CHAPTER XVII.

I am not going to dwell too long on that cruise under Benson and describe its horrible details; there are enough hard things in the future, without going back into the past. Any one who has a morbid taste for listening to tales of deviltry will have to get someone else to go into the minor incidents of that strange voyage.

As to that convict Benson, I will say that the excesses and mutinies that he overcame and put down with an iron hand showed the power of the man’s character. Had he been a man of principle, a better one never lived to command a ship. Authority was in every tone of his voice and every motion of his hand; but he was a villain and his ship was a floating hell.

When we headed away to the s’uth’ard he had a ship and crew capable of keeping the{200} seas for a couple of months at the least, and the men were ready for any known or unknown crime. Ten of our men had joined.

Benson was not very communicative, but I gathered from his remarks that he had been pretty nearly everything that was bad and very little of anything that was good. He certainly appeared well informed on all subjects. I learned from the men that he was but little over thirty years old and that he had a life sentence against him. Afterward I found out that it was for a desperate attempt upon a Dublin bank, where two officers were killed on surprising the gang of burglars at work.

There were all kinds of wild stories told about him among the men, and, although they were perhaps greatly exaggerated, he certainly appeared equal to any occasion where coolness and nerve were to be depended on.

He gave me orders to head the ship for the coast of Patagonia and drive her to the southward with all possible speed.

The plan that he and his closest followers{201} had worked out was to make a landing on this wild coast and then divide into bands. After doing this they would separate and each band would work out its own salvation.

They had, apparently, nothing to fear from the Countess of Warwick. She had been set on fire, with the survivors of her crew on board, bound securely hand and foot. Then the convicts had taken to the boats with the fixed intention of capturing the Arrow and sailing away as peaceable Yankee merchantmen. So far their plans had worked out well.

Six Swedes, two dagos, the cook, and steward, from the crew of the Arrow, joined the gang. The rest of our men were forced to go overboard, three alive and the others killed in the fracas when the mutineers came over the side. Gus, a big Swede, who had been in my watch, spoke to me the first night afterward while I stood at the edge of the poop. He was coiling down the foretopsail brace, and the crowd of convicts who had tailed on left him alone to do the work.{202}

“I had to join, Mr. Gore,” said he in a whisper, “but if there’s a way out let me know, den. I go wid you. A man only lives once. I radder be a live pirate dan a dead admiral, but if dere’s a chance, I go wid you an’ take de chance.”

“Is there any other man who will stand by us?” I asked.

“Aye tank dere’s de cook. He fight if dere’s a show.”

“He’s enough. Let him speak with me the first chance he gets,” I said.

Benson saw we were close together and probably talking, so he came up.

“I say, Gore,” said he, “this is a fine night for a run. How much do we do an hour?”

“About seven and a half knots,” I answered.

“Will this wind hold for a long time, long enough for us to make a good many miles toward Patagonia?”

I said I thought it was the trade and would hold for a couple of weeks, when{203} we might expect to run out of it in the latitude of the River Plate.

“Well, Gore,” said he, “you seem to be a capable sort of fellow, and I like you. It isn’t every man I like, now I tell you. If you do the square thing and get us to the southward of the river, not too far, but far enough so we can make a good get-away from the ship, I’ll not forget you.”

“I appreciate my position thoroughly,” I answered, “and also your commendation, but what’s to become of me when we get down to where you want to leave the ship? Do I get a fair show on the beach, or am I expected to stick to the vessel?”

“Well, you will go with me, if you do the right thing. I’m a square man to deal with.”

I have always been suspicious of the man who proclaims his honesty to the world. I never knew a really honest man to say he was square. But this fellow’s tone and manner was so like that of many a shipping merchant I had had dealings with, I almost laughed.{204}

Benson saw the glimmer of my smile in the moonlight and evidently thought me pleased with the prospect, for his tone was even more conciliating as he went on.

“If there’s anything of value in the ship, of value which can be turned into ready money, understand, let me know about it,” he went on. “We will go halves on whatever you can turn to account. There don’t seem to be much that we could take ashore with us except the nautical instruments, and I suppose they would excite suspicion if we tried to sell them.”

“We might bond the ship,” I said, “by taking her into Buenos Ayres, and then make a quick get-away to the southward. If you are a good hand at forgery you might get out some kind of papers that would pass at the custom house long enough for us to get the money and clear out.”

“No, there’s too many of us. The rest could not be kept under long enough for any such deal. You see that we don’t get too close to the river. We must take our chances with the little we have.”{205}

“Do you mean to sink her?” I asked.

“No, burn her,” he said, “and do you think it would be best for all of this crowd to get ashore at once?”

I saw his hideous meaning. The fellow was making it pretty clear that I was never to get ashore at all. There was every prospect of the large majority of the convicts remaining aboard, for Benson certainly never meant that half a hundred men should be turned loose upon South America to tell of their happenings. Just how he intended to dispose of the mass was the question.

“We have six boats,” I said, “and they will hold every one aboard easily, if the weather isn’t too rough.”

“A ship will always sink after she is burned, don’t you think?” he asked.

“Yes, if she is burned deep enough,” I answered.

“Well, she will be burned deep enough and the weather will be very rough. We will need all the boats to carry what stuff we can pick up.”{206}

“What do you mean to pick up?” I asked.

“Now, I say, Gore, you must know that men can’t live without money. The first sail we sight you will report to me. It’s probable that all vessels going this way carry something of value, isn’t it?”

I said I thought it was.

“Well, then, we must take what we can get and not take too much trouble asking about the ownership. You get your share, you see, and I expect you to give a good account of yourself in a fracas. You’re a stocky built fellow and put up a good fight the day we took you. Now you must show what you can do taking the other fellow in turn.”

“I see,” I said, “I reckon I’ll do my share.”

“If it wasn’t for the risk, I would like to keep cruising along indefinitely,” said Benson. “Life is very pleasant aboard a fine ship, especially when one has a wife and good crew.”

I would have jumped him then and{207} there if Johnson had not come up at the moment. I turned my face to windward and gazed out over the ocean sparkling in the moonlight, and wondered how I managed to control myself. The grim horror of the ship passing along over that sparkling sea like some great black spectre in the night was almost unbearable. Like a great, black, ghostly shadow she slid along over the smooth sea, not a light burning aboard her and her crew of villains resting easily in the warm air. I tried to keep my thoughts from Benson and his deviltries, and wondered if there really were an intelligent power governing the universe, and if so, why these things could happen. And yet I knew they were happening elsewhere continually and it was the part of man to bear them as best he might.