Andrews had little to say to me or to Chips. In fact, he appeared to be satisfied with his lot now that he seemed sure of getting salvage money. Only Jim, who seemed to have eyes everywhere, distrusted the man, and spoke to me about him. We had now been on the wreck five days, working and rigging away at the foremast, and the calm, beautiful weather held with no signs of a change. Jim was hanging over the side, resting his feet on the fore channels while he helped Chips to bolt in a deadeye which had been torn out when the mast had gone. The sun was warm and shone brilliantly, and Chips sweated and grunted as he pounded away at the iron. There were no other men in our immediate vicinity, so after pounding away in silence for a quarter of an hour, the carpenter spoke.
"'Tis bloody well we've been treated to get no share av the wreck, whin here we are sweatin' our brains out wid th' work av refittin'," said he.
"And what the devil is a few hundred pounds of salvage to me?" growled Jim, hot with his exertion. "See here, man! I've left ten thousand behind me on the Pirate."
"And a pious regard fer the truth along wid it," added Chips, smiting the lug-bolt heavily.
Jim's face was so serious that I asked what he meant, and with the heat of the work upon him and the absolute hopelessness of ever getting back aboard our ship before his eyes, he spoke out:--
"Did you ever hear of Jackwell, the fellow who cracked the Bank of Sydney?" he asked.
Chips and I both admitted that we had. He was the most notorious burglar in the southern hemisphere.
"But what are ye askin' sich a question fer?" asked Chips. "What's burglars got to do wid losin' salvage?"
"He was aboard the Pirate, and a reward awaits the lucky dog who lands him. Just a trifle of ten thousand dollars," said Jim, fiercely.
Chips turned on him.
"Is it sure 'nuff truth ye're tellin', or jest a yarn to soothe our feelin's?" he demanded. "I don't call to mind any gallus-lookin' chap in th' watch."
"He never stood watch, and I wasn't certain of him until we were out to sea and it was too late. What d'ye suppose I tried to get Trunnell to go back for? 'Twas the old man, you stupid wood-splitter. You don't think I'm a sailor, do you?"
"'Pon me sowl, how cud I? I niver had th' heart to hurt yer feelings, Jim, me son, or ye'd have heard from me before. But what are ye, thin?" And Chips leaned back against the rail.
"Nothing but a--" and Jim opened his coat which he had always worn since coming aboard the Pirate. On the inside was a silver shield stamped handsomely with the insignia of the detective corps of Melbourne.
"A sea lawyer aboard a derelict. Ye do fairly well, considerin'. An' th' old man? You don't really mean it?"
"What?" I asked; "do you mean that Thompson's a burglar; and that he's Jackwell himself?"
"Nothing else, and I'm out for the reward, which I won't get now. You know now how he came aboard. If I'd only been a few hours sooner, it would have been all right. He was about to buy his passage when he found the real Captain Thompson wasn't there, and would probably not be down until the last minute. That was enough for him. Trunnell was taken clear aback by his nerve. It was a risky thing to do, but Jackwell takes risks. The man has more real cheek and impudence than any above ground, or water either, for that matter. He ain't much afraid of a fight when it comes to it, although he'd rather use his wits than his gun. That's just what makes me feel sore. But that isn't all. Andrews is going to get clear of some of us."
"He's tried it several times on me," I said, with a smile. "What makes you think he'll try again?"
"I heard enough of what was passing between that third mate and steward last night to know it. But I don't want to scare you fellows," he added, with a smile.
Chips gave a grunt of disgust, and I spat contemptuously over the side without further remark. Our manner was not lost on Jim. He sobered instantly.
"You know we're in the way aboard, if we land the hooker all right," he said slowly. "That's clear as mud. You know also that Trunnell and the rest aboard the Pirate know we don't belong here and haven't any right to stay except as passengers. Trunnell saw us put off in the boat. He could see us plainly when we started and was, of course, looking at us all the time until the fog closed in. You follow this lay, don't you?"
Chips and I nodded.
