That black figure with its eyes of fire struck down through all my adult thoughts and feelings, and for a moment the forgotten horrors of childhood came back to my mind.
Then the effect passed as it had come.
An uncouth black figure of a man, a figure of no particular import, hung over the taffrail against the starlight, and I found Montgomery was speaking to me.
“I'm thinking of turning in, then,” said he, “if you've had enough of this.”
I answered him incongruously.
We went below, and he wished me good-night at the door of my cabin.
That night I had some very unpleasant dreams.
The waning moon rose late.
Its light struck a ghostly white beam across my cabin, and made an ominous shape on the planking by my bunk.
Then the staghounds woke, and began howling and baying; so that I dreamt fitfully, and scarcely slept until the approach of dawn.
V. 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.
Montgomery and his companion turned as he spoke.
“What do you mean?” I said.
“That way, Mister Blasted Shut-up,—that's what I mean!
Overboard, Mister Shut-up,—and sharp!
We're cleaning the ship out,—cleaning the whole blessed ship out; and overboard you go!”
I stared at him dumfounded.
Then it occurred to me that it was exactly the thing I wanted.
The lost prospect of a journey as sole passenger with this quarrelsome sot was not one to mourn over.
I turned towards Montgomery.
“Can't have you,” said Montgomery's companion, concisely.
“You can't have me!” said I, aghast.
He had the squarest and most resolute face I ever set eyes upon.
“Look here,” I began, turning to the captain.
“Overboard!” said the captain. “This ship aint for beasts and cannibals and worse than beasts, any more.
Overboard you go, Mister Shut-up.
If they can't have you, you goes overboard.
But, anyhow, you go—with your friends.
I've done with this blessed island for evermore, amen!
I've had enough of it.”
“But, Montgomery,” I appealed.