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_ The schooner Farallone lay well out in the jaws of the pass, where the
terrified pilot had made haste to bring her to her moorings and escape.
Seen from the beach through the thin line of shipping, two objects stood
conspicuous to seaward: the little isle, on the one hand, with its palms
and the guns and batteries raised forty years before in defence of Queen
Pomare's capital; the outcast Farallone, upon the other, banished to the
threshold of the port, rolling there to her scuppers, and flaunting the
plague-flag as she rolled. A few sea birds screamed and cried about the
ship; and within easy range, a man-of-war guard boat hung off and on and
glittered with the weapons of marines. The exuberant daylight and the
blinding heaven of the tropics picked out and framed the pictures.
A neat boat, manned by natives in uniform, and steered by the doctor
of the port, put from shore towards three of the afternoon, and pulled
smartly for the schooner. The fore-sheets were heaped with sacks of
flour, onions, and potatoes, perched among which was Huish dressed as
a foremast hand; a heap of chests and cases impeded the action of the
oarsmen; and in the stern, by the left hand of the doctor, sat Herrick,
dressed in a fresh rig of slops, his brown beard trimmed to a point, a
pile of paper novels on his lap, and nursing the while between his feet
a chronometer, for which they had exchanged that of the Farallone, long
since run down and the rate lost.
They passed the guard boat, exchanging hails with the boat-swain's
mate in charge, and drew near at last to the forbidden ship. Not a cat
stirred, there was no speech of man; and the sea being exceeding high
outside, and the reef close to where the schooner lay, the clamour of
the surf hung round her like the sound of battle.
'Ohe la goelette!' sang out the doctor, with his best voice.
Instantly, from the house where they had been stowing away stores, first
Davis, and then the ragamuffin, swarthy crew made their appearance.
'Hullo, Hay, that you?' said the captain, leaning on the rail. 'Tell the
old man to lay her alongside, as if she was eggs. There's a hell of a
run of sea here, and his boat's brittle.'
The movement of the schooner was at that time more than usually violent.
Now she heaved her side as high as a deep sea steamer's, and showed the
flashing of her copper; now she swung swiftly toward the boat until her
scuppers gurgled.
'I hope you have sea legs,' observed the doctor. 'You will require
them.'
Indeed, to board the Farallone, in that exposed position where she lay,
was an affair of some dexterity. The less precious goods were hoisted
roughly in; the chronometer, after repeated failures, was passed gently
and successfully from hand to hand; and there remained only the more
difficult business of embarking Huish. Even that piece of dead weight
(shipped A.B. at eighteen dollars, and described by the captain to the
consul as an invaluable man) was at last hauled on board without mishap;
and the doctor, with civil salutations, took his leave.
The three co-adventurers looked at each other, and Davis heaved a breath
of relief.
'Now let's get this chronometer fixed,' said he, and led the way
into the house. It was a fairly spacious place; two staterooms and a
good-sized pantry opened from the main cabin; the bulkheads were
painted white, the floor laid with waxcloth. No litter, no sign of
life remained; for the effects of the dead men had been disinfected and
conveyed on shore. Only on the table, in a saucer, some sulphur burned,
and the fumes set them coughing as they entered. The captain peered into
the starboard stateroom, where the bed-clothes still lay tumbled in
the bunk, the blanket flung back as they had flung it back from the
disfigured corpse before its burial.
'Now, I told these niggers to tumble that truck overboard,' grumbled
Davis. 'Guess they were afraid to lay hands on it. Well, they've hosed
the place out; that's as much as can be expected, I suppose. Huish, lay
on to these blankets.'
'See you blooming well far enough first,' said Huish, drawing back.
'What's that?' snapped the captain. 'I'll tell you, my young friend, I
think you make a mistake. I'm captain here.'
'Fat lot I care,' returned the clerk.
'That so?' said Davis. 'Then you'll berth forward with the niggers! Walk
right out of this cabin.'
'Oh, I dessay!' said Huish. 'See any green in my eye? A lark's a lark.'
'Well, now, I'll explain this business, and you'll see (once for all)
just precisely how much lark there is to it,' said Davis. 'I'm captain,
and I'm going to be it. One thing of three. First, you take my orders
here as cabin steward, in which case you mess with us. Or second, you
refuse, and I pack you forward--and you get as quick as the word's said.
Or, third and last, I'll signal that man-of-war and send you ashore
under arrest for mutiny.'
'And, of course, I wouldn't blow the gaff? O no!' replied the jeering
Huish.
'And who's to believe you, my son?' inquired the captain. 'No, sir!
There ain't no lark about my captainising. Enough said. Up with these
blankets.'
Huish was no fool, he knew when he was beaten; and he was no coward
either, for he stepped to the bunk, took the infected bed-clothes
fairly in his arms, and carried them out of the house without a check or
tremor.
'I was waiting for the chance,' said Davis to Herrick. 'I needn't do the
same with you, because you understand it for yourself.'
'Are you going to berth here?' asked Herrick, following the captain into
the stateroom, where he began to adjust the chronometer in its place at
the bed-head.
'Not much!' replied he. 'I guess I'll berth on deck. I don't know as I'm
afraid, but I've no immediate use for confluent smallpox.'
'I don't know that I'm afraid either,' said Herrick. 'But the thought of
these two men sticks in my throat; that captain and mate dying here, one
opposite to the other. It's grim. I wonder what they said last?'
'Wiseman and Wishart?' said the captain. 'Probably mighty small
potatoes. That's a thing a fellow figures out for himself one way, and
the real business goes quite another. Perhaps Wiseman said, "Here old
man, fetch up the gin, I'm feeling powerful rocky." And perhaps Wishart
said, "Oh, hell!"'
