Chapter Thirteen.William Solly has Thoughts.It would have been better, perhaps, for Nic Revel if he had not heard the result of the plan to get help from Captain Lawrence’s ship and its disastrous results for him.For Pete Burge’s narrative was correct enough, save that he made an omission or two, notably the fact that he was captured while making a brave effort to save Nic from the savage blows being dealt out to him by Humpy Dee, who was trying to visit upon his head the disappointment he felt through the failure of the raid.It was from finding Nic, helplessly insensible, being carried off by Pete that in the dark the sailors took the young man for one of the party they were to attack; and hence it was that he was tied fast to his injured companion, carried down the hill-slope to the river, bundled into the boat with the other prisoners, and carried off, there being no further communication held with the shore. Captain Lawrence knew nothing till long afterwards about Nic being missing, and the long, long search made for him in the pool; two of the men, when questioned later on during the inquiry, having seen him go down in the fierce struggle. But no one, during the confusion which ensued, had seen him rise again; for it was somewhere about that time that those who bore torches, and saw that the fight was going against them, dashed them down into the water, hoping the darkness would cover their escape.The Captain, in the triumphant issue of the encounter, had stood to see the prisoners all bound, and soon after, upon not finding his son, accepted Solly’s suggestion that Nic had walked down to see the prisoners off, and perhaps gone on board to thank the officer for his help.The next morning the ship was gone, and a horrible dread assailed master and man as to Nic’s fate. Then came the information from the two labourers who had taken part in the defence and the search, every inch of the pool and river being examined, till the suspicion became a certainty that Nic had been swept down the river and carried out to sea, the cap he wore having been brought in by one of the fishermen who harboured his boat in the mouth of the stream.But Captain Revel did not rest content with this: in his agony he communicated with Captain Lawrence, who came on at once, and confessed now to his old friend why, when his help was asked, he had jumped at the idea. They wanted men for one of the ships bound for Charleston and the West Indies, the pressgangs having been very unsuccessful; and as the salmon-poachers were described to him as being strong, active fellows, the idea struck him that here was a fine opportunity for ridding the neighbourhood of a gang of mischievous ne’er-do-weels—men who would be of service to their country, and henceforth leave his old brother-officer in peace; while any of them not particularly suitable could be easily got rid of among the sugar and tobacco plantations.“Then,” said Captain Revel, “you have sent them away?”“Yes; they sailed the next night. It was rather a high-handed transaction; but the service wanted them badly, and we can’t afford to be too particular at a time like this.”“But do you think it likely that my poor boy was among the prisoners?”“Impossible,” said the Captain. “If he were—which is not in the least likely—all he had to do was to speak and say who he was. But absurd! I should have known, of course.”“But after he was on board the other vessel?”“My dear old friend,” said Captain Lawrence sympathetically, “I shrink from dashing your hopes, but I feel how unjust it would be to back you up in the idea that he may have gone with the impressed men. He is a gentleman, and an English officer’s son, and he would only have to open his lips to any one he encountered, and explain his position, to be sent home from the first port he reached.”“Yes, yes, of course,” said the Captain bitterly; “and I shall never see my poor boy again.”Captain Lawrence was so uneasy about his friend that he went back to the boat and sent her off to the ship, returning afterwards to the house, bitterly regretting that he had sent his men ashore and allowed himself to be tempted into making a seizure of the poachers.Captain Revel was seated in his arm-chair when Captain Lawrence re-entered the house, looking calm, grave, and thoughtful. His friend’s coming made him raise his head and gaze sorrowfully; then, with a weary smile, he let his chin drop upon his breast and sat looking hard at the carpet.“Come, Revel, man,” cried Captain Lawrence, “you must cheer up. We sailors can’t afford to look at the black side of things.”“No, no; of course not,” said the stricken man. “I shall be better soon, Jack; better soon. I’m getting ready to fight it.”“That’s right; and before long you will have the boy marching into the room, or else sending you a letter.”“Yes, yes,” said Captain Revel, with a sad smile, and in a manner totally different from that which he generally assumed, “he’ll soon come back or write.”“But, poor fellow! he does not think so,” said Captain Lawrence to himself, as Nic’s father relapsed into thoughtful silence.“Solly, my lad,” said the visitor, when he felt that he must return to his vessel, “your master has got a nasty shock over this business.”“Ay, ay, sir; and he aren’t the only one as feels it. I ought never to ha’ left Master Nic’s side; but he put me in my station, and, of course, I had to obey orders.”“Of course, my lad. Here, we must make the best of it, and hope and pray that the boy will turn up again all right.”Solly shook his head sadly.“Ah, don’t do that, my man,” cried Captain Lawrence. “You a sailor, too. There’s life in a mussel, Solly. A man’s never dead with us till he is over the side with a shot at his heels.”“That’s true, sir,” said the old sailor; “but, you see, I’m afraid. There was some fierce fighting over yonder in the pitch-dark, where the lights waren’t showing. Sticks was a-going awful. If my poor boy got one o’ they cracks on his head and went beneath, there was plenty o’ water to wash him out o’ the pool and down the river.”“Yes; but hope for the best, man; hope for the best. Remember the bit of blue that comes in the wind’s eye often enough when we’re in the worst part of a gale.”“Ay, sir, that’s what I do—hope for the best, and that if my poor young master, who was as fine a lad as ever stepped, is done for, I may some day find out who it was that hit that blow, and pay it back.”“No, Solly,” said Captain Lawrence sternly. “An English sailor does not take revenge in cold blood for what was done in hot. Never! There, I must get off, and in a few days I hope to be back to see my old friend again. Meanwhile, I know he’s in good hands, and that he would not wish to be watched over by any one better than William Solly, his old companion in many a trouble of the past.”“It’s very kind o’ you to say so, sir,” said Solly humbly.“I only speak the truth, my man,” said the visitor. “I have seen a great deal, and Captain Revel has told me more, about what a faithful servant you have been to him. Do all you can to comfort him, for he is terribly changed.”The tears were in old Solly’s eyes, and there seemed to be a kink in his throat, as he said huskily:“Awful, sir. I was a-saying on’y the other day, when the skipper was wherriting hisself about losing a few salmon, and raging and blowing all over the place, that he wanted a real trouble to upset him, and that then he wouldn’t go so half-mad-like about a pack o’ poachers working the pool. But I little thought then that the real bad trouble was coming so soon; and it has altered him, sewer-ly. Poor Master Nic—poor dear lad! Seems on’y t’other day as I used to carry him sittin’ with his little bare legs over my two shoulders, and him holding on tight by my curly hair. Yes, sir, you look; it is smooth and shiny up aloft now, but I had a lot o’ short, curly hair then, just like an old Calabar nigger’s. And now, on’y to think of it.”“No, don’t think of it, my lad, for we are not certain, and we will not give up hope. There, good-bye, Solly, my man. Shake hands.”“Shake—hands, sir—with you, cap’n?”“No, not with the captain, but with the man who looks upon you as an old friend.”The next minute Solly was alone, rubbing his fist first in one eye and then in the other, twisting the big bony knuckle of his forefinger round so as to squeeze the moisture out.“Well now,” he said, “just look at that! What an old fool I am! Well, if I didn’t know as them there drops o’ mystur’ was ’cause o’ my poor lad Master Nic, I should ha’ thought it was all on account o’ what Cap’n Lawrence said. ‘Friend!’ he says. Well, I like that. I s’pose it’s ’cause I’ve allus tried to do my dooty, though I’ve made a horful muddle on it more’n once.”
It would have been better, perhaps, for Nic Revel if he had not heard the result of the plan to get help from Captain Lawrence’s ship and its disastrous results for him.
For Pete Burge’s narrative was correct enough, save that he made an omission or two, notably the fact that he was captured while making a brave effort to save Nic from the savage blows being dealt out to him by Humpy Dee, who was trying to visit upon his head the disappointment he felt through the failure of the raid.
It was from finding Nic, helplessly insensible, being carried off by Pete that in the dark the sailors took the young man for one of the party they were to attack; and hence it was that he was tied fast to his injured companion, carried down the hill-slope to the river, bundled into the boat with the other prisoners, and carried off, there being no further communication held with the shore. Captain Lawrence knew nothing till long afterwards about Nic being missing, and the long, long search made for him in the pool; two of the men, when questioned later on during the inquiry, having seen him go down in the fierce struggle. But no one, during the confusion which ensued, had seen him rise again; for it was somewhere about that time that those who bore torches, and saw that the fight was going against them, dashed them down into the water, hoping the darkness would cover their escape.
The Captain, in the triumphant issue of the encounter, had stood to see the prisoners all bound, and soon after, upon not finding his son, accepted Solly’s suggestion that Nic had walked down to see the prisoners off, and perhaps gone on board to thank the officer for his help.
The next morning the ship was gone, and a horrible dread assailed master and man as to Nic’s fate. Then came the information from the two labourers who had taken part in the defence and the search, every inch of the pool and river being examined, till the suspicion became a certainty that Nic had been swept down the river and carried out to sea, the cap he wore having been brought in by one of the fishermen who harboured his boat in the mouth of the stream.
But Captain Revel did not rest content with this: in his agony he communicated with Captain Lawrence, who came on at once, and confessed now to his old friend why, when his help was asked, he had jumped at the idea. They wanted men for one of the ships bound for Charleston and the West Indies, the pressgangs having been very unsuccessful; and as the salmon-poachers were described to him as being strong, active fellows, the idea struck him that here was a fine opportunity for ridding the neighbourhood of a gang of mischievous ne’er-do-weels—men who would be of service to their country, and henceforth leave his old brother-officer in peace; while any of them not particularly suitable could be easily got rid of among the sugar and tobacco plantations.
“Then,” said Captain Revel, “you have sent them away?”
“Yes; they sailed the next night. It was rather a high-handed transaction; but the service wanted them badly, and we can’t afford to be too particular at a time like this.”
“But do you think it likely that my poor boy was among the prisoners?”
“Impossible,” said the Captain. “If he were—which is not in the least likely—all he had to do was to speak and say who he was. But absurd! I should have known, of course.”
“But after he was on board the other vessel?”
“My dear old friend,” said Captain Lawrence sympathetically, “I shrink from dashing your hopes, but I feel how unjust it would be to back you up in the idea that he may have gone with the impressed men. He is a gentleman, and an English officer’s son, and he would only have to open his lips to any one he encountered, and explain his position, to be sent home from the first port he reached.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” said the Captain bitterly; “and I shall never see my poor boy again.”
Captain Lawrence was so uneasy about his friend that he went back to the boat and sent her off to the ship, returning afterwards to the house, bitterly regretting that he had sent his men ashore and allowed himself to be tempted into making a seizure of the poachers.
Captain Revel was seated in his arm-chair when Captain Lawrence re-entered the house, looking calm, grave, and thoughtful. His friend’s coming made him raise his head and gaze sorrowfully; then, with a weary smile, he let his chin drop upon his breast and sat looking hard at the carpet.
“Come, Revel, man,” cried Captain Lawrence, “you must cheer up. We sailors can’t afford to look at the black side of things.”
“No, no; of course not,” said the stricken man. “I shall be better soon, Jack; better soon. I’m getting ready to fight it.”
“That’s right; and before long you will have the boy marching into the room, or else sending you a letter.”
