# Down to the Sea/The Mutiny

pp. 218–248

### THE MUTINY

WHEN you have been shipwrecked, and, sole survivor of the crew, have tramped through the African jungle seven days on the food you can pick from the bushes; when your clothing is in rags and ribbons, your feet blistered and bleeding, and your stomach in a state of unstable equilibrium, you are likely, on touching the coast again, to welcome the sight of a brig at anchor in the bay, and to more than welcome the offer of a berth from a man who sculls ashore at your hail, especially so when he imparts the information that the nearest settlement is still two hundred miles farther on. That is why I shipped with Captain Bruggles.
He was the largest man I had ever seen—almost seven feet tall. But, unlike most tall men, his development was perfect. There was nearly a thirty-inch stretch across his back from shoulder to shoulder; his arm was as large as an ordinary leg; his leg could not have been gartered by an average woman's belt; and his clinched fist would hardly have gone into my hat, had I possessed one. Over this massive framework of bone and muscle towered a leonine head with an uncut shock of coarse, brown hair. His face was not displeasing, but in repose it took on the grim dignity of a lion's; and this, with his great size, gave him a personality rather oppressive, especially when his steady, gray eyes were fixed upon you. He wore no hat, and was clothed merely in sockless shoes, extremely dirty trousers, and flannel shirt—the latter unbuttoned, exposing a forest of hair on his chest. Down deep in this chest he seemed to keep his voice, and it came forth in rumbling intonations. But his words were well chosen—those of an educated man.
"I'll give you a passage," he said, when I had told him my trouble; "but you might as well ship with me; you sail first mate, you say. I want a mate who can cook for the crew, or a cook who can navigate and keep the crew in shape. I don't care which."
"Of course I'll try it, captain," I answered, eagerly; "but isn't it difficult for a mate to boss sailors and cook for them, too? "
"Not aboard my vessel. Galley's forward, but the bill of fare is simple. Come aboard."
As I was too exhausted to be of use at an oar, he sculled the boat out to the brig, while I sat upon a bow-thwart, blessed my good luck, and studied the craft I had shipped in. She was about four hundred tons' register, and, judging by her sheer, the tautness of her standing rigging, and a general smoothness, was not very old; but braces and halyards hung in bights, and there was a week's work for a full crew, scraping and painting. Truly, she needed a mate, and I was about to say as much when a hoarse, roaring growl sounded from the brig, and echoed back from the forest on the beach.
"What is it?" I asked, in astonishment.
"One of my crew," answered the captain. "He's hungry."
I said no more. He sculled rapidly up to the side ladder, told me to toss up the painter, and sang out: "Hillee ho, boy, on deck! Pull rope, pull rope, pull rope!"
I threw the coiled painter over the rail, and a huge, hairy face with red eyes, wide, grinning mouth, and fang-like teeth looked down on me. Then a hairy paw as large as Captain Bruggles's hand caught the rope and pulled it taut.
"Up you go!" said he.
"Not much!" I exclaimed, reaching for an oar. "That's an orang-outang, isn't it? And he's loose."
"They're all young and tame. Follow me up. Leave the oar alone. There's no danger, and you mustn't hit one unless he deserves it. That only spoils 'em."
He climbed up and stepped inboard. I cautiously followed, but remained on the side steps while I inspected the deck. The big brute who had taken the painter had belayed it, and was slouching forward, looking back at Captain Bruggles, who had seated himself on the mizzen-hatch. Squatted on deck forward and crouching over the windlass were four others of the ungainly beasts, and in a strong iron cage amidships was a sixth, undoubtedly the hungry one, for he shook his bars and bellowed at us.
"Climb in," said the captain. "You're all right. Come in, and I'll explain this. No doubt it looks queer to you."
"If you don't mind, captain," I answered, a little huskily, "I'll stay here a few minutes, until I'm more accustomed to it. I can hear you. Is this your crew—that I'm to oversee and cook for?"
"This is my crew. I've trained 'em from babies. They're not able-seamen yet—that is, they can't paint and scrape and splice like a man; but they can do twenty men's work shortening sail, and cost me nothing in wages and very little in grub. But, I admit, I can't keep a mate; and there's no good reason for it, either. All it needs is a little nerve and common sense and firmness, and a mate'll have no trouble with 'em. I think you're the man for me. You'll only have to cook their mush for 'em once a day, and give 'em orders same as I do. My daughter cooks for the cabin. Got a galley down aft."
"Your daughter!" I exclaimed, in astonishment. "A woman aboard with these brutes?"
"Yes," he bawled. "She's not used to 'em yet, and stays below." He nodded toward the cabin. "By the way, you must be hungry. Come down below and fill up. Then we can talk things over better."
He arose and approached the companionway, and, with my heart beating painfully, I stepped to the deck and followed. A growl of protest arose from the combined throats of the six, and the prisoner rattled his bars furiously. I hastened my steps, looking back, ready to spring overboard if need be, but Captain Bruggles quelled the uproar by halting, lifting his hand, and uttering the one word, "Hush!"
He called through the closed door, and bolts slid back on the inner side. When it opened we descended, and I saw a slim girl in the half-light of the passage.
