As I fell my shoulder struck the bulge of the iron carcase of the vessel, and I cannoned off into the void, but by the merest chance my clutching hands in that instant caught in the hitch of a rope which had strayed overboard. The loop ran out with my wrist in it, and I hit the water. Its roar was in my ears, but nothing else, and when I rose to the surface the ship was thirty yards away. But the rope was still over my arm, and as soon as I recovered breath I began to haul myself slowly and painfully in. As it was, I was being torn through the water at the rate of from twelve to fourteen knots an hour, and in a very few minutes the chill which my immersion had inflicted on me passed away, giving place to a curious warmth that stole throughout my limbs, and enabled me to continue the onward struggle. I drew nearer foot by foot, the sea racing past me, and burying my face constantly in floods of salt water. But I was encouraged to observe the Sea Queen was now perceptibly closer, and I clung and hauled and hauled again. My danger now was the screw, and I could hear the thumping of the steel blades below, and see the boiling pit under the stern by the vessel. If I hauled closer should I be dragged into that terrible maelstrom, and be drawn under the deadly and merciless machinery? I could see the open taffrail, through which the stars glimmered away above me. It seemed that safety was so near and yet so far. She rolled, and the lights of the port-holes flashed lanterns on the sea in that uprising. I raised my voice, helplessly, hopelessly, in a cry.
I repeated this shout three times, and then I saw a man come and hang over the taffrail. Was it the unknown murderer, and did he look for his victim to complete his abominable job? As the thought struck me I was silent, and then I saw him stoop and examine the iron stanchions at his feet. Next I felt the rope being pulled slowly in. At this I shouted again, and he ceased.
"The screw!" I called. "The screw!"
He moved away to the port side and once more the rope began to move. Gradually I reached the side of the ship, about a dozen feet to port, and five minutes later I was safe on deck.
"Good Lord, sir, what is it?" asked Ellison's voice in terror.
"My arm is cut through, and one leg is near broken," I gasped. "Don't ask me more, but get me brandy."
He returned in an incredibly short time, for if he was a man of leisurely British mind he was wonderful on his feet. I drank the raw spirit and felt better.
"Now, do you believe?" I asked him.
"You mean–"
"That I was knocked overboard. I knew too much," I said sharply. "Don't stand staring, man. We don't know where we are, or what is afoot. Give me your arm and let us get to the bridge. Stay, have you any weapon?"
"No, sir."
"Any available?"
"No, sir, not without waking the carpenter."
"That is the usual British way," said I. "Believe nothing until it happens. Nothing does happen, does it? Nothing has happened, has it, Ellison? Well, we must chance it. At least we have stout fists. We made our way under the shelter of the saloon and smoking-room, and came to the steps of the bridge. I mounted with great difficulty, and Ellison followed. Legrand turned at our appearance and surveyed us under the gleam of his lamp with astonishment.
"Mr. Legrand," said I, "I need not ask if you have weapons available, for I'm sure you have not. But you will need them."
"What is't you mean?" he said sharply.
"Mutiny and murder," said I.
He went straight to the speaking-tube without a word, and called down to the engineer's room, "Mr. McCrae, will you personally bring me a couple of pistols, or any offensive weapon at hand. Iron bars will do—at once, please."
This was a man after my own heart. I could have embraced him. He came back to me.
"And now, doctor?"
I told him. He was silent, and then brought out a string of expletives. "I mistrusted the filthy pack from the first," he said. "See what they give us to work with, sir—the scum of Glasgow and London; and none of us to have a say in the matter. I'd sooner go to sea with Satan than scum like that," he said fiercely. "As soon as I set eyes on them I knew we were in for it—but not this," he added, "not this by a long chalk."
"There's one thing to be done," said I.
"We'll do it now," he replied, his fury gone as suddenly as it came, and we descended the ladder.
At the foot we met McCrae, very angry and sarcastic, wanting to know since when the deck was allowed to order the engine-room about like pot-boys, but a few words put him in possession of the facts, and I think, if any argument had been needed, my exhausted and dripping body would have sufficed.
"The old man?" said he. Legrand nodded.
CHAPTER VI
The Conference in the Cabin
We opened the captain's door without knocking, but he was awake at once, and turned on the electric light.
"What is this, gentlemen? Is it a raree show?" he inquired in his particular voice.
"It is some information Dr. Phillimore has to impart, sir," said Legrand.
Day's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I see Dr. Phillimore is taking part in some more theatricals," he said grimly. "And his costume seems suited to them."
"I beg your pardon, sir," said I hotly. "If you would only listen instead of passing judgment we might get on."
"I'm learning a lot this voyage," said Day with a sneer; "pray proceed."
Again I told my story. Day got up in his pyjamas, an insignificant figure of a man without his important uniform. He might have been merely a member of Parliament, or a minor poet. But he had, with all his defects, the courage of his position and responsibilities.
"This is a matter I feel unequal to alone. It has gone on too long," he said sharply. "It is time I knew where I stand." He left the cabin abruptly, and returned in a few minutes.
"I have taken the liberty of inviting Mr. Morland's attendance," he said, "and have sent for Sir John Barraclough and Mr. Holgate. I will know once for all where I stand."
"I beg you not Mr. Holgate, captain," said I.
"And why not Mr. Holgate, sir?" he asked peremptorily. "Here is a report of conspiracy and mutiny you bring me, and I will have my officers in attendance to weigh it."
"You will remember my former charge, Captain Day?" I said.
"Well, sir?" he answered.
"If my report to-night is correct, as I have a witness to prove, does it not shed some light on my former charge against Mr. Holgate? And is it, therefore, desirable that he should be here?"
Day considered, and then he looked me up and down.
"If I were a doctor, Dr. Phillimore," he observed with sarcasm, "I should advise you to change your clothes."
"Oh, there is a more important matter than clothes," I replied angrily, "or should I be here? Is it for fun, do you suppose?"
He turned from me without saying anything, but my words had their effect, for when the door opened and Holgate's face appeared Day said civilly enough, "I am sorry to have disturbed you unnecessarily, Mr. Holgate, but I find I shall not need you at present."
The third officer's big face moved slowly on his bull neck and his eyes met mine.
"Very well, sir," said he calmly, and there was nothing legible in his gaze. It was blank and insignificant, destitute even of curiosity.
Barraclough arrived immediately afterwards, and on his heels—Mr. Morland, dressed as when he walked the hurricane deck daily, his somewhat dull face owning and manifesting a certain dignity.
"I