Chapter Ten.In the Doctor’s Clutches.It was the next day, and, in spite of wind-sails and open ports, hotter than ever. TheNautiluswas back off the Palm River, lying at anchor, waiting as usual for news which might end in a more successful expedition than the last, for the nefarious traffic was still being carried on just under the nose of Her Majesty’s little cruiser, in spite of every effort to catch the cunning skippers who set the officers at defiance.Mark opened his eyes after a long, refreshing sleep, for Bob Howlett had contrived to keep the cabin comparatively cool; and as soon as the lads’ eyes met, the sick middy’s thoughts went back to the last conversation they had held.“Bob,” he whispered.That young gentleman held up his hand.“Only a word or two and I’ll be quiet.”“Yes, you’d better. If you say much I’ll fetch old Whitney to give you an awful dose.”“Tell me this: is the captain much cut up, and Mr Staples, too?”“Of course they are, both of them, horribly.”Mark sighed, and was silent for some moments.“Tell me about Tom Fillot,” he said at last. “How is he?”“Pretty well all right again.”There was another pause, which lasted some minutes, before the sick lad spoke again.“Couldn’t the doctor save them?”“No; only the two,” replied Bob, coolly. “You see, the starving and heat were too much for them. Whitney did everything he could for them, but, as he said, they died off like flies.”Mark looked at him in horror.“How can you be so brutally cynical?” he said, with a shudder.“Who’s brutally cynical?” cried Bob, indignantly, and forgetting all the doctor’s orders. “I’m very sorry, of course. We did all we could to save the poor fellows, but they died, and there’s an end of them. I don’t feel bound to be miserable because the doctor couldn’t save them.”Mark’s brow contracted a little. He felt that he did not like Bob Howlett half so well as of old, but that perhaps he had been too hard in calling him brutally cynical, and he spoke more gently now.“Who were the two that recovered?”“Eh? I dunno.”Mark stared.“Well, how should I know what their names are? Hashy and Quashy, or something of the kind. They’re out and outers to eat, and don’t seem a bit the worse. I called ’em Soup and Taters yesterday after seeing ’em at their feeding.”“What are you talking about?”“I was answering your questions about the black fellows.”“I didn’t ask you about the blacks.”“Yes, you did.”“I didn’t, stupid,” said Mark, angrily.“Huh! Ha, ha!” cried Bob. “He’s getting better. Go it, old chap! Call me something else.”“I asked you about the boat’s crew.”“No, you didn’t. What about ’em?”“I asked you about their being saved, and you said all were dead but two.”“Oh, I say, what a cracker! You are getting better, and no mistake. You asked me about how many of the black fellows the doctor saved, and I told you those two first fellows that we got on board, and the others died.”“Then Mr Russell and the lads?”“Oh, they’re all right,” cried Bob; “leastways, not all right, but ever so much better. You’ve been by a long way the worst.”“Then Mr Russell isn’t dead?” gasped Mark.“Here, steady, my lad. What’s the matter?”“Oh, tell me—tell me!” cried Mark, excitedly.“Why, of course he isn’t. Now, don’t go on like that. Here, I’ll run for old Whitney.”“No, no,” whispered Mark, clinging to his messmate’s arm. “I’m better now. I thought you told me that he was dead. It has worried me dreadfully.”“Oh, but you shouldn’t get all sorts of fancies in your head now it’s a bit weak. I don’t know about sayingnowit’s a bit weak,” said Bob, with a comical smile, “because you always were a soft-headed sort of fellow. That’s better. Now you’ve cooled down.”“Yes,” said Mark, with a smile, “and I shall soon be better now.”“That’s your style. All my doing. I say, Van, old chap, I’ll take to doctoring you now; so kick old Whitney over, and leave it to me. Russell says he shall come and see you soon—”“I wish he would,” cried Mark.“If you don’t soon come and see him.”“I only wish I could,” said Mark, and he made an effort to rise, but sank back with a piteous look of misery in his face, which made Bob seize his hand.“Here, I say,” he cried cheerily. “Oh! Don’t look like that. You’re only a bit weak, messmate. Avast there! take a good grip o’ the health tack; haul in your slack, and ahoy! you’ll be full sail again in a week. I say, what do you think of that? I’m getting on with my nautical lingo, ain’t I?”Mark smiled feebly—just a wan, sickly smile, like a bit of sunshine on a wintry day.“Avast there! none of your grinning,” cried Bob. “Better than you could do it, old chap. That’s your sort. Cheer up. I must be off now. I’ll come back and talk to you as soon as I can, and if you behave yourself I’ll sing you a song.”There was a genuine smile on Mark Vandean’s face now, as he heard these words delivered with utmost seriousness.“No, no, don’t, Bob,” he said, feebly. “I am getting better, really, now. Don’t do that. It would be more than I could stand.”Bob Howlett uttered a peculiar sound, half-angry cry, half growl, caught up his cap, and marched out, as if in high dudgeon, while Mark lay back, staring at the open port-hole, through which came the warm glowing light of the tropic sunshine.“Poor old Bob!” he muttered; “he thinks he can sing, and of all the dreadful noises ever made.—Ha, ha, ha!”He laughed merrily at the recollection of some of his messmate’s vocal efforts, and his face was lit up as if with inward sunshine, till he heard a voice and looked round in wonder, to see that Captain Maitland, Mr Staples, and the doctor were at the doorway watching him.“Humph!” cried the captain; “not much cause for anxiety here.”“No,” said the first lieutenant: “he’s what the men call miching. Here, Vandean, when are you coming on deck? Can’t have you lying here with half a dozen people to wait upon you.”“I don’t want to, sir,” said Mark, in a piping voice. “Mr Whitney knows.”“Yes, I know,” said the doctor. “There,” he continued, turning to the two officers; “you don’t think much of your doctor, but what do you say to that?”He patted Mark’s head as he spoke.“I believe half the surgeons in the navy would have let the poor fellows slip through their fingers. I saved them all when they were in the most hopeless state.”“Not all,” said Mr Staples, with a sharp look at the captain. “What about the poor niggers?”“Well, I saved two of them, sir. The others were as good as dead when you called me to them. Humph! did my part better than you did yours. Why didn’t you take the schooner?”The captain laughed.“He has us there, Staples,” he said. “Let the doctors alone; they are a bad set of people to play with. Only serve you out when you come into their hands. Don’t take any notice of him, Whitney. Well, Vandean, I’m very glad to see you so cheerful, but don’t presume upon it. You must take it quietly, and be patient. I want to see you on deck again.”“Quite out of the question yet,” said the doctor, sharply.“I don’t mean on duty, Whitney,” said the captain smiling, “but in a cane seat under the awning. It would be brighter and better for him to see the men about.”“Thank you, sir,” cried Mark, with a smile full of gratitude.“Oh, that’s different,” said the doctor. “Well, after a few days I’ll have him carried up.”“Yes,” said the first lieutenant, “and he can lie there and hatch mischief along with Mr Howlett, and play with the monkey. Nice trio.”“Eh? Oh, yes, by the way, I cannot allow you young gentlemen to have pets of that class on board my ship. You are not schoolboys now. Why, you will be wanting white mice and guinea-pigs next!”“Shall I have the animal thrown overboard?” said Mr Staples.“Hump! Well—er—not till Mr Vandean is better. You’d like to keep it a little longer, eh?” said the captain, turning to the young invalid.“Very much,” cried Mark, as he thought of the quaint little old man he and Bob Howlett had bought.“Very well, you can for the present.”“And now, gentlemen,” interposed the doctor, “my patient requires rest and cool air. You are fidgeting him and making the place hot.”“That means go. Well, Staples, we must give way, I suppose. The doctor is always above the admiral. Make haste and get well, Vandean. Good-bye.”He shook hands warmly and turned to leave the cabin, the first lieutenant following his example, and turning to give the midshipman a friendly nod.“Hah!” said the doctor, as soon as they were alone; “they want to go too fast, and undo my work. I shall not have done with you yet awhile, Vandean, and you’ll have to attend very strictly to my orders if I’m to make a man of you. Did you take my medicine?”“Yes, sir.”“Sure?”Mark coloured.“Yes, sir, I told you.”“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” cried the doctor. “Dear me, how bumptious we are, young fellow. There, I believe you, but that’s more than I’d do for some of your tribe. There’s Mr Bob Howlett, for instance. If he had to take a dose, I should not only stop till he had emptied the glass, but I should pinch his nose till I was sure he had swallowed it. There, I will not give you more than is good for you, my lad. You think I’m glad to get hold of a job, and will not leave it till I’m obliged; but don’t you fall into an error about that, my dear sir. I’m too fond of ease.”“I’m sure you will do the best you can for me,” said Mark; “and I want to be grateful.”“Ah! Then you’re an exception, my lad.”“How is Mr Russell, sir?”“Getting on, but obstinate; wants to be well all at once, and get to his duties. I must go and see him now. Mind and take your stuff regularly. Morning.”The cabin was empty once more, save for the patient, who uttered a sigh of relief, and lay listening to the softpad,padof the sailors’ bare feet on the deck, and the voices of the officers giving their orders, all sounding pleasantly familiar as he lay back there feeling that he must be better from the interest he took in all that was going on, and the pleasant clearness of his head.“I wonder how long it will be before they have me on deck,” he said to himself.