"Father!" she sobbed; "oh, father, don't leave me again! I'll die if you leave me alone again. They were crawling around looking down the skylight."
"Were they?" he answered, sternly. "And I told them not to. All right. I'll 'tend to 'em. This is a new man, going mate with us, Jessie. Let's see—your name's Fleming, isn't it? Mr. Fleming, Jessie; this is my daughter, Mr.—"
"Rob! Rob! Oh, Rob!" she screamed, and in a second I had my arms around her, while she kissed me as I never was kissed before, and most certainly never expected to be kissed by her. She was the girl that every man knows—the girl who said "no"; and we had parted under the moonlight three years before at a certain swinging gate near the end of a lane four thousand miles from this brig and its horrible crew—I to go back to the sea and forget, if I could; she to continue her even life and—so it seemed now—to remember.
"What's all this?" asked the father, sternly, and I released her.
"Why, it's—it's Robert Fleming," she answered, in some confusion; "I told you about him, didn't I, father? We're old friends."
"Lovers, I should say, if I'm a judge. Well, no more o' this. Young man, you want a berth, I want a mate; but I want no son-in-law, and I do want my girl for a while. Understand this at once."
"Very well, sir. I understand," I said, while Jessie drew away from me, and whatever scruples I had about taking this berth have disappeared. "I'll ship at going wages."
"All right. We go down to Frenchtown, on the Pango River, for a cargo of animals, snakes, and birds—whatever my agents have collected. That's my trade—procuring wild creatures to supply the menageries. And as I'd been to sea before I learned it, I combine both ends. Your work, of course, is to stand watch like any mate, rig tackles for cargo-work, and, in short, do everything that my boys forrard can't do. You won't have to cook for 'em long, because I'm training the oldest and most intelligent to light a fire forrard, and he can soon cook the mush. The rest of their grub is fruit, yams, and such, which they help themselves to. Here, I forgot. Jessie, get something for Mr. Fleming to eat."
Jessie had listened with a strained look of terror in her face while her father talked, and I noticed how her pretty features had changed from what they were when I knew her at home; she had aged ten years. And I did not doubt that the aging process had begun when she joined her father.
She immediately began setting the table, and soon had a cold meal ready for me, which I attacked as a starved man will. Meanwhile an uproar on deck had called the captain away from us, and when I had eaten enough to be able to speak between mouthfuls, she said:
"You must not go in this vessel as mate. Insist upon it. The last mate was killed, and, I believe, the one before the last. Father is the only man in the world who can control them. They will kill you, too—they will kill you, Rob. And then—what will I do?"
"I agreed to, Jessie. I can't go back on it."
"Run away to-night. Take the boat, and take me with you. I am dying of terror. I cannot bear it. Oh, Rob, take me away from this vessel!"
She buried her face in her arms and sobbed like a child.
"There are wild beasts ashore, Jessie," I said, gently; "and we would have to tramp two hundred miles. You cannot do it. I only shipped to be with you. Wait until we make a port. What manner of man is this father of yours, anyway, to condemn a girl like you to this?"
"He is a man without human sympathy," she said, lifting her tear-stained face. "He left me at home when I was little, but paid my way; and six months ago he sent me passage-money and instructions to join him at St. Louis on the Senegal, He cannot understand fear—he has never felt it; he boasts that he can conquer any wild beast in the world with his hands, and wonders why others are afraid. He is kind to me—though I tell him frankly that I do not care for him as a daughter should—but, when he is in liquor he is a fiend."
"Drinks, does he? I should think a man in his trade would not."
"He drinks at every port when the work is done—that is, when all the animals are disposed of. The noise is frightful, and he is the worst—a greater beast than any."
"I'll stand by you, Jessie," I said, as I arose. "I'll get you out of this scrape if I can. And"—I leaned over her—"you'll stand by me, won't you—you'll say yes instead of no?"
"Yes, yes, Rob, of course. Oh, forgive me for that. I didn't know—I thought you were going to stay home. I thought I'd see you again."
Her father's heavy footsteps sounded on deck, but there was time for one kiss, and I took it; then he called down the skylight for me to come up. I obeyed, noticing as I closed the companion-door and turned to face him on the poop what I had not noticed when I entered the cabin—that over the companion was a steel cage, or grating, which could be secured from the inside, and that the skylight and after companion each held a similar arrangement.
"I put 'em on to satisfy Jessie," he said, as he observed my glance. "Now, come down to the mizzen-hatch and I'll introduce you; but, first, I want to know your relations with my daughter."
"I met her at home," I answered, firmly, as we seated ourselves. "She and my sisters were great friends, and I asked her to be my wife. She declined at the time, but reversed her decision two minutes ago. I shall marry your daughter at the first opportunity, Captain Bruggles; and she herself will satisfy you that she will not suffer. I am one of those rare men who go to sea for pleasure; but, with a wife, I will remain ashore and live on my own property."
"I care nothing for your property, Mr. Fleming"—his voice was almost a growl—"but I do for my girl. I've waited twenty years for her to grow up. So, let her alone. I've warned you. Now we'll talk business. Get two handspikes out o' the rack."
