had no effect. So Flig Balt was correct to place him among those who wouldn’t hesitate to revolt against the captain. Vin Mod and he got along well, too. The bosun spared him, excused him, punished him only if he had no recourse. Koa knew that he would be discharged when he reached Hobart Town, and more than once he had threatened to get revenge. Flig Balt, Vin Mod, and he, assisted by the four newly hired seamen, made seven men against the captain, the three other sailors, and the cabin boy. It is true that Mr. Hawkins, the owner, and Nat Gibson were to come aboard the brig in Wellington, and the ratio would then be more equal. But it was possible that Flig Balt could succeed in taking over the ship between Dunedin and Wellington during the crossing, which was of very short duration. If the occasion presented itself, Vin Mod would seize it.
The James Cook, plying the coastal waterways for four months, had loaded up at different ports where it had replaced its cargo with more profitable freight. After having successively made port in Malikolo, Merena, and Eromanga of the New Hebrides,9 then at Vanoua Linon in the Fiji Islands,10 it would return to Wellington where Mr. Hawkins and Nat Gibson were awaiting it. Then it would set sail for the archipelagoes of New Guinea,11 well stocked with showy but inexpensive goods for the natives, and he’d bring back some mother of pearl and coconut worth some ten or twelve thousand piastres, a handsome sum. From there they would make their return to Hobart Town with stopovers at Brisbane or at Sydney,12 if circumstances required it. Two more months at sea and the brig would then return to its home port.
One can imagine how much the delays suffered in Dunedin had vexed Mr. Gibson. Mr. Hawkins knew what had transpired, thanks to the letters and telegrams exchanged between Dunedin and Wellington, and by which he urged the captain to reconstitute his crew. He even talked about coming to Dunedin, if necessary, even though affairs of business required his presence in Wellington. Mr. Gibson, as we have seen, had neglected nothing and had worked hard to get the job done, and we cannot forget what difficulties he had confronted, numerous other captains having been caught in the same dilemma. Finally Flig Balt had had some success recruiting, and when the four sailors in the tavern of the Three Magpies were aboard, he had the ship’s boats hoisted up so they could not leave during the night.
That very evening Flig Balt told the captain how things had gone, how he had taken advantage of a squabble to drag Len Cannon and three others from the reach of the police. How valuable they were would soon be seen. Generally such rowdy men calm down once the ship is at sea. Roughnecks on a spree most often make good sailors. All in all, the bosun thought he had acted for the best.
Mr. Gibson said, “I’ll see them tomorrow.”
“Yes … tomorrow,” replied Bosun Balt, “and better yet, let them sleep off their gin until morning.”
“Of course. Besides, the tenders are up on the hoists, and unless they throw themselves overboard …”
“Impossible, Captain. I had them go down into the hold, and they’ll stay there until departure.”
“But, when daylight comes, Balt?”
“Oh! with daylight, fear of falling into the hands of the police will keep them aboard.”
“See you tomorrow then,” Mr. Gibson answered.
Night passed, and no doubt it would have been useless to lock up Len Cannon and his comrades. They scarcely dreamed of saving themselves and fell asleep noisily, the sleep of drunkards. At dawn the next day, Captain Gibson made the last arrangements for leaving port. His papers were in order, and he had no need to return to land. That was the moment he chose to meet the new recruits on the bridge.
Vin Mod opened the main hatch, and the four sailors climbed up to join the ship’s crew. Perfectly sober, they showed no intention of flight.
However, when they appeared before the captain, Gibson was master enough of himself to hide the impression that the sight of these men produced—an impression that could not fail to be most disagreeable—he watched them attentively, then asked their names, in order to enter them in the log.
In giving their names, they also indicated their nationality: two Englishmen, an Irishman, and an American. For their residence, they had none but the taverns around the port, whose owners kept rooms for the patrons. As for their belongings and everything that is usually found in a sailor’s bag, they hadn’t been able to bring them. Besides, Flig Balt would make available to them clothes, linens, and utensils that the deserters would never come back to reclaim. So there would be no reason to send them after their bags. And they didn’t insist.
When Len Cannon, Sexton, Kyle, and Bryce had gone up forward, Mr. Gibson, cocking his head, said:
“Tough customers, Balt. I don’t believe you got a lucky hand with these.”
“Remains to be seen, Captain; we can tell by their work.”
“We’ll have to keep an eye on them, and a close eye at that.”
“Of course, Mr. Gibson. Yet they’re fairly skilled according to what an officer from the West Pound13 told me, who is here on leave.”
“You had already seen them?”
“Yes, a few days ago.”
“And this officer knew them?”
“They sailed with him on an ocean voyage, and, according to him, they were good sailors.”
The bosun was lying outrageously. No officer had talked to him about these four men, but his assertion could not be checked, and Mr. Gibson had no real reason to suspect its veracity.
“We’ll be careful not to place them together in the same quarters,” said the captain. “The two Englishmen with Hobbes and Wickley, the Irishman and the American with Burnes and Vin Mod. That’ll be safer.”
“Understood, Captain, but do let me say, once at sea they won’t balk at working. It’s just when they’re in port, especially in Wellington, that they’ll need to be watched. No shore leave, take my word for it, or they might never come back.”
“No matter, Balt, they don’t inspire me with confidence, and in Wellington, if I can replace them …”
“We’ll replace them,” replied the bosun. Flig Balt did not wish to insist more than was proper, nor appear to favor those temporary sailors.
“After all,” he added, “I did my best, Captain, and I didn’t have a lot of choice!”
Mr. Gibson went aft, near the helmsman, while Flig Balt went forward to hoist and stow the anchor as soon as the sails were set.
The captain looked at the compass located in front of the helm, then at the weathercock at the peak of the main mast and the British flag that the wind deployed over the top of the brigantine. The James Cook was rocking on its anchor line in mid-port. The breeze, blowing from the southwest, should favor its departure. After descending the channel to Port Chalmers,14 it would find a good wind blowing up the eastern shore of New Zealand as far as the channel that separates the two islands. However, after having raised anchor, it would have to avoid several ships moored at the entrance to the canal and run close to the dock bordering the port on the starboard side.
Mr. Gibson gave his orders. The two topsails, the foresail, the jibs and the spanker were set, one after the other. During this maneuver, it became clear that Len Cannon and his comrades knew the trade, and when they had to climb to the topgallant, they performed like men