“Yes, yes,” said Captain Revel, with a sad smile, and in a manner totally different from that which he generally assumed, “he’ll soon come back or write.”
“But, poor fellow! he does not think so,” said Captain Lawrence to himself, as Nic’s father relapsed into thoughtful silence.
“Solly, my lad,” said the visitor, when he felt that he must return to his vessel, “your master has got a nasty shock over this business.”
“Ay, ay, sir; and he aren’t the only one as feels it. I ought never to ha’ left Master Nic’s side; but he put me in my station, and, of course, I had to obey orders.”
“Of course, my lad. Here, we must make the best of it, and hope and pray that the boy will turn up again all right.”
Solly shook his head sadly.
“Ah, don’t do that, my man,” cried Captain Lawrence. “You a sailor, too. There’s life in a mussel, Solly. A man’s never dead with us till he is over the side with a shot at his heels.”
“That’s true, sir,” said the old sailor; “but, you see, I’m afraid. There was some fierce fighting over yonder in the pitch-dark, where the lights waren’t showing. Sticks was a-going awful. If my poor boy got one o’ they cracks on his head and went beneath, there was plenty o’ water to wash him out o’ the pool and down the river.”
“Yes; but hope for the best, man; hope for the best. Remember the bit of blue that comes in the wind’s eye often enough when we’re in the worst part of a gale.”
“Ay, sir, that’s what I do—hope for the best, and that if my poor young master, who was as fine a lad as ever stepped, is done for, I may some day find out who it was that hit that blow, and pay it back.”
“No, Solly,” said Captain Lawrence sternly. “An English sailor does not take revenge in cold blood for what was done in hot. Never! There, I must get off, and in a few days I hope to be back to see my old friend again. Meanwhile, I know he’s in good hands, and that he would not wish to be watched over by any one better than William Solly, his old companion in many a trouble of the past.”
“It’s very kind o’ you to say so, sir,” said Solly humbly.
“I only speak the truth, my man,” said the visitor. “I have seen a great deal, and Captain Revel has told me more, about what a faithful servant you have been to him. Do all you can to comfort him, for he is terribly changed.”
The tears were in old Solly’s eyes, and there seemed to be a kink in his throat, as he said huskily:
“Awful, sir. I was a-saying on’y the other day, when the skipper was wherriting hisself about losing a few salmon, and raging and blowing all over the place, that he wanted a real trouble to upset him, and that then he wouldn’t go so half-mad-like about a pack o’ poachers working the pool. But I little thought then that the real bad trouble was coming so soon; and it has altered him, sewer-ly. Poor Master Nic—poor dear lad! Seems on’y t’other day as I used to carry him sittin’ with his little bare legs over my two shoulders, and him holding on tight by my curly hair. Yes, sir, you look; it is smooth and shiny up aloft now, but I had a lot o’ short, curly hair then, just like an old Calabar nigger’s. And now, on’y to think of it.”
“No, don’t think of it, my lad, for we are not certain, and we will not give up hope. There, good-bye, Solly, my man. Shake hands.”
“Shake—hands, sir—with you, cap’n?”
“No, not with the captain, but with the man who looks upon you as an old friend.”
The next minute Solly was alone, rubbing his fist first in one eye and then in the other, twisting the big bony knuckle of his forefinger round so as to squeeze the moisture out.
“Well now,” he said, “just look at that! What an old fool I am! Well, if I didn’t know as them there drops o’ mystur’ was ’cause o’ my poor lad Master Nic, I should ha’ thought it was all on account o’ what Cap’n Lawrence said. ‘Friend!’ he says. Well, I like that. I s’pose it’s ’cause I’ve allus tried to do my dooty, though I’ve made a horful muddle on it more’n once.”
Chapter Fourteen.From Darkness to Light.The next time the doctor came below to see his patients he examined Pete Burge.“Humph!” he ejaculated. “Lucky for you, my man, that you have such a thick skull. You’ll do now; but you’ve had a narrow escape. There, you can go up on deck every day a bit, but keep out of the sun; it’s very hot, and getting hotter. It will do you more good than stopping down in this black hole.”“Thank ye, master,” said Pete; and he lay still in his hammock, waiting for the doctor to go on deck before getting out and beginning to dress.“Look here,” said the doctor; “you are not off the sick-list yet, and you will come down and look after this lad till he is fit to go up.—Well, how are you, my lad?—Hold that light closer,” he continued, turning to his assistant. “Humph! fever stronger.—Has he been talking to you—sensibly?”“Yes, zir,” replied Pete. “A good deal muddled at first, but he began asking questions at last.”“What about?”“Didn’t know how he come here, and I had to tell him.”“Yes! What then?”“Give a zort of a groan, zir, and been talking to hisself ever zince.”“Humph! Poor wretch,” muttered the doctor, and he gave some instructions to his assistant before turning once more to Pete:“Look here, you had better stay with your mate when you are not on deck. If he gets worse you can fetch me.”“Where shall I find you, zir?” asked Pete.“Ask one of the men.”Pete began to dress as soon as he was alone, and found that it was no easy task on account of a strange feeling of giddiness; but he succeeded at last, and stepped to Nic’s hammock and laid a cool hand upon the poor fellow’s burning brow. Then he went on deck, glad to sit down right forward in the shade cast by one of the sails and watch the blue water whenever the vessel heeled over.The exertion, the fresh air, and the rocking motion of the ship produced a feeling of drowsiness, and Pete was dropping off to sleep when he started into wakefulness again, for half-a-dozen men came up a hatchway close at hand, with the irons they wore clinking, to sit down upon the deck pretty near the convalescent.Pete stared as he recognised Humpy Dee and five other partners in the raid.“There, what did I tell you?” said the first-named, speaking to his companions, but glaring savagely at Pete the while. “There he is. I allus knowed it. He aren’t in irons. It was his doing. Give warning, he did, and they brought the sailor Jacks up. It was a regular trap.”“What do you mean?” said Pete wonderingly.“What I say. I always knew you’d turn traitor and tell on us.”“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” cried Pete. “Look here, lads.”The men he addressed uttered a low growl and turned from him in disgust.“Oh, very well,” said Pete bitterly; “if you like to believe him instead of me, you can.”“I told you so,” went on Humpy Dee, whose countenance looked repulsive now from a patch of strips of sticking-plaster upon his forehead; “and he says I don’t know what I’m talking about.”“That’s right,” said Pete; “you don’t.”“Maybe; but I do now. Look ye here, Pete Burge; it’s your doing that we’re here. Nearly the whole lot on us took—there, you can see some of ’em sailors now. Pressed men. They took the pick of us; but we’re not good enough, we’re not, while you’re to be a bo’sun, or some’at o’ that sort, you expect. But you won’t, for, first chance I get, Pete Burge, I’m going to pitch you overboard, or put a knife in your back; so look out.”“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Pete again, for nothing better occurred to him; and as the charge seemed to have gone home for truth with the other unfortunates, one and all embittered by sickness, injuries, and confinement in irons below deck, Pete sulkily did as they did, turned away, confident that Humpy Dee’s threat would not be put in force then; for a marine was standing sentry over them, till the men in irons were marched below, Pete finding that, as one on the sick-list, he was free to go up or down when he liked.During the next fortnight the man puzzled himself as to what was to become of them. He had seen others of his companions often enough, going about their duties; but every one turned from him with a scowl of dislike, which showed that the charge Humpy had made had gone home, and that all believed he had betrayed them.The consequence was that he passed much of his time below decks, and preferred to come up for his breath of fresh air after dark, passing his time beside Nic’s hammock, thinking what he ought to do about him, and making up his mind what it was to be as soon as the poor fellow grew better and fully recovered his senses.“I’ll tell the doctor then,” he said to himself. “There’s no good in telling him now, for if I did they’d take him away and put him in a cabin, where it would only be lonezome for him and for me too; and no one would wait on him better than I do.”But Nic did not get better, as Pete wished, nor yet as the doctor essayed to make him.“It has got on his brain, poor fellow,” said that gentleman one day, when the patient was able to walk about, apparently nearly well, but his mind quite vacant. He talked, but the past was quite a blank.“But he’ll get it off, won’t he, zir?” said Pete, who felt the time to speak had come.“Some day, my lad. I dare say his memory will come back all of a sudden when he is stronger and better able to bear his trouble; so perhaps it’s all a blessing for him in disguise.”There was so much in this that Pete felt that it was not the time to speak yet.“What good can it do him till he can think?” he said to himself. “It will only be like me losing a mate as can be a bit o’ comfort, now every one’s again’ me. I mean to stick to him till he can speak out and tell ’em as I didn’t inform again’ the others.”So Pete held his tongue, and being so much below, was almost forgotten, save by the men of the watches who had to bring the two sick men their rations; and finally he left it till it was too late. For he awoke one morning to find that they were in port in a strange land, and in the course of the morning the word was passed to him and his unfortunate companion to “tumble up.”“Here, master,” he said to Nic; “you’re to come up.”Nic made no objection, but suffered himself to be led on deck, where he stood, pale and thin, the wreck of his former self, blinking in the unwonted light, and trying to stare about him, but in a blank way, ending by feeling for and clinging to Pete’s arm.Very little time was afforded the latter for looking about, wondering what was to happen next; all he saw on deck was a group of marines and about a couple of dozen of the sailors doing something to one of the boats, while the officers were looking on.The next minute his attention was taken by the beautiful country spreading out beyond the shore, a quarter of a mile away across the sparkling waters of the harbour.But there was something else to take his attention during the next minute, for there was the clanking of irons, and he saw Humpy Dee and his five companions marched up from below to be called to where he was standing with Nic.The poachers looked repellent enough as they followed Humpy Dee’s example, and scowled at the pair who had come up from the sick bay, and seemed to receive little sympathy from those who were looking on. Then there was an order given by one of the officers, and the crew of the boat climbed quickly in, while the marines came up behind the prisoners.“They’re going to take us ashore,” thought Pete excitedly, and the idea had hardly been grasped, before a couple of old hats were handed to him and his companion by the sergeant of marines.“They’re going to put uz with Humpy and that lot,” said Pete to himself excitedly; “and I must speak now.”He spoke. It was hurriedly and blunderingly done, and the officer whom he addressed looked at him frowningly.“What!” he cried; “this man is not one of you—one of the gang taken that night?”“No, master; he’s a gentleman, and took by mistake.”Humpy Dee’s eyes flashed, and he burst into a coarse laugh.“Silence, you scoundrel!—How dare you?” cried the officer angrily.“Couldn’t help it, master,” growled Humpy. “Make a horse laugh to hear such gammon.”“What! Do you say that what he tells me is not true?”“It is true, master,” cried Pete, “every word—”“All lies,” snarled the poacher savagely. “He was in the fight, and got hurt. He’s one of us. That Pete Burge peached on us, and brought the sailor Jacks on us; and he wants to get out of it to let us go alone. Lies, captain; all lies.”“What do you say, my men?” said the officer sternly, turning to Humpy’s companions.“Same as he does,” cried the pressed men in chorus.“And you?” cried the officer, turning to Nic. “Are you one of this fellow’s comrades?”“No, master, he aren’t,” cried Pete; “he aren’t, indeed. He’s nought to me. He’s—”“Silence, sir!” roared the officer. “You, sir,” he continued, turning to Nic, “speak out. Are you one of this fellow’s comrades?”Nic looked at him blankly, and there was silence on the deck, as the various groups stood there in the burning sunshine.“Well, sir, why don’t you answer?” cried the officer.Nic’s answer was in dumb-show, for, poor fellow, he did not grasp a word. He knew that the man by his side had been with him a great deal, and nursed and helped him, speaking soothingly when he was at his worst—every one else seemed strange; and without a word he smiled sadly in Pete’s face and took hold of his arm.“That will do,” said the officer, who had his orders to carry out. “In with them!”The marines laid their hands on Nic’s and Pete’s shoulders, while the sergeant signed to the others to climb into the boat; Humpy Dee turning, as he got in last, to give Pete a savage look of triumph.Pete turned sharply to the marine who was urging him to the side.“Tell me, mate,” he whispered quickly; “just a word. Where are we going to be took?”The marine glanced swiftly aside to see if it was safe to answer, and then whispered back:“Off to the plantations, I s’pose. There, keep a good heart, lad. It aren’t for ever and a day.”The plantations—to work as a kind of white slave for some colonist far-away.Pete, in his ignorance, only grasped half the truth; but that half was bad enough to make him sink down in the boat as it was lowered from the davits, put his lips close to Nic’s ear, and groan more than say:“Oh, Master Nic, lad, what have you done?”Then the boat kissed the water; the order was given; the oars fell with a splash; and, as the men gave way, Pete Burge darted a wild look about him, to find Humpy Dee just at his back, glaring malignantly, and as if about to speak, as he leaned forward.But no word came, for the marine sergeant clapped a hand upon his shoulder and thrust him back.“All right,” said Humpy Dee; “my time’ll come bimeby. Better than being a pressed man, after all.”Nic had been a long while in the darkness below deck, and his eyes were feeble; but, as the boat glided on rapidly towards the shore, they became more accustomed to the light, and he gazed wonderingly about in his confused state, seeing nothing of the trouble ahead, only the fact that he was approaching the far-stretching, sun-brightened shore.