It was the next day, and, in spite of wind-sails and open ports, hotter than ever. TheNautiluswas back off the Palm River, lying at anchor, waiting as usual for news which might end in a more successful expedition than the last, for the nefarious traffic was still being carried on just under the nose of Her Majesty’s little cruiser, in spite of every effort to catch the cunning skippers who set the officers at defiance.
Mark opened his eyes after a long, refreshing sleep, for Bob Howlett had contrived to keep the cabin comparatively cool; and as soon as the lads’ eyes met, the sick middy’s thoughts went back to the last conversation they had held.
“Bob,” he whispered.
That young gentleman held up his hand.
“Only a word or two and I’ll be quiet.”
“Yes, you’d better. If you say much I’ll fetch old Whitney to give you an awful dose.”
“Tell me this: is the captain much cut up, and Mr Staples, too?”
“Of course they are, both of them, horribly.”
Mark sighed, and was silent for some moments.
“Tell me about Tom Fillot,” he said at last. “How is he?”
“Pretty well all right again.”
There was another pause, which lasted some minutes, before the sick lad spoke again.
“Couldn’t the doctor save them?”
“No; only the two,” replied Bob, coolly. “You see, the starving and heat were too much for them. Whitney did everything he could for them, but, as he said, they died off like flies.”
Mark looked at him in horror.
“How can you be so brutally cynical?” he said, with a shudder.
“Who’s brutally cynical?” cried Bob, indignantly, and forgetting all the doctor’s orders. “I’m very sorry, of course. We did all we could to save the poor fellows, but they died, and there’s an end of them. I don’t feel bound to be miserable because the doctor couldn’t save them.”
Mark’s brow contracted a little. He felt that he did not like Bob Howlett half so well as of old, but that perhaps he had been too hard in calling him brutally cynical, and he spoke more gently now.
“Who were the two that recovered?”
“Eh? I dunno.”
Mark stared.
“Well, how should I know what their names are? Hashy and Quashy, or something of the kind. They’re out and outers to eat, and don’t seem a bit the worse. I called ’em Soup and Taters yesterday after seeing ’em at their feeding.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was answering your questions about the black fellows.”
“I didn’t ask you about the blacks.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I didn’t, stupid,” said Mark, angrily.
“Huh! Ha, ha!” cried Bob. “He’s getting better. Go it, old chap! Call me something else.”
“I asked you about the boat’s crew.”
“No, you didn’t. What about ’em?”
“I asked you about their being saved, and you said all were dead but two.”
“Oh, I say, what a cracker! You are getting better, and no mistake. You asked me about how many of the black fellows the doctor saved, and I told you those two first fellows that we got on board, and the others died.”
“Then Mr Russell and the lads?”
“Oh, they’re all right,” cried Bob; “leastways, not all right, but ever so much better. You’ve been by a long way the worst.”
“Then Mr Russell isn’t dead?” gasped Mark.
“Here, steady, my lad. What’s the matter?”
“Oh, tell me—tell me!” cried Mark, excitedly.
“Why, of course he isn’t. Now, don’t go on like that. Here, I’ll run for old Whitney.”
“No, no,” whispered Mark, clinging to his messmate’s arm. “I’m better now. I thought you told me that he was dead. It has worried me dreadfully.”
“Oh, but you shouldn’t get all sorts of fancies in your head now it’s a bit weak. I don’t know about sayingnowit’s a bit weak,” said Bob, with a comical smile, “because you always were a soft-headed sort of fellow. That’s better. Now you’ve cooled down.”
“Yes,” said Mark, with a smile, “and I shall soon be better now.”
“That’s your style. All my doing. I say, Van, old chap, I’ll take to doctoring you now; so kick old Whitney over, and leave it to me. Russell says he shall come and see you soon—”
“I wish he would,” cried Mark.
“If you don’t soon come and see him.”
“I only wish I could,” said Mark, and he made an effort to rise, but sank back with a piteous look of misery in his face, which made Bob seize his hand.
“Here, I say,” he cried cheerily. “Oh! Don’t look like that. You’re only a bit weak, messmate. Avast there! take a good grip o’ the health tack; haul in your slack, and ahoy! you’ll be full sail again in a week. I say, what do you think of that? I’m getting on with my nautical lingo, ain’t I?”
Mark smiled feebly—just a wan, sickly smile, like a bit of sunshine on a wintry day.
“Avast there! none of your grinning,” cried Bob. “Better than you could do it, old chap. That’s your sort. Cheer up. I must be off now. I’ll come back and talk to you as soon as I can, and if you behave yourself I’ll sing you a song.”
There was a genuine smile on Mark Vandean’s face now, as he heard these words delivered with utmost seriousness.
“No, no, don’t, Bob,” he said, feebly. “I am getting better, really, now. Don’t do that. It would be more than I could stand.”
Bob Howlett uttered a peculiar sound, half-angry cry, half growl, caught up his cap, and marched out, as if in high dudgeon, while Mark lay back, staring at the open port-hole, through which came the warm glowing light of the tropic sunshine.
“Poor old Bob!” he muttered; “he thinks he can sing, and of all the dreadful noises ever made.—Ha, ha, ha!”
He laughed merrily at the recollection of some of his messmate’s vocal efforts, and his face was lit up as if with inward sunshine, till he heard a voice and looked round in wonder, to see that Captain Maitland, Mr Staples, and the doctor were at the doorway watching him.
“Humph!” cried the captain; “not much cause for anxiety here.”
“No,” said the first lieutenant: “he’s what the men call miching. Here, Vandean, when are you coming on deck? Can’t have you lying here with half a dozen people to wait upon you.”
“I don’t want to, sir,” said Mark, in a piping voice. “Mr Whitney knows.”
“Yes, I know,” said the doctor. “There,” he continued, turning to the two officers; “you don’t think much of your doctor, but what do you say to that?”
He patted Mark’s head as he spoke.
“I believe half the surgeons in the navy would have let the poor fellows slip through their fingers. I saved them all when they were in the most hopeless state.”
“Not all,” said Mr Staples, with a sharp look at the captain. “What about the poor niggers?”
