keg?"
Skipper Bill stared; and for a long time afterwards he could not lookat Billy without staring.