A little nervously, while the huge brutes forward watched me, I stepped amidships and secured the handspikes; he took one from me, leaving me the other, and told me to stand beside him on the hatch.
"You're to give each one in his turn a thump on the head after I hit him. Strike about as hard as you'd hit a nail with a hammer; it won't hurt 'em."
"Now, boys!" he called to them, "hillee-ho, boys! Come talk—come talk—come talk. Hillee-ho!"
"You must learn my calls," he said, turning to me. "They're used to 'em."
"I'll want a little time for that, sir," I said, holding hard to my six-foot club. I was a large, heavy man myself, and had borne myself well in a great many rough-and-tumble fights, but I had never fought an orang-outang, and the sight of those half-dozen monsters lumbering toward me was weakening. The smallest of the six—for the prisoner was released—when standing erect would top my height by more than an inch, while the largest nearly approached the giant at my side in size and weight. But they were not always erect; their usual mode of progress being a swinging walk on all-fours, and when they would lift their immense heads and shoulders, bearing their weight on the hind legs, the long, hairy arms would continue the walking motion, just clearing the deck as they swung. They stepped upon the outside edge of the foot, the unsightly toes curling under, and their lips would draw back in convulsive grins, exposing the yellow fangs; then the wide mouths would close and an expression of fierce gravity occupy their ugly faces until the next emotion prompted a change. They squatted before us in a row, breathing hoarsely and blinking hideously.
"Haeckel," said the captain, to the fellow on the right, "come!" The big ape scrambled toward him.
"Look," he said, and the blinking eyes were turned on me.
"Mate, mate, mate. See, boy," and the captain pointed at me. Then he shoved his big finger into the beast's face and said, impressively, "Work, work, work." This formula was repeated three times, while Haeckel blinked his respects to me. Next the captain brought his handspike down on his head with force enough to have cracked the skull of a Hottentot, but Haeckel only winked faster and grinned.
"Hit him yourself, now—a love-tap, not too hard."
I was very careful not to. Haeckel grinned again, and took his place at the end of the line, fully acquainted with his chief officer.
In the same manner, gathering courage and confidence from the amicable grins I received, I was introduced to Darwin, Huxley, Tyndall, Spencer, and Marsh.
"I've named 'em after the leading evolutionists," said the captain, as we returned to the poop; "but I doubt that they'd feel complimented."
I was too weak in my knees and dizzy in my head to ask whether he meant the scientists or his pets; the reaction of feeling following my interview with the brutes had come, and I barely escaped fainting. Jessie's white face and wide-open gray eyes, looking at me through the skylight—where she had probably climbed to watch us—was what nerved me to hold my senses; for I knew that I would need all my store of courage and strength to get her away from that brig and her unnatural father.
"You see," he said, when we had seated ourselves on the quarter-rail, "it's utter nonsense to say that animals can be controlled by kindness alone. You can't do it. Their nature will assert itself once in a while. And, by the same token, you can't control 'em by severity alone; it makes 'em ugly, and they break out when they dare. But, combine the two, and you have the working rule which made the Christian religion the greatest force for civilization the world has known—hope of reward and fear of punishment. It will civilize a devil out o' hell."
"Practical, I admit," I answered, "in your case. But how may a man of my size inspire them with fear?"
"They fear you now—all but Spencer, the one who was locked up—and you must see that they continue. Never hesitate to strike if they are ugly, and, when they work well, praise them."
"How about Spencer? How shall I put fear into him?"
"He'll be in my watch. You will have Haeckel, Darwin, and Tyndall."
"How about Spencer, when all hands are up? I must be among them all."
"He's just a little ugly lately, but'll get over it. I'll bring him around myself. Only, don't pick a row with him."
"No fear, captain. And will you tell me how the last mate was killed, so that I'll know more about what not to do."
"Damnation!" he growled. "Damn a babbling hussy! He was killed because he was a damned fool and disobeyed instructions. Spencer is the oldest, and has one privilege over the others—he gets his mush in a separate kid, a habit he formed when he was alone with me. You must remember to give him his share before you serve the others. The last mate forgot it."
"Cheerful prospect for me," I said, rather bitterly, "when I can't tell them apart."
"We won't sail till you do know 'em and until you know all the calls and tricks. I came in here to get a little sleep, and wouldn't object to a few nights more. I stood both watches for two weeks—am badly used up."
"Then the mate was killed on this passage."
"Two days out. It was Spencer."
"I'll take particular care to learn Spencer's face and habits. That is, unless I can make another deal with you. I'll buy this brig of you at your own figure, and give you passage to the nearest consular port, provided you drop your crew overboard and help work ship."
"Have the money with you?"
"No, I'll send for it through any consulate."
"No good."
"Very well, captain. I have my choice, then, of another trip in the jungle or a berth here where I will probably die. I take the chance; but, though I mean to obey your injunction in regard to your daughter while aboard, it is only fair to you and myself that I say now that it is on her account that I stay. You have taken her from a quiet country home—"
"Never mind, never mind what I've done. It's my business, and she's my girl. Don't broach this subject again."
"Very well, sir."
"There'll be work enough to keep your mind busy here, without concerning yourself with my family affairs. Come forward, and I'll show you how far Spencer has gone in his trade."