“Well, I saved two of them, sir. The others were as good as dead when you called me to them. Humph! did my part better than you did yours. Why didn’t you take the schooner?”
The captain laughed.
“He has us there, Staples,” he said. “Let the doctors alone; they are a bad set of people to play with. Only serve you out when you come into their hands. Don’t take any notice of him, Whitney. Well, Vandean, I’m very glad to see you so cheerful, but don’t presume upon it. You must take it quietly, and be patient. I want to see you on deck again.”
“Quite out of the question yet,” said the doctor, sharply.
“I don’t mean on duty, Whitney,” said the captain smiling, “but in a cane seat under the awning. It would be brighter and better for him to see the men about.”
“Thank you, sir,” cried Mark, with a smile full of gratitude.
“Oh, that’s different,” said the doctor. “Well, after a few days I’ll have him carried up.”
“Yes,” said the first lieutenant, “and he can lie there and hatch mischief along with Mr Howlett, and play with the monkey. Nice trio.”
“Eh? Oh, yes, by the way, I cannot allow you young gentlemen to have pets of that class on board my ship. You are not schoolboys now. Why, you will be wanting white mice and guinea-pigs next!”
“Shall I have the animal thrown overboard?” said Mr Staples.
“Hump! Well—er—not till Mr Vandean is better. You’d like to keep it a little longer, eh?” said the captain, turning to the young invalid.
“Very much,” cried Mark, as he thought of the quaint little old man he and Bob Howlett had bought.
“Very well, you can for the present.”
“And now, gentlemen,” interposed the doctor, “my patient requires rest and cool air. You are fidgeting him and making the place hot.”
“That means go. Well, Staples, we must give way, I suppose. The doctor is always above the admiral. Make haste and get well, Vandean. Good-bye.”
He shook hands warmly and turned to leave the cabin, the first lieutenant following his example, and turning to give the midshipman a friendly nod.
“Hah!” said the doctor, as soon as they were alone; “they want to go too fast, and undo my work. I shall not have done with you yet awhile, Vandean, and you’ll have to attend very strictly to my orders if I’m to make a man of you. Did you take my medicine?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sure?”
Mark coloured.
“Yes, sir, I told you.”
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” cried the doctor. “Dear me, how bumptious we are, young fellow. There, I believe you, but that’s more than I’d do for some of your tribe. There’s Mr Bob Howlett, for instance. If he had to take a dose, I should not only stop till he had emptied the glass, but I should pinch his nose till I was sure he had swallowed it. There, I will not give you more than is good for you, my lad. You think I’m glad to get hold of a job, and will not leave it till I’m obliged; but don’t you fall into an error about that, my dear sir. I’m too fond of ease.”
“I’m sure you will do the best you can for me,” said Mark; “and I want to be grateful.”
“Ah! Then you’re an exception, my lad.”
“How is Mr Russell, sir?”
“Getting on, but obstinate; wants to be well all at once, and get to his duties. I must go and see him now. Mind and take your stuff regularly. Morning.”
The cabin was empty once more, save for the patient, who uttered a sigh of relief, and lay listening to the softpad,padof the sailors’ bare feet on the deck, and the voices of the officers giving their orders, all sounding pleasantly familiar as he lay back there feeling that he must be better from the interest he took in all that was going on, and the pleasant clearness of his head.
“I wonder how long it will be before they have me on deck,” he said to himself.
Chapter Eleven.“Soup” And “Taters.”“Hooray!” cried Bob Howlett, about a week later, as he burst into the cabin.“What is it?” cried Mark, excitedly. “Why are they getting the anchor up?”“Don’t know. Nobody knows but the skipper, but we’re off somewhere, thank goodness, and you’re to come on deck to-day, and old Russell too.”“That is good news.”“Yes, I shall have you all right now, in no time, getting the breeze away from this dismal shore. Here, I’ve told your lady’s-maid—“Hoozoar we’re off to sea—he—he,Hoozoar we’re off to sea.”Mark thrust his fingers into his ears till the last word was sung, and then withdrew them.“Here, what do you mean about the lady’s-maid?”“I’ve told Tom Fillot to come. He’s to attend to you down here. I’ve got some one else for you on deck.”“Tell him to make haste, then.”“Come in,” cried Bob; and Tom Fillot came in, pulled his forelock, and kicked out one leg behind, as he stood grinning, but looking rather white and pulled down.“Ah, Tom,” cried Mark, “glad you have got well again. Coming to help me?”“Yes, sir! Mr Howlett said I was to come and wally de sham you, as he calls washing yer down and dressing of yer up. Same to you, sir, only you don’t look quite as I should like to see yer.”Half an hour later Mark was on deck in a long cane chair, the awning above his head, the monotonous-looking coast off astern, and forward and to right and left the blue dancing water, rippled by a light breeze which made theNautiluscareen over and glide through the little waves.“And how beautiful it all looks!” sighed the lad. “I never thought the ship so delightful, nor the sea so bright before.”Just then, Dance the coxswain came by, and saluted, Bob Howlett passing them the same moment.“Here you are, then, skipper,” he said. “What do you think of Joe Dance? Looks yellow about the gills, don’t he? Here comes the captain. Can I do anything for you, Vandean?”“Morning, Mr Vandean,” said the captain. “Come, that’s better. Now then, be smart and get well.”“I almost think I am well, sir,” replied Mark, “and feel ashamed of being so idle.”“Humph!” said Mr Staples, from behind him, “first midshipman I ever knew with so fine a conscience. But come, he does look better, sir.”“Oh yes. Only wants time,” said the captain. “You’ll be ready to help take the next slaver, Vandean—eh?”—this to the lieutenant; “well, say the next but one. By the way, Mr Vandean, you can send your attendant to the cabin for any books you like to read. Look here, Staples.”They went aft together talking, and then descended to the cabin, when Bob Howlett hurried up.“Why, you’re holding quite a levee, old chap. I want to introduce two gentlemen to you, only I don’t know about bringing them on the quarter-deck. All right, I will. It can be to move your chair.”Before Mark could say a word, the lad was off, and a minute later he returned with a couple of black sailors in white duck shirt and trousers—big built, fierce-looking fellows, whose black faces, hands, and feet showed strangely in contact with their snowy clothes.They followed Bob Howlett on deck and to the chair occupied by Mark, stopping at a sign given by the midshipman who led them up.“Here we are,” he said. “You two don’t understand a word I say, and I can’t make out a word of yours, so we’re free and equal there. Now, look here, this is Captain Vandean, and I’m Captain Howlett. That is, we shall be some day. Now then, listen.”The two blacks gazed at him intently, as if trying hard to understand him.“This, I say, is Captain Vandean, and I’m Captain Howlett, and we came in the boat and saved your lives when you were pitched overboard out of the slaver.”“Are these the two men?” said Mark, eagerly.“Right, my lord. These are they. I’ve had ’em holy-stoned and fresh painted. They seemed to want to stay, and the skipper said as he was short-handed he’d give ’em a trial. Of course, I took their parts; and I said to Maitland—”“Yes, what did you say to Maitland, Mr Howlett?” said the captain, who had returned unobserved.Bob’s jaw dropped. He was as a rule ready enough, but he was so completely taken aback that he was now speechless.“Ah,” said the captain, “your memory is so short that you cannot recollect. But try and bear this in mind, Mr Howlett. Don’t vapour and don’t brag. These things are not becoming to an officer and a gentleman.”He passed on, and Bob’s face was a study.“There, it’s all over,” he said, dismally. “Don’t laugh at a fellow. You might have said he was coming up.”“I can’t help laughing, and I didn’t know, Bob, really,” said Mark, merrily, “Oh, I say, you did look a muff.”“So would you,” said Bob, angrily. “There, I can’t say what I was going to say to you, only that their names are Soup and Taters. This is the one you brought aboard—Soup. And this is my one—Taters. Soup—Taters,” he said again, and he touched the two men on the shoulders as he spoke, both smiling faintly as they heard his words, and gazing from one to the other as if striving hard to catch the meaning. “Now then, what do you think of them?”