J. Allan Dunn

“ Wake her up. Frighten her, if you can. But—love her. John, I know Mary. She is ripening to womanhood. Young love, young passion, first aroused, often mistakes glittering pinchbeck for gold that may be pure, yet unpolished.”
She had laid aside her sewing, and her pale eyes lost their dulness. They shone with earnestness. The cuddy door was open for air, and a step sounded on the ladder. She stopped speaking until Samson came back again, and they heard him above them. And she watched the skipper. ”

“ The skipper's volcano had seethed over. Yet he fought coolly, his determination made. The chance had offered; he would show the mate once and for all who was the better man. They smashed against the table, hurling it to one side as each strove for a fair blow.
There were some antiquated cutlases in a rack on the mast, with a native kris or two. The guns were kept in the main cabin, and in Sykes's quarters, a pistol for each of the white men, never used aboard the Mary.
The skipper's weight and push bore back the mate against the mast, and he grasped a Malay knife, curving, keen. ”

“ On the ship, flying-jib, jib and staysail, fore-skysail, royal and topgallant, drooped , flaccid, waiting for a breeze. The canvas hung from the lower yards of the bore in brails. The mainsail was down, held in loose gaskets, the mizzen set, sheeted-in; both topsails were furled.
The Malay crew, tall and lean, with flattened dish-faces, light bronze of flesh, were setting up the stays of the mainmast, hauling in unison to their low drone of Bada-a-ah! Trama, tramah, tra-ma-ah! transparent blue shadows shifted back and forth. ”

“ One order, given through Badoun, was the flushing of the decks every hour with seawater drawn from overside in buckets, hauled in by ropes.
In the cuddy, the skipper left for his cabin, to catch up his needed sleep. Miss Burton languidly asked for the punkah-boy, and took up her sewing. The girl was too restless for any repose, still bothered with her own problem. She was dressed in the lightest of her tropic outfit, and she wandered out on the deck.
The mate was the only white man in sight. He had his back turned to her, and kept it so, as if to avoid her. ”

“ The skipper was not a fool, not a man who let his rights slide. What if Badoun had seen and told? The Malays were crafty, and their senses were abnormal. He itched to question the man, but checked himself.
“I'll wager he's never got under her skin,” he assured himself. “As for the two of us, it's man to man—and may the best win.” And he let his thoughts slide to pleasanter prospects. He saw himself owning his vessel, as Martin owned the Mary, making a good income. out of her, cruising, prosperous among the islands. But there was no image of Mary Leigh in the cabin of his ship. ”

“ With his sword in his hand, Badoun advanced aft, two of his men, carrying axes as well as their krises, close behind him. These he posted by the companion hatch, evidently to guard against any attempt from Evans to break through from below.
It was plain that Badoun was leader. The tindal ruled the men as arbiter of their own regulations, but Badoun was the fighting man. He glanced at the cuddy-door, where the gleam of the skipper's eye must have been visible. His face was cruel and confident. Opposite the door he stopped and hailed the skipper. ”

“ A man that lives at sea is shy o' wimmen. He sees 'em in visions, in the stars, an' in the clouds, fillin' the wide sea spaces wi' dreams. They're far-off, an' so they're more precious. He treats em wi' over reverence—not as they would be treated. But if it's hands off wi' the skipper, wo betide any else that comes too close.”
“Where did yer git hall the stuff about wimmin an' the wide sea-spaces?” jeered the cockney. “For you've spent most of yore life at sea yerself.”
“I've been married twice,” answered Evans. “And every Welshman is a dreamer an' a poet.” ”

“ The old man's goin' to be mortal sorry he shipped Samson as first mate,” he went on, nursing his grievance. “For two reasons.”
“Wots the other one?” asked the supercargo.
Evans said it. “He don't know how to handle the Malays. Good men, but techy. Some day he's goin' to hit one of 'em, an' then there'll be hell to pay. If a Malay does wrong he can be punished, but the tindal's got to do it. They'll stand for Selim, even to a floggin', an' Badoun could crumple him up like I would a bit of paper, but let a white man lay hand to him, an' like as not it means mutiny—or murder.” ”

“ We kill all the men. We kill all the women—after little while,” he added with an emphasis that made the two women shudder, and set the skipper's blood to boiling.”
“You talk like a foolish man, Suppose you kill, you hang. ”

“ The skipper and Mary Leigh stood at the taffrail.
“Beautiful, ain't it?”_he asked. “And a fair wind. We're heading up for Serang, Mary. Like a big garden it is, with a live volcano in the middle. The Spice Islands they call the group; where the nutmegs come from.. Nor' and east of that is the western end o' New Guinea. The Malay's call it the Head of the Dragon. Looks like it on the chart. There's where they get the best birds-o'-paradise. Skins like jewels, purple an' green an' reddish-gold. ”

“ The mate's out to amuse her. He's a handsome devil.”
“I heard at Singapore that he run away with his last skipper's wife,” said Pinckney.
“Ho. Bazaar-pidgin!” said Sykes scornfully. “Not but wot it might be true. If it was, it warn't our kind of a skipper.”
“The skipper's slow but sure,” said the Welshman, finishing his glass. “Aye, an' deep. Anger 'll damn him for a bit till he thinks things over, but if the flood breaks through there's a sight of force behind. He's blind in love with the gal. Fair worships her. ”

