Read Online In Distant Waters by Richard Woodman - Free Book Online

bent himself to drink from the stream. The two men were watching him, a covert look in their eyes. He stared at them pointedly and, with an obvious and eloquent reluctance, they moved away after the others. With a beating heart Drinkwater remained behind.
    Mount found him sitting on a rock, checking the locks of his pistols.
    â€˜Sir?’ The marine lieutenant was gasping with the effort of his climb.
    â€˜Sit down, Mr Mount, take a drink slowly and listen to what I have to say . . .’
    Mount sat and drank and listened, looking sharply at Drinkwater as the Captain explained his suspicions, his voice lost in the roar of the waterfall. ‘You understand, Mr Mount?’
    â€˜Perfectly, sir . . . if you’ll give me a moment . . .’
    Mount checked his own flintlock, a heavy horse-pistol.
    â€˜Why Mylchrist, Mr Mount? D’you know?’
    â€˜He’s the youngest and most vulnerable officer, sir.’ Mount’s voice lacked its usual conviction.
    â€˜Does he ride the men . . . when I am not there, I mean?’
    â€˜I have not noticed so, sir.’
    â€˜No . . . and why Hogan and Witherspoon?’
    Drinkwater recalled Hogan, a handsome Irish giant whom he remembered now, hearing utter mutinous remarks the night they sprang the foretopmast off Cape Horn; and Witherspoon, by contrast a dark young man, agile as a monkey and one of the
Patrician
’s prime topmen, noted for his daring aloft. Another suspicion came to Drinkwater as he waited for Mount’s signal of readiness. It was darker than the first and he cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner, aware that it had been hovering just beyond his consciousness for some time.
    â€˜Ready.’
    Stooping and moving from rock to rock Mount crossed the stream. On the further bank he looked back at Drinkwater and nodded. Lifting their pistols both men advanced cautiously on opposite sides of the pool. Between them the silver cascade of water fell from above, sluicing over the polished rock lip of the escarpment to fall into the hollow with a roar, the smoking spray of its motion cut by the advancing shadow of the high western bank which terminated the glittering rainbow like a knife.
    Ten yards from the foot of the fall, where the rocks were broken, cemented by moss and tiny fern-fronds, and the cliff rose sheer above, both men stopped.
    â€˜I command you to come out!’ Drinkwater roared above the noise of the fall. The spray was already soaking the two officerswhose hands covered the pans of their cocked pistols. Drinkwater’s demand produced no response.
    â€˜In the King’s name . . .’
    â€˜Bollocks to your focking King!’
    Mount and Drinkwater exchanged glances.
    â€˜Come out Hogan, damn you, otherwise you’re a dead man!’ Drinkwater’s eyes studied the overhang. He could just see the opening in the rock which gave access to the hollow space behind the fall.
    â€˜And have ye hang me, Cap’n Drinkwater? I’ll not die for your mad raddled King, nor for your damned causes. God damn you, Cap’n Drinkwater, God damn you to hell!’
    â€˜Hold your tongue, you Fenian bastard!’ Mount roared from the far side of the fall, moving precipitously forward so that Drinkwater was forced to wave him back.
    â€˜What about you, Witherspoon? D’you wish to hang? Come, lad, show some sense!’
    â€˜ ’E stays with me, so help me!’
    â€˜D’you wish Hogan to answer for you, Witherspoon?’
    â€˜Aye, sir . . . I do . . .’ Witherspoon’s voice cracked into a squeak. There was nothing more to be done. Drinkwater nodded and began to edge forward, wondering how much Hogan could see and knowing that, at least, looking from the darkness into the light, the Irishman had the undisputed advantage. He also had a loaded musket.
    The base of the waterfall streamed over a rock