by Max Brand
CHAPTER 8
And the four of them went aft carrying McTee's body. On the promenadethey passed Kate Malone. She shrank against the rail, her eyes blankand her face white.
"He's dead!" she cried.
"He's just beginnin' to live," said Harrigan.
The captain was muttering faintly as they laid him on the bunk in hisroom. "Now get out," commanded Harrigan. "I will be alone with him whenhe wakes up. I have something to whisper in his ear."
"Is it safe?" said the first mate to the chief engineer, gesturing withhis weapon.
Harrigan snatched it away and waved it like a club above his head.
"Get out, or I'll bash your skull in."
His face was hideous, cut and blood-stained, starved with the longhunger and lighted with the victory. They slunk from the cabin, backingout as if they expected him to rush them. Harrigan locked the door andstarted to tend the captain. He washed McTee to the waist, cleansed thecut places carefully, and covered them with narrow strips of adhesivetape which he found in a small medicine chest. As the heavier breathingof the captain indicated that he was about to recover his senses,Harrigan performed the same services for himself. It was slow work, fornow that the stimulus of action was gone, his weakness grew on him inrecurrent waves. Finally a sound made him turn to see McTee proppinghimself up on the bunk with one elbow; his eyes, unconfused and steady,looked brightly out at Harrigan.
"You beat me?"
"It was the swing of the deck that rolled you over and broke your grip.I've stayed to tell you that."
"Chances or no chances, you beat me."
"Man, you'd have busted my back if it hadn't been for that buck of theship. When your hand came away, it took the skin with it."
"And that's why you didn't finish me?"
"Aye."
"You'll never have the chance again."
"I want no chances; I want no help except my own strength as it wasbefore you withered me with your hellfire."
"When we stand up again, I'll kill you, Harrigan."
"When we stand up again, I'll break you, Black McTee--like a rottenstick."
"Lie down here," said the captain, rising quickly. "You're sick."
He forced Harrigan onto the bunk and stretched him out at full length.The Irishman clenched his hands and fought against the sleep whichcrept over his senses.
"There's fire in my brain," muttered Harrigan, "an' it's trying to burnits way out."
McTee dipped a towel in cool water.
"I kept the rest of them away," went on the Irishman. "When you wokeup, I wanted you to hear why I didn't finish you."
He raised his shaking hands and gripped at the air.
"Ah-h! When me ould silf is back, I'll shtand up to ye. Tis a promise,McTee. Black McTee, Black McTee--I'll make ye Red McTee--red as thepalms av me hands."
McTee tied the cold, wet towel around Harrigan's forehead.
"I'll kill you by inches, Harrigan. You'll read hell in my eyes beforeyour end. Drink this!"
He raised Harrigan's almost lifeless head and forced the neck of awhisky bottle between his teeth.
"Ah-h!" said Harrigan, blinking and coughing after the strong liquorhad burned its way down his throat. "The feel av your throat under methumbs was sweeter than the touch av a colleen's hand, McTee! I'm deadfor shlape!"
And instantly his eyes closed; his breathing was deep and sonorous. Thecaptain watched him for a long moment, then sat down and laying a handon the sleeping man's wrist, he counted the pulse carefully. It wasirregular and feeble.
"Time is all he needs," muttered McTee to himself, and he sat staringbefore him, dreaming. "A fool can live well," he was thinking, "but ittakes a great man to die well. Harrigan will make a fine death." In themeantime the big Irishman slept heavily, and Black McTee tended himwell, keeping the towel cool and wet about his forehead. The pulse wasgaining rapidly in strength and regularity; sleep seemed to act uponHarrigan as food acts upon a starved man. At times he smiled, and McTeecould guess at the dream which caused it. He was dreaming of killingMcTee, and McTee sat by and understood, and smiled with deep content.He, also, was tasting his thoughts of the battle-to-be when, withoutany warning rap, the door swung open and the burly form of Bos'nMasters appeared.
"The first mate--" he began.
"Did you knock?"
"I've got no time to waste, the first mate--"
McTee rose. In the frank, bold eyes of the bos'n he read the openrevolt, and understood. He had been beaten in open battle; his crewfelt that they were liberated by the victory of their champion.
"Who told you to enter without knocking?" he brokein.
"I don't need telling," said the dauntless bos'n. "The first mate'sdrunk an'--"
The heavy fist of McTee landed on Masters's mouth and hurled him in aheap into the corner of the cabin. The captain seized him by the napeof the neck and jerked him back to his feet, blinking and gasping,thoroughly subdued.