“They both seem to be big, strong, healthy fellows.”“Yes, and I shall make first-class seamen of them.”“I suppose so,” said Mark, smiling.“There you go again—chaffing. Ah, you’re ever so much better,” grumbled Bob. Then turning to the two blacks—“Now then, you may both go below, only recollect that we’ve got a sort of right in you, because Mr Van here saved one of you, and I saved the other.”The two blacks gazed hard at the speaker, the man who had been dragged into the first cutter through Mark, bending forward a little, with his soft opal eyeballs gleaming and a wonderful intense look in his swart face. There was a twitching about the temples, and his lower lip trembled a little, while one hand was raised; but as Bob Howlett finished, he uttered a low sigh, muttered a few words to his companion, and drew himself up, folding his arms across his broad chest.“Well done, noble savage,” said Bob. “We very nearly understand each other. Here, Soup.”The black started at the word, and looked inquiringly at the speaker.“Don’t worry the poor fellows,” said Mark.“Who’s going to worry them? Look here, Soup, you’re going to serve the Queen, and the sooner you understand the Queen’s English the better. I’m going to suit the action to the word. Now then, see here.”Bob glanced sharply round, to see that only the officer of the watch was on deck, and then, going through a kind of pantomime with great rapidity, he made believe to be struggling with an assailant toward the bulwarks, and being pitched overboard, while the blacks looked on in astonishment.“Here, they think you’re going mad, Bob,” cried Mark. “Drop it.”“Sha’n’t! Look at ’em! They understand. Look here, Soup. Now then, Taters, I’m swimming for my life.”He struck out and swam drily, going through all the actions till he pretended to grow weak, threw up his hands, made believe to splash, and then let his head droop as he reached Mark’s chair.“Now then,” he said, “pretend to pull me into the boat.”Mark laughed and obeyed, helping to finish the pantomime, which was quite comprehended by the two blacks, when Bob pointed to his messmate, and said:“Here, Soup, this is the noble being who saved you.”The man uttered a few softly liquid words, smiled, and with his eyes full of thankfulness he took a step forward, his companion imitating his acts, and dropped down on his knees before Mark’s chair.“There,” cried Bob, “what do you say to— Oh, I say, stow that, Taters; not to him. I saved you. Don’t give him all the honour and glory.”But his explanation was in vain. Both the poor fellows had interpreted his words to mean that Mark had saved them both, and they crouched before him, making signs that he was their lord and they his humblest slaves.“Well! I do call this sickening,” cried Bob. “That’s just my luck. Look here, Taters. I should just like to peel you and give you three dozen, you nasty black-looking, ungrateful swab. Hi! jump up! Here comes old Staples. Now then, both of you, come along.”He seized one with each hand by the sleeves of their duck frocks, and dragged them forward; but in an instant, they had snatched themselves free, and returned to Mark, speaking softly in their own tongue, and with a good deal of gesticulation, till Mark ended Bob’s perplexity by pointing to the lower deck, when they walked obediently after the midshipman right away to the forecastle hatch, and went below.Five minutes later Bob was back again by his messmate’s side.“That’s just my luck,” he said, sourly. “I beat the bush and somebody else catches the bird. Oh, here’s Mr Russell coming; we shall have the whole quarter-deck on the sick list directly.”But all the same Bob ran across to offer the second lieutenant his arm, as he walked feebly toward where Mark was seated, and eagerly stretched out his hand to grasp that of the young brother officer who had shared the peril of what had so nearly been their last adventure.Mark heaved a sigh, but it was one full of satisfaction as they two sat quietly talking together, with first one and then another to come up and utter a few words of congratulation; and when sailors and marines passed and saluted with a friendly smile, there was no mistaking the popularity of the two convalescents.Meanwhile theNautilusglided along due south, and there was a good deal of speculation as to her next destination, till Mr Staples came up, and in the conversation which ensued, announced that they were to search for a river about sixty miles along the coast, one which was not marked down in any chart, but was supposed to exist, and to be a stronghold of those engaged in the slave trade.It was getting toward evening, and the two invalids had pleaded for the doctor’s permission to stay longer on deck, for the soft air was delicious, and gave them fresh strength at every breath. They were very silent as they sat watching with keen delight the varied business of the ship, doubly interesting to them now that they could not take part in it, when the wind began to drop, and the course of the vessel to grow more sluggish.There was nothing for the men to do, and permission had been given to a party of them, just towards sundown, to take the grains forward and try to harpoon some of the swift fish playing about their bows in the golden water; but instead of going and perching himself somewhere to take part in the sport, Bob Howlett hung about the chair of his brother middy.“Why don’t you go and join in the fishing, Howlett?” said Mr Russell.“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “It’ll be quite dark directly, and I was wishing, sir, for something to happen to make me an invalid.”“Because you have such an affection for Doctor Whitney’s doses?” said Mark, laughing.“No, so you needn’t make nasty remarks,” replied Bob. “I thought so, because middies who have been a little out of sorts get all kinds of attentions, and those who are quite well get bullied by first lieutenants, and are spoken to by captains as if they weren’t worth their salt, as Mr Staples calls it.”“I shall have to report Mr Robert Howlett’s insubordinate language,” said Mark’s fellow-invalid, when all at once there came a cry of rage, followed by a loud shouting somewhere forward. Then more cries, and confusion, and directly after there was a desperate scuffle going on by the forecastle hatch.“What’s that?” cried the first lieutenant; and in a few minutes, after a desperate fight, the two blacks were dragged forward, pushed by four of the men, and held by main force while the captain, who had hurried on deck, called for an explanation.This was given by a dozen voices at once, but in obedience to a command there was silence, in which the heavy panting breathing of the blacks could be plainly heard.“Now then,” said the captain, “one man speak. You, Dance, step forward. What does this mean?”“Beg pardon, sir,” said the coxswain of the first cutter; “some of the lads got skylarking and playing tricks with the two black hands.”“Whodid?” said the captain, sternly.“Beg pardon, sir, didn’t see, sir, but it made the two niggers wild, and one got a knife and the other a marlin-spike; and if they hadn’t been held there’d ha’ been murder done, and—”“Man overboard!” was yelled from right forward where the fishing had been going on, and following a loud splashing from just beneath the ship’s counter came that most thrilling of cries to send the blood coursing back even from the strongest man’s cheek.“Boat, boat—Help—help!”In tropic waters just as the sun had sunk below the horizon, and the rapid darkness was coming on.
“Hooray!” cried Bob Howlett, about a week later, as he burst into the cabin.
“What is it?” cried Mark, excitedly. “Why are they getting the anchor up?”
“Don’t know. Nobody knows but the skipper, but we’re off somewhere, thank goodness, and you’re to come on deck to-day, and old Russell too.”
“That is good news.”
“Yes, I shall have you all right now, in no time, getting the breeze away from this dismal shore. Here, I’ve told your lady’s-maid—
“Hoozoar we’re off to sea—he—he,Hoozoar we’re off to sea.”
“Hoozoar we’re off to sea—he—he,Hoozoar we’re off to sea.”
Mark thrust his fingers into his ears till the last word was sung, and then withdrew them.
“Here, what do you mean about the lady’s-maid?”
“I’ve told Tom Fillot to come. He’s to attend to you down here. I’ve got some one else for you on deck.”
“Tell him to make haste, then.”
“Come in,” cried Bob; and Tom Fillot came in, pulled his forelock, and kicked out one leg behind, as he stood grinning, but looking rather white and pulled down.