He spoke dispassionately, even though, being angry myself, I had give him cause for extreme anger. But, as I followed him, I came to the conclusion that this remarkable man had seldom felt the need of so cheap an emotion; one of his size and strength could have his own sweet will and way without it.
Just abaft the foremast was a newly built bed of stones and mortar, and resting on this an iron tripod supporting a pot the size of a washtub. Here we halted and Captain Bruggles sang out:
"Spencer, come. Fire, fire—cook, cook."
Spencer came from the group at the windlass. He was the largest brute of all, though I had not remarked it in my embarrassment when being introduced. Looking for other characteristics by which I might know him in the darkness, I noticed the absence of his right ear—possibly lost in some argument with his fellows. As he approached I drew back, for the monster rose up on his legs squarely before the captain, bared his yellow teeth, and growled.
"He's still ugly," said the captain, quietly, to me. Then he drew his clinched right fist quickly backward to a level with his shoulder and launched it forward, following with a heave of his whole mighty body. Never in my life had I seen such a knock-down; the fist, impacting on the protruding chin of the grinning beast, lifted him off his feet and turned him nearly over in the air. He came down on his head, floundered to the deck, and lay quiet. It was a knock-out. The others jabbered excitedly, but remained where they were.
"Now's your time, Mr. Fleming," said the captain; "get a handspike, say 'Fire—cook' to him when he comes to, and bat him with the club. You'll never have a better chance to impress him."
I was not anxious for the experiment, but preferred the risk to the almost certain death which would come of failure to impress Spencer. I secured a handspike, stood over the brute, and, when he groaned moved, and sat up, I knocked him back.
"Fire—cook!" I ordered, sternly, and the captain repeated it.
Spencer sat up again, grinned at me, and went back to the deck. When he arose he blinked, and, without striking him now, I again gave the order. Blinking steadily, he arose to all-fours and lumbered toward a pile of boards near the fore rigging. Selecting one, he picked it to kindling-wood with his hands and feet. I had seen feats of strength at circuses on shore, but never, perhaps, such an awful display of muscular force as this—unless, perhaps, it was that knock-down. When he had made a pile he carried it to the pot and arranged it carefully underneath. Then he disappeared down the fore-hatch and returned with a flint-and-steel and a piece of tinder.
"Spencer," said the captain, gently, "water, water."
The ape arose, grinned ever so slightly, secured a draw-bucket and drew a bucketful from over the side. This he poured in the pot.
"He don't like the touch of water," said the captain. "When he can handle it cheerfully, I'll give him fresh water and teach him to stir the mush."
Spencer was now striking fire from the steel and blowing on the punk. Soon it caught; he arranged small slivers to feed it, added larger ones, and, when the fire was burning well, squatted before it with an expression on his face of fascinated admiration.
That'll do. Spencer. Put out, put out, put out," ordered the captain. The pot was not heated yet, and Spencer arose, tilted it, and deluged the flames. Then he was patted on the head, and praised—in which ceremony I, perforce, did my share.
"He can light a fire all right," said Captain Bruggles, as we walked aft; "but when he burns himself he is apt to knock the whole business overboard. Then, too, he must get used to the water."
"How do they steer?" I asked. "Do they know the compass?"
"No; but if you set the course for 'em they can hold her to it fairly well; and steering by the wind is easy for 'em. Sometimes, too, when their natural intelligence don't tell 'em what rope to pull you may have to put it into their hands. On a dark night a topgallant buntline is the same to them as a topsail buntline. Of course, it delays matters a little, but I make it a point to begin shortening sail early."
He led me below, where I signed his articles at the bottom of a long list of "mates," and received an outfit from his slop-chest; then he showed me my room. Spencer's bucket, and the bin of meal for the making of mush.
As darkness was closing down I performed this part of my duty, cooking the mush in sight of them all, and with my handspike within reach; but nothing unpleasant occurred. Spencer coming at my call and blinking gratefully as I served him, while the rest waited expectantly, and ate their portion together out of a wash-deck tub.
I fought orang-outangs all through the night, but wakened in the morning much improved in spirits and vitality, and convinced that the only safe plan of action was to refrain from all open communication with Jessie, to simulate the greatest interest in my work that was possible, and to appeal to the first consul or man-of-war that we met; for Captain Bruggles was most certainly violating the maritime laws of all nations. At breakfast, when for a moment I was alone with Jessie, I outlined this plan and she agreed to if.
The day was spent in completing my acquaintance with the crew; but, beyond a slight fretfulness at the disagreeable washing-down of deck in the morning, there was no trouble, or promise of it; they evidently classed me in with their masterful captain, and did not compel me to assert myself. Next morning we weighed anchor, set the canvas, and went to sea.
To me, accustomed to see a whole crew manning a topsail halyard and mastheading the yard to the music of a chantey, it was an uncanny spectacle—that getting under way. There were cleats nailed to the deck abaft the leading-blocks, and—three at the fore, three at the main—the monsters would scramble along these cleats in all postures, sometimes face upward, again face downward, with the halyards gripped by one hand or one foot, or their teeth, while the yard went aloft in jerks. When up to its place we nippered the halyards at the block and they stopped pulling and belayed. All up-and-down running rigging led through leading-blocks on deck, so that they could use their immense strength rather than their mere weight. Two could sheet home and hoist a topgallant-sail, one could set a royal, and, when it came to stowing the anchor Haeckel and Spencer did it—by hand.
