Chapter 5: The Man Who Had Nowhere To Go

IN the early morning (it was the second morning after my recovery, and I believe the fourth after I was picked up), I awoke through an avenue of tumultuous dreams, --dreams of guns and howling mobs, --and became sensible of a hoarse shouting above me. I rubbed my eyes and lay listening to the noise, doubtful for a little while of my whereabouts. Then came a sudden pattering of bare feet, the sound of heavy objects being thrown about, a violent creaking and the rattling of chains. I heard the swish of the water as the ship was suddenly brought round, and a foamy yellow-green wave flew across the little round window and left it streaming. I jumped into my clothes and went on deck.

As I came up the ladder I saw against the flushed sky--for the sun was just rising--the broad back and red hair of the captain, and over his shoulder the puma spinning from a tackle rigged on to the mizzen spanker-boom.

The poor brute seemed horribly scared, and crouched in the bottom of its little cage.

“Overboard with ‘em!” bawled the captain. “Overboard with ‘em! We’ll have a clean ship soon of the whole bilin’ of ‘em.”

He stood in my way, so that I had perforce to tap his shoulder to come on deck. He came round with a start, and staggered back a few paces to stare at me. It needed no expert eye to tell that the man was still drunk.

“Hullo!” said he, stupidly; and then with a light coming into his eyes, “Why, it’s Mister--Mister?”

“Prendick,” said I.

“Prendick be damned!” said he. “Shut-up, --that’s your name. Mister Shut-up.”

It was no good answering the brute; but I certainly did not expect his next move. He held out his hand to the gangway by which Montgomery stood talking to a massive grey-haired man in dirty-blue flannels, who had apparently just come aboard.

“That way, Mister Blasted Shut-up! that way!” roared the captain.