“Ah, Tom,” cried Mark, “glad you have got well again. Coming to help me?”
“Yes, sir! Mr Howlett said I was to come and wally de sham you, as he calls washing yer down and dressing of yer up. Same to you, sir, only you don’t look quite as I should like to see yer.”
Half an hour later Mark was on deck in a long cane chair, the awning above his head, the monotonous-looking coast off astern, and forward and to right and left the blue dancing water, rippled by a light breeze which made theNautiluscareen over and glide through the little waves.
“And how beautiful it all looks!” sighed the lad. “I never thought the ship so delightful, nor the sea so bright before.”
Just then, Dance the coxswain came by, and saluted, Bob Howlett passing them the same moment.
“Here you are, then, skipper,” he said. “What do you think of Joe Dance? Looks yellow about the gills, don’t he? Here comes the captain. Can I do anything for you, Vandean?”
“Morning, Mr Vandean,” said the captain. “Come, that’s better. Now then, be smart and get well.”
“I almost think I am well, sir,” replied Mark, “and feel ashamed of being so idle.”
“Humph!” said Mr Staples, from behind him, “first midshipman I ever knew with so fine a conscience. But come, he does look better, sir.”
“Oh yes. Only wants time,” said the captain. “You’ll be ready to help take the next slaver, Vandean—eh?”—this to the lieutenant; “well, say the next but one. By the way, Mr Vandean, you can send your attendant to the cabin for any books you like to read. Look here, Staples.”
They went aft together talking, and then descended to the cabin, when Bob Howlett hurried up.
“Why, you’re holding quite a levee, old chap. I want to introduce two gentlemen to you, only I don’t know about bringing them on the quarter-deck. All right, I will. It can be to move your chair.”
Before Mark could say a word, the lad was off, and a minute later he returned with a couple of black sailors in white duck shirt and trousers—big built, fierce-looking fellows, whose black faces, hands, and feet showed strangely in contact with their snowy clothes.
They followed Bob Howlett on deck and to the chair occupied by Mark, stopping at a sign given by the midshipman who led them up.
“Here we are,” he said. “You two don’t understand a word I say, and I can’t make out a word of yours, so we’re free and equal there. Now, look here, this is Captain Vandean, and I’m Captain Howlett. That is, we shall be some day. Now then, listen.”
The two blacks gazed at him intently, as if trying hard to understand him.
“This, I say, is Captain Vandean, and I’m Captain Howlett, and we came in the boat and saved your lives when you were pitched overboard out of the slaver.”
“Are these the two men?” said Mark, eagerly.
“Right, my lord. These are they. I’ve had ’em holy-stoned and fresh painted. They seemed to want to stay, and the skipper said as he was short-handed he’d give ’em a trial. Of course, I took their parts; and I said to Maitland—”
“Yes, what did you say to Maitland, Mr Howlett?” said the captain, who had returned unobserved.
Bob’s jaw dropped. He was as a rule ready enough, but he was so completely taken aback that he was now speechless.
“Ah,” said the captain, “your memory is so short that you cannot recollect. But try and bear this in mind, Mr Howlett. Don’t vapour and don’t brag. These things are not becoming to an officer and a gentleman.”
He passed on, and Bob’s face was a study.
“There, it’s all over,” he said, dismally. “Don’t laugh at a fellow. You might have said he was coming up.”
“I can’t help laughing, and I didn’t know, Bob, really,” said Mark, merrily, “Oh, I say, you did look a muff.”
“So would you,” said Bob, angrily. “There, I can’t say what I was going to say to you, only that their names are Soup and Taters. This is the one you brought aboard—Soup. And this is my one—Taters. Soup—Taters,” he said again, and he touched the two men on the shoulders as he spoke, both smiling faintly as they heard his words, and gazing from one to the other as if striving hard to catch the meaning. “Now then, what do you think of them?”
“They both seem to be big, strong, healthy fellows.”
“Yes, and I shall make first-class seamen of them.”
“I suppose so,” said Mark, smiling.
“There you go again—chaffing. Ah, you’re ever so much better,” grumbled Bob. Then turning to the two blacks—“Now then, you may both go below, only recollect that we’ve got a sort of right in you, because Mr Van here saved one of you, and I saved the other.”
The two blacks gazed hard at the speaker, the man who had been dragged into the first cutter through Mark, bending forward a little, with his soft opal eyeballs gleaming and a wonderful intense look in his swart face. There was a twitching about the temples, and his lower lip trembled a little, while one hand was raised; but as Bob Howlett finished, he uttered a low sigh, muttered a few words to his companion, and drew himself up, folding his arms across his broad chest.
“Well done, noble savage,” said Bob. “We very nearly understand each other. Here, Soup.”
The black started at the word, and looked inquiringly at the speaker.
“Don’t worry the poor fellows,” said Mark.
“Who’s going to worry them? Look here, Soup, you’re going to serve the Queen, and the sooner you understand the Queen’s English the better. I’m going to suit the action to the word. Now then, see here.”
Bob glanced sharply round, to see that only the officer of the watch was on deck, and then, going through a kind of pantomime with great rapidity, he made believe to be struggling with an assailant toward the bulwarks, and being pitched overboard, while the blacks looked on in astonishment.
“Here, they think you’re going mad, Bob,” cried Mark. “Drop it.”
“Sha’n’t! Look at ’em! They understand. Look here, Soup. Now then, Taters, I’m swimming for my life.”
He struck out and swam drily, going through all the actions till he pretended to grow weak, threw up his hands, made believe to splash, and then let his head droop as he reached Mark’s chair.
“Now then,” he said, “pretend to pull me into the boat.”
Mark laughed and obeyed, helping to finish the pantomime, which was quite comprehended by the two blacks, when Bob pointed to his messmate, and said:
“Here, Soup, this is the noble being who saved you.”
The man uttered a few softly liquid words, smiled, and with his eyes full of thankfulness he took a step forward, his companion imitating his acts, and dropped down on his knees before Mark’s chair.
“There,” cried Bob, “what do you say to— Oh, I say, stow that, Taters; not to him. I saved you. Don’t give him all the honour and glory.”
But his explanation was in vain. Both the poor fellows had interpreted his words to mean that Mark had saved them both, and they crouched before him, making signs that he was their lord and they his humblest slaves.
“Well! I do call this sickening,” cried Bob. “That’s just my luck. Look here, Taters. I should just like to peel you and give you three dozen, you nasty black-looking, ungrateful swab. Hi! jump up! Here comes old Staples. Now then, both of you, come along.”
He seized one with each hand by the sleeves of their duck frocks, and dragged them forward; but in an instant, they had snatched themselves free, and returned to Mark, speaking softly in their own tongue, and with a good deal of gesticulation, till Mark ended Bob’s perplexity by pointing to the lower deck, when they walked obediently after the midshipman right away to the forecastle hatch, and went below.
Five minutes later Bob was back again by his messmate’s side.
“That’s just my luck,” he said, sourly. “I beat the bush and somebody else catches the bird. Oh, here’s Mr Russell coming; we shall have the whole quarter-deck on the sick list directly.”
But all the same Bob ran across to offer the second lieutenant his arm, as he walked feebly toward where Mark was seated, and eagerly stretched out his hand to grasp that of the young brother officer who had shared the peril of what had so nearly been their last adventure.
Mark heaved a sigh, but it was one full of satisfaction as they two sat quietly talking together, with first one and then another to come up and utter a few words of congratulation; and when sailors and marines passed and saluted with a friendly smile, there was no mistaking the popularity of the two convalescents.
Meanwhile theNautilusglided along due south, and there was a good deal of speculation as to her next destination, till Mr Staples came up, and in the conversation which ensued, announced that they were to search for a river about sixty miles along the coast, one which was not marked down in any chart, but was supposed to exist, and to be a stronghold of those engaged in the slave trade.