The passage down the coast was uneventful. My nervousness wore off after a few night-watches alone with them, and I found that they welcomed my approval of tasks well performed as they feared my occasional demonstrations with a capstan-bar. But Spencer made no headway with his cooking; in spite of all we could do, he would not touch the draw-bucket unless told to, and even showed as great a repugnance to carrying fresh water from the tank in a bucket, though in the morning washing-down of the deck he took his share of the splashing without unusual protest.
With Captain Bruggles my relations were serene and even friendly. Having uttered his commands with regard to his daughter, he seemed confident that they would be obeyed; and as Jessie never left the cabin, and I was very careful not to arouse his suspicions, my relations with her had not developed past what they were on our first meeting by the time we had sailed up the muddy little Pango River and anchored off Frenchtown—a cluster of thatched huts, a trading-station, and a rickety wharf. There was no government, no consulate, no post-office, no other craft in the river.
Ordering me to rig cargo-whips and strike out all empty water-casks, Captain Bruggles went ashore in the one boat, and I enjoyed my first long talk with Jessie, which contained little of value to this story, except our conclusion that nothing could be done here in the way of escaping. When he returned I was innocently busy with the work, and he informed me that various cages of different brutes, birds, and reptiles would come off soon on floats. He himself would stow them in the hold, and on the passage up the coast would feed and care for them. That day and on the three following natives from the shore floated out a holdful of large and small cages—boxed in (I suppose to prevent excitement among our crew)—and I struck them down the hatches as fast as they arrived. What they contained I could not guess, but, all being aboard, we hoisted over the prison-cage amidships, which went ashore and returned, boxed in like the others. There was no doubt of the occupant of this—another ape. The roaring and growling from within and the answers of the crew were unmistakable evidence. We stowed it on the main-hatch again, but left the boards on for the present, while Captain Bruggles clubbed his agitated pets down the fore-hatch and covered them.
"It's a female of their breed," he remarked to me; "and we'll have to keep her closed for a while, until they're used to her presence."
Another cage had come off with this last load, which the captain opened on deck, disclosing a four-foot snake of species unknown to me, but possessing the triangular head of all poisonous serpents. This creature, he explained, was a rarity, and, being valuable, he would stow it in the cabin—which he did, in spite of Jessie's protest. A few other packages and bundles came off, which he also took below, and I surmised, by the odor of his breath at supper-time, that there was whisky among them. There was; he was drunk before dark, and a greater change in a man I never saw produced by the stuff.
His face took on the color of a ripe tomato, and the sacs of flesh under his eyes puffed out and half closed the lids. His gray eyes, darker from the obscuration, glittered through two horizontal slits, giving a hideous expression of ferocity to his face, while his rumbling voice became an almost inarticulate growl. While I was stirring the mush for the crew he roared continually at me from the poop, and as I could not understand a word that he said, and would not leave the supper to burn, my inattention brought him forward in a fury of rage. He collared me, lifted me clear of the deck, and shook me as a terrier does a rat, then dropped me. I was not injured—though very angry—and managed to understand that he would feed the brutes himself that evening. He stirred violently while I nursed my wrath, and, when the mush was cooked and I had doused the fire with a bucket of water, he lifted the fore-hatch.
Up they came, and as I looked on their faces and heard their snarls I retreated toward the handspike-rack, secured one, and went aft; then calling to Jessie to fasten them, I closed down the iron gratings over the skylight and companions.
"There may be trouble to-night, Jessie," I said, when she appeared at the forward door, "and I may have to jump over and swim; but, if there's a gun to be had ashore, I won't be gone long."
Her answer was drowned in a storm of abuse from her father. He had filled Spencer's bucket and kicked it out of the way; now, with a large dipper, he was spooning the last of the mush into the wash-deck tub, and squinting viciously at me. But the crew were paying no attention to their supper; they were creeping around the big box amidships, sniffling, grinning, and growling, and, as the captain brushed past them on his way toward me, three of them followed menacingly a few feet.
"What are you saying to my girl?" he bellowed, as he approached. "Didn't I tell you to let her alone?"
"Captain Bruggles," I answered, raising my hand-spike, "don't lay hands on me again. I won't have it. If you were not so drunk you'd not think it necessary. We'll have our hands full with the crew to-night. As for your daughter, I was telling her to fasten the gratings."
"What for? Who told you to drop the gratings?"
"Never mind that now," I answered. "Look forward—look at them."
My manner impressed him and he turned. I meant no trick; the brutes were ripping the planking off the cage, and two of them—Tyndall and Spencer—were fighting. Captain Bruggles ran forward, seizing a handspike as he went, and charged among them. He used his six-foot club one-handed, as I would have handled a belaying-pin, separating the combatants, and driving them forward to the windlass, where they jabbered and snarled at him, and rubbed the sore spots; but they were conquered for the time. Then, telling them to stay where they were, he came aft and finished the demolition of the cage-covering, disclosing an undersized brute, a full sister to those forward, but only half-grown. He studied her for a few moments, while she grinned and chattered at him, then he burst into a roar of drunken laughter, and, slapping his thighs, came aft to me. His mood had changed; he seemed to have completely forgotten our quarrel, and this alone prevented me from going overboard to seek aid for Jessie on shore.
