I, for one, expected that they would have taken advantage of having
their own way to have a reg'lar turn at the spirits; but no: they
certainly got some up, but Van seemed to be driving them all with a
tightish hand, so that they were going on very quietly and reg'larly, as
we found, for by and by they serves out biscuit and butter and fresh
water again; and not very long after, Van sung out down the hatchway for
me to come up; and knowing that if I didn't go he'd send and fetch me, I
went up, and sat down on the deck, where he pointed to with a pistol.
Then he ordered up Sam and Bill, and four sailors who were on our side
(lads only), and the skipper and Mr Wallace, one at a time, till we
were all set in a row, with them guarding us; when, with his teeth
glistening, Van walks up to the skipper, and hits him on the head with
the butt-end of his pistol, so that the poor fellow fell back on the
deck.
"Set him up again," says Van savagely; and a couple of the mutineers did
so, but only for Van to knock him down once more; and he did that four
times over, till, when they set the poor captain up again the last time,
he fell back upon the deck of himself, being stunned like. It was
enough to make any fellow burst with rage; but what can you do when
there's half a score standing over you with loaded pistols? and,
besides, trouble makes people very selfish, while we all knew how Van
was having his bit of revenge, cowardly as it was, for the way the
captain had treated him.
Last of all, Van goes and puts his foot on the skipper's neck, and I
made as though to get up, for I thought he was going to blow his brains
out; and bad and cowardly as the captain had been, I couldn't a-bear to
see him hit when he was down without trying to help him; but it was of
no use, for I was pulled back directly, and all I could do was to sit
and look on.
All at once, Van turns a breaker on its end, jumps on it, and, sticking
his arms a-kimbo like a fishwoman, he begins to spout at us; and fine
and fierce no doubt he thought he looked in his red nightcap, and belt
stuck full of pistols. "Now, my lads," he says, "we're going to have
some of the good old times over again: take possession of one of the
beautiful isles in the Pacific, and sail where we like under the black
flag, free as the day, with none of your cursed tyrants to make men
sweat blood and work like dogs, but all free and equal. We've done the
work, and captured the ship, and you've acted like thieves and curs, and
sided with them as will be ready to kick you for your pains. As for
you, Wallace, curse you! you have always been a cur and a tool; but we
shall want help, and you can come if you like; while, you others, we'll
look over what's gone by, for you did fight like men. So, what do you
say?--will you join us, or take your chance to reach land in one of the
boats with the lot below?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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