It was getting toward evening, and the two invalids had pleaded for the doctor’s permission to stay longer on deck, for the soft air was delicious, and gave them fresh strength at every breath. They were very silent as they sat watching with keen delight the varied business of the ship, doubly interesting to them now that they could not take part in it, when the wind began to drop, and the course of the vessel to grow more sluggish.
There was nothing for the men to do, and permission had been given to a party of them, just towards sundown, to take the grains forward and try to harpoon some of the swift fish playing about their bows in the golden water; but instead of going and perching himself somewhere to take part in the sport, Bob Howlett hung about the chair of his brother middy.
“Why don’t you go and join in the fishing, Howlett?” said Mr Russell.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “It’ll be quite dark directly, and I was wishing, sir, for something to happen to make me an invalid.”
“Because you have such an affection for Doctor Whitney’s doses?” said Mark, laughing.
“No, so you needn’t make nasty remarks,” replied Bob. “I thought so, because middies who have been a little out of sorts get all kinds of attentions, and those who are quite well get bullied by first lieutenants, and are spoken to by captains as if they weren’t worth their salt, as Mr Staples calls it.”
“I shall have to report Mr Robert Howlett’s insubordinate language,” said Mark’s fellow-invalid, when all at once there came a cry of rage, followed by a loud shouting somewhere forward. Then more cries, and confusion, and directly after there was a desperate scuffle going on by the forecastle hatch.
“What’s that?” cried the first lieutenant; and in a few minutes, after a desperate fight, the two blacks were dragged forward, pushed by four of the men, and held by main force while the captain, who had hurried on deck, called for an explanation.
This was given by a dozen voices at once, but in obedience to a command there was silence, in which the heavy panting breathing of the blacks could be plainly heard.
“Now then,” said the captain, “one man speak. You, Dance, step forward. What does this mean?”
“Beg pardon, sir,” said the coxswain of the first cutter; “some of the lads got skylarking and playing tricks with the two black hands.”
“Whodid?” said the captain, sternly.
“Beg pardon, sir, didn’t see, sir, but it made the two niggers wild, and one got a knife and the other a marlin-spike; and if they hadn’t been held there’d ha’ been murder done, and—”
“Man overboard!” was yelled from right forward where the fishing had been going on, and following a loud splashing from just beneath the ship’s counter came that most thrilling of cries to send the blood coursing back even from the strongest man’s cheek.
“Boat, boat—Help—help!”
In tropic waters just as the sun had sunk below the horizon, and the rapid darkness was coming on.
Chapter Twelve.Dance makes Mistakes.“He’s tangled with the line,” came in a clear voice, which Mark recognised as Bob’s, and a shudder ran through him.It needs all the strict discipline and long training to prevent confusion even on board a man-of-war, in a time of emergency. Here the disposition of the men was to run to the ship’s side, and shout words of advice, but a sharp command or two brought the crew back to order, and the men rushed to the boat nearest to the spot where the man was struggling in the water.It was a fine, smart young sailor, who had been standing on a stay below the bowsprit, holding on with one hand, and straining out to aim a good throw at a large fish gliding beneath the bows. He had darted the harpooning “grains” or trident, struck the fish deeply, but from inexperience he had not carefully arranged the line attached to the staff. The result being that there was a sudden rush on the part of the fish as soon as it was struck, a ring of the line was tightened round the man’s arm in a firm tangled knot, and he was jerked from his hold and dragged down into the deep water for some distance before he rose again, struggling wildly and calling for help. He would get his lips above water for a moment or two, and then be dragged under again. Then he would rise to the surface and shriek for help in tones which thrilled his hearers.“Quick, my lads!” roared the first lieutenant. “Bless the man! Why can’t he cut himself loose?”There was a gurgling cry and silence, as the wheels of the falls chirruped and the boat began to descend; but at that moment there was a fresh excitement plainly seen from where Mark had tottered to the bulwark, and stood looking over the side at what seemed to be a moving shadow, far down under the surface, jerked about in a most extraordinary manner.He looked round sharply, for there was a loud cry, a babble of tongues, and the shouting of fresh orders, and simultaneously a life-buoy splashed in the sea, near where the man had been dragged down; the boat was descending and a white figure was seen to leap on to the bulwarks after a desperate struggle to free itself from those who had held it, and plunge head-first into the darkening waters.It was the bigger of the two blacks, who had in his insane rage taken advantage of the confusion and excitement to escape from those who held him prisoner and leap overboard, to swim for his liberty.The loud cries of excitement increased at this fresh development of the trouble. Two were overboard now; and one of the men who had held the black had been hurled upon the deck, rose to his knees holding a wrenched arm.“He’ll be drowned now,” growled the man; “and sarve him right. He’s as strong as a hox.”Mark saw the white-clothed figure strike the surface with a heavy plunge, and go down, make a carve of light beneath the water, and rise again to shake his black head and strike out for the open sea before him, insensible for the moment to everything but the idea of getting away. He, poor fellow, in his blind ignorance, knew no more, but before he had taken many strokes there was a wild gurgling shriek behind him, as the sailor’s head appeared, and the black stopped, turned, and swam back in time to seize the drowning man and hold him up just as he was dragged under again, the boat which had just kissed the water being still far-away, theNautilushaving glided on.The natural result was that as the fish gave its fierce jerking tug, and the black held on to the sailor, both were dragged under; but grasping the difficulty, the black seized the line and made a desperate snatch at it, with sufficient strength to detach the grains, and they both rose again, with the rescuer swimming strongly, the rescued half drowned, helpless and unable to raise a hand to save himself.“Hold on! Coming! Swim this way,” shouted the officer in charge of the boat; and as Mark looked aft at the actors in this scene, all growing more distant moment by moment, he heard Bob Howlett’s shrill voice plainly in spite of the distance,—“Hold on, Soup. Coming.”The words sounded incongruous—ridiculous—but the voice influenced the black, who turned and swam slowly toward them, trying to support his charge.“Can you see, Vandean?” said Mr Russell, who had crept to the bulwarks and stood beside the midshipman.“Yes, but how slow the boat is.”“They are keeping afloat, then—swimming?”“I think one of them is,” said Mark in a whisper.“Hah!” sighed the young lieutenant, “my eyes are dim and weak. How near is the boat now?”“Oh, it must be fifty yards away, and they’re going down. The men don’t try.”“It seems so to us, but they must be rowing their best. Are they getting near now?”“I don’t think so, and—and I can’t see anybody. Oh! how horrible. Pull, pull!”“Hush?” said Russell. “I can’t see, but the boat must be between us and the men. How was it all?”“I don’t quite understand, but the black seemed to try and save the man overboard. Don’t—don’t speak! I want to see. Oh, if I only had a glass. Mine’s below.”“Can you see them now?” said Russell, in a faint whisper.“No, no, this is dreadful,” groaned Mark; “they are so far-off, but I can see the boat. Yes, they are pulling hard now. No; they have ceased rowing, and two men are standing up now, and—too late—too late.”“Hurray!” came faintly from the distance, where the shades of the fast-falling tropical night had rendered the boat nearly invisible. The cheer was echoed from on board with a tremendous shout, as the distant cry rose again.“There, they have saved them, Mr Russell,” cried Mark excitedly.“Hah!” came in a low, deep sigh, as the lieutenant’s legs gave way beneath him, and he would have fallen if it had not been for the sudden action of Mark, who held the poor fellow’s arms pressed down over the rail as he called for help.