"Ain't it fun?" he chuckled, before he had reached the mainmast. "Ain't she a beauty, and ain't they all in love? Let's turn her loose. Come on." He turned back.
"Captain Bruggles," I called, running after him, "I beg of you not to. You will never get them under control again. Take my advice and box up that cage again—or I'll do it, and you keep the rest back."
It was almost too dark now to see the expression of his face, but I knew by his steadfast stare that I had angered him.
"You coward!" he said, thickly; "and five minutes ago you dared face me, and I thought I could like you; but you're a coward, after all."
"Father!" came Jessie's pleading voice from the companion. "Father, do as he advises, please do!"
"Shut up, you mincing trollop," he roared at her. "You're too sympathetic, by Gawd, you two." He turned and pounced on me. I had left the hand-spike aft, but had I possessed it I could not have used it after he had seized me.
"What is there between you two?" he bellowed in my ear as he held me by the arm. "Hey! tell me; what is there between you?"
"I have already told you, captain," I answered. "There is nothing, and will be nothing between us while we are both here. When we get ashore I shall want her for my wife."
"You will, hey! Want her for your wife, will you? I'll give you a wife, by the Lord—I'll give you a wife!"
Struggle as I could, while Jessie screamed from the cabin, he dragged me to the cage, slipped the bar, opened the door, and thrust me in. Then he closed the door and rebarred it. The female snarled at me, but made no attempt to resent the intrusion, and I possessed myself of a piece of planking which lay half through the bars. Crazy with mingled fear and rage, I jabbed it at the captain's face as he stood near the door, but he dodged and drew back out of reach.
"There's a wife for you," he said, with as much sarcasm as his drunken voice would express. Then followed a volley of personal abuse.
"Oh, if I get out of here alive," I answered, insanely, "I'll kill you for this, you devil!" Then I turned to watch my fellow-prisoner. She was paying me no attention, being more interested in the movements of her admirers outside. They were coming aft in a body, swinging their huge shoulders from side to side, beating their chests, and growling angrily. Whatever may have been their state of mind before, they were certainly in a most jealous rage now, possibly at me, who had obtained precedence over them, but directed for the time at Captain Bruggles, whom they had seen favor me. The giant Spencer was in the van, and he made straight for the captain.
"Back, boys!" he thundered. "Back!—go back! go back!—go back!
Spencer, with a blood-curdling, booming roar, sprang high in the air and came down on his enemy, who staggered under the load, but maintained his footing. Then began the mightiest single combat which, I believe, ever took place on earth. A full moon was now rising over the eastern hills, but there was not yet sufficient light to see clearly their outlines—only their combined bulks, surging back and forth in the shadows, a blacker darkness. There was no growling nor snarling, but a continuous wheezing in short, jerky notes. They reeled and whirled, sometimes falling together with a thud which shook the deck, but arising tightly locked, and slowly drifted aft past the mainmast and mizzen-hatch. Then I saw them separate, one staggering over against the rail, and I heard the captain's voice, in thick, broken accents:
"Jessie, Jessie, loose the snake!—quick! Turn the snake out on deck! I'm bitten—crippled!" He was sober now.
But his appeal was answered by Spencer's snarl of rage, and again they clinched. I heard no answer from Jessie, and my attention was drawn to my immediate neighbors, two of whom had locked and were fighting as deadly a battle as the other; the other three were fumbling about the cage, and my main fear now—inasmuch as the young lady was watching them with amiable curiosity—was that they would unbar the door—which might let me out, of course; but I felt safer at present where I was. Two of them attempted it, but the bar was keyed by a vertical bolt which baffled their intelligence; yet, fearing accidental success on their part, I stabbed viciously with my splinter at their hairy paws as they worked, and the result was satisfying. Each uttered angry snarls of pain, and each, possibly, thinking the other the assailant, a third murderous battle began, and the female jabbered approvingly, moving over toward the side of the cage nearest the last fighters. This brought her uncomfortably close to me, and I moved to the other corner. The cage was about eight feet square, and the bars were too close together to admit the passage of a paw, so, unless my cage-mate began demonstrations, I was in no danger. Though undersized, she was large and strong enough to have broken my back with a blow, or bitten my arm off, had she cared to; but she was docile and happy, dividing her interest between the combats in her behalf and the remaining brute without, who was improving his time by getting acquainted.
A terrible cry rang out from the pair at the mizzen-hatch, and at first I could not make out whether it came from Spencer or the captain. It was a death-cry, containing every note of mental and physical agony, and was repeated again and again. At last it became articulate.
"Fleming! Fleming!—Jessie!—the snake!"
"Loose the snake, Jessie, if you can!" I called; and then, "I can't help you, captain; I'm locked in."
