Читать книгу The Voyage Of The "Pulo Way" - Carlton Dawe - Страница 6

Table of Contents

All that afternoon the wind blew so hard that the vessel made little headway. Indeed, there was no attempt at forcing her along; throughout the long hours the engines were kept at half speed.

With me the time passed drearily. Having the whole day on my hands, and no one to whom I could speak, I began to wish I had taken Captain Macshiel’s advice and waited for one of the regular steamers. As for the captain, he rarely showed up at all, and I did not like to go plaguing the second mate, knowing he would have too little time to rest during such weather. So, having nothing else to do, I went below and tried to sleep, cursing the delay with all the energy of selfish disappointment.

Towards evening the wind went down, and by nine or ten o’clock the moon came out and the sea grew comparatively smooth, at least smooth enough to let us continue our way at full speed. And yet, though I listened anxiously for the quicker beat of the screw, and paid sundry visits to the engine-room skylight to watch the slow-moving machinery, that quicker beat never came, and those huge cranks continued to revolve in their own majestic fashion.

I caught a glimpse of the mate as he was passing aft, and hurrying after him inquired the reason of our slow progression; but he only grinned and told me to go and ask the captain. This I thought highly uncivil; for the monotony of the day, coupled with a vague mysteriousness which seemed to pervade the ship, was fast driving me into a fit of nervous irritation. Anything to relieve the dullness would have been welcome; even the event of the big Chinaman aft with the request for saloon accommodation. I smoked in solitude until I got tired of the pipe, and then I was glad to creep below and turn in.

I was in no hurry to get up next morning, though I saw by the flashing on the glass of the port that the sun was shining, and I knew by the steadiness that the sea had gone down and that the ship was riding on an even keel. To my surprise, though, I still heard the slow crunch, crunch of the screw, which told me that we had not yet increased our speed. At this I must admit that I felt exceedingly exasperated, and I had some unconsoling thoughts of the wretched voyage lasting a fortnight.

I sprang out of the bunk, opened the port, and had a peep through. The sea sparkled brightly, and was as smooth as the most ardent landsman could desire; nor, as far as my observation went, was there a cloud in the sky.

I must say that peep at the sea and the sunshine put me in a more charitable mood I hastily dressed, ate my breakfast in solitary splendour, and then went up on deck.

At first I noticed nothing but the extreme placidity of the sea and the delicious fragrance of the air; but presently my attention was attracted by an unwonted bustle which was going on forward. Moved by curiosity, I walked thither, and there beheld the crew rigging up a cannon of considerable dimensions. I don’t know much about cannon myself, but this seemed of a fair size and capable of discharging an impressive projectile. I saw that it was mounted on a carriage, that it was a breechloader, and evidently of the latest pattern.

I admit I failed to see the object of so much unnecessary labour. What had a dirty little tramp like the Pulo Way to do with breech-loading cannon or any of the paraphernalia of dreadful war? It was, in its way, a surprise; but a greater one was in store for me when I discovered that the director of ceremonies, or superintendent in chief, was no less a person than the big Chinaman whom the second mate had kicked so unceremoniously the day before. His great form loomed up plainly on the fo’c’sle head, and I saw by his gestures that he not only was deeply absorbed in his work, but that he also knew something about it. The captain was there with his mate, but he seemed to have handed over all authority to the big Chinaman. I was not near enough to hear what the big fellow said, as I stood under the bridge; but I followed his every movement with interest, and I thought that the men worked with an unusual energy.

For the life of me I couldn’t see the fun of playing thus at warships, and from personal knowledge I can disprove the fallacy that coming events cast their shadows before. The real object of our gun-mounting never so much as entered my head.

Presently the captain descended the fo’c’sle steps and came towards me. In one hand he held a formidable-looking marline-spike, in the other a length of teased-out rope.

“Good morning, captain,” said I. “Are you going to turn the Pulo Way into a man-o’-war?”

He shot a quick, inquiring look out of his little pale eyes, while a curious smile curled the tip of his parrot beak. He scratched amid his neck-whiskers with the point of the marline-spike.

“Well,” he answered slowly, “finding the voyage a wee bit monotonous, we’re just thinking of trying our hand at a little shooting.”

“Shooting! At what?”

“Well, perhaps it may be albatrosses, or perhaps it may not be. You can never tell. It’s just what you’re not wanting that’ll come all the way to meet you.”

“But surely you don’t get albatrosses in these latitudes?”

“Did I say it would be albatrosses? You understand—I merely go on supposition. For all I know to the contrary, we may be shooting sharks.”

“Well, look out that you don’t shoot yourselves.”

“I think you may go to sleep without praying for us. You see, it’s a wee bit of metal we’re taking over for the Spaniards, and we just thought we’d like to test it for them.”

