Again, of this he had no fear; Bucklaw was a man of desperate deeds, but
he knew that in himself the pirate had a master. Besides, he would pick
up in Boston a dozen men upon whom he could depend; and cowardice had no
place in him. Again, the Swallow, commanded by Gering, was fitted out
with New England seamen; and on these dependence could be put.
Therefore, when there came rumblings of mutiny on the Bridgwater
Merchant, there was faithful, if gloomy, obedience, on the Swallow.
Had there been plenty of work to do, had they been at sea instead of
at anchor, the nervousness would have been little; but idleness begot
irritation, and irritation mutiny. Or had Bucklaw been on deck, instead
of in the surgeon's cabin playing a hard game with death, matters might
not have gone so far as they did; for he would have had immediate
personal influence repressive of revolt. As it was, Phips had to work
the thing out according to his own lights. One afternoon, when Gering
was away with the canoes on the long search, the crisis came. It was a
day when life seemed to stand still; a creamy haze ingrained with
delicate blue had settled on land and sea; the long white rollers slowly
travelled over the Boilers, and the sea rocked like a great cradle.
Indefiniteness of thought, of time, of event, seemed over all; on board
the two ships life swung idly as a hammock; but only so in appearance.
Phips was leaning against the deck-house, watching through his glass the
search-canoes.
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