"Well, if the Sovereign turns up with our boat load missing and Sackett dead, she'll be in good evidence of what all hands aboard the Pirate saw, won't she?"
It dawned suddenly upon us that this was a fact. Trunnell and Thompson, and in fact all hands, were looking after us, waiting for us to come back aboard before swinging the yards and standing away again on our course. There wasn't a man aboard the Pirate, we felt certain, who had not seen the boat start away from the ship with our men and Miss Sackett aboard her, for they had nothing in the world to do but watch. Then they had seen the fog envelop us on our way. We had not turned up, and the only thing to infer, if the Sovereign came in without us, was that we had missed our way and had gone adrift in the southern ocean. The word of Andrews and the rest aboard the English ship could hardly be doubted under the circumstances. If we cut adrift in the small boat or were done away with as Jim suggested, our friends would be witnesses who would help our enemies by any testimony they might give.
Chips dropped his hammer and drew a hand across his forehead, thinking.
"What did the third mate say in regard to our going?" I asked Jim.
"I couldn't hear the talk, only part of a sentence whispered by that man-woman when the steward came into the cabin during the mid-watch last night with a can of salmon and some ship's bread. They stood near the door of the alleyway, talking, and I suddenly came bulging into them with rubber boots on. He said something about Andrews being a fine captain and perfectly capable of taking this ship in or out any port on the African coast. That's all."
I stopped serving the end of the lanyard I was at work on and looked across the deck to where Andrews stood with several men. His sinister face with its sour smile was turned toward us as though he studied our thoughts.
"You're not over busy, Mr. Rolling," said Sackett, coming along the rail to the rigging. "I wish you and the carpenter would try to get a gantline over the side and look along under her for the butt. In this clear water the chances are good for getting a sight of it if it's well up on her bilge. We ought to stop her up some while the calm lasts."
XIII
At noon Sackett came on deck to take the sun. His second officer, Journegan, a heavily built man with mutton-chop whiskers of a colorless hue, was incapable of the smallest attempt at navigation, so he stood idly by while his superior let the sun rise until it had reached its highest point.
"Eight bells," cried Sackett, and went below to work out the sight.
"By the grace of God," echoed Andrews, who had come upon the poop.
The second officer smiled at his attempted wit and struck off the bells. He appeared to be quite friendly with Andrews and stopped a moment afterward to chat with him.
When we went below to dinner the words of Jim were fresh in my mind. How would Andrews try to get clear of us? The fact that he intended to do it I firmly believed, for the ruffian had such a sinister character that I felt certain his only reason for being apparently satisfied at present was because he intended some treachery. What part the third officer of the Pirate would play in the affair I could hardly guess. Jim knew nothing about him, but since he came aboard with Thompson, there was every reason to believe that this rosy-cheeked youngster with the girl's voice was an accomplished villain. That Andrews and he understood each other was certain. Andrews was most blasphemous at meals, and would endeavor to engage Sackett in an argument concerning devils, hell, and many other subjects not relating to navigation of the Indian Ocean. At such times the third mate would raise his piping voice and plead with Andrews not to shock him with his profanity. The second officer of the Sovereign appeared to enjoy the situation, and would laugh until ordered from the table by Sackett. Miss Sackett, of course, would not dine with the rest, but had her meals served in her stateroom by the steward, who did it with a very bad grace, grumbling and complaining at the extra work. He was a good-looking young man, this steward, and the fact that he complained told plainly that there was something between the men that was doing away with discipline. The steward's name was Dalton, and he was a fair specimen of the London cockney. Stout and strong, he was as ignorant as an animal and about as easily persuaded into doing things as an obstinate mule. He was also about as hard to dissuade. The other men of the _Sovereign's_ crew were Bull England, a powerful sailor who had served many years in the navy, and who was also a prize fighter, and Dog Daniels, a surly old fellow, who was continually growling at everything. He was six feet six inches and over in height, and as lean and gaunt as the white albatross hovering over our wake. Journegan, the second officer, made the last but not least of the select four who had elected to stay aboard with Sackett to take in the ship and get salvage.