The next time the doctor came below to see his patients he examined Pete Burge.
“Humph!” he ejaculated. “Lucky for you, my man, that you have such a thick skull. You’ll do now; but you’ve had a narrow escape. There, you can go up on deck every day a bit, but keep out of the sun; it’s very hot, and getting hotter. It will do you more good than stopping down in this black hole.”
“Thank ye, master,” said Pete; and he lay still in his hammock, waiting for the doctor to go on deck before getting out and beginning to dress.
“Look here,” said the doctor; “you are not off the sick-list yet, and you will come down and look after this lad till he is fit to go up.—Well, how are you, my lad?—Hold that light closer,” he continued, turning to his assistant. “Humph! fever stronger.—Has he been talking to you—sensibly?”
“Yes, zir,” replied Pete. “A good deal muddled at first, but he began asking questions at last.”
“What about?”
“Didn’t know how he come here, and I had to tell him.”
“Yes! What then?”
“Give a zort of a groan, zir, and been talking to hisself ever zince.”
“Humph! Poor wretch,” muttered the doctor, and he gave some instructions to his assistant before turning once more to Pete:
“Look here, you had better stay with your mate when you are not on deck. If he gets worse you can fetch me.”
“Where shall I find you, zir?” asked Pete.
“Ask one of the men.”
Pete began to dress as soon as he was alone, and found that it was no easy task on account of a strange feeling of giddiness; but he succeeded at last, and stepped to Nic’s hammock and laid a cool hand upon the poor fellow’s burning brow. Then he went on deck, glad to sit down right forward in the shade cast by one of the sails and watch the blue water whenever the vessel heeled over.
The exertion, the fresh air, and the rocking motion of the ship produced a feeling of drowsiness, and Pete was dropping off to sleep when he started into wakefulness again, for half-a-dozen men came up a hatchway close at hand, with the irons they wore clinking, to sit down upon the deck pretty near the convalescent.
Pete stared as he recognised Humpy Dee and five other partners in the raid.
“There, what did I tell you?” said the first-named, speaking to his companions, but glaring savagely at Pete the while. “There he is. I allus knowed it. He aren’t in irons. It was his doing. Give warning, he did, and they brought the sailor Jacks up. It was a regular trap.”
“What do you mean?” said Pete wonderingly.
“What I say. I always knew you’d turn traitor and tell on us.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” cried Pete. “Look here, lads.”
The men he addressed uttered a low growl and turned from him in disgust.
“Oh, very well,” said Pete bitterly; “if you like to believe him instead of me, you can.”
“I told you so,” went on Humpy Dee, whose countenance looked repulsive now from a patch of strips of sticking-plaster upon his forehead; “and he says I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“That’s right,” said Pete; “you don’t.”
“Maybe; but I do now. Look ye here, Pete Burge; it’s your doing that we’re here. Nearly the whole lot on us took—there, you can see some of ’em sailors now. Pressed men. They took the pick of us; but we’re not good enough, we’re not, while you’re to be a bo’sun, or some’at o’ that sort, you expect. But you won’t, for, first chance I get, Pete Burge, I’m going to pitch you overboard, or put a knife in your back; so look out.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Pete again, for nothing better occurred to him; and as the charge seemed to have gone home for truth with the other unfortunates, one and all embittered by sickness, injuries, and confinement in irons below deck, Pete sulkily did as they did, turned away, confident that Humpy Dee’s threat would not be put in force then; for a marine was standing sentry over them, till the men in irons were marched below, Pete finding that, as one on the sick-list, he was free to go up or down when he liked.
During the next fortnight the man puzzled himself as to what was to become of them. He had seen others of his companions often enough, going about their duties; but every one turned from him with a scowl of dislike, which showed that the charge Humpy had made had gone home, and that all believed he had betrayed them.
The consequence was that he passed much of his time below decks, and preferred to come up for his breath of fresh air after dark, passing his time beside Nic’s hammock, thinking what he ought to do about him, and making up his mind what it was to be as soon as the poor fellow grew better and fully recovered his senses.
“I’ll tell the doctor then,” he said to himself. “There’s no good in telling him now, for if I did they’d take him away and put him in a cabin, where it would only be lonezome for him and for me too; and no one would wait on him better than I do.”
But Nic did not get better, as Pete wished, nor yet as the doctor essayed to make him.
“It has got on his brain, poor fellow,” said that gentleman one day, when the patient was able to walk about, apparently nearly well, but his mind quite vacant. He talked, but the past was quite a blank.
“But he’ll get it off, won’t he, zir?” said Pete, who felt the time to speak had come.
“Some day, my lad. I dare say his memory will come back all of a sudden when he is stronger and better able to bear his trouble; so perhaps it’s all a blessing for him in disguise.”
There was so much in this that Pete felt that it was not the time to speak yet.
“What good can it do him till he can think?” he said to himself. “It will only be like me losing a mate as can be a bit o’ comfort, now every one’s again’ me. I mean to stick to him till he can speak out and tell ’em as I didn’t inform again’ the others.”
So Pete held his tongue, and being so much below, was almost forgotten, save by the men of the watches who had to bring the two sick men their rations; and finally he left it till it was too late. For he awoke one morning to find that they were in port in a strange land, and in the course of the morning the word was passed to him and his unfortunate companion to “tumble up.”
“Here, master,” he said to Nic; “you’re to come up.”
Nic made no objection, but suffered himself to be led on deck, where he stood, pale and thin, the wreck of his former self, blinking in the unwonted light, and trying to stare about him, but in a blank way, ending by feeling for and clinging to Pete’s arm.
Very little time was afforded the latter for looking about, wondering what was to happen next; all he saw on deck was a group of marines and about a couple of dozen of the sailors doing something to one of the boats, while the officers were looking on.
The next minute his attention was taken by the beautiful country spreading out beyond the shore, a quarter of a mile away across the sparkling waters of the harbour.
But there was something else to take his attention during the next minute, for there was the clanking of irons, and he saw Humpy Dee and his five companions marched up from below to be called to where he was standing with Nic.
The poachers looked repellent enough as they followed Humpy Dee’s example, and scowled at the pair who had come up from the sick bay, and seemed to receive little sympathy from those who were looking on. Then there was an order given by one of the officers, and the crew of the boat climbed quickly in, while the marines came up behind the prisoners.
“They’re going to take us ashore,” thought Pete excitedly, and the idea had hardly been grasped, before a couple of old hats were handed to him and his companion by the sergeant of marines.
“They’re going to put uz with Humpy and that lot,” said Pete to himself excitedly; “and I must speak now.”
He spoke. It was hurriedly and blunderingly done, and the officer whom he addressed looked at him frowningly.
“What!” he cried; “this man is not one of you—one of the gang taken that night?”
“No, master; he’s a gentleman, and took by mistake.”
Humpy Dee’s eyes flashed, and he burst into a coarse laugh.
“Silence, you scoundrel!—How dare you?” cried the officer angrily.
“Couldn’t help it, master,” growled Humpy. “Make a horse laugh to hear such gammon.”
“What! Do you say that what he tells me is not true?”
“It is true, master,” cried Pete, “every word—”
“All lies,” snarled the poacher savagely. “He was in the fight, and got hurt. He’s one of us. That Pete Burge peached on us, and brought the sailor Jacks on us; and he wants to get out of it to let us go alone. Lies, captain; all lies.”
“What do you say, my men?” said the officer sternly, turning to Humpy’s companions.
“Same as he does,” cried the pressed men in chorus.
“And you?” cried the officer, turning to Nic. “Are you one of this fellow’s comrades?”
“No, master, he aren’t,” cried Pete; “he aren’t, indeed. He’s nought to me. He’s—”
“Silence, sir!” roared the officer. “You, sir,” he continued, turning to Nic, “speak out. Are you one of this fellow’s comrades?”
Nic looked at him blankly, and there was silence on the deck, as the various groups stood there in the burning sunshine.
“Well, sir, why don’t you answer?” cried the officer.
Nic’s answer was in dumb-show, for, poor fellow, he did not grasp a word. He knew that the man by his side had been with him a great deal, and nursed and helped him, speaking soothingly when he was at his worst—every one else seemed strange; and without a word he smiled sadly in Pete’s face and took hold of his arm.
“That will do,” said the officer, who had his orders to carry out. “In with them!”
The marines laid their hands on Nic’s and Pete’s shoulders, while the sergeant signed to the others to climb into the boat; Humpy Dee turning, as he got in last, to give Pete a savage look of triumph.
Pete turned sharply to the marine who was urging him to the side.
“Tell me, mate,” he whispered quickly; “just a word. Where are we going to be took?”
The marine glanced swiftly aside to see if it was safe to answer, and then whispered back:
“Off to the plantations, I s’pose. There, keep a good heart, lad. It aren’t for ever and a day.”
The plantations—to work as a kind of white slave for some colonist far-away.
Pete, in his ignorance, only grasped half the truth; but that half was bad enough to make him sink down in the boat as it was lowered from the davits, put his lips close to Nic’s ear, and groan more than say:
“Oh, Master Nic, lad, what have you done?”
Then the boat kissed the water; the order was given; the oars fell with a splash; and, as the men gave way, Pete Burge darted a wild look about him, to find Humpy Dee just at his back, glaring malignantly, and as if about to speak, as he leaned forward.