The moonlight was stronger now, and I could see them huddled on the deck, still but for the movement of Spencer's immense head. He was uppermost, and his furious growls, coming half choked from his throat, told of his victory. The cries of the captain had ceased, but awful sounds of huge teeth snapping and grating and crunching, as the monster bit and burrowed, made a horrid accompaniment to the vengeful snarls. Then there was quiet for a moment, but for the noise of combat forward, and Spencer lifted his huge, ungainly shape—a black silhouette against the white paint work of the cabin-trunk—threw himself into a sudden contortion, and something passed over the cage, scattering warm, sticky drops of liquid, a few of which struck my hand. Then, sounding his humming, booming roar of challenge, he bounded forward and pounced upon the lovers at the bars.
I do not know which one it was, Spencer being the only one I had recognized in the darkness, but believe that it must have been Huxley, the next largest, from the vigorous resistance which he made; there were a few preliminary blows with their long, powerful arms, then they locked, whirled forward, and from this on they were indistinguishable from the others. Three separate struggles for life and love were now going on before my eyes, but I had little chance to observe them, for the female, angry at the interruption to the tête-à-tête, and evidently considering me responsible, was facing me, erect, with mouth wide open, eyes half closed, and hoarse growling barks coming from her throat.
Suddenly she extended both long arms high above her head and sprang. I dodged, and avoided the direct impact of the brute, but could not escape a glancing blow on the head from one heavy fist, which sent me reeling into a corner. When my wits came back I was crouched on my knees, still gripping my splinter of wood, and with my brain throbbing in a splitting headache. In the opposite corner, as high as she could climb, was the female, looking back over one shoulder as she clung to the bars and whispering excitedly. In the middle of the cage was the cause of her agitation—the snake. It was coiled, and its head rose from the middle of the coil, waving like a reversed pendulum, and darting forward and back while it hissed steadily; but it was not threatening me, and I regained my feet with the hope that, having saved my life once, it would continue the service, and with this hope came the hope that the brutes without would kill one another, when Jessie, if she had escaped madness or death from fright, could liberate me.
The moon was much brighter and higher in the sky, proving that I must have lain at least an hour unconscious; and in this hour results had come to two of the duelists, for in the starboard scuppers was one quiet form, and on the edge of the fore-hatch another. Either they had fought to the death and separated to die, or they were the vanquished of two battles, the victors in which had later come together. Two were fighting furiously near the port fore rigging, and the other two were aloft; but this was a flight and pursuit—not a fight. They had reached the foretop as I looked, and the leader, uttering grunts of pain and protest, reached for the main topmast stay, and went up it, hand over hand. The other followed, growling menacingly. Up the main topgallant rigging they went, out the topgallant yard, up the lift, and then straight up to the royal masthead, where the rigging ended; then they slid down the main-royal stay to the fore topgallant masthead, and from this their descent was a zigzag by lifts and foot-ropes until they reached the top, when they again started up the main topmast stay; but the pursuer had gained steadily, and just as they were half-way up—directly over the cage—he caught his quarry by the leg. The fight was resumed in midair. Hanging by one paw as often as two or more, they swung about the stay, tangling themselves in the staysail halyards, striking, kicking, and biting, until one, with a human cry of agony, let go and fell, head downward. He struck with a crash on the starboard upper edge of the cage, clung a moment, and fell to the deck, where he quivered, gasped, rolled over, and lay still. Another was dead.
But his death had produced results within the cage. Why the snake should have held me responsible for the jarring and shaking of the cage when the great beast struck it I do not know, unless it was because its eyes were on the female in the opposite corner, who was manifestly innocent. It was within easy striking distance, and chance alone saved me, my splinter of wood, held before me like a cane receiving the impact of its open jaws as it launched toward my leg. It writhed about the flooring for a second or two, then coiled, lifted its head for another spring at me and—went down under the blows of my stick. I nearly decapitated the reptile with the first sweep, and followed up my advantage until it ceased to writhe, by which time I was in a nausea of fear, trembling in every limb, and wet with perspiration; for I had not bettered matters. But, as the orang-outang opposite slowly descended the bars, I desperately imitated the hissing of the snake, and she scrambled up. So hope again rose in my heart. I kept her there by hissing, and by occasionally moving the dead snake with my stick.
A loud, wailing shriek sounded from the two at the fore rigging. They were huddled on the deck, and I did not doubt that one had felt the death-bite. Again it rang out, echoing among the hills, and again; then there was silence, but for that horrid crunching sound, and at last one of them arose, just in time to meet the descending weight of the victor up aloft—who had descended the stay to the dead-eye and sprung at him from the rigging.
Fervently hoping that they were evenly matched, and that this last battle would be a draw, ending in death for both, I watched them, hissing the while, as they lunged and careered along the deck. But it was not to be; one of them was Spencer, as I knew by a momentary inspection of the right side of his face as they passed the cage, and the other was certainly not Huxley, the next in prowess, for Huxley must be the one beside the cage. It was one of the others, and though once, perhaps twice, a victor that night, he had no chance with the giant Spencer. This struggle was short; it ended at the main rigging, where they fell in a heap, and it ended as had the others, with the fearful cry of agony, the choked growling, and the crunching. Then Spencer, survival of the fittest, arose to his feet and roared his challenge to the universe—the booming, humming, barking growl of an angry orang-outang; and, with hysterical flightiness, I answered with my hiss—to which he paid no attention.