“What is it?” cried a firm voice from close at hand, and the captain strode up. “Ah! Mr Russell fainting. Let him go, Mr Vandean. I’ll drop him into this seat.”The captain dragged a cane reclining-chair forward, and lowered the feeble man gently down.“There, he will soon come to,” said the captain. “He is too weak to be on deck.”“The sight of the men drowning upset him, sir.”“Of course, Mr Vandean. It nearly upset me, who have not been ill. Not a pleasant sight to see our fellow-creatures losing their lives, and not to be able to help them. Come, Russell, man, this will not do.”The lieutenant looked up at him wonderingly, as he unclosed his eyes.“Are they saved!” he said, faintly.“Thank God! Yes,” replied the captain; and just then a fresh cheer arose from the cutter, which was being pulled steadily back; the cheer was answered, and soon after the boat hung from the davits, and Bob cried up excitedly to Mark,—“I say, I saved him this time, old chap.”Then followed a few stern words from the captain, strictly forbidding further fishing except by the older and more experienced hands.Turning to the first lieutenant, he said in Mark’s hearing,—“Now comes the difficulty. How am I to punish this black for the knife business? He cannot understand a word that is said.”“No; it is difficult,” replied the first lieutenant; “but it cannot be passed over.”“The man evidently meant to escape, but repented on seeing a fellow-creature drowning, and saved his life. Well, that’s a good trait in his character, Staples. Black and savage though he is, the man must have good qualities. I’m afraid it was a mistake to keep the two poor fellows on board.”“Hasn’t turned out well so far, sir,” said the first lieutenant, gruffly. “There, sir, it’s for you to settle about the punishment. Something must be done.”“The plus seems to me to balance the minus, Staples,” said the captain. “I want to do something, but these poor savages cannot understand.” Then to the men gathered below, “Look here, my lads, with respect to this affray—”“Beg pardon, sir,” came from forward.“Who’s that?” said the captain, sternly. “How dare you interrupt!”“Axing your pardon, sir, Joe Dance, sir, coxswain fust cutter.”“Well, what is it, sir?”“I only wanted to say, sir, as I was down below, and I kep’ on saying to the lads, sir, as was a teasing the niggers—”“The blacks, my man,” said the captain, sharply.“Yes, your honour, the black niggers, sir. ‘Let ’em bide,’ I says; ‘what’s the good o’ teasing ’em? You’ll only make ’em want to bite.’ But they wouldn’t take no notice o’ what I said, sir, and kep’ it up till the poor chaps turned savage like, and it was hooroar, and all the fat in the fire.”“Stop, sir!” cried the captain, sternly. “Speak plain English, sir.”“Yes, sir; that’s what I’m a-trying to do, sir.”“You say that the men were teasing and baiting the two black hands, and you advised them not to?”“Well, your honour, it was hardly adwice, because I said I’d shove my fist in someone’s eye if he didn’t let the poor beggars bide.”Mr Staples uttered a curious sound, and the captain coughed.“Ah, well, you tried to make them stop their cowardly, unmanly tricks.”“That’s it, your honour.”“Then now give me the names of the men who were guilty, and as each man’s name is called let him stand out three paces to the front. Go on.”Joe Dance scratched his head, but did not speak.“Now, coxswain, speak out. The first man?”“Adam,” whispered Bob to Mark, at whose elbow he now stood, and Mark jerked back his elbow into the boy’s chest.“Well, sir, who was the first man?” cried the captain. “Beg pardon, your honour,” said Joe Dance, gruffly; “it was down in the fo’c’sle.”“I know that, sir, but I want to know the names.”A faint sound arose as if several men had drawn a deep breath.“Do you hear me, Dance?” cried the captain.“Oh yes, your honour.”“He won’t tell tales of his messmates,” said Bob, with his lips close to Mark’s ear.“Silence, Mr Howlett!” cried the captain, sternly. “Now, Dance, the names?”“Beg pardon, your honour, but there was only one dip a-going in the lantern, and it didn’t give light enough to tell which was your right hand and which was your left.”“The names, sir!” cried the captain, as once more there was the sound of a deep breath.“Couldn’t give yer one of ’em, sir, unless it was Tom Fillot.”“Hah! Stand out, sir.”“Why, I was taking my trick at the wheel, your honour,” cried Tom Fillot, in tones of protest.“So you was, messmet,” growled Dance; “so you was. There, your honour,” he continued, turning to the captain, “you see how dark it were.”“Try again, sir,” said the captain, sternly.“Dick Bannock,” said Dance.“Which I were o’ dooty in my watch, mate,” cried the man.“Ay, so you was, messmet. No, your honour, it were too dark. P’r’aps,” he added, cunningly, “one o’ the blacks knows.”Here there was a murmur.“Silence!” cried the captain, sternly. “I’m afraid I shall have to recall this as a mark against you, Dance, when the time comes for promotion. It is very plain, sir, that you do know, and will not speak. Hark here, my lads, I am going to pass this over. I cannot punish two ignorant, half-savage men for resenting a cruel attack upon them—cruel and cowardly. Go below now, and show me in the future that you have too much common sense to play such boys’ tricks again. Let the two blacks step out.”Efforts were made to induce the two Africans to advance, but without avail.“Now, are those men coming aft?” said the captain, sternly; but there was only a buzzing sound below, and something extremely like a scuffle.“Beg pardon, sir; they don’t understand,” said Bob Howlett. “They’d come up if I spoke to ’em.”“Then go down and send them aft—or no,” said the captain, impatiently. “I want them to understand that they are pardoned, but that there must be no violence again. There, that’s enough, Mr Staples. Pipe the men below.”“And that’s an end of it,” whispered Bob Howlett, as soon as the captain was out of hearing. “I say, Van, wasn’t old Joe Dance a trump?”
“He’s tangled with the line,” came in a clear voice, which Mark recognised as Bob’s, and a shudder ran through him.
It needs all the strict discipline and long training to prevent confusion even on board a man-of-war, in a time of emergency. Here the disposition of the men was to run to the ship’s side, and shout words of advice, but a sharp command or two brought the crew back to order, and the men rushed to the boat nearest to the spot where the man was struggling in the water.
It was a fine, smart young sailor, who had been standing on a stay below the bowsprit, holding on with one hand, and straining out to aim a good throw at a large fish gliding beneath the bows. He had darted the harpooning “grains” or trident, struck the fish deeply, but from inexperience he had not carefully arranged the line attached to the staff. The result being that there was a sudden rush on the part of the fish as soon as it was struck, a ring of the line was tightened round the man’s arm in a firm tangled knot, and he was jerked from his hold and dragged down into the deep water for some distance before he rose again, struggling wildly and calling for help. He would get his lips above water for a moment or two, and then be dragged under again. Then he would rise to the surface and shriek for help in tones which thrilled his hearers.
“Quick, my lads!” roared the first lieutenant. “Bless the man! Why can’t he cut himself loose?”
There was a gurgling cry and silence, as the wheels of the falls chirruped and the boat began to descend; but at that moment there was a fresh excitement plainly seen from where Mark had tottered to the bulwark, and stood looking over the side at what seemed to be a moving shadow, far down under the surface, jerked about in a most extraordinary manner.
He looked round sharply, for there was a loud cry, a babble of tongues, and the shouting of fresh orders, and simultaneously a life-buoy splashed in the sea, near where the man had been dragged down; the boat was descending and a white figure was seen to leap on to the bulwarks after a desperate struggle to free itself from those who had held it, and plunge head-first into the darkening waters.
It was the bigger of the two blacks, who had in his insane rage taken advantage of the confusion and excitement to escape from those who held him prisoner and leap overboard, to swim for his liberty.
The loud cries of excitement increased at this fresh development of the trouble. Two were overboard now; and one of the men who had held the black had been hurled upon the deck, rose to his knees holding a wrenched arm.
“He’ll be drowned now,” growled the man; “and sarve him right. He’s as strong as a hox.”
