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Mr. Trunnell, Mate of the Ship 'Pirate'

<h2 id="id00835" style="margin-top: 4em">XV</h2> The dull night of the southern ocean was closing around the scene on the Sovereign's deck, making the faces of the men indistinct in the gloom. The Englishmen stood a little apart from ours, but all looked at the captain as he walked up to Andrews. England and Daniels stopped when they were within a fathom of their skipper as though awaiting further orders before proceeding with their unpleasant duty. The mutineer turned slowly at Sackett's approach as though disdaining to show haste in defence. Then, as the stout, bearded commander halted in front of him, he raised his head and gave forth that snort of contempt and annoyance which I knew to mean mischief. "Captain Andrews," said Sackett, "you will turn over your weapons to me, sir. I don't allow my officers to carry them aboard this ship. Afterward I shall have to place you in arrest until you see fit to obey orders and show proper discipline, sir." "Now see here, my old fellow," said Andrews, "I don't want to hurt you, but I've obeyed orders here and will obey them when they don't relate to what I shall eat or say at the table. Don't try any of your infernal monkey games on me, or you might get hurt." "Will you hand over your weapon, sir?" said Sackett, advancing, and standing close before him. Andrews pulled out his long revolver and pointed it at the skipper's head. Then he gave a snort of anger and glared savagely at the Englishman. Sackett turned to his men. "Seize him, and disarm him," he ordered. But England and Daniels stood motionless. Journegan stepped to one side to keep out of the line of fire. Sackett made a move forward, as if to seize the weapon. There was a sharp explosion, and both men disappeared for an instant in the spurt of smoke. Then I saw Sackett stagger sidelong across the deck with the roll of the ship, and go down heavily upon the wheel gratings. He uttered no word. I ran to his side, and saw the ashy hue coming upon his ruddy face, and knew his time was short. I heard the uproar of voices that followed the moment of silence after the shot, but took no heed. Placing my hand under his head, I called for Jim to get some brandy from below. Then I bawled for Chips and the rest to seize the murderer. Sackett turned up his kind eyes to mine, and whispered: "I'll be dead in a few minutes, Mr. Rolling. Do what you can for my men. I tried to do my duty, sir, and I expect every honest man to do his. Save my—" The light had gone out. He was limp and dead on the deck of the ship he had tried so nobly to save. My hand was wet with blood, and as I withdrew it, the wild abhorrence of the thing came upon me. I stood up, and there, within ten feet of me, was that sneering ruffian standing coolly, with his pistol in his hand. It was such a cold-blooded, horrible thing, done without warning, that I was speechless. Chips stood near my side, cursing softly, and looking with fierce eyes at the assassin. Jim came up the companionway, but saw that all was over. My three sailors were like statues, Phillippi muttering unintelligibly. For nearly a minute after the thing happened I stood there gazing at Andrews and the rest, paralyzed for action, but noting each and every movement of the men as though some movement on their part would give me a cue how to act. All of a sudden the piping voice of our third mate rose in a laugh, while he cried, "He's gone to heaven." It was as though something gave away within me, and before I fairly knew what I was doing, I was rushing upon Andrews to close. I remember seeing a bright flash and feeling a heavy blow on my left side. Then I found myself in the scuppers looking up at a struggle upon the Sovereign's quarter-deck. At the signal of my rush for Andrews, Jim, who was somewhat expert at tackling persons, dashed at him also from starboard. Chips instantly followed on the other side, and then, our men seeing how things were to go, closed from the rear. All six of us would have met at Andrews as a converging point, had it not been for the scoundrel's pistol. His first shot struck me fairly under the heart. It knocked me over, and I rolled to port, deathly sick. Thinking for a moment I was killed, I made no immediate effort to recover myself, but lay vomiting and clutching my side. Then in a moment the weakness began to leave me, and I was aware that I was clutching the heavy knife I carried in my breast pocket. I drew it forth, and as I did so, something fell to the deck at my side, and I saw it was a piece of lead. Then I saw that Andrews's bullet had jammed itself into the joint of the hilt, smashing flat on the steel and breaking up, part of it falling away as I drew it forth. The knife had saved my life; for the shot had been true, and would have been instantly fatal had it penetrated. I started to my feet and saw Jim lying motionless just outside the swaying crowd, which had now closed about the murderer. At that instant Andrews fired again, and Hans, who had tried to use his knife, staggered out of the group and fell dead. Three of the Sovereign's own men who had intended going back with us were now in the fracas also, and as I started in two more joined. I saw Phillippi's knife flash for an instant. Then came a fierce oath from Andrews, followed by a snort of rage and pain. Another shot followed instantly, and Phillippi was lying outside the swaying figures with a bloody hole through his forehead. The only thing I remember as I forced my way into the group and struck at the scoundrel was that he had one more shot, and I wondered if he would land it before we had him. He warded off my knife-stroke by a desperate wrench, but the blade ripped his right arm to the bone from shoulder to elbow, laming it absolutely. Even as it was, he lowered his weapon and fired it instantly as it was seized. An Englishman named Williams was struck through the body and lived but a moment afterward. Chips now had the weapon by the barrel, and just as I was about to drive my knife into the murderer over the shoulder of Johnson, a heavy hand seized my collar and I was dragged back. Wrenching myself around, I found that I was engaging the tall sailor, Daniels, and as I did so, Journegan, England, Dalton, Jenks, and our third officer fell upon the crowd which had borne Andrews to the deck. All of the English sailors who had started to leave the Sovereign were now fighting with Chips, Johnson, and myself, making eight men as against six. But the six were of the strongest and most determined rascals that ever trod a ship's deck. As every sailor carries a sheath-knife, the fight promised to