He was flattened directly against the side of the house by two men who lurched against him. A lot of disputes seemed to be going on all round. He got clear and was three distinct figures standing alone in the fainter darkness under the arched foot of the mainsail, that rose above their heads like a convex wall of a high edifice. Donkin hissed:
-- ‘Go for them.... it's dark!’ The crowd took a short run aft in a body -- then there was a check. Donkin, agile and thin flitted past with his right arm going like a windmill -- and then stood still suddenly with his arm pointing rigidly above his Page 91head. The hurtling flight of some small heavy object was heard; it passed between the heads of the two mates, bounded heavily along the deck, stuck the after hatch with a ponderous and deadened blow. The bulky shape of Mr. Baker grew distinct. ‘Come to your senses, men!’he cried, advancing at the arrested crowd. ‘Come back, Mr. Baker!’called the master's quiet voice. He obeyed unwillingly. There was a minute of silence, then a deafening hubbub arose. Above it Archie was heard energetically:
-- ‘If ye do oot ageen I wull tell!’ There were shouts.
‘Don't!’ ‘Drop it!’ -- ‘We ain't that kind!’ The black cluster of human forms reeled against the bulwark, back again towards the house. Shadowy figures could be seen tottering, falling, leaping up. Ringbolts rang under stumbling feet. --‘Drop it!’ ‘Let me!’ -- ‘No!’-- ‘Curse you!.... hah!’ Then sounds as of some one's face being slapped; a piece of iron fell on the deck; a short scuffle, and some one's shadowy shadowy body scuttled rapidly across the main hatch before the shadow of a kick. A raging voice sobbed out a torrent of filthy language.... -- ‘Throwing things -- good God!’ grunted Mr. Baker in dismay. -- ‘That was meant for me,’ said the master quietly; ‘I felt the wind of that thing; what was it -- an iron belaying-pin?’ -- ‘By Jove!’muttered Mr. Creighton. The confused voices of men talking amidships mingled with the wash of the sea, ascended between the silent and distended sails -- seemed to flow away into the night, further than the horizon, higher than the sky. The stars burned steadily over the inclined mastheads. Trails of light lay on the water, broke before the advancing hull, and, after she had passed, trembled for a long time as if in awe of the murmuring sea.
Meantime the helmsman, anxious to know what the row was about, had let go the wheel, and, bent double, ran with long stealthy footsteps to the break of the poop. The Narcissus , left to herself, came up gently to the wind without any one being aware of it. She gave a slight roll, and the sleeping sails woke suddenly, coming all together with a mighty flap against the masts, then filled again one after another in a quick succession of loud reports that ran down the lofty spars, till the collapsed mainsail flew out last with a violent jerk. The ship trembled from trucks to keel; the sails kept on rattling like a discharge of musketry;the chain sheets and loose shackles jingled aloft in a thin peal; the gin blocks Page 92groaned. It was as if an invisible hand had given the ship an angry shake to recall the men that peopled her decks to the sense of reality, vigilance and duty. -- ‘Helm up!’ cried the master sharply. ‘Run aft, Mr. Creighton, and see what that fool there is up to.’ -- ‘Flatten in the head sheets. Stand by the weather fore-braces,’ growled Mr. Baker. Startled men ran swiftly repeating the orders. The watch below, abandoned all at once by the watch on deck, drifted towards the forecastle in twos and threes, arguing noisily as they went. -- ‘We shall see to-morrow!’cried a loud voice, as if to cover with a menacing hint an inglorious retreat.
And then only orders were heard, the falling of heavy coils of rope, the rattling of blocks. Singleton's white head flitted here and there in the night, high above deck, like the ghost of a bird. -- ‘Going off, sir!’ shouted Mr. Creighton from aft. -- ‘Full again.’-- ‘All right....’ -- ‘Ease off the head sheets. That will do the braces. Coil the ropes,’ grunted Mr.
Baker, bustling about.
Gradually the tramping noises, the confused sound of voices, died out, and the officers, coming together on the poop discussed events.