But no word came, for the marine sergeant clapped a hand upon his shoulder and thrust him back.
“All right,” said Humpy Dee; “my time’ll come bimeby. Better than being a pressed man, after all.”
Nic had been a long while in the darkness below deck, and his eyes were feeble; but, as the boat glided on rapidly towards the shore, they became more accustomed to the light, and he gazed wonderingly about in his confused state, seeing nothing of the trouble ahead, only the fact that he was approaching the far-stretching, sun-brightened shore.
Chapter Fifteen.Humpy Dee’s little Threats.However much he might have been disposed to make a fresh appeal on his companion’s behalf, Pete had no opportunity; for, upon the boat being run alongside of a roughly-made wharf, he and the others were hurried out and marched away to a kind of warehouse, and the care of them handed over to some people in authority, by whom they were shut-in, glad of the change from the broiling sun outside to the cool gloom of the interior, lit only by a grated window high up above the door, from which the rays streamed across the open roof, leaving the roughly-boarded floor in darkness.After a few minutes the eyes became accustomed to the gloom, and the men seated themselves upon the empty chests and barrels lying about, Pete securing one for Nic, who sat down mechanically, with his head thrown back so that he could gaze at the light. Pete contented himself with the rough floor, where he half-lay, listening to his companions in misfortune, half-a-dozen yards away, as they talked over their position and wondered where they were to go—to a man keeping aloof from Pete, the traitor they accredited with bringing them to their present state.The men were better informed than Pete had been, his stay in company with Nic and the dislike in which he was held by his old companions having kept him in ignorance of facts which they had picked up from the sailors. And now Pete gradually grasped in full that of which he had previously only had an inkling—that the pick of the prisoners had been reserved for man-o’-war’s-men, those who were considered unsuitable having been reserved for handing over to the colonists. This was in accordance with a custom dating as far back as the days of Cromwell, the Protector being accredited with ridding himself of troublesome prisoners by shipping them off to the plantations as white slaves, most of them never to return.“Well,” said Humpy Dee aloud, in the course of conversation, “I suppose it means work.”“Yes,” said another; “and one of the Jacks told me you have to hoe sugar-cane and tobacco and rice out in the hot sun, and if you don’t do enough you get the cat.”“If any one tries to give me the lash,” growled Humpy, “he’ll get something he won’t like.”“They’ll hang you or shoot you if you try on any games, old lad,” said another of the men.“Maybe, if they can,” said Humpy, with a laugh. “Perhaps we may be too many for them. I mean to take to the woods till I can get taken off by a ship.”“Ah, who knows?” said another. “I aren’t going to give up. Place don’t look so bad. See that river as we come up here?”“Of course,” growled Humpy.“Well, I dare say there’ll be salmon in it, same as there is at home.”“Tchah!” cried Humpy; “not here. This is foreign abroad man. You’ll get no salmon now.”“Well, any fish’ll do,” said another of the men. “The place don’t look bad, and anything’s better than being shut down below them decks. ’Nough to stifle a man. I know what I’m going to do, though, along with them as like to join me.”“You’re going to do what I tells you,” said Humpy Dee sourly; “I’m going to be head-man here; and if you don’t you’ll find yourself wishing you hadn’t been born.”The man growled something in an undertone, and Humpy made an offer at him as if to strike, causing his companion in misfortune to flinch back to avoid the expected blow.“Look here, boys,” said Humpy; “if every one here’s going to try to do things on his own hook we shall do nothing, so what you’ve got to do is to stick by me. We’re not going to be sold here like a gang o’ black slaves.”“But we are sold,” said the man who had shrunk away.“Never mind that; we’re not going to work, then,” said Humpy. “We’re going to slip off into the woods, get to that there river, and do something better than spear or bale out salmon. We’re going to take the first boat we see and get round to the coast, and then keep along till we find a ship to take us off.”“Well, that’s what I meant,” said the other man.“Then you’ll be all right,” said Humpy.So far, without paying attention, Pete had heard every word, and his blood began to course faster through his veins at the thought of escaping and helping Nic back to his friends; but, though he strove hard, not another word reached his ears; for Humpy leaned forward and began speaking in a hoarse whisper, his companions bending towards him, as he said with a peculiar intensity:“We’ve got to get back home, lads, and not stop here to rot in the sun to make money for whoever’s bought us; but there’s something to do first.”“What?” said one of the men, for Humpy Dee had stopped and sat in the gloom, glaring savagely at the farther side of the place.“Wait, and you’ll hear,” was the reply; and there was another pause, during which Nic uttered a low, weary sigh, and let himself fall sideways, so that his head sank in Pete’s lap, and, utterly exhausted, he dropped off to sleep.“You know how it all was,” Humpy went on at last. “I aren’t going to name no names, but some ’un was jealous-like o’ me, and wanting to take the lead always; and, when he found he couldn’t, he goes and blabs to the young master yonder. Well, we’re not going to take him back—we’ve not going to tell him how we’re going to do it.”“Have told him. Spoke loud enough,” said the man who had received the rebuff.Humpy leaned towards him, and with a peculiar, savage air, said in a husky whisper:“Look here, mate; there’s only room for one to lead here. If you aren’t satisfied you can go and sit along with them two and sham sick, like Pete Burge has all through the voyage.”“Well, don’t bite a man’s head off,” said the other. “Who wants to lead?”“You do, or you wouldn’t talk like a fool. Think I’m one, mates?—think I’m going to do as I said, and let him go and blab, so as to get into favour here? That’s just what I don’t mean to do.”“Then what are you going to do?” said his fellow-prisoner; but for a few moments Humpy only glared at him without speaking. At last, though, he whispered:“I mean for us to go off together and get free; and as for some one else, I mean for us all to give him something to remember us by afore we go.”
However much he might have been disposed to make a fresh appeal on his companion’s behalf, Pete had no opportunity; for, upon the boat being run alongside of a roughly-made wharf, he and the others were hurried out and marched away to a kind of warehouse, and the care of them handed over to some people in authority, by whom they were shut-in, glad of the change from the broiling sun outside to the cool gloom of the interior, lit only by a grated window high up above the door, from which the rays streamed across the open roof, leaving the roughly-boarded floor in darkness.
After a few minutes the eyes became accustomed to the gloom, and the men seated themselves upon the empty chests and barrels lying about, Pete securing one for Nic, who sat down mechanically, with his head thrown back so that he could gaze at the light. Pete contented himself with the rough floor, where he half-lay, listening to his companions in misfortune, half-a-dozen yards away, as they talked over their position and wondered where they were to go—to a man keeping aloof from Pete, the traitor they accredited with bringing them to their present state.
The men were better informed than Pete had been, his stay in company with Nic and the dislike in which he was held by his old companions having kept him in ignorance of facts which they had picked up from the sailors. And now Pete gradually grasped in full that of which he had previously only had an inkling—that the pick of the prisoners had been reserved for man-o’-war’s-men, those who were considered unsuitable having been reserved for handing over to the colonists. This was in accordance with a custom dating as far back as the days of Cromwell, the Protector being accredited with ridding himself of troublesome prisoners by shipping them off to the plantations as white slaves, most of them never to return.
“Well,” said Humpy Dee aloud, in the course of conversation, “I suppose it means work.”
“Yes,” said another; “and one of the Jacks told me you have to hoe sugar-cane and tobacco and rice out in the hot sun, and if you don’t do enough you get the cat.”
“If any one tries to give me the lash,” growled Humpy, “he’ll get something he won’t like.”
“They’ll hang you or shoot you if you try on any games, old lad,” said another of the men.
“Maybe, if they can,” said Humpy, with a laugh. “Perhaps we may be too many for them. I mean to take to the woods till I can get taken off by a ship.”
“Ah, who knows?” said another. “I aren’t going to give up. Place don’t look so bad. See that river as we come up here?”
“Of course,” growled Humpy.
“Well, I dare say there’ll be salmon in it, same as there is at home.”
“Tchah!” cried Humpy; “not here. This is foreign abroad man. You’ll get no salmon now.”
“Well, any fish’ll do,” said another of the men. “The place don’t look bad, and anything’s better than being shut down below them decks. ’Nough to stifle a man. I know what I’m going to do, though, along with them as like to join me.”
“You’re going to do what I tells you,” said Humpy Dee sourly; “I’m going to be head-man here; and if you don’t you’ll find yourself wishing you hadn’t been born.”
The man growled something in an undertone, and Humpy made an offer at him as if to strike, causing his companion in misfortune to flinch back to avoid the expected blow.
“Look here, boys,” said Humpy; “if every one here’s going to try to do things on his own hook we shall do nothing, so what you’ve got to do is to stick by me. We’re not going to be sold here like a gang o’ black slaves.”
“But we are sold,” said the man who had shrunk away.
“Never mind that; we’re not going to work, then,” said Humpy. “We’re going to slip off into the woods, get to that there river, and do something better than spear or bale out salmon. We’re going to take the first boat we see and get round to the coast, and then keep along till we find a ship to take us off.”
“Well, that’s what I meant,” said the other man.
“Then you’ll be all right,” said Humpy.
So far, without paying attention, Pete had heard every word, and his blood began to course faster through his veins at the thought of escaping and helping Nic back to his friends; but, though he strove hard, not another word reached his ears; for Humpy leaned forward and began speaking in a hoarse whisper, his companions bending towards him, as he said with a peculiar intensity:
“We’ve got to get back home, lads, and not stop here to rot in the sun to make money for whoever’s bought us; but there’s something to do first.”
“What?” said one of the men, for Humpy Dee had stopped and sat in the gloom, glaring savagely at the farther side of the place.
“Wait, and you’ll hear,” was the reply; and there was another pause, during which Nic uttered a low, weary sigh, and let himself fall sideways, so that his head sank in Pete’s lap, and, utterly exhausted, he dropped off to sleep.
“You know how it all was,” Humpy went on at last. “I aren’t going to name no names, but some ’un was jealous-like o’ me, and wanting to take the lead always; and, when he found he couldn’t, he goes and blabs to the young master yonder. Well, we’re not going to take him back—we’ve not going to tell him how we’re going to do it.”
“Have told him. Spoke loud enough,” said the man who had received the rebuff.
Humpy leaned towards him, and with a peculiar, savage air, said in a husky whisper:
“Look here, mate; there’s only room for one to lead here. If you aren’t satisfied you can go and sit along with them two and sham sick, like Pete Burge has all through the voyage.”
“Well, don’t bite a man’s head off,” said the other. “Who wants to lead?”
“You do, or you wouldn’t talk like a fool. Think I’m one, mates?—think I’m going to do as I said, and let him go and blab, so as to get into favour here? That’s just what I don’t mean to do.”
“Then what are you going to do?” said his fellow-prisoner; but for a few moments Humpy only glared at him without speaking. At last, though, he whispered:
“I mean for us to go off together and get free; and as for some one else, I mean for us all to give him something to remember us by afore we go.”
