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Swope, the devil, ran beside him, showering blows upon his unprotected head, and as they reached the break of the poop he knocked the boy down. Then he gave him the boots, commenced to kick him heavily about the body, while the boy squirmed, and pleaded in agonized, broken English for mercy. It was a brutal, revolting exhibition.
Even Lynch toned down his adjectives, and slackened his driving. He was commanded to do so by Captain Swope while the watch was within hearing. The Old Man told him to "go easy with those boys, Mister; we've made it too hard for them this voyage." Aye, that was a nice bitter pill for Bucko Lynch to swallow before his watch; oh, the lads enjoyed it, I can tell you.
Such teasing gave him pleasure. I stopped, of course, and turned, and faced him. Never did Captain Swope remind me more of a cat than that instant, when I met his glittering, pitiless eyes, and saw his smiling, red-lipped mouth, and listened to his soft, purring voice. I was his mouse, helpless, trapped. God's truth, I felt like one! He looked me over slowly, from head to foot.
Standing there at the wheel, with one eye upon Captain Swope and the other upon my work, I found I owned a full measure of rueful thoughts. The Golden Bough was an eye-opener to me, used though I was to hard ships and hard men. I wished I had not shown myself such a hard case back there in the Swede's. I cursed myself for the vainglorious fool I was for having put myself in such a hole.
She looked inside of me, and read my heart and understood! "Oh, Boy, why did you do it?" she exclaimed softly. "It is not worth it why did you come! Listen! do not give offense; whatever they do, show no resentment. Oh, they are hard forget your pride, and be willing!" She seemed about to say more, but Captain Swope interrupted.
Now we got good reasons to do anything the skipper says, we being what we are, and him being what he is, and we knowing he can turn us up, and will, if we don't suit. But Jim Lynch not Swope, or any other man, has a hold on him." "No man, maybe," says Chips. "But in the other quarter, now. If Lynch ain't soft there, I'm a soldier." "Who ain't a bit soft in that quarter?" Sails demanded.
Did he think that Captain Swope was planning the cold-blooded murder of an able seaman? There was the question. In one way, it opposed my reason. Of course, this was a hell-ship, and murder might very well take place on board. But that the captain should deliberately plot the removal of a foc'sle hand! Able seamen were not of such importance in a hell-ship.
Oh, Swope was canny, as canny as he was cruel. He would provoke mutiny, but he would run no chance of losing his ship or his life. He was prepared. What could a few revolvers do against these entrenched men? My shipmates' revolt could have but one end mass murder and defeat! So I thought, as I lay there on the deck, watching my chance to slip aft. Swope's plan, Swope's mutiny, I thought.
Gerard heard of this canard while he was still on the ship, and as he was travelling with Herbert Swope a denial, sent by wireless, appeared in The World, which was worse than the rumor itself. In this Swope reported that Mr. Gerard was coming over to announce the approaching beginning of ruthless submarine war.
"Stop where you are!" shouted Swope, holding out a warning hand as the cowman showed no sign of halting. But Creede came straight on, never flinching, until he had almost ridden him down. "You low-lived, sheep-eatin' hound," he hissed, piling in the wickedest of his range epithets, "you and me have had it comin' fer quite a while, and now I've got you.
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