He came toward the cage, pouncing upon and mangling the body of Huxley for a few moments on his way, and squatted before the female, jabbering hoarsely and pawing the bars with his huge hands. What impression he made upon her was beyond my understanding; but she chattered in return, and at last, as though understanding her fear, he stalked slowly around the edge to my corner, grinning hideously. I picked up the dead snake, wriggled it in the air, hissed to the best of my ability, and poked the battered head of the reptile through the bars. Spencer sprang six feet away, then, making a détour along the rail, returned to the safer side of the cage, where he squatted and began the grimacing and mumbling and jabbering of simian courtship.
And thus I passed the rest of that horrid night, keeping the female in order by occasional hissing, but making no strong impression on the doughty Spencer. I called repeatedly to Jessie, but was not answered until daylight broke, and then came a voice which I did not know from the companion:
"Rob, are you there?"
"Jessie!" I answered, joyously; "yes, I'm all right for the present. Don't come out. I've got the female under control with the dead snake, and they're all dead but Spencer. How are you? How have you made out?"
"Where is father? Oh!" she screamed, "it's horrid. They've killed him, Rob. What will I do? What can I do?"
I looked aft, and in the gathering light made out the headless body of Captain Bruggles alongside the mizzen-hatch, and knew then what had passed over my head early in the night.
"Don't look, Jessie!" I called. "Go below, and some of the natives may come out. They must have heard the noise."
"I loosed the snake, Rob, when father told me to, and then I fainted, I think. What has happened?"
"They've killed one another—all but Spencer and the female. Don't come on deck. Some one will be off soon from shore."
She said no more, and I watched the antics of Spencer. His grotesque grimacing seemed to fail of satisfactory results—even though every square inch of his hairy body was damp with the clotted blood of his rivals, he could not win the favor of the frightened young lady in the cage. She paid more attention to the snake than to him, and maintained her position of safety, high on the bars. At last Spencer changed his tactics; he began to "show off."
Attacking the pile of boards at the rail, he produced a good supply of kindling-wood, which he arranged under the iron pot; then, procuring the flint-and-steel, he started the fire; but he neglected, as usual, to fill the pot with water to the result that when he had enthusiastically piled on the fuel, the pot became red-hot. And still he worked insanely, launching whole boards at the flames, and creating, perhaps, the most successful fire that he had ever seen. Jabbering and grunting, and occasionally scampering to the cage to welcome the first signs of approval, he soon had a roaring bonfire which ignited the tarred mainstay and the staysail just above. A flickering flame crept up to the main-mast head, and I knew that the brig was doomed.
"Water, Spencer!" I called, loudly and peremptorily. "Water!—draw water!"
To this day I do not know why that excited brute, possessed as he was by primitive instinct and passion, obeyed my order. It may have been reason, but I doubt it. It may have been the force of habit, yet he hated water; but whatever the motive, he obeyed me. He seized the draw-bucket, lowered it over the side, and brought it up brimming. This he launched at the fire. It struck the red-hot pot squarely, and the result was a shattering of the receptacle to pieces, some of which went one side, some the other, and one of which dropped on Spencer's toes, sending him forward, howling with pain. The others burned their way into the deck, and flames sprang up, ate their way to the rails and fiferail, and crept aloft on the tarred rigging. Spencer remained forward, grunting over his sore foot, and soon there was a roaring barricade between us. The female turned her back to the heat and would have descended, but I remonstrated with the dead snake and persuaded her to remain where she was.
"Jessie!" I called. "Jessie! come out now—quick!"
She showed herself at the door and answered me.
"Come out, and slip the bar—quick! It's all safe now. Spencer can't get aft, and this one is afraid of the snake. There's no danger now, only from the fire."
She opened the grating and came out of the cabin, looked at each dead body on the deck, and crept forward to the cage.
"Lift out that bolt in the bar, Jessie," I called, encouragingly, for she was tottering, "and then run aft to the taffrails—to get into the boat when I join you."
She did so. I moved toward the door, shaking the snake at the female and hissing her out of my way, and, when Jessie had sped aft, I opened my prison and closed the door behind me. Then I thought for a second or two, and obeyed a prompting that I am not ashamed of to this day. Jessie was perched upon the taffrails, ready to slip down into the boat towing astern; she was safe, and so was I, with that potential snake still in my hands. I opened wide the door and hurried aft.
Jessie was in the boat before I reached the taffrails, and when I descended on two parts of the painter—so as to be able to slip it—I found her in a dead faint.
"No wonder," I mused, as, while the boat drifted down stream, I dashed water in her face. But when she opened her eyes, and smiled weakly, and called me by name, I knew that sanity was left her.
"Look at the brig, Jessie," I said, as I lifted her. "There's Spencer out on the jib-boom, and the female on the spanker-boom. It's a horrible courtship."
But she would not look; instead, she stared down stream, and I followed her gaze.
Rounding the next point in the river-bank was a French schooner-of-war—one of the slave-trade police of the African coast—and from her peak floated a homeward-bound pennant.
THE END