Back on the bridge he found that Harker had already assembled his Greyshirts, and to the troops on the forecastle Gregory was giving quick instructions. The Chart house on the lower bridge was to be used as a guard room where two thirds of the small force were to doss down for the night. The remaining third were being posted as sentries; a screen of four abaft the bridge, Sergeant Thompson and Rudd at each extremity of it and two more men towards the bows in case of a surprise attack from forward. Rudd was busy at the moment serving out a stiff tot all round from various bottles, which, with his amazing nose for the whereabouts of supplies, he had collected.
They were back now with the North Foreland Light abaft the beam, and Gregory, after a quick look at the chart, set a new course, which he knew to be roughly accurate, although for the time being he was unable to make allowance for the tide.
The Lewis guns were mounted, the ammunition carried up, and it seemed that no more could be done for the moment when the Chief Petty Officer appeared. Gregory spotted him coming up the port ladder to the bridge and hastily blocked his way by running down a few steps to meet him.
'What is it, Wilkins?' he inquired.
I was about to report to the Commander, sir.'
'He's busy on the upper bridge so I'll take your message.'
'I think I'd better go up, sir there's more trouble forward with the men.'
'I see. Well the Commander has asked me to take measures for the protection of the bridge with my troops so you'd better let me know what is happening.'
'There's another meeting, sir, an' I don't like the looks of things at all.'
'All right, you'd better remain with us, but go and fetch Petty Officer Sims first, we need all the reliable men we can get.'
'It's a bit difficult, sir. They've made him attend the meeting. Half a dozen of them cornered him, and I think he reckoned it would be more than 'is life was worth to refuse.'
Gregory grunted angrily.
'And what's more, sir,' added the C.P.O., 'the magazine keys is missin' from the board. I wanted to report that to the Commander.'
'I'll tell him. You stay here and keep your eye on the forward hatch.'
'Ay, ay, sir.'
Gregory went up the ladder again and walked over to look at the gyro compass. The Quartermaster was still carrying on his duties at the wheel with an imperturbable face. A soldier with a fixed bayonet, however, now stood behind him. Silas and Kenyon were talking together in low voices. In a few words Gregory told them about the forcible detention of Petty Officer Sims.
'Let's go and get him out,' said Harker promptly, but Sallust shook his head.
'No, I'd like to but we should be mad to go and put our heads in the noose again. They won't do him any harm if he does what he's told and if there is going to be trouble I prefer to fight on my own ground.'
For some minutes they stood talking together while the destroyer ploughed its way evenly at half speed through the tumbled seas. The night was dark and still and no sound came from the forward quarters, which, Gregory agreed with Harker, was a bad sign. They knew that the sailors had access to the rum ration and if they had been singing it would have been a better omen. The stillness of the crew constituted a silent menace and his rudimentary knowledge of the ship's topography caused Gregory constant anxiety as to what might be going on below decks. Suddenly one of the forward sentries challenged.
A figure had risen from the forward hatch. There was a short consultation and then Petty Officer Sims was led up on to the bridge.
Gregory could see at once that the man was badly rattled and thoroughly ashamed of the part he was being forced to play, as he stumblingly excused himself for acting as the messenger of the mutineers. 'Rudd,' he called.
'Ay, ay, sir.'
'A tot of something for Petty Officer Sims.'
'Certainly, sir, 'ere we are.' Rudd hurried forward with a bottle and an enamel mug.
The Petty Officer swallowed the proffered beaker at a gulp. 'Ha, that's better, sir,' he sighed, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth.
'Out with it, Sims,' said Gregory. 'What's happening now?'
'There's been another meeting, sir. That devil Crowder is making trouble among 'em, and they've sent me with what they call terms.'
Terms, eh!' sneered Gregory. 'Never mind, let's hear them.'
'The First Lieutenant's to alter course to Harwich most of them's Harwich men, and they want to get home not knowing what's happening to their families. If he'll take the ship in they promise not to molest him or the officers or you and your men, and they'll set you all ashore; but if you won't sir '
'Well?'
'They say they'll shoot the lot of you, and run the ship in themselves.'
'Thank you.'
'I'm to take back the reply, sir.'
'There is no reply, so you will remain that is unless you prefer to return to them.'
'No, sir, no,' replied the Petty Officer hastily, 'I sticks by my officers and you.'
'Good man you'll find the Chief Petty Officer on the port ladder; better park yourself with him, I'll go and let the Commander know that you are safe back with us again.'
'Thank you, sir.'
The ship slithered on into the darkness West South West with occasional spray lifting over her bows as they cut through the waves. Gregory kept a watchful eye on the compass but all was silence once more on deck. Then something happened for the second he hardly realised what, but a sudden absence of vibration told him that the ship was easing down.
He swore softly beneath his breath.
'What'll this mean?' asked Harker.
' Fraid they've got control below,' Gregory answered softly. 'We shall know in a minute.' He stood by the binnacle peering intently at the compass in the guarded light of the hood.
For a few moments the ship swung silently, rolling a little in the trough of the waves. Then the propeller started to thud again and the bows of the vessel veered slowly towards the East.
'Ship not answering to the helm, sir,' reported the impassive Quartermaster, and as they watched the lubber's point it swung from West South West to North East ward, then steadied.
'They've got us,' muttered Gregory, 'they've set a course for Harwich as near as they can.'
'But surely the ship is controlled from here?' said Ken yon.
'Yes,' Sallust made a wry grimace, 'in the ordinary way, but obviously they have disconnected the fore bridge steering, so now we can't do a damn thing.'
'Can they steer her from below then?'
'Looks ter me as if the matloes is usin' the after control position, sir,' volunteered the Quartermaster.
As he spoke the thresh of the screws increased, and soon the destroyer was forging ahead to the North Eastward with all the power of her 30,000 horse power engines.
Gregory snapped his teeth together angrily. 'These devils will run me out of the oil I need if they mean to maintain a pace like this. We've got to get that after steering position they'll slow her down if we can secure that, or at all events we can turn her again the way we want her to go. Hullo, what's that!'
A commotion was going on amidships, and a struggling group arrived at the foot of the starboard ladder. It was Lieutenant Cousens, angry eyed and hatless, in the grip of two flushed sentries.
'Tried to break through, 'e did, sir, and wouldn't reply to the challenge,' spluttered one of the Tommies.
'What the hell's going on here?' demanded the N.O.
'Good Lord! I'd forgotten all about you; we've been up to our neck in trouble ever since dinner,' Gregory said with a trace of amusement in his voice. 'Let him go, men. Come up on the bridge, will you, Mr. Cousens?'
The ruffled sailor jerked his tie back into position and stamped angrily up the ladder after Sallust, who led him to the deserted starboard side of the bridge.