What deed of desperation the
negroes might do it was impossible to tell. There were matches; they
might fire the ship. There was the rum; they might still gain the
upper hand of all, when nerved and further crazed by liquor.
Two lanterns shed a melancholy light fore and aft. The wind had died
away and the heavens were sprinkled with stars.
Gary placed two men fully armed, at each hatch, then called the rest to
the quarter-deck for a consultation. He was calm, cool, yet heartless
and vindictive as ever.
Without caring for the men already sacrificed, he seemed only anxious
to save his vessel and as many of his mutinous victims as he might now
be able to carry into port. For Duff and Ralph he, even now, scarcely
veiled his dislike as he sat upon the hatch, binding his wounded head
with a handkerchief.
But before much was said, a sailor ran back crying:
"This way! This way! The fiends are after us again."
CHAPTER XXIII.
Adrift.
Seizing their weapons, the wearied men ran forward to the forecastle,
where the negroes had nearly cut another hole through the bulkhead
separating the crew's quarters from the hold.
One of the main hatch guards was holding them at bay, and had managed
to seize the implement with which they had gained their liberty, from
the savage who happened to be using it last. It was part of an old
hand saw, that had, by some neglect, been left unnoticed on the floor
of the hold.
Several shots drove back the blacks, then the hole, which was a small
one, was nailed up and another guard stationed.
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