Chapter Sixteen.Human Cattle.The prisoners had been sitting in the dark warehouse-like place for some hours, Nic sleeping soundly, and Pete watching and listening to his companions in misfortune, judging from their behaviour that he was to be treated as an outcast, but caring little, for he was conscious of having been true to them in their nefarious doings.“Let them think what they like,” he said to himself. “Humpy has got that into their heads, and if I talk to them for a week they won’t believe me.”Then he began to muse upon the subject which forms seven-eighths of a prisoner’s thoughts—how he and Nic were to escape, and whether it would be possible to get to a boat and float down the river of which they had had a glimpse, and of which he had heard his companions speaking, when suddenly there was the deep, heavy barking of a dog, followed by that of two more; and, as he listened, the sounds came nearer and nearer, in company with the shuffling of feet. Voices were heard too, and directly after there was a loud snuffling sound and a deep growling, as the dogs they had heard thrust their noses under the big door, tore at it, and growled savagely, till a fierce voice roared:“Come here! Lie down!” and there was a crack of a whip, and a sharp yelp to indicate that one of the dogs had received a blow.Directly after there was the rattle of a big key in the lock, the bolt snapped back, and the door was thrown open, to fill the place with the glow of the afternoon sunshine; and three great hounds bounded in, to rush at once for the prisoners and begin snuffing at them, growling loudly the while.“Call those dogs off, Saunders,” said a stern voice, as the entrance was darkened by the figures of a group of men.“In a moment,” was the reply, made by a tall, active-looking man, “They only want to know the new hands, and their flavour.—Here: down, boys!”The speaker accompanied his order with a sharp crack of the whip, and the dogs came back unwillingly from the groups seated on the floor.“Take care,” said the first speaker; “that man has a knife.”Pete turned sharply, to see that a knife-blade was gleaming in Humpy Dee’s hand.“Knife, has he?” said the man addressed as Saunders, and he stepped forward to where Humpy was crouching down.“Give me that knife,” he said sharply.“I don’t want to be eat by dogs,” said Humpy in a low, surly tone.“Give me that knife,” was reiterated sternly, “or I set the dogs to hold you while I take it away.”Humpy hesitated for a moment and glared in the speaker’s eyes; but he read there a power which was too much for him, and he closed the blade with a snap and slowly held it up.The man snatched it from him with his left hand, and the next instant there was a sharp whish through the air and a smart crack, as the stinging lash of a whip fell across Humpy’s shoulder, making him utter a yell of rage.“Saunders, Saunders!” said the first speaker reproachfully.“All right, Mr Groves; I know what I’m about,” said the man sharply. “That fellow was armed with a knife which he must have stolen from one of the sailors; and he was ready to use it. The sooner a savage brute like that is taught his position here the better for him. You have done your part and handed the scoundrels over to me, so please don’t interfere.”The first speaker shrugged his shoulders, and turned to a couple of men who were carrying a basket and a great pitcher; while Saunders went on sharply:“You hear what I am saying, my lads; so understand this: You have been sent out here from your country because you were not fit to stay there; and you will have to serve now up at your proprietor’s plantation. Behave yourselves, and you will be well fed, and fairly treated over your work; but I warn you that we stand no nonsense here. The law gives us power to treat you as you deserve. Our lives are sacred; yours are not—which means, as Mr Groves here will tell you, that if you venture to attack any one you will be shot down at sight, while I may as well tell you now that we shall fire at any man who attempts to escape.”Pete’s head gave a throb, and his hand glided slowly to Nic’s and held it tightly.“When you get up to the plantation you will see for yourselves that you cannot get away, for you will have jailers there always ready to watch you or hunt you down. There are three of them,” he continued, pointing to the dogs which crouched on the warehouse floor, panting, with their long red tongues out and curled up at the ends.At their master’s gesture the sagacious animals sprang up and gazed eagerly in his face.“Not now, boys; lie down.—Ah, what’s that?” he cried sharply, and the dogs made a movement as if to rush at the prisoners, for Humpy leaned sideways and whispered to his nearest companion:“More ways than one o’ killing a dog.”“Talking about the dogs,” said the other surlily. “You are making yourself a marked man, my friend. Take care. Who are these—the two who have been in hospital, Mr Groves?”“I suppose so,” was the reply.“What’s the matter with you?” said the overseer—for such he proved to be—addressing Pete. “Jump up.”Pete softly lifted Nic’s head from his knee and rose quickly.“Was cut down, sir,” said Pete; “but I’m getting better fast now.”“Good job for you. Now, you, sir; wake up.”The overseer raised the whip he held, to make a flick at Nic as he lay soundly asleep; but Pete stepped forward to save his companion, and in bending over him received the slight cut himself without flinching, though the lash made him feel as if he had been stung.“He has been a’most dead, zir,” said Pete sharply; “but he’s getting better now fast. Hasn’t got his zenses, though.”“Wake him up, then,” said the overseer sharply; “and you can get your meal now.—Here, my lads, bring that stuff here and serve it out.”Pete obeyed the order given, and began by gently shaking Nic, who made no sign. Pete shook him again more firmly, starting violently the next moment, for, unnoticed, one of the great hounds had approached him and lowered its muzzle to sniff at the prostrate man.Pete’s first instinctive idea was to strike fiercely at the savage-looking intruder, but fortunately he held his hand and bent over his companion wonderingly, and hardly able to believe what he saw; for as the dog nuzzled about Nic’s face, the young man, partly aroused by the shaking, opened his eyes, looked vacantly at the brute for some moments, and then, as if his intellectual powers were returning, he smiled, the animal stopping short and staring down at him closely.“Well, old fellow,” he said gently; “whose dog are you?”Pete looked up sharply, and saw that every one’s attention was centred on the basket and pitcher, the two men serving out the provisions and their two superiors looking on.Then he glanced back again, to see in horror that Nic had raised his hand to the dog’s muzzle, and followed that up by taking hold of and passing the animal’s long, soft ears through his hand.Pete would have seized the dog, but he felt paralysed by the thought that if he interfered he might make matters worse; and then his heart seemed to rise in his throat, for the great hound uttered a deep, short bark, which had the effect of bringing the others to its side.“Quiet, you, sirs!” cried their master, but he did not turn his head, and the three dogs now pressed round Nic, the first planting his fore-paws on the young man’s chest, blinking at him with his jaws apart and the long red tongue playing and quivering between the sets of keen milk-white teeth, evidently liking the caresses it received, and of which the other two appeared to be jealous, for they suddenly began to whimper; and then the first threw up its head, and all three broke into a loud baying.“Quiet, there!” roared Saunders, and he turned sharply now, saw what had taken place, and came back cracking his whip. “Ah!” he shouted. “Get back! How dare you?”The dogs growled, stood fast, and barked at him loudly.“Good boys, then!” cried Saunders. “Yes, it’s all right; you’ve found him. There, that will do.”The dogs began to leap and bound about the place, while their master turned to Pete.“Why didn’t you call me?” he said. “Have they bitten him?”“No; haven’t hurt him a bit,” said Pete quietly.“Lucky for him,” said the man. “There, you see what they’re like, and know what you have to expect—What?”“I said, are they your dogs?”Pete stared, for it was Nic who spoke, perfectly calmly, though in a feeble voice.“Yes,” replied Saunders. “Why?”“I could not help admiring them. They are magnificent beasts.”“I am glad you like them, sir,” said Saunders, with a mocking laugh; and he turned and strode away, to order the men to take some of the food they had brought to the other two prisoners, leaving Nic gazing after him.“Rather brusque,” he said, half to himself, and then he passed his hand over his eyes, drew a long, deep, restful breath, and turned over as if to go to sleep again; but he started up on his elbow instead as he encountered Pete’s face, and a look of horror and dislike contracted his own.“You here?” he said wonderingly.“Hush! Don’t speak aloud, dear lad,” whispered Pete excitedly.“Dear lad?”“Master Nic Revel, then. You haven’t quite come-to yet. You don’t remember. You were took bad again after being bad once—when you asked me questions aboard ship, and I had to tell you.”“Taken bad—aboard ship?”“Here you are; catch hold,” said a voice close to them; and one of the men handed each half a small loaf, while his companion filled a tin mug that must have held about half-a-pint, and offered it to Nic.The young man had let the great piece of bread fall into his lap, but the gurgling sound of the water falling into the mug seemed to rouse a latent feeling of intense thirst, and he raised himself more, took the vessel with both hands and half-drained it, rested for a few moments, panting, and then drank the rest before handing the tin back with a sigh of content.“No, no; hold it,” said the man sharply; and Nic had to retain it in his trembling hands while it was refilled.“There, give it to your mate,” said the water-bearer.The two young men’s eyes met over the vessel in silence, Nic’s full of angry dislike, Pete’s with an appealing, deprecating look, which did not soften Nic’s in the least.“Well, why don’t you take it?” said the man with the pitcher.“Don’t seem to kinder want it now,” replied Pete hoarsely.“Drink it, man, and don’t be a fool. You’ll be glad of it long before you get there. Sun’s hot yet, and the water’s salt for miles, and then for far enough brackish.”Nic looked at the speaker wonderingly, for the blank feeling seemed to be coming with the forerunner of the peculiar sensation of confusion which had troubled him before, and he looked from one to the other as if for help; while Pete took the mug and drained it, but contented himself with slipping his bread inside the breast of his shirt, and stood looking down at Nic, whose lips parted to speak, but no words came.“Seem decent sort of fellows,” said the water-bearer, as he turned off towards the door with his companion; and the dogs rose to follow them, sniffing at the basket.“Yes, poor beggars!” said the other. “Whatever they’ve been up to in the old country, they’ve got to pay pretty dearly for it now.”Nic’s hearing was acute enough now, and he heard every word.“Here, you,” he gasped painfully. “Call them back.”“What for, Master Nic?” said Pete in an appealing whisper. “Don’t; you mustn’t now. Ask me for what you want.”“I want to know what all this means,” panted the young man. “Why am I here? What place is this? I’m not—I will know.”“No, no; don’t ask now, Master Nic,” whispered Pete. “You aren’t fit to know now. I’m with you, my lad, and I swear I won’t forsake ye.”“You—you will not forsake me?” said Nic, with a look of horror.“Never, my lad, while I’ve got a drop o’ blood in my veins. Don’t—don’t look at me like that. It waren’t all my fault. Wait a bit, and I’ll tell you everything, and help you to escape back to the old country.”“To the old country!” whispered Nic, whose voice was panting again from weakness. “Where are we, then?”“Amerikee, among the plantations, they say.”“But—but why? The plantations? What does it mean?”“Work,” said Saunders, who had come up behind them. “Now then, look sharp, and eat your bread. You’ll get no more till to-morrow morning, and in less than half-an-hour we shall start.”“Start?” cried Nic huskily, as he clapped his hands to his head and pressed it hard, as though he felt that if he did not hold on tightly his reason would glide away again.“Yes, man, start,” said Saunders. “Can you two fellows row?”“He can’t, sir; he’s too weak,” cried Pete eagerly; and the overseer’s face contracted. “But I can. Best man here with an oar. I can pull, sir, enough for two.”“I’ll put you to the proof before you sleep,” said the overseer sharply. “Now, Mr Groves, I’m at your service. I suppose I have some papers to sign?”“Yes,” said the agent, and he led the way, while the overseer followed, closing the door, placing a whistle to his lips and blowing a shrill note which was answered by a deep baying from the dogs.“Escape!” muttered Nic wildly. “Plantations! Why, I shall be a slave!”“No, no, my lad; don’t take it like that. I’ll help you to get away.”“Will ye?” growled Humpy Dee, coming towards them. “Then I tells that chap next time he comes. I splits on you as you splits on we; so look out, I say, both of you; look out!”“It’s a lie, Master Nic—a lie,” cried Pete fiercely. “I swear to you, I never—”Pete caught at the young man’s arm as he spoke, and then loosened it with a groan, for, with a look of revulsion, Nic cried hoarsely:“Don’t touch me; don’t come near me. Wretch—villain! This is all your work.”“And so say we, my fine fellow,” cried Humpy Dee, whose eyes sparkled with malignant joy. “His doing, every bit, ’cept what you put in, and for that you’ve got to take your share the same as us. And all because a few poor fellows wanted a bit o’ salmon. Hor, hor, hor! I say, take it coolly. No one won’t believe ye, and you may think yourself lucky to get off so well.”Nic turned from the man with a look of disgust, and sat up, resting his throbbing head in his hands; while, as Humpy Dee went back to his companions, whistling as he went, Pete threw himself upon the floor, watching him, with his hands opening and shutting in a strange way, as if they were eager to seize the brutal ruffian by the throat.
