At last the wishes of many were gratified; and like an aeronaut's
grapnel, her rusty little anchor was caught in the coral groves at
the bottom of Papeetee Bay. This must have been more than forty days
after leaving the Marquesas.
The sails were yet unfurled, when a boat came alongside with our
esteemed friend Wilson, the consul.
"How's this, how's this, Mr. Jermin?" he began, looking very savage as
he touched the deck. "What brings you in without orders?"
"You did not come off to us, as you promised, sir; and there was no
hanging on longer with nobody to work the ship," was the blunt reply.
"So the infernal scoundrels held out - did they? Very good; I'll make
them sweat for it," and he eyed the scowling men with unwonted
intrepidity. The truth was, he felt safer now, than when outside the
reef.
"Muster the mutineers on the quarter-deck," he continued. "Drive them
aft, sir, sick and well: I have a word to say to them."
"Now, men," said he, "you think it's all well with you, I suppose. You
wished the ship in, and here she is. Captain Guy's ashore, and you
think you must go too: but we'll see about that - I'll miserably
disappoint you." (These last were his very words.) "Mr. Jermin, call
off the names of those who did not refuse duty, and let them go over
to the starboard side."
This done, a list was made out of the "mutineers," as he was pleased
to call the rest. Among these, the doctor and myself were included;
though the former stepped forward, and boldly pleaded the office held
by him when the vessel left Sydney. The mate also - who had always
been friendly - stated the service rendered by myself two nights
previous, as well as my conduct when he announced his intention to
enter the harbour. For myself, I stoutly maintained that, according
to the tenor of the agreement made with Captain Guy, my time aboard
the ship had expired - the cruise being virtually at an end, however
it had been brought about - and I claimed my discharge.
But Wilson would hear nothing. Marking something in my manner,
nevertheless, he asked my name and country; and then observed with a
sneer, "Ah, you are the lad, I see, that wrote the Round Robin; I'll
take good care of you, my fine fellow - step back, sir."
As for poor Long Ghost, he denounced him as a "Sydney Flash-Gorger";
though what under heaven he meant by that euphonious title is more
than I can tell. Upon this, the doctor gave him such a piece of his
mind that the consul furiously commanded him to hold his peace, or he
would instantly have him seized into the rigging and flogged. There
was no help for either of us - we were judged by the company we kept.