'Well, that's grim enough,' said Herrick.
'And so it is,' said Davis. 'There; there's that chronometer fixed. And
now it's about time to up anchor and clear out.'
He lit a cigar and stepped on deck.
'Here, you! What's YOUR name?' he cried to one of the hands, a
lean-flanked, clean-built fellow from some far western island, and of a
darkness almost approaching to the African.
'Sally Day,' replied the man.
'Devil it is,' said the captain. 'Didn't know we had ladies on board.
Well, Sally, oblige me by hauling down that rag there. I'll do the same
for you another time.' He watched the yellow bunting as it was eased
past the cross-trees and handed down on deck. 'You'll float no more
on this ship,' he observed. 'Muster the people aft, Mr Hay,' he added,
speaking unnecessarily loud, 'I've a word to say to them.'
It was with a singular sensation that Herrick prepared for the first
time to address a crew. He thanked his stars indeed, that they were
natives. But even natives, he reflected, might be critics too quick
for such a novice as himself; they might perceive some lapse from that
precise and cut-and-dry English which prevails on board a ship; it was
even possible they understood no other; and he racked his brain, and
overhauled his reminiscences of sea romance for some appropriate words.
'Here, men! tumble aft!' he said. 'Lively now! All hands aft!'
They crowded in the alleyway like sheep.
'Here they are, sir,' said Herrick.
For some time the captain continued to face the stern; then turned with
ferocious suddenness on the crew, and seemed to enjoy their shrinking.
'Now,' he said, twisting his cigar in his mouth and toying with the
spokes of the wheel, 'I'm Captain Brown. I command this ship. This is
Mr Hay, first officer. The other white man is cabin steward, but he'll
stand watch and do his trick. My orders shall be obeyed smartly. You
savvy, "smartly"? There shall be no growling about the kaikai, which
will be above allowance. You'll put a handle to the mate's name, and
tack on "sir" to every order I give you. If you're smart and quick, I'll
make this ship comfortable for all hands.' He took the cigar out of his
mouth. 'If you're not,' he added, in a roaring voice, 'I'll make it a
floating hell. Now, Mr Hay, we'll pick watches, if you please.'
'All right,' said Herrick.
'You will please use "sir" when you address me, Mr Hay,' said the
captain. 'I'll take the lady. Step to starboard, Sally.' And then he
whispered in Herrick's ear: 'take the old man.'
'I'll take you, there,' said Herrick.
'What's your name?' said the captain. 'What's that you say? Oh, that's
no English; I'll have none of your highway gibberish on my ship. We'll
call you old Uncle Ned, because you've got no wool on the top of your
head, just the place where the wool ought to grow. Step to port, Uncle.
Don't you hear Mr Hay has picked you? Then I'll take the white man.
White Man, step to starboard. Now which of you two is the cook? You?
Then Mr Hay takes your friend in the blue dungaree. Step to port,
Dungaree. There, we know who we all are: Dungaree, Uncle Ned, Sally Day,
White Man, and Cook. All F.F.V.'s I guess. And now, Mr Hay, we'll up
anchor, if you please.'
'For Heaven's sake, tell me some of the words,' whispered Herrick.
An hour later, the Farallone was under all plain sail, the rudder hard
a-port, and the cheerfully clanking windlass had brought the anchor
home.
'All clear, sir,' cried Herrick from the bow.
The captain met her with the wheel, as she bounded like a stag from
her repose, trembling and bending to the puffs. The guard boat gave a
parting hail, the wake whitened and ran out; the Farallone was under
weigh.
Her berth had been close to the pass. Even as she forged ahead Davis
slewed her for the channel between the pier ends of the reef, the
breakers sounding and whitening to either hand. Straight through the
narrow band of blue, she shot to seaward: and the captain's heart
exulted as he felt her tremble underfoot, and (looking back over the
taffrail) beheld the roofs of Papeete changing position on the shore and
the island mountains rearing higher in the wake.
But they were not yet done with the shore and the horror of the yellow
flag. About midway of the pass, there was a cry and a scurry, a man was
seen to leap upon the rail, and, throwing his arms over his head, to
stoop and plunge into the sea.
'Steady as she goes,' the captain cried, relinquishing the wheel to
Huish.
The next moment he was forward in the midst of the Kanakas, belaying pin
in hand.
'Anybody else for shore?' he cried, and the savage trumpeting of his
voice, no less than the ready weapon in his hand, struck fear in all.
Stupidly they stared after their escaped companion, whose black head
was visible upon the water, steering for the land. And the schooner
meanwhile slipt like a racer through the pass, and met the long sea of
the open ocean with a souse of spray.
'Fool that I was, not to have a pistol ready!' exclaimed Davis. 'Well,
we go to sea short-handed, we can't help that. You have a lame watch of
it, Mr Hay.'
'I don't see how we are to get along,' said Herrick.
'Got to,' said the captain. 'No more Tahiti for me.'
Both turned instinctively and looked astern. The fair island was
unfolding mountain top on mountain top; Eimeo, on the port board, lifted
her splintered pinnacles; and still the schooner raced to the open sea.
'Think!' cried the captain with a gesture, 'yesterday morning I danced
for my breakfast like a poodle dog.' _
Read next: PART I: CHAPTER 5. THE CARGO OF CHAMPAGNE
Read previous: PART I: CHAPTER 3. THE OLD CALABOOSE--DESTINY AT THE DOOR
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