The prisoners had been sitting in the dark warehouse-like place for some hours, Nic sleeping soundly, and Pete watching and listening to his companions in misfortune, judging from their behaviour that he was to be treated as an outcast, but caring little, for he was conscious of having been true to them in their nefarious doings.
“Let them think what they like,” he said to himself. “Humpy has got that into their heads, and if I talk to them for a week they won’t believe me.”
Then he began to muse upon the subject which forms seven-eighths of a prisoner’s thoughts—how he and Nic were to escape, and whether it would be possible to get to a boat and float down the river of which they had had a glimpse, and of which he had heard his companions speaking, when suddenly there was the deep, heavy barking of a dog, followed by that of two more; and, as he listened, the sounds came nearer and nearer, in company with the shuffling of feet. Voices were heard too, and directly after there was a loud snuffling sound and a deep growling, as the dogs they had heard thrust their noses under the big door, tore at it, and growled savagely, till a fierce voice roared:
“Come here! Lie down!” and there was a crack of a whip, and a sharp yelp to indicate that one of the dogs had received a blow.
Directly after there was the rattle of a big key in the lock, the bolt snapped back, and the door was thrown open, to fill the place with the glow of the afternoon sunshine; and three great hounds bounded in, to rush at once for the prisoners and begin snuffing at them, growling loudly the while.
“Call those dogs off, Saunders,” said a stern voice, as the entrance was darkened by the figures of a group of men.
“In a moment,” was the reply, made by a tall, active-looking man, “They only want to know the new hands, and their flavour.—Here: down, boys!”
The speaker accompanied his order with a sharp crack of the whip, and the dogs came back unwillingly from the groups seated on the floor.
“Take care,” said the first speaker; “that man has a knife.”
Pete turned sharply, to see that a knife-blade was gleaming in Humpy Dee’s hand.
“Knife, has he?” said the man addressed as Saunders, and he stepped forward to where Humpy was crouching down.
“Give me that knife,” he said sharply.
“I don’t want to be eat by dogs,” said Humpy in a low, surly tone.
“Give me that knife,” was reiterated sternly, “or I set the dogs to hold you while I take it away.”
Humpy hesitated for a moment and glared in the speaker’s eyes; but he read there a power which was too much for him, and he closed the blade with a snap and slowly held it up.
The man snatched it from him with his left hand, and the next instant there was a sharp whish through the air and a smart crack, as the stinging lash of a whip fell across Humpy’s shoulder, making him utter a yell of rage.
“Saunders, Saunders!” said the first speaker reproachfully.
“All right, Mr Groves; I know what I’m about,” said the man sharply. “That fellow was armed with a knife which he must have stolen from one of the sailors; and he was ready to use it. The sooner a savage brute like that is taught his position here the better for him. You have done your part and handed the scoundrels over to me, so please don’t interfere.”
The first speaker shrugged his shoulders, and turned to a couple of men who were carrying a basket and a great pitcher; while Saunders went on sharply:
“You hear what I am saying, my lads; so understand this: You have been sent out here from your country because you were not fit to stay there; and you will have to serve now up at your proprietor’s plantation. Behave yourselves, and you will be well fed, and fairly treated over your work; but I warn you that we stand no nonsense here. The law gives us power to treat you as you deserve. Our lives are sacred; yours are not—which means, as Mr Groves here will tell you, that if you venture to attack any one you will be shot down at sight, while I may as well tell you now that we shall fire at any man who attempts to escape.”
Pete’s head gave a throb, and his hand glided slowly to Nic’s and held it tightly.
“When you get up to the plantation you will see for yourselves that you cannot get away, for you will have jailers there always ready to watch you or hunt you down. There are three of them,” he continued, pointing to the dogs which crouched on the warehouse floor, panting, with their long red tongues out and curled up at the ends.
At their master’s gesture the sagacious animals sprang up and gazed eagerly in his face.
“Not now, boys; lie down.—Ah, what’s that?” he cried sharply, and the dogs made a movement as if to rush at the prisoners, for Humpy leaned sideways and whispered to his nearest companion:
“More ways than one o’ killing a dog.”
“Talking about the dogs,” said the other surlily. “You are making yourself a marked man, my friend. Take care. Who are these—the two who have been in hospital, Mr Groves?”
“I suppose so,” was the reply.
“What’s the matter with you?” said the overseer—for such he proved to be—addressing Pete. “Jump up.”
Pete softly lifted Nic’s head from his knee and rose quickly.
“Was cut down, sir,” said Pete; “but I’m getting better fast now.”
“Good job for you. Now, you, sir; wake up.”
The overseer raised the whip he held, to make a flick at Nic as he lay soundly asleep; but Pete stepped forward to save his companion, and in bending over him received the slight cut himself without flinching, though the lash made him feel as if he had been stung.
“He has been a’most dead, zir,” said Pete sharply; “but he’s getting better now fast. Hasn’t got his zenses, though.”
“Wake him up, then,” said the overseer sharply; “and you can get your meal now.—Here, my lads, bring that stuff here and serve it out.”
Pete obeyed the order given, and began by gently shaking Nic, who made no sign. Pete shook him again more firmly, starting violently the next moment, for, unnoticed, one of the great hounds had approached him and lowered its muzzle to sniff at the prostrate man.
Pete’s first instinctive idea was to strike fiercely at the savage-looking intruder, but fortunately he held his hand and bent over his companion wonderingly, and hardly able to believe what he saw; for as the dog nuzzled about Nic’s face, the young man, partly aroused by the shaking, opened his eyes, looked vacantly at the brute for some moments, and then, as if his intellectual powers were returning, he smiled, the animal stopping short and staring down at him closely.
“Well, old fellow,” he said gently; “whose dog are you?”
Pete looked up sharply, and saw that every one’s attention was centred on the basket and pitcher, the two men serving out the provisions and their two superiors looking on.
Then he glanced back again, to see in horror that Nic had raised his hand to the dog’s muzzle, and followed that up by taking hold of and passing the animal’s long, soft ears through his hand.
Pete would have seized the dog, but he felt paralysed by the thought that if he interfered he might make matters worse; and then his heart seemed to rise in his throat, for the great hound uttered a deep, short bark, which had the effect of bringing the others to its side.
“Quiet, you, sirs!” cried their master, but he did not turn his head, and the three dogs now pressed round Nic, the first planting his fore-paws on the young man’s chest, blinking at him with his jaws apart and the long red tongue playing and quivering between the sets of keen milk-white teeth, evidently liking the caresses it received, and of which the other two appeared to be jealous, for they suddenly began to whimper; and then the first threw up its head, and all three broke into a loud baying.
“Quiet, there!” roared Saunders, and he turned sharply now, saw what had taken place, and came back cracking his whip. “Ah!” he shouted. “Get back! How dare you?”
The dogs growled, stood fast, and barked at him loudly.
“Good boys, then!” cried Saunders. “Yes, it’s all right; you’ve found him. There, that will do.”
The dogs began to leap and bound about the place, while their master turned to Pete.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he said. “Have they bitten him?”
“No; haven’t hurt him a bit,” said Pete quietly.
“Lucky for him,” said the man. “There, you see what they’re like, and know what you have to expect—What?”
“I said, are they your dogs?”
Pete stared, for it was Nic who spoke, perfectly calmly, though in a feeble voice.
“Yes,” replied Saunders. “Why?”
“I could not help admiring them. They are magnificent beasts.”
“I am glad you like them, sir,” said Saunders, with a mocking laugh; and he turned and strode away, to order the men to take some of the food they had brought to the other two prisoners, leaving Nic gazing after him.
“Rather brusque,” he said, half to himself, and then he passed his hand over his eyes, drew a long, deep, restful breath, and turned over as if to go to sleep again; but he started up on his elbow instead as he encountered Pete’s face, and a look of horror and dislike contracted his own.
“You here?” he said wonderingly.
“Hush! Don’t speak aloud, dear lad,” whispered Pete excitedly.
“Dear lad?”
“Master Nic Revel, then. You haven’t quite come-to yet. You don’t remember. You were took bad again after being bad once—when you asked me questions aboard ship, and I had to tell you.”
“Taken bad—aboard ship?”
“Here you are; catch hold,” said a voice close to them; and one of the men handed each half a small loaf, while his companion filled a tin mug that must have held about half-a-pint, and offered it to Nic.
The young man had let the great piece of bread fall into his lap, but the gurgling sound of the water falling into the mug seemed to rouse a latent feeling of intense thirst, and he raised himself more, took the vessel with both hands and half-drained it, rested for a few moments, panting, and then drank the rest before handing the tin back with a sigh of content.
“No, no; hold it,” said the man sharply; and Nic had to retain it in his trembling hands while it was refilled.
“There, give it to your mate,” said the water-bearer.
The two young men’s eyes met over the vessel in silence, Nic’s full of angry dislike, Pete’s with an appealing, deprecating look, which did not soften Nic’s in the least.
“Well, why don’t you take it?” said the man with the pitcher.
“Don’t seem to kinder want it now,” replied Pete hoarsely.
“Drink it, man, and don’t be a fool. You’ll be glad of it long before you get there. Sun’s hot yet, and the water’s salt for miles, and then for far enough brackish.”
Nic looked at the speaker wonderingly, for the blank feeling seemed to be coming with the forerunner of the peculiar sensation of confusion which had troubled him before, and he looked from one to the other as if for help; while Pete took the mug and drained it, but contented himself with slipping his bread inside the breast of his shirt, and stood looking down at Nic, whose lips parted to speak, but no words came.
“Seem decent sort of fellows,” said the water-bearer, as he turned off towards the door with his companion; and the dogs rose to follow them, sniffing at the basket.
“Yes, poor beggars!” said the other. “Whatever they’ve been up to in the old country, they’ve got to pay pretty dearly for it now.”
Nic’s hearing was acute enough now, and he heard every word.
“Here, you,” he gasped painfully. “Call them back.”
“What for, Master Nic?” said Pete in an appealing whisper. “Don’t; you mustn’t now. Ask me for what you want.”
“I want to know what all this means,” panted the young man. “Why am I here? What place is this? I’m not—I will know.”
