It was past midnight when Cain, worn out with the conflicting passions of the day, fell into an uneasy slumber. His dreams were of Francisco's mother--she appeared to him pleading for her son, and Cain 'babbled in his sleep.' At this time Francisco, with Pompey, had softly crawled aft, that they might obtain, if they found the captain asleep, the pistols of Francisco, with some ammunition. Pompey slipped in first, and started back when he heard the captain's voice. They remained at the cabin door listening, 'No--no,' muttered Cain, 'he must die--unless--plead not, woman!--I know I murdered thee--plead not, he dies!'
In one of the sockets of the silver lamp there was a lighted wick, the rays of which were sufficient to afford a dim view of the cabin. Francisco, overhearing the words of Cain, stepped in, and walked up to the side of the bed. 'Boy! plead not,' continued Cain, lying on his back and breathing heavily--'plead not--woman!--to-morrow he dies.' A pause ensued, as if the sleeping man was listening to a reply. 'Yes; as I murdered thee, so will I murder him.'
'Wretch!' said Francisco, in a low, solemn voice, 'didst thou kill my mother?'
'I did--I did!' responded Cain, still sleeping.
'And why?' continued Francisco, who, at this acknowledgment on the part of the sleeping captain, was careless of discovery.
'In my mood she vexed me,' answered Cain.
'Fiend; thou hast then confessed it!' cried Francisco in a loud voice, which awoke the captain, who started up; but before his senses were well recovered, or his eyes open so as to distinguish their forms, Pompey struck out the light, and all was darkness: he then put his hand to Francisco's mouth, and led him out of the cabin.
The officer in charge of the deck hastened down. 'Did you call, sir?'
'Call!' repeated the captain. 'I thought there was some one in the cabin. I want a light--that's all,' continued he, recovering himself, as he wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead.
In the meantime Francisco, with Pompey, had gained his former place of refuge with the Kroumen. The feelings of the young man changed from agony to revenge; his object in returning to the cabin to recover his weapons had been frustrated, but his determination now was to take the life of the captain if he possibly could. The following morning the Kroumen again refused to work or go on deck; and the state of affairs was reported by Hawkhurst to his chief. The mate now assumed another tone; for he had sounded not the majority but the most steady and influential men on board, who, like himself, were veterans in crime.