The cable tierthe ladderand then the extraordinary safety of the lower gundeck. After the utter blackness of the hold there was enough light here for him to see fairly distinctly. Buckland and Roberts continued to ascend to the maindeck; Bush turned to make his way aft. The watch below had been in their hammocks long enough to be sound asleep; here to the noises of the ship was added the blended snoring of the sleepers as the closehung rows of hammocks swayed with the motion of the ship in such a coincidence of timing as to appear like solid masses. Far down between the rows a light was approaching. It was a horn lantern with a lighted pursers dip inside it, and Hobbs, the actinggunner, was carrying it, and two seamen were following him as he hurried along. There was an exchange of glances as Bush met the party. A momentary hesitation on Hobbs part betrayed the fact that he would have greatly liked to ask Bush what he was doing on the lower gundeck, but that was something no actingwarrant officer, even with the captains favour behind him, could ask of a lieutenant. And there was annoyance in Hobbs expression, too; obviously he was hurrying to secure all the exits from the hold, and was exasperated that Bush had escaped him. The seamen wore expressions of simple bewilderment at these goings on in the middle watch. Hobbs stood aside to let his superior pass, and Bush strode past him with no more than that one glance. It was extraordinary how much more confident he felt now that he was safely out of the hold and disassociated from any mutinous assembly. He decided to head for his cabin; it would not be long before four bells, when by the captains orders he had to report again to Buckland. The messenger sent by the officer of the watch to rouse him would find him lying on his cot. But as Bush went on and had progressed as far as the mainmast he arrived in the midst of a scene of bustle which he would most certainly have taken notice of if he had been innocent and which consequently he must (so he told himself) ask about now that he had seen ithe could not possibly walk by without a question or two. This was where the marines were berthed, and they were all of them out of their hammocks hastily equipping themselvesthose who had their shirts and trousers on were putting on their crossbelts ready for action.
Whats all this? demanded Bush, trying to make his voice sound as it would have sounded if he had no knowledge of anything irregular happening in the ship except this.
Dunno, sir, said the private he addressed. We was just told to turn outmuskets an side arms and ball cartridge, sir.
A sergeant of marines looked out
through the screen which divided the noncommissioned officers bay from the rest of the deck.
Captains orders, sir, he said; and then with a roar at the men, Come on! Slap it about, there!
Wheres the captain, then? asked Bush with all the innocence he could muster.
Aft someeres, sir. E sent for the corprils guard same time as we was told to turn out.
Four marine privates and a corporal supplied the sentry who stood day and night outside the captains cabin. A single order was all that was needed to turn out the guard and provide the captain with at least a nucleus of armed and disciplined men ready for action.
Very well, sergeant, said Bush, and he tried to look puzzled and to hurry naturally aft to find out what was going on. But he knew what fear was. He felt he would do anything rather than continue this walk to encounter whatever was awaiting him at the end of it. Whiting, the captain of marines, made his appearance, sleepy and unshaven, belting on his sword over his shirt.
What in hell? he began as he saw Bush.
Dont ask me! said Bush, striving after that natural appearance. So tense and desperate was he at that moment that his normally quiescent imagination was hard at work. He could imagine the prosecutor in the deceptive calm of a courtmartial saying to Whiting, Did Mr. Bush appear to be his usual self? and it was frightfully necessary that Whiting should be able to answer, Yes. Bush could even imagine the hairy touch of a rope round his neck. But next moment there was no more need for him to simulate surprise or ignorance. His reactions were genuine.
Pass the word for the doctor, came the cry. Pass the word, there.
And here came Wellard, whitefaced, hurrying.
Pass the word for the doctor. Call Dr Clive.
Whos hurt, Wellard? asked Bush.
The ccaptain, sir.
Wellard looked distraught and shaken, but now Hornblower made his appearance behind him. Hornblower was pale, too, and breathing hard, but he seemed to have command of himself. The glance which he threw round him in the dim light of the lanterns passed over Bush without apparent recognition.
Get Dr Clive! he snapped at one midshipman peering out from the midshipmens berth; and then to another, You there. Run for the first lieutenant. Ask him to come below here. Run!
Hornblowers glance took in Whiting and travelled forward to where the marines were snatching their muskets from the racks.