be an interesting one if the men of the Sovereign's crew saw fit to fight it out. England, however, who was stronger than any two of our men, did not like going into the matter with the same spirit as Journegan, Daniels, and Andrews. After he had received a severe cut and had cracked the skull of the sailor who had given it by knocking him over the head with an iron belaying-pin, he began to retreat along the deck. Chips had planted his knife in Andrews's thigh, and had cut Dalton and Journegan badly in the mix-up. The Irishman was unharmed save for a few scratches, and being aided by Johnson, he soon had the men backing away toward the break of the poop, the third mate crying out shrilly to stop fighting. The queer young man was defending Andrews mightily with a knife, and for this reason alone the scoundrel managed to get to his feet and retreat with the rest, backing away as they did to the mizzen and from there to the poop rail, where they were brought to bay. Daniels, however, fared worse. We had a struggle for some moments alone, and just as my knife was in a good position a man struck him from behind, throwing him off his guard and letting my blade penetrate his throat until it protruded three inches beyond the back of his neck. Then the fight was over. Chips stopped at my side with Andrews's revolver in his hand. "'Tis a pity we've no cartridges fer th' weepin," he panted; "'twould save th' hangman a lot o' trouble. Now there'll be a butcher's shop aboard." "Come on," I said. "You get to starboard, and I'll take the port side. We'll rush them and make a finish of it. Here, Frank," I called to a sailor, "lend me your knife. Mine's no good for this work." "My own is broken, sir," said he. "Hold on," cried Journegan; "we're not making any fight." I could see the five ruffians talking brokenly together while they recovered their breath. Our third mate was holding forth in a piping tone, but too low for me to hear the words. "We don't want to press the outfly any further," said England. "We ain't no pirates. All we did was to defend ourselves. One of your fellows cut me arm open and I hit him over the head, not meanin' no more than to knock him out for the time bein', as the sayin' is." "Will you surrender and put down your knives?" I asked. Andrews gave his fierce snort and was about to say something in reply, but the third mate seized him and stopped him. The assassin was badly wounded and swayed as he stood, but his spirit was not in the least beaten. He had killed five men out of six shots from his pistol and would have had me in the list but for the knife I placed in my breast as a precaution at the warning from Chips on taking him aboard. His coolness and steadiness were marvellous. Not a shot had he wasted, and if he had been relieved a trifle sooner by his half-hearted followers, he would have had the whole crowd of us at his mercy. No man could have faced a pistol of that size in the hands of one so quick and steady. There was no answer to my question, and I repeated it, Chips adding that they would go free if they would give up the men who had done killing. "Why o' course, we ain't no pirates," said Journegan. "Well, chuck out your knives, or we'll be for closing with you," I cried. "This thing is over, and one or the other will be in command." "Why don't ye take the boat an' go clear? Dalton, here, will give ye the provisions, an' you can get to the north'ard and make port. There ain't no room for both of us aboard here now, even if we gave up, which we ain't got no idea o' doin' unless you come out square an' fair." "Yes," said Jenks, "you men don't want to make a Kilkenny cat go out of this ship. Do the square an' fair thing, an' git out. You know, Tommy," he went on, addressing a sailor, "I don't want to hurt you; but you know me. You boys can't make no show agin an old man-o'-war's man like me, as has been up to his waist in blood many a time, an' never ware the worse for it." The sailor addressed spoke to me. "Don't you think it a good way, sir? They are good for us if they try hard, for England can whip any three of us, an' I, for one, don't want to run against him if it can be helped. We have a boat." "Nonsense," said Chips. "We must take 'em." I thought a moment. There was a young girl below. Probably she was even now frightened nearly to death. If anything did go wrong with us,—and it certainly looked as if it would, when I sized up that crowd,—she would be worse than dead. There were seven of us left against six, although Andrews was too badly hurt to fear, but they were much better men physically. After they had once started to do for us, they were not the kind who would stick at anything. I was much exhausted, myself, and while I thought the matter over, it seemed as though to go were the better way out of the trouble. Chips, however, insisted on closing with the men. It took me some minutes to convince him that the young fellows with us were not of the kind to depend on in such a fracas, and that he would be in a bad way should he tackle England alone. Journegan, Jenks, and Dalton were all powerful men, armed with sheath-knives sharper and better than our own, for they had evidently prepared for just such an emergency. "Let Dalton provision the whale-boat, and you men get out," said Mr. Bell after I had finished whispering my views to Chips. "Yes," said the steward; "you men stay where you are, and I'll put the stuff aboard for you, and then you can get out." "All right," I answered; "go ahead." Some of us sat about the after-skylight, while Andrews and his gang disposed themselves, as comfortably as they might, around the mizzen. Dalton went down over the poop, and entered the cabin from forward, and Chips, Johnson, and myself looked over our dead. Jim lay where he fell. There was no sign of life, and Chips swore softly at the villain's work, when we laid his head back upon the planks. Hans breathed slightly, but he was going fast. We poured some spirits between his lips, but he relaxed, and was lifeless in a few minutes. Phillippi lay with his eyes staring up at the sky. His knife was still clutched in his dark hand, and his teeth shone white beneath his black mustache. The other sailor was dead, and while we looked for some sign of life, I heard a smothered sob come from aft. We turned and saw a slender white form bending over the body of Captain Sackett. The moon was rising in the east, lighting the heavens and making a long silver wake over the calm ocean. By its light I made out Miss Sackett, holding the head of her dead father in her lap, and crying softly. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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