The Pirate Story Megapack. R.M. Ballantyne

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СКАЧАТЬ for the injured men. It was stifling in the cabin and they had no water. To beg it from Stevens would only provoke mockery. Sanders’ arm had to be set. The Scot sat with his face chalky in the gloom, hanging on to himself.

      “They jumped us, you see,” he said huskily. “That dirty dog of a Neilson and Vogt. Cracked Walker with a blackjack or something and there were three on my back at once. I think Moore tackled half a dozen. They grabbed our arms so we couldn’t shoot. They were hiding back of the deckhouses. Tried to warn—you—but…” He closed his eyes and set his teeth into his lips.

      “Lie down,” ordered Jim, himself with a blinding headache. “We’ll fix you up. Newton, I want you.”

      They went exploring and found a cabin where the two bunks had decent mattresses that were not too badly molded. They took their undershirts and made them into bandages, then, with the aid of the broken pieces of the panel that Swenson had smashed, Jim managed a splint, feeling fairly sure that he had the ends of the broken upper arm in place. They put Sanders in the top bunk, carried Walker to the lower.

      Kitty and Lynda had vanished into the room that connected with Captain Avery’s. They came back to the main cabin triumphant.

      “It was stupid of me not to think of it before,” said Kitty. “The ship’s medicine chest! I knew where dad kept it, with the extra drugs. We broke the lock. There are bandages but they are pretty rotten. Some of the medicines, like iodine, have dried up but there is permanganate, and—” she hesitated—“some other things. We must cleanse that head-wound of Walker’s and do the best we can for poor Moore.”

      “Without water?”

      “I think I can get some water.”

      “Not from those brutes.”

      “I’ll trade it. For liquor. I’m not demented. There was always a supply in the lazarette locker back of the starboard cabin where I got the medicine.”

      “See here, Kitty, if you tell them there is any of that stuff aboard,” broke in Newton, “they’ll take it all. You know what that means with beasts like Stevens. We haven’t any weapons.”

      “I have,” said Kitty. “A woman’s weapons, and I am going to use them for the sake of our wounded men. I may find a way out for all of us. I want you and Jim to force the hasp on the locker. Lynda and I are not strong enough for that. But we have our wits about us.”

      “Lyman, you’re not going to let her get that stuff?”

      “I have more confidence in her weapons than you have, Newton,” said Jim. “We’re in a tight place and Miss Kitty realizes that as well as we do. Come along.”

      Newton went reluctantly with Lynda. Kitty, hanging behind, thanked Jim for his backing. “There is no necessity for the ‘Miss’,” she whispered. “I am calling you Jim. You’ll trust me in this? Not ask me how I intend to do it? Lynda knows and approves.”

      “Of course.” But Jim wondered. There was an almost tragic note to her talk. They broke the hasp and brought out a dozen bottles—one of brandy, three of whisky, the rest port and sherry.

      “If you are figuring on making them drunk—?” started Newton.

      “I am not,” the girl answered. “Leave me a torch please, and go into the main cabin with Jim. Lynda will stay here with me. We’ve got to open these. I don’t want to break them.”

      “Those chaps up there have got a nose for booze a mile off,” said Newton. “I could do with a slug myself.” Jim took his own knife and Newton’s and eased out the corks before they left. Soon the two women come out with some of the bottles.

      “I am to do the talking,” Kitty whispered, then called up through the skylight, “Mr. Stevens.”

      Immediately the leering face appeared.

      “Well. Seeing the light, little lady?”

      “Will you let us have some water—for the wounded men?”

      Stevens laughed.

      “I might. What will you trade for a pint of it—say in kisses.”

      Kitty put out a hand to grip Jim’s arm without looking at him. Instinctively she seemed to know that he was quivering with blind rage.

      “I’ll need more than that,” she said, her voice unfaltering. “Give me a gallon of water and I’ll give you a quart of brandy.”

      “Brandy?”

      “I knew where my father kept a bottle for emergencies. I just found it.”

      “Pass it up.” Stevens’ voice was hoarse from eagerness.

      “No. Send down the water first, or I’ll smash the bottle.”

      “Don’t do that. I’ll bring the water.”

      “Let it down. Then you may come.”

      “If he comes into this cabin to start drinking,” said Jim in a tense whisper, “I’ll not answer for myself. I—”

      “Sh!” He felt her fingertips on his lips. “It will not matter. Trust me.”

      The water came down in a demijohn, lukewarm, cloudy stuff, but water. Jim unfastened it from the cord and took it to the cabin where Sanders and Walker lay. Moore, on the transom, was slowly beginning to come back to consciousness. The companion hatch slid back, letting in more light, and Stevens came running down.

      “No tricks now,” he said. “I trusted you. Where—? Ah, you’re a sport! This is the real stuff.”

      He tilted the bottle at his mouth and drank greedily.

      “Just the one bottle?” he asked between gulps.

      “There is some wine. I thought the men…” Kitty had purposely spoken loudly. Heads appeared above. “One of you can come down and get it,” she said. “Only one. You’ll have about a bottle apiece. Hurry.”

      An unshaven villain came clattering down and stacked up the wine in his arms, returning shouting to his comrades.

      “You’re a cunning little devil,” said Stevens, and his voice sounded drowsy. “Thought you said only one? Here’s to your bright eyes—to your red lips—to—”

      He pitched forward to the floor. On deck the men were shouting ribald toasts to each other. They heard nothing, suspected nothing.

      “Drugged?” whispered Jim.

      “Chloral in the brandy,” she answered. “I don’t know how much. I hope I’ve killed him,” she said with a fierceness Jim had never credited her with. “The wine has morphine in it. I crushed the pellets. Quick, get his gun. Newton, here’s the whisky. It is all right. Give some to the boys. Get it down Walker’s throat.” Newton went off with the bottle. Jim knelt to get the automatic and the belt with its holster and cartridges, buckling it about him.

      “You are wonderful,” he said to Kitty.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