“No, no; don’t ask now, Master Nic,” whispered Pete. “You aren’t fit to know now. I’m with you, my lad, and I swear I won’t forsake ye.”
“You—you will not forsake me?” said Nic, with a look of horror.
“Never, my lad, while I’ve got a drop o’ blood in my veins. Don’t—don’t look at me like that. It waren’t all my fault. Wait a bit, and I’ll tell you everything, and help you to escape back to the old country.”
“To the old country!” whispered Nic, whose voice was panting again from weakness. “Where are we, then?”
“Amerikee, among the plantations, they say.”
“But—but why? The plantations? What does it mean?”
“Work,” said Saunders, who had come up behind them. “Now then, look sharp, and eat your bread. You’ll get no more till to-morrow morning, and in less than half-an-hour we shall start.”
“Start?” cried Nic huskily, as he clapped his hands to his head and pressed it hard, as though he felt that if he did not hold on tightly his reason would glide away again.
“Yes, man, start,” said Saunders. “Can you two fellows row?”
“He can’t, sir; he’s too weak,” cried Pete eagerly; and the overseer’s face contracted. “But I can. Best man here with an oar. I can pull, sir, enough for two.”
“I’ll put you to the proof before you sleep,” said the overseer sharply. “Now, Mr Groves, I’m at your service. I suppose I have some papers to sign?”
“Yes,” said the agent, and he led the way, while the overseer followed, closing the door, placing a whistle to his lips and blowing a shrill note which was answered by a deep baying from the dogs.
“Escape!” muttered Nic wildly. “Plantations! Why, I shall be a slave!”
“No, no, my lad; don’t take it like that. I’ll help you to get away.”
“Will ye?” growled Humpy Dee, coming towards them. “Then I tells that chap next time he comes. I splits on you as you splits on we; so look out, I say, both of you; look out!”
“It’s a lie, Master Nic—a lie,” cried Pete fiercely. “I swear to you, I never—”
Pete caught at the young man’s arm as he spoke, and then loosened it with a groan, for, with a look of revulsion, Nic cried hoarsely:
“Don’t touch me; don’t come near me. Wretch—villain! This is all your work.”
“And so say we, my fine fellow,” cried Humpy Dee, whose eyes sparkled with malignant joy. “His doing, every bit, ’cept what you put in, and for that you’ve got to take your share the same as us. And all because a few poor fellows wanted a bit o’ salmon. Hor, hor, hor! I say, take it coolly. No one won’t believe ye, and you may think yourself lucky to get off so well.”
Nic turned from the man with a look of disgust, and sat up, resting his throbbing head in his hands; while, as Humpy Dee went back to his companions, whistling as he went, Pete threw himself upon the floor, watching him, with his hands opening and shutting in a strange way, as if they were eager to seize the brutal ruffian by the throat.
Chapter Seventeen.Chains and Slavery.Pete calmed down after a while, and began to feel a bit sulky. He had common-sense enough to begin looking at the state of affairs from a matter-of-fact point of view, and he lay conning the position over.“Just as he likes,” he said. “He pitches me over, and won’t have any more to do with me. Well, it aren’t no wonder, zeeing what I’ve been. Wonder what made me turn so zoft and zilly about him! Zeeing how hard it was for him to be zarved as he was, and then hooked off along with us.”“Dunno that it’s any worse for him than it is for me,” he muttered; “but zeemed to feel a bit sorry about him, poor lad!—there I go again: poor lad! No more poor lad than I be. Got it into my thick head that it was nice to help him while he was so bad, and that, now our lads have pitched me overboard, we was going to be mates and help one another. But we aren’t, for he’s pitched me overboard too.”“Well,” muttered Pete, with a bitter laugh, “I can zwim as well as most on ’em, and I shan’t hurt much; and as for him, he must take his chance with the rest on us. He’s got his wits back again, and don’t zeem like to go wool-gathering again; and, if he’s sharp, he’ll speak up and make that t’other man understand it’s all a blunder about him being sent off along o’ we. But there, he wants to go his own fashion, zo he must. But if I was him I should kick up a dust before we start, and have myself zent back home by the next ship.”He glanced in the gloom at where Nic was seated, and a feeling of sorrow for the poor fellow filled him again; but after the rebuff he had received he fought it off, and began to watch Humpy Dee and the others, as they sat together talking in a low tone, and then to meditate on their position towards himself.“They’re half-afraid of Humpy,” he thought, “and he’s made ’em think that I zet the sailors at them. If I go on talking till it’s a blue moon they won’t believe me, zo things must go their own way, and zome day they’ll find Humpy out; on’y I’m not going to let him do as he likes with me. This isn’t going to be a very cheerful zort of life out here; but, such as it is, it’s better than no life at all; zo I aren’t going to let him pitch me into the river or down some hole, or knock me on the head, or stick a knife into me. That won’t do. It’s murder—leastwise it is at home; p’raps it aren’t out here. Zeems not after the way that chap talked about shooting us down and zetting them dogs at us. Why, one of ’em’s stronger than us, and a zet-to wi’ one of ’em wouldn’t be nice. Bit of a coward, I s’pose, for I can’t abide being bitten by a dog.”“Best thing I can do will be to slip off first chance; for I zeem, what with Humpy and these folk, to have dropped into a nasty spot. Dessay I can take care of myself, and—nay, that won’t do; zeem sneaky-like to go and leave that poor lad, for I do zort o’ like him. Wonderful how they dogs took to him. Nay, that aren’t wonderful. Got a lot o’ zense, dogs have. Allus zeem to take to zick people and little tiny children, and blind folk too. How they like them too!”At that moment there was a deep baying sound not far-away, and Pete had not long to wait before there were steps, the door was unlocked and thrown open, and the overseer entered, accompanied by the dogs, and followed by a party of blacks, one of whom carried a roughly-made basket.They were big, muscular fellows, and shiny to a degree whenever the light caught their skins, a good deal of which was visible, for their dress consisted of a pair of striped cotton drawers, descending half-way to the knee, and a sleeveless jacket of the same material, worn open so that neck and breast were bare.The dogs barked at the prisoners, and repeated their examination by scent, ending by going well over Nic, who made no attempt to caress them, nor displayed any sign of fear, but sat in his place stolidly watching the proceedings, the dogs ending their nasal inspection by crouching down and watching him.The overseer was alone now, and his first proceeding was to take his stand by the black, who had set down the heavy basket, and call Humpy Dee to come forward, by the name of Number One.The man rose heavily, and this seemed to be a signal for the three hounds to spring to their feet again, making the man hesitate.“Them dogs bite, master?” he said.“Yes; they’ll be at your throat in a moment if you make the slightest attempt to escape,” said the overseer sharply.“Who’s going to try to escape?” grumbled Humpy.“You are thinking of it, sir,” said the overseer. “Mind this,” he continued—drawing the light jacket he wore aside and tapping his belt, thus showing a brace of heavy pistols—“I am a good shot, and I could easily bring you down as you ran.”“Who’s going to run?” grumbled Humpy. “Man can’t run with things like these on his legs.”“I have seen men run pretty fast in fetters,” said the overseer quietly; “but they did not run far. Come here.”Humpy shuffled along two or three steps, trailing his irons behind him, and the overseer shouted at him:“Pick up the links by the middle ring, sir, and move smartly.”He cracked his whip, and a thrill ran through Nic.Humpy did as he was told, and walked more quickly to where the overseer stood; but before he reached him the herculean black who stood by his basket, which looked like a coarsely-made imitation of the kind used by a carpenter for his tools, clapped a hand upon the prisoner’s shoulder and stopped him short, making Humpy turn upon him savagely.“Ah!” roared the overseer, as if he were speaking to one of the dogs.Humpy was overawed, and he stood still, while the black bent down, took a ball of oakum out of the basket, cut off about a foot, passed the piece through the centre ring of the irons, and deftly tied it to the prisoner’s waist-belt. Then, as Nic and Pete watched, the action going on fascinating them, the black made a sign to one of his companions, who dropped upon his knees by the basket, took out a hammer, and handed it to the first black. Then the kneeling man lifted out a small block of iron, which looked like a pyramid with the top flattened, clapped it on the floor, and the first black began to manipulate Humpy as a blacksmith would a horse he was about to shoe, dragging him to the little anvil with one hand, using the hammer-handle to poke him into position with the other.“Going to take off his irons,” thought Pete, and the same idea flashed across Nic’s mind.He was mistaken.Another black stepped up, as if fully aware of what was necessary, and stood behind Humpy, ready to hold him up when necessary; for the second black now seized one of the prisoner’s ankles, lifted his foot on to the little anvil, and the first examined the rivet, grunted his dissatisfaction, and Humpy’s foot was wrenched sidewise by one man, who held the rivet upon the anvil, while his leader struck it a few heavy blows to enlarge the head and make it perfectly safe.This done, Humpy was marched nearer the door, scowling savagely at having had to submit to this process; but he grinned his self-satisfaction as he saw his companions brought forward in turn for their irons to be examined—one to have them replaced by a fresh set, which were taken from the basket, and whose rings were tightly riveted about his ankles, the rivets of the old ones being quite loose.The men were ranged near the entrance, which, at a look from the overseer, was now guarded by the three unoccupied blacks.“Now you,” said the overseer to Pete, who rose from where he sat alone and approached the anvil with a curious sensation running through him.“Why didn’t they iron you?” said the overseer harshly.“Wounded and sick,” replied Pete gruffly.“Ah, well, you are not wounded and sick now.—He’s a big, strong fellow, Sam. Give him a heavy set.”The big black showed his fine set of white teeth. A set of fetters was taken from the basket, and with Pete’s foot held in position by the second black—a foot which twitched and prickled with a strong desire to kick—the first ring was quickly adjusted, a soft iron rivet passed through the two holes, and then the head was rested upon the little block of iron, and a few cleverly-delivered blows from the big black’s hammer spread the soft iron out into a second head, and the open ring was drawn tight.The second ankle-ring was quickly served in the same way, and the centre link was lifted and tied to the prisoner’s waist-belt, Pete turning scarlet, and wiping the perspiration from his dripping brow from time to time.“Over yonder with the others!”There was a movement among the men at the door as this order was given, and Pete winced; but even a man newly fettered can still feel pride, and the poor fellow determined that his old comrades should not think he was afraid of them. He walked boldly up to take his place, meeting Humpy’s malignant look of triumph without shrinking, and turning quickly directly after with a feeling of pity as he heard the overseer summon Nic to take his place in turn.“Now’s your time, my lad,” Pete said to himself. “Speak out like a man, and if you ask me to, I’ll back you up—I will.”He looked on excitedly, wondering whether Nic’s wits were still with him, as but so short a time ago they had only returned to him like a flash and then passed away, leaving him, as it were, in the dark.It was very still in the hot, close place, and every word spoken sounded strangely loud in the calm of the late afternoon.“Lighter irons,” said the overseer to the big black; and there was the clinking sound of the great links as the man handed the fetters from the basket.“And him not shrinking,” thought Pete. “Give me quite a turn. He can’t understand.”The big black took the fetters and balanced them in his hand, looking at his superior as much as to say, “Will these do?”The overseer took a step or two forward and grasped the chain, to stand holding it, gazing frowningly the while at Nic, who met his gaze without blenching.“Why don’t you speak—why don’t you speak?” muttered Pete. “Can’t you see that now’s your time?”“You’ve been bad, haven’t you?” said the overseer roughly.Nic raised his hand slowly to his head and touched the scar of a great cut on one side, the discoloration of a bruise on the other.“But quite well again now?”Nic smiled faintly.“I am weak as a child,” he replied.“Humph! Yes,” said the overseer, and he threw the chain upon the floor.Pete, who had been retaining his breath for some moments, uttered a faint exclamation full of relief.“But why didn’t he speak out and tell him?” For a few moments his better feelings urged him to speak out himself; but he shrank from exposing both to the denials of the other men again, and stood frowning and silent.Then the chance seemed to be gone, for the overseer gave the young prisoner a thrust towards the others, and Nic walked towards them straight for where Pete was waiting. Then he raised his eyes, saw who was standing in his way, and he went off to his right, to stop beside Humpy Dee, while a feeling of resentment rose hotly in Pete’s breast.“Oh, very well,” he muttered to himself; “it’s no business of mine.”The next minute the overseer gave a sharp order; the big black raised the basket and put himself at the head of the prisoners; the other slaves took their places on either side, and the overseer followed behind with the dogs, which began to bound about, barking loudly for a minute or two, and then walked quietly as the party left the gloomy warehouse behind.