“ Evans ignored him.
“The skipper's lost his luck,” he went on. “Lost it when he changed the name of the ship. Halcyon she was, Mary she is. 'Tis bad luck to shift a ship's name between voyages. He should have married the girl first.”
“'E's a better man than Samson,” said Sykes. “For all the mate's showy looks an' muscles. Shut the two of 'em in a room an' one 'ud come out. It w'udn't be Samson.”
“Fightin' ain't makin' love.” Pinckney shook his head knowingly. “The Welshman's right. The skipper's a novice beside Samson. The gal's bored. The mate's a woman-killer.” ”

“ They fled in a huddle, leaving Badoun gasping his last, Telak on his face, motionless. As they ran they dropped the krises. The skipper herded them, with Pinckney and Evans, fastening the forecastle hatch above them. Sykes turned to the cuddy door, now opening.
“We'll work the ship to Macassar ourselves,” said the skipper. They can stay there. They'll swing for this, the last one of them.”
“Short and sweet that was,” said the panting Sykes to the women. “Did you see the skipper? A man-tamer, that's what he is. ”

“ How's she holding up, Badoun?”
He had turned to the binnacle. But how much had he seen? The mate's face became alert, like the face of a beast that thinks it hears the step of the hunter. Mary Leigh stood as if turned to stone. She was cold, all save her lips.
“Your aunt's comim' on deck, Mary.” As the skipper spoke Miss Burton appeared, and the girl went directly to her. Samson faced the captain.
“Man all right, is he? Most of 'em malingerers. Don't pay to baby 'em too much, I've found.” ”

“ He knew Badoun, he felt certain that they would, at that moment, be satisfied with the body of the mate. Later—? His eyes roamed about the cabin. The hands of the clock had passed on to twelve minutes past five. Twelve minutes. His face became a carving of stone save for the almost imperceptible movement of his lips.
“We'll not give you up,” he said, and the contempt in his voice held the sting of a whip-lash. “White men don't work that way. Nor white women, I fancy.”
A glance came over the face of the girl. It was radiant as she gazed at the skipper. ”

“ I'll give the word. When they hear the cabin clock they'll break all hell loose. So, if we're to win out, we must get the jump on them.”
There were four of the stern ports, and each opened. inward. The four men sat on the sills, cutlases beneath their teeth. They reached up to the taffrail, hoisted themselves, feet on the frames. Then, with a spring and a flexing of muscles, they were up and gone, gliding over the rail to the deserted deck, where the idle wheel swung between spokes.
In the cuddy the two women, each with a pellet of death clutched in her palm, closed the windows. ”

“ They tore strips from their white petticoats for bandages.
“Nothink to fuss habout,” said Sykes. “W'ot in 'ell started it?”
“They were after me,” said Samson. He was fiddling with the cutlases. In the dusk of the cuddy his brown face seemed a trifle gray. Mary Leigh noticed that his hand shook as he lifted a weapon. The skipper went to the door and glanced out through a loophole. The Malays were all jabbering amidships. All save the first man he had hit with the belaying-pin.
“Eleven to four of us,” he muttered, half to himself. “We can't count on Evans. They've got him out of it.” ”

“ Samson?”
At that one of the men by the companion sprang forward. It was the one the mate had foully kicked. Even now he limped, and his face was convulsed with rage. He broke into a volley of Malay. The skipper stopped it with a bellowed command, backed by Badoun, who put his hand on his fellow's naked chest and pushed him away.
“You hear what he say?” said Badoun. “Better you give him up, Tuan. We sure get him. We kill all. I think perhaps we not kill women; we take along in boat. ”

“ Mary Leigh was alone with the skipper in the cuddy. Pinckney held the wheel. The course was set for Macassar. Quong had come out of his galley, deprecatory.
“No good for me,” he said. “Me cookee, no good for fight. If I no mixee, mebbe they let me alone. Now evellything allee lightee.”
Badoun and Telak had gone to the sharks. The mutineers, secured below the hatch, would be delivered over to justice within twenty-four hours. Sykes and Evans acted as the working crew for the diminished sailspread. Samson was in his bunk, with Miss Burton tending him. ”

“ They are all on the main deck. We'll go out through those ports, over the taffrail to the poop. If they hear us—there's the end of it! It's three to one. I'll take you, Samson. Pinckney, you and Sykes take the port ladder. We'll take the starboard. On the word, we'll charge 'em. If we can throw the bolts off the companionway and hold off until Evans gets to us with a gun or me; we've won. If not—?”
He shrugged his shoulders and turned to the two women.
“Close those after-ports en we're through. Keep the cuddy closed. You can watch, if you want to. If they get us—put out your hands.” ”

“ Equally she knew herself blessed with a nature at once loving and maternal, possessing the intuitions of her sex, where man was concerned, as fully as her niece, and, added to them, deductions derived from observation of the experiences of others. ”

“ All three were in singlets and duck trousers, their feet naked. Overhead was the soft shuffling of the sailors, the faint sound of their chant—Bada~a-ah! Trama, tramah, tra-ma-ah! Suddenly it was topped by a bellowed order. The shuffling quickened. The chant died out and was nod=t resumed.
”Bullyin' 'em again!" slid the Welshman. “Just make 'em sullen. He don't know how to handle 'em.”
“He's new in these seas,” said Pinckney. “Don't see why the skipper picked him.”
“'E knows his bizness, outside of that,” said Sykes. “And there hain't much choice of mates these days. They're scarce. ”