"My sarvice to ee sirs, and which of ee be Master Adam Penfeather, if ye please?"
"I am."
"Why then, sir, I be Bym. Joel Bym, gunner's mate, and I be ordered to ax ee to bear away down along o' me."
"By whose order?"
"Cap'n Absalom, sir."
"Why then, Anthony, do you wait me here. Lead on, Joel Bym." Forthwith they descended to a lower deck in which place of gloom they came upon Captain Smy sitting upon a gun with a small lanthorn in his fist, who rose and beckoning silently led them forward and down another companion ladder into the very bowels of the ship as it seemed to Adam, who now, halting suddenly in this unsavoury darkness, demanded:
"Captain Smy, pray where d'ye take me?"
"For to visit Absalom, our messmate Lom."
"But what does he down here in this foul-smelling darkness?"
"Sits in fetters and makes a song on't, eh, Joel?"
"Ay, by cock, sir,—carols 'e do, blithe as any chirping cricket."
"And the foul reek you complain of, Adam, is sweet to sailorly nose for it proves a tight ship."
"But why is Absalom so prisoned?"
"For saving the ship and kicking lubberly Captain into the scuppers, Adam. There was the Merchant—which is lubberly name for any vessel,—nigh on her beam-ends, being taken aback, and the Lizard in our lee. So Absalom takes charge, turns up all hands and, with Abel Challen and myself at the helm, cons the ship to make an offing and it's touch and go if we shall weather the point. Yet we did, by Lom his seamanship, and beat out to sea though it took us all night. Then, first thing this morning, Absalom is clapped by the heels for mutiny, and the crew mighty downcast and sullen therefore—the which last is just as well. So, yonder in the black hole lieth our messmate, yet a-singing right cheerily and as only Absalom may,—heark to him!"
And now, above the ceaseless creak and groan of the ship's labour, they heard a rich, clear, baritone voice singing very melodiously with rhythmic clash of jangling fetters, and these the words:
"Here in bilboes fast be I,
As we sail, as we sail (clash of fetters).
Here in bilboes clamped am I,
As we sail (clash and clang of fetters).
But—'stead o' me, by and by,
Cursed Sharp himself shall lie,
So now damn his eyes! say I,
As we sail" (clash of fetters).
They had reached the forward bulkhead wherein was a small, stout, grim-looking door, and now while Smy held the light, Joel Bym fitted ponderous key to lock and opening this door, showed a narrow cell where, seated cross-legged amid heap of tumbled straw, Absalom Troy blinked and smiled up at them.
"Aha, messmates," quoth he, shading his eyes against the light, "be welcome to this place o' tribulation; a martyr gives ye right hearty greeting. Sit ye down here on my throne o' straw. So! How is thy poor head and stomach now, brother Adam?"
"Better, I thank you, Absalom. But I grieve to find you thus."
"What, Smy, hast not told him then?"
"Nary word, Lom."
"Why then, Adam, Lord love thee,—never waste thy pity, for I can be out o' these irons whenso I will. For, d'ye see, ere I suffered myself to be locked into 'em, I took care to have a duplicate key in my pocket. Moreover, my present abasement is but a means to my soon exaltation. There's not a man or lad aboard but knows I saved their lives, wherefore I sit here very martyr-like for their sakes, and therefore they are all ripe to up and follow me for my sake whenso I give the word."
"Meaning—mutiny, Absalom?"
"Ay, some would so name it. Now hearkee, 'tis for talk o' this I sent for ye, having meant to speak on 't afore, yet found no chance. Well, Adam, this ship called London Merchant is bound for Hispaniola with cargo for traffic with the planters and Indians thereabout,—ha, but—among the various oddments for sale are five poor gentlemen now languishing in bonds, shut up like cattle on the orlop, and of these—one is kinsman to Sir Benjamin, one an old shipmate o' Smy, and one well beknown to me. Five are they, Adam, all political prisoners, gentlemen o' condition and haters o' Papistry who, being something too froward o' speech or act, were doomed to axe or rope by King Jamie our Scottish, Royal Sycophant o' Spain. Later, his Majesty changes his royal mind and, 'stead o' death now dooms 'em to banishment, and 'stead o' giving them to the Headsman, bestows 'em on divers of his court favourites, which languishing, pampered pets have sold 'em to our Captain Sharp who will sell 'em again at much profit overseas, and so to death as sure yet less merciful than block or gallows. So, Adam, we are here aboard this ship with intent most determined to rescue these same prisoners."
"Well and good, Absalom, but—how?"
"By taking this ship—and not to Hispaniola but to St. Kitts or Tortuga, this to be decided later."
"And this," said Adam, pinching his chin nervously, "this shall be rank piracy."
"Ay, ay, shipmate."
"And the penalty—death!"
"True enough, Adam,—execution dock, tar and irons and gibbets alongshore for warning to like rogues."
"And," said Adam, blenching, "to take such great ship you must do—murder!"
"Some small effusion o' blood, messmate, mayhap, 'tis but natural and to be expected. And because o' this, Adam, and by our brotherhood oath, I bid thee to stand neutral in this business, so that, should things go foul and our schemes a-wrack, thou at least shall be within the law and clear of its sure vengeance. Well, how say'st thou?"
"Nothing. I ponder how best this may achieve—without bloodshed."
"'Twill yet be piracy, Adam, blood or no."
"Though not murder of honest men. How stand your chances with the crew?"
"There be twenty-five stout lads all listed for this purpose by Sir Benjamin, Smy and myself, men we can trust—blow foul or fair, the rest have been sounded by Joel and Abnegation and are mostly heartily disposed towards us since Smy and I saved the ship."
"Even so," sighed Adam, "there shall be many honest among them will balk at piracy."
"Ay, like as not. Yet if we must fight, to shed blood to such good purpose is——"
"Wrong," said Adam, "and crass stupidity, since it should be needless."
"Eh? How needless? How?"
"When shall you attempt this?"
"Two nights hence i' the middle watch, two days and nights further from Old England."
"Then, Absalom, 'stead of force I would suggest method strategic."
"Oho!" exclaimed Smy, grimly sardonic. "I perceive a sucking Solomon, a youthful, prattling sage, a young Daniel to inform us! A fico, Adam lad, what know ye o' strategy—and aboard ship moreover?"
"Sir," answered Adam, pinching chin again, "no more than caution and my mother wit do teach me."
"Aha!" cried Absalom, clashing his fetters. "And what then? Speak out, Adam."
"Then Absalom, I'll answer your question with another, to wit—what is it all mariners do most fear at sea?"
"Mist and fog!" growled Smy.
"What say you, Joel Bym?"
"Why, sir, I du reckon as it be fire,—ay, by cock, I du!"
"And fire say I!" nodded Absalom. "And how then shipmate?"
"Then," continued Adam, "since fire is the terror most dreadful, let this terror work for ye instead of murderous steel. At time appointed let some trusty man, hid below here, contrive a fire shall nowise peril the ship yet make great plenty of smoke. Then let other chosen men set up mighty baloo and cry o' 'fire'! Whereat, as I nothing doubt, all on board shall haste below to save the ship and themselves from such calamity. Then you above may shut these all below by pointing cannons as to discharge down each stairway. Thus ye shall have them at your mercy to parley with them at leisure, with offer and choice of serving under you or sailing to land in such of the boats as they will—and all without shedding of blood."