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Updated: June 2, 2025
"They have smelt us," he said. "We must go on." Gabbett spat in his palm, and took firmer hold of the axe-handle. "Right you are," he said. "I'll leave my mark on some of them before this night's out!" On the opposite shore lights began to move, and the fugitives could hear the hurrying tramp of feet. "Make for the right-hand side of the jetty," said Rex in a fierce whisper.
"Why not?" "Gabbett bolted twice before," said Rufus Dawes, shuddering at the remembrance of the ghastly object he had seen in the sunlit glen at Hell's Gates. "Others went with him, but each time he returned alone." "What do you mean?" asked Rex, struck by the tone of his companion. "What became of the others?" "Died, I suppose," said the Dandy, with a forced laugh. "Yes; but how?
"In with you for your lives!" he cried. Another volley from the guard spattered the water around the fugitives, but in the darkness the ill-aimed bullets fell harmless. Gabbett swung himself over the sheets, and seized an oar. "Cox, Bodenham, Greenhill! Now, push her off!
"NOW!" cries Jemmy Vetch, as the iron-plated oak swung back, and with the guttural snarl of a charging wild boar, Gabbett hurled himself out of the prison. The red line of light which glowed for an instant through the doorway was blotted out by a mass of figures. All the prison surged forward, and before the eye could wink, five, ten, twenty, of the most desperate were outside.
The aspect of the villain was so appalling, that, despite his natural courage, Frere, seeing the backward sweep of the cutlass, absolutely closed his eyes with terror, and surrendered himself to his fate. As Gabbett balanced himself for the blow, the ship, which had been rocking gently on a dull and silent sea, suddenly lurched the convict lost his balance, swayed, and fell.
The fourth day is notable for the indisposition of Bodenham, who is a bad walker, and, falling behind, delays the party by frequent cooees. Gabbett threatens him with a worse fate than sore feet if he lingers. Luckily, that evening Greenhill espies a hut, but, not trusting to the friendship of the occupant, they wait until he quits it in the morning, and then send Vetch to forage.
The mutineers, headed by Gabbett, Vetch, and the Moocher, were nearest to the door; the timid boys, old men, innocent poor wretches condemned on circumstantial evidence, or rustics condemned to be turned into thieves for pulling a turnip were at the farther end, huddling together in alarm; and the prudent that is to say, all the rest, ready to fight or fly, advance or retreat, assist the authorities or their companions, as the fortune of the day might direct occupied the middle space.
"Help! Jem, help!" cried the victim, cut, but not fatally, and in the strength of his desperation tore the axe from the monster who bore it, and flung it to Vetch. "Keep it, Jemmy," he cried; "let's have no more murder done!" They fare again through the horrible bush until nightfall, when Vetch, in a strange voice, called the giant to him. "He must die." "Either you or he," laughs Gabbett.
The mutineers proper numbered, perhaps, some thirty men, and of these thirty only half a dozen knew what was really about to be done. The ship's bell strikes the half-hour, and as the cries of the three sentries passing the word to the quarter-deck die away, Gabbett, who has been leaning with his back against the door, nudges Jemmy Vetch. "Now, Jemmy," says he in a whisper, "tell 'em!"
"Ay, ay," replied the Crow, from beneath. "Come up and tie our friend Jones. Gabbett, have you got the axes?" "There's only one," said Gabbett, with an oath. "Then bring that, and any tucker you can lay your hands on. Have you tied him? On we go then."
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