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Updated: May 31, 2025
Oh, what a wretched time that was, and how I wished that I could go right off to sleep a sleep without any dreams and keep asleep till my side had left off aching. But it was no use to wish, for though Mr Frewen was sleeping, so sure as I nearly dropped off, Mr Preddle would put his lips to the hole I had made for my own torture, and whisper something.
It was a weird experience there in the darkness, with the only sounds heard the shouts and songs of the ship's crew, for they were evidently feasting and drinking. "And thinking nothing of to-morrow," said Mr Preddle, sadly. "No, sir, and that is our opportunity," said Mr Brymer. "Let them drink; they have plenty of opportunity, with the cases of wine and the quantity of spirits on board.
"His mind must be in a pleasant state of anxiety, what with the management of the ship in a storm, his doubts about his prisoners, and the pleasant little fancies he must have about the laws of our country." "I think we're best off after all, aren't we?" I said. "Hush! he's back again. No it's Mr Preddle." "Are you people asleep?" came from the partition. "Hush!
"Bellers, sir?" growled Dumlow, who was looking on; "I took 'em to make the kittle bile, and didn't have no time to put 'em back 'cause of the boats coming." "Ah, the boats," cried Mr Preddle, excitedly. "Jarette knocked me down." "And he got knocked down hisself, sir. Reg'lar one for his nob," said Dumlow. "Then we won, Dale?"
Mr Preddle smiled all over his round, plump face, and well filled a plate, which I bore to the cabin in which Walters was prisoned, and unfastening it, bore it in. He was leaning against the ship's side, gazing out of the cabin-window, and would not turn his head. "I've brought you some dinner," I said, but he paid no attention, and I repeated the words, but still he did not move.
There was perfect silence for a few moments, as our poor wounded captain lay back with his eyes closed. Then with his face losing its feeble, despairing look, he said anxiously "I don't see Brymer; is he hurt?" "No; quite safe." "Mr Preddle?" "We are all pretty sound, and the mutineers are shut down in the forecastle, sir." "Oh, if I only had strength!" said the captain.
"I must not stir, and there is so little room. Go back and round with Mr Frewen." "No, no; I daren't." "The fire isn't there," I said, as the screaming and hissing were louder than ever. "I'm not so much afraid of the fire as I am of the water," cried Mr Preddle. "You want to squirt me again."
Mr Preddle was almost speechless with excitement when the plan was broached to him, and he declared it to be too good for there to be any failure. "Why, we have only to loosen a board or two on my side, go through, watch our opportunity, and then go from cabin to cabin and let out our friends; then wait till the mutineers are all quiet below, and fasten the hatches tight down upon them.
"I think differently, sir," said Mr Brymer, coldly. "I agree with Mr Brymer, sir," said Mr Denning, "that it would be madness." "But you agree with me, Mr Preddle?" cried the doctor, excitedly. "No, I don't, Mr Frewen," came in Mr Preddle's high-pitched voice. "I don't like men to suffer, but I won't give my vote for you to go down into that wild beasts' cage."
"Idiot!" cried Jarette, sharply, and directly after the door was banged and fastened. "My fish my fish my poor little fish!" muttered Mr Preddle; "but I couldn't, even to save them." Then there was silence, and I softly recovered the little hole and looked round at Mr Frewen, who nodded and smiled. "Yes," he whispered, "it is quite true: he is a gentleman, poor fellow, in spite of all."
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