Pete calmed down after a while, and began to feel a bit sulky. He had common-sense enough to begin looking at the state of affairs from a matter-of-fact point of view, and he lay conning the position over.
“Just as he likes,” he said. “He pitches me over, and won’t have any more to do with me. Well, it aren’t no wonder, zeeing what I’ve been. Wonder what made me turn so zoft and zilly about him! Zeeing how hard it was for him to be zarved as he was, and then hooked off along with us.”
“Dunno that it’s any worse for him than it is for me,” he muttered; “but zeemed to feel a bit sorry about him, poor lad!—there I go again: poor lad! No more poor lad than I be. Got it into my thick head that it was nice to help him while he was so bad, and that, now our lads have pitched me overboard, we was going to be mates and help one another. But we aren’t, for he’s pitched me overboard too.”
“Well,” muttered Pete, with a bitter laugh, “I can zwim as well as most on ’em, and I shan’t hurt much; and as for him, he must take his chance with the rest on us. He’s got his wits back again, and don’t zeem like to go wool-gathering again; and, if he’s sharp, he’ll speak up and make that t’other man understand it’s all a blunder about him being sent off along o’ we. But there, he wants to go his own fashion, zo he must. But if I was him I should kick up a dust before we start, and have myself zent back home by the next ship.”
He glanced in the gloom at where Nic was seated, and a feeling of sorrow for the poor fellow filled him again; but after the rebuff he had received he fought it off, and began to watch Humpy Dee and the others, as they sat together talking in a low tone, and then to meditate on their position towards himself.
“They’re half-afraid of Humpy,” he thought, “and he’s made ’em think that I zet the sailors at them. If I go on talking till it’s a blue moon they won’t believe me, zo things must go their own way, and zome day they’ll find Humpy out; on’y I’m not going to let him do as he likes with me. This isn’t going to be a very cheerful zort of life out here; but, such as it is, it’s better than no life at all; zo I aren’t going to let him pitch me into the river or down some hole, or knock me on the head, or stick a knife into me. That won’t do. It’s murder—leastwise it is at home; p’raps it aren’t out here. Zeems not after the way that chap talked about shooting us down and zetting them dogs at us. Why, one of ’em’s stronger than us, and a zet-to wi’ one of ’em wouldn’t be nice. Bit of a coward, I s’pose, for I can’t abide being bitten by a dog.”
“Best thing I can do will be to slip off first chance; for I zeem, what with Humpy and these folk, to have dropped into a nasty spot. Dessay I can take care of myself, and—nay, that won’t do; zeem sneaky-like to go and leave that poor lad, for I do zort o’ like him. Wonderful how they dogs took to him. Nay, that aren’t wonderful. Got a lot o’ zense, dogs have. Allus zeem to take to zick people and little tiny children, and blind folk too. How they like them too!”
At that moment there was a deep baying sound not far-away, and Pete had not long to wait before there were steps, the door was unlocked and thrown open, and the overseer entered, accompanied by the dogs, and followed by a party of blacks, one of whom carried a roughly-made basket.
They were big, muscular fellows, and shiny to a degree whenever the light caught their skins, a good deal of which was visible, for their dress consisted of a pair of striped cotton drawers, descending half-way to the knee, and a sleeveless jacket of the same material, worn open so that neck and breast were bare.
The dogs barked at the prisoners, and repeated their examination by scent, ending by going well over Nic, who made no attempt to caress them, nor displayed any sign of fear, but sat in his place stolidly watching the proceedings, the dogs ending their nasal inspection by crouching down and watching him.
The overseer was alone now, and his first proceeding was to take his stand by the black, who had set down the heavy basket, and call Humpy Dee to come forward, by the name of Number One.
The man rose heavily, and this seemed to be a signal for the three hounds to spring to their feet again, making the man hesitate.
“Them dogs bite, master?” he said.
“Yes; they’ll be at your throat in a moment if you make the slightest attempt to escape,” said the overseer sharply.
“Who’s going to try to escape?” grumbled Humpy.
“You are thinking of it, sir,” said the overseer. “Mind this,” he continued—drawing the light jacket he wore aside and tapping his belt, thus showing a brace of heavy pistols—“I am a good shot, and I could easily bring you down as you ran.”
“Who’s going to run?” grumbled Humpy. “Man can’t run with things like these on his legs.”
“I have seen men run pretty fast in fetters,” said the overseer quietly; “but they did not run far. Come here.”
Humpy shuffled along two or three steps, trailing his irons behind him, and the overseer shouted at him:
“Pick up the links by the middle ring, sir, and move smartly.”
He cracked his whip, and a thrill ran through Nic.
Humpy did as he was told, and walked more quickly to where the overseer stood; but before he reached him the herculean black who stood by his basket, which looked like a coarsely-made imitation of the kind used by a carpenter for his tools, clapped a hand upon the prisoner’s shoulder and stopped him short, making Humpy turn upon him savagely.
“Ah!” roared the overseer, as if he were speaking to one of the dogs.
Humpy was overawed, and he stood still, while the black bent down, took a ball of oakum out of the basket, cut off about a foot, passed the piece through the centre ring of the irons, and deftly tied it to the prisoner’s waist-belt. Then, as Nic and Pete watched, the action going on fascinating them, the black made a sign to one of his companions, who dropped upon his knees by the basket, took out a hammer, and handed it to the first black. Then the kneeling man lifted out a small block of iron, which looked like a pyramid with the top flattened, clapped it on the floor, and the first black began to manipulate Humpy as a blacksmith would a horse he was about to shoe, dragging him to the little anvil with one hand, using the hammer-handle to poke him into position with the other.
“Going to take off his irons,” thought Pete, and the same idea flashed across Nic’s mind.
He was mistaken.
Another black stepped up, as if fully aware of what was necessary, and stood behind Humpy, ready to hold him up when necessary; for the second black now seized one of the prisoner’s ankles, lifted his foot on to the little anvil, and the first examined the rivet, grunted his dissatisfaction, and Humpy’s foot was wrenched sidewise by one man, who held the rivet upon the anvil, while his leader struck it a few heavy blows to enlarge the head and make it perfectly safe.
This done, Humpy was marched nearer the door, scowling savagely at having had to submit to this process; but he grinned his self-satisfaction as he saw his companions brought forward in turn for their irons to be examined—one to have them replaced by a fresh set, which were taken from the basket, and whose rings were tightly riveted about his ankles, the rivets of the old ones being quite loose.
The men were ranged near the entrance, which, at a look from the overseer, was now guarded by the three unoccupied blacks.
“Now you,” said the overseer to Pete, who rose from where he sat alone and approached the anvil with a curious sensation running through him.
“Why didn’t they iron you?” said the overseer harshly.
“Wounded and sick,” replied Pete gruffly.
“Ah, well, you are not wounded and sick now.—He’s a big, strong fellow, Sam. Give him a heavy set.”
The big black showed his fine set of white teeth. A set of fetters was taken from the basket, and with Pete’s foot held in position by the second black—a foot which twitched and prickled with a strong desire to kick—the first ring was quickly adjusted, a soft iron rivet passed through the two holes, and then the head was rested upon the little block of iron, and a few cleverly-delivered blows from the big black’s hammer spread the soft iron out into a second head, and the open ring was drawn tight.
The second ankle-ring was quickly served in the same way, and the centre link was lifted and tied to the prisoner’s waist-belt, Pete turning scarlet, and wiping the perspiration from his dripping brow from time to time.
“Over yonder with the others!”
There was a movement among the men at the door as this order was given, and Pete winced; but even a man newly fettered can still feel pride, and the poor fellow determined that his old comrades should not think he was afraid of them. He walked boldly up to take his place, meeting Humpy’s malignant look of triumph without shrinking, and turning quickly directly after with a feeling of pity as he heard the overseer summon Nic to take his place in turn.
“Now’s your time, my lad,” Pete said to himself. “Speak out like a man, and if you ask me to, I’ll back you up—I will.”
He looked on excitedly, wondering whether Nic’s wits were still with him, as but so short a time ago they had only returned to him like a flash and then passed away, leaving him, as it were, in the dark.
It was very still in the hot, close place, and every word spoken sounded strangely loud in the calm of the late afternoon.
“Lighter irons,” said the overseer to the big black; and there was the clinking sound of the great links as the man handed the fetters from the basket.
“And him not shrinking,” thought Pete. “Give me quite a turn. He can’t understand.”
The big black took the fetters and balanced them in his hand, looking at his superior as much as to say, “Will these do?”
The overseer took a step or two forward and grasped the chain, to stand holding it, gazing frowningly the while at Nic, who met his gaze without blenching.
“Why don’t you speak—why don’t you speak?” muttered Pete. “Can’t you see that now’s your time?”
“You’ve been bad, haven’t you?” said the overseer roughly.
Nic raised his hand slowly to his head and touched the scar of a great cut on one side, the discoloration of a bruise on the other.
“But quite well again now?”
Nic smiled faintly.
“I am weak as a child,” he replied.
“Humph! Yes,” said the overseer, and he threw the chain upon the floor.
Pete, who had been retaining his breath for some moments, uttered a faint exclamation full of relief.
“But why didn’t he speak out and tell him?” For a few moments his better feelings urged him to speak out himself; but he shrank from exposing both to the denials of the other men again, and stood frowning and silent.
Then the chance seemed to be gone, for the overseer gave the young prisoner a thrust towards the others, and Nic walked towards them straight for where Pete was waiting. Then he raised his eyes, saw who was standing in his way, and he went off to his right, to stop beside Humpy Dee, while a feeling of resentment rose hotly in Pete’s breast.
“Oh, very well,” he muttered to himself; “it’s no business of mine.”
The next minute the overseer gave a sharp order; the big black raised the basket and put himself at the head of the prisoners; the other slaves took their places on either side, and the overseer followed behind with the dogs, which began to bound about, barking loudly for a minute or two, and then walked quietly as the party left the gloomy warehouse behind.