Again he scratched his neck fringe, and then playfully rubbed the teased-out end of the rope in among his black whiskers. But his little pale eyes fixed themselves on my face with a look so intensely piercing, that I had to turn from him and pretend to watch the men on the fo’c’sle.

He in the meantime passed behind me and mounted the bridge, and a moment or two after I saw him go over to the other side and speak with Hayling. What he said I could not hear; but judging from the grave look on the second mate’s face it seemed of much importance. Truly, I had not liked the look of Captain Macshiel, nor were his facetious replies to my questions such as met with my approval Still, when the king condescends to joke, one must hold one’s sides with laughter.

I leant just under the break of the bridge, with my back against one of the stanchions which supported it. In this position I had a full view of the work that was going on forward; if I turned my head a little to the right and looked up, I could see Hayling if he happened to be leaning over the rail in the starboard corner. Indeed, we had exchanged several smiles and nods, and it was his serious face, looking towards the cannon, which first made me regard with suspicion the work that was going on there. Plainly, I saw that he did not approve of it, and it made me ask myself the question, Why?

But, to be candid, at the time the business did not seem of much moment, and I watched the proceedings merely because I had nothing else to do. Occasionally I looked up at Hayling and smiled; but, indifferent as I was, I thought each time I saw him that his grim face grew grimmer.

As I said, I was leaning against the stanchion just under the break of the bridge, my pipe in my mouth, my eyes fixed on the men forward, who were rapidly getting the gun into position, when all at once I happened to look up at the starboard corner. There was Hayling partly hanging over the rail, a look of fear and warning in his face. My eyes plainly asked what was the matter, and he replied by shaking his head backwards—a quick, sharp movement which I read as expressing haste and fear. Instantly I drew back, subject to an involuntary impulse, and as I did so a marline-spike fell hissing at my feet and struck with a dull thud into the deck. Had I not moved on the second, the heavy instrument would have crashed through my skull.

For a time I trembled like a woman, a shivering sensation sweeping me from head to foot. Then, with a devout “Thank God!” I stepped out from under the bridge and encountered the penitent face of the captain.

“You’re not hurt, Mr. Ravensford?”

“No, not this time.”

“That’s lucky,” said he. “The thing slipped like water through my fingers. Watching the fo’c’sle yonder, I quite forgot what I had in my hand. Ay, indeed it might have been very serious.”

“Rather. You see, the thing came down point first;” and I went and pulled it out of the deck where it still stood.

“Indeed, and just think of that!” said he, evidently much alarmed. “And point first! Why, man, had it struck you it would have made shark’s meat of you in half a jiff. I cannot congratulate myself too much—or you.”

“It is the unexpected that happens, Captain Macshiel. For the future I shall be more careful of marline-spikes;” and with that I handed him up the heavy, ugly weapon. His eyes gleamed strangely as they looked down into mine, and the hand that he stretched forth trembled visibly. But sickening excitement prevented a more analytical scrutiny. My heart still beat violently; every pulse in me was going at top speed.

I looked up at Hayling, and got a rare glad smile from him.

“A close thing,” said he.

“Very.”

Then he turned away, but not without giving me a warning look.

I made my way aft, feeling but ill at ease. The dropping of the marline-spike was a thing that might easily have happened, and, perhaps, there was no reason why I should have removed this from the ordinary category of accidents; but as I thought over the warning nod from Hayling I grew full of strange conjecture. Things seemed a bit topsy-turvy aboard the Pulo Way. What with mounting cannon under the immediate supervision of the big coolie, whom I seemed to have some instinctive reason for mistrusting; the unwillingness to take me as a passenger, and the promiscuous dropping of marline-spikes, point downwards, I had much troubled thought to engage my mind. Nor was that mind likely to be appeased until I had had a good talk with the second mate, whose strange face seemed to haunt me.

Just after eight bells, or twelve o’clock, the captain came aft, after having, in conjunction with Hayling, taken the sun. Ten minutes or so later the screw began to revolve rapidly, and on looking over the side I saw that we were going at full speed. So much, at least, was gratifying. With a continuance of this weather another twenty-four hours at most ought to see us steaming into Manila harbour, when I, for one, would not be sorry to say goodbye to the Pulo Way and all aboard of her, with, perhaps, the exception of Hayling. Something told me that he was different from the others, and I felt that we ought to know each other better.

Slowly the afternoon passed, the ship making good progress. On two or three occasions I tried to get a word with the second mate, but he seemed purposely to avoid me; and not doubting that he had good cause for what he did, I inconvenienced him as little as possible. But once, as he passed me on the deck, he whispered, “Come to my room tonight.” He did not turn his head as if addressing me, nor did he pause for a second in his stride. At this I wondered, but before my wonder left me he had passed on, and I had no chance to speak. Looking forward, I caught a glimpse of the mate, who was on the bridge. As he saw me look up he slid away, and the funnel immediately hid him; but I knew that he had been watching Hayling, and I continued to conjecture.