"Get out and come in as you should."
The bos'n fled. A moment later a timid knock came at the door and McTeebade him enter. He stepped in, cap in hand, his eyes on the floor.
"The first mate's drunk, sir, an' runnin' amuck with the ship. He's atthe wheel an' he won't leave it. We've nearly scraped one reef already.You know this ain't any open sea, sir. There's green water everywhere."
"Go up and give the fool my orders. Tell the second officer to take thewheel."
The bos'n retreated, but he returned within a few moments.
"He won't leave the wheel," he reported. "He said you could take yourorders to the devil, sir."
"I'll tie him to the deck and skin him alive," said McTee calmly. "Stayhere and watch Harrigan while I--"
He was jerked from his feet and hurled across the room, crashingagainst the cabin wall. When his senses returned, he was sitting on thefloor staring stupidly into the white face of the bos'n, who was in asimilar posture. Harrigan, who had been flung from the bunk, staggeredto his feet.
"What the deuce is up?" asked the Irishman.
A chorus of piercing yells rose in answer from the deck outside.
"The end of the _Mary Rogers_," said McTee. "Stay with me, Harrigan."
He caught the latter by the arm and dragged him out onto the deck. Thehull of the ship at the bow must have been literally ripped away by theimpact against the reef; already the deck sloped sharply to the bows.
McTee raised a voice that rang like a trumpet over the clamor as hegave his orders to clear away the boats. If he had been a momentearlier, he might have succeeded in getting at least one of them safelylaunched, but now the _Mary Rogers_ was settling to her doom with aspeed which made the crew senseless with terror. A half-gale whichpromised to swell soon into a veritable hurricane seemed to be liftingthe freighter by the heel and driving her nose into the sea. The quicksettling twilight of the tropics made the waters doubly cold and dark.
Not till the bows of the _Mary Rogers_ were deep below the waves andher propeller humming loudly in the air did the captain desist from hisefforts to bring order out of the panic of the crew. Half a dozen men,with the Chinaman at their head, had cut one boat from its davits, butplunging into it before it fairly struck the water, they tipped it farto one side. It filled instantly and sank, leaving its occupantsstruggling on the surface. The Chinaman, who apparently could not swim,gave up the struggle at once. He threw his clutching hands high abovehis head and went down; his scream was the first death cry of the wreckof the _Mary Rogers_.
McTee, with Harrigan at his heels, rushed for the second lifeboat.Under the directions of the captain, pointed and emphasized by blows ofhis fist, the boat was swung safely from the davits and lowered to thesea. The instant that it rode the waves, bouncing up and down on thechoppy surface, the crew began leaping in, the drunken mate being thefirst overside.
The lifeboat was loaded from stem to stern, and only Harrigan, McTee,and half a dozen more remained on the ship when the boat swung a dozenfeet away from the _Mary Rogers_ and with th
e next wave was picked upand smashed against the freighter. Its side went in like a matchboxpressed by a strong thumb, and it zigzagged quickly below the surface.The yells of the swimmers rose in a long wail. McTee caught Harrigan bythe shoulder and shouted in his ear: "Stay close and do what I do."
"Miss Malone!" yelled Harrigan in answer, and pointed.
She stood by the after-cabin, clinging to the rail with one hand whileshe attempted to adjust a life preserver with the other. The _MaryRogers_ lurched forward, a long slide that buried half of the shipunder the sea. A giant wave towered above the side and licked thewheelhouse away.
"Let her go!" roared McTee. "Save ourselves and let hergo."
It was a matter of seconds now before the last of the _Mary Rogers_should disappear. They clambered up to the after-cabin.
"For the love av God, McTee, she's a woman!"
The Irishman struggled up the deck toward the girl, but the captaincaught him and held him fast.
"There's one chance," shouted Black McTee, and he pointed to the litterof the wrecked wheelhouse which tossed on the waves. "Overboard andmake for a big timber."
But the eyes of Harrigan held on the form of the girl. They could onlymake out the shadow of her form with her hair blowing wildly on thewind. Then as swift as the sway of a bird's wing, a mass of black watertossed over the side of the _Mary Rogers_. When it was gone, theshadowy figure of the girl had disappeared with it.
"Now!" thundered McTee.
"Aye," said Harrigan.