Mark saw the white-clothed figure strike the surface with a heavy plunge, and go down, make a carve of light beneath the water, and rise again to shake his black head and strike out for the open sea before him, insensible for the moment to everything but the idea of getting away. He, poor fellow, in his blind ignorance, knew no more, but before he had taken many strokes there was a wild gurgling shriek behind him, as the sailor’s head appeared, and the black stopped, turned, and swam back in time to seize the drowning man and hold him up just as he was dragged under again, the boat which had just kissed the water being still far-away, theNautilushaving glided on.
The natural result was that as the fish gave its fierce jerking tug, and the black held on to the sailor, both were dragged under; but grasping the difficulty, the black seized the line and made a desperate snatch at it, with sufficient strength to detach the grains, and they both rose again, with the rescuer swimming strongly, the rescued half drowned, helpless and unable to raise a hand to save himself.
“Hold on! Coming! Swim this way,” shouted the officer in charge of the boat; and as Mark looked aft at the actors in this scene, all growing more distant moment by moment, he heard Bob Howlett’s shrill voice plainly in spite of the distance,—“Hold on, Soup. Coming.”
The words sounded incongruous—ridiculous—but the voice influenced the black, who turned and swam slowly toward them, trying to support his charge.
“Can you see, Vandean?” said Mr Russell, who had crept to the bulwarks and stood beside the midshipman.
“Yes, but how slow the boat is.”
“They are keeping afloat, then—swimming?”
“I think one of them is,” said Mark in a whisper.
“Hah!” sighed the young lieutenant, “my eyes are dim and weak. How near is the boat now?”
“Oh, it must be fifty yards away, and they’re going down. The men don’t try.”
“It seems so to us, but they must be rowing their best. Are they getting near now?”
“I don’t think so, and—and I can’t see anybody. Oh! how horrible. Pull, pull!”
“Hush?” said Russell. “I can’t see, but the boat must be between us and the men. How was it all?”
“I don’t quite understand, but the black seemed to try and save the man overboard. Don’t—don’t speak! I want to see. Oh, if I only had a glass. Mine’s below.”
“Can you see them now?” said Russell, in a faint whisper.
“No, no, this is dreadful,” groaned Mark; “they are so far-off, but I can see the boat. Yes, they are pulling hard now. No; they have ceased rowing, and two men are standing up now, and—too late—too late.”
“Hurray!” came faintly from the distance, where the shades of the fast-falling tropical night had rendered the boat nearly invisible. The cheer was echoed from on board with a tremendous shout, as the distant cry rose again.
“There, they have saved them, Mr Russell,” cried Mark excitedly.
“Hah!” came in a low, deep sigh, as the lieutenant’s legs gave way beneath him, and he would have fallen if it had not been for the sudden action of Mark, who held the poor fellow’s arms pressed down over the rail as he called for help.
“What is it?” cried a firm voice from close at hand, and the captain strode up. “Ah! Mr Russell fainting. Let him go, Mr Vandean. I’ll drop him into this seat.”
The captain dragged a cane reclining-chair forward, and lowered the feeble man gently down.
“There, he will soon come to,” said the captain. “He is too weak to be on deck.”
“The sight of the men drowning upset him, sir.”
“Of course, Mr Vandean. It nearly upset me, who have not been ill. Not a pleasant sight to see our fellow-creatures losing their lives, and not to be able to help them. Come, Russell, man, this will not do.”
The lieutenant looked up at him wonderingly, as he unclosed his eyes.
“Are they saved!” he said, faintly.
“Thank God! Yes,” replied the captain; and just then a fresh cheer arose from the cutter, which was being pulled steadily back; the cheer was answered, and soon after the boat hung from the davits, and Bob cried up excitedly to Mark,—“I say, I saved him this time, old chap.”
Then followed a few stern words from the captain, strictly forbidding further fishing except by the older and more experienced hands.
Turning to the first lieutenant, he said in Mark’s hearing,—“Now comes the difficulty. How am I to punish this black for the knife business? He cannot understand a word that is said.”
“No; it is difficult,” replied the first lieutenant; “but it cannot be passed over.”
“The man evidently meant to escape, but repented on seeing a fellow-creature drowning, and saved his life. Well, that’s a good trait in his character, Staples. Black and savage though he is, the man must have good qualities. I’m afraid it was a mistake to keep the two poor fellows on board.”
“Hasn’t turned out well so far, sir,” said the first lieutenant, gruffly. “There, sir, it’s for you to settle about the punishment. Something must be done.”
“The plus seems to me to balance the minus, Staples,” said the captain. “I want to do something, but these poor savages cannot understand.” Then to the men gathered below, “Look here, my lads, with respect to this affray—”
“Beg pardon, sir,” came from forward.
“Who’s that?” said the captain, sternly. “How dare you interrupt!”
“Axing your pardon, sir, Joe Dance, sir, coxswain fust cutter.”
“Well, what is it, sir?”
“I only wanted to say, sir, as I was down below, and I kep’ on saying to the lads, sir, as was a teasing the niggers—”
“The blacks, my man,” said the captain, sharply.
“Yes, your honour, the black niggers, sir. ‘Let ’em bide,’ I says; ‘what’s the good o’ teasing ’em? You’ll only make ’em want to bite.’ But they wouldn’t take no notice o’ what I said, sir, and kep’ it up till the poor chaps turned savage like, and it was hooroar, and all the fat in the fire.”
“Stop, sir!” cried the captain, sternly. “Speak plain English, sir.”
“Yes, sir; that’s what I’m a-trying to do, sir.”
“You say that the men were teasing and baiting the two black hands, and you advised them not to?”
“Well, your honour, it was hardly adwice, because I said I’d shove my fist in someone’s eye if he didn’t let the poor beggars bide.”
Mr Staples uttered a curious sound, and the captain coughed.
“Ah, well, you tried to make them stop their cowardly, unmanly tricks.”
“That’s it, your honour.”
“Then now give me the names of the men who were guilty, and as each man’s name is called let him stand out three paces to the front. Go on.”
Joe Dance scratched his head, but did not speak.
“Now, coxswain, speak out. The first man?”
“Adam,” whispered Bob to Mark, at whose elbow he now stood, and Mark jerked back his elbow into the boy’s chest.
“Well, sir, who was the first man?” cried the captain. “Beg pardon, your honour,” said Joe Dance, gruffly; “it was down in the fo’c’sle.”
“I know that, sir, but I want to know the names.”
A faint sound arose as if several men had drawn a deep breath.
“Do you hear me, Dance?” cried the captain.
“Oh yes, your honour.”
“He won’t tell tales of his messmates,” said Bob, with his lips close to Mark’s ear.
“Silence, Mr Howlett!” cried the captain, sternly. “Now, Dance, the names?”
“Beg pardon, your honour, but there was only one dip a-going in the lantern, and it didn’t give light enough to tell which was your right hand and which was your left.”
“The names, sir!” cried the captain, as once more there was the sound of a deep breath.
“Couldn’t give yer one of ’em, sir, unless it was Tom Fillot.”
“Hah! Stand out, sir.”
“Why, I was taking my trick at the wheel, your honour,” cried Tom Fillot, in tones of protest.
“So you was, messmet,” growled Dance; “so you was. There, your honour,” he continued, turning to the captain, “you see how dark it were.”
“Try again, sir,” said the captain, sternly.
“Dick Bannock,” said Dance.
“Which I were o’ dooty in my watch, mate,” cried the man.
“Ay, so you was, messmet. No, your honour, it were too dark. P’r’aps,” he added, cunningly, “one o’ the blacks knows.”
Here there was a murmur.
“Silence!” cried the captain, sternly. “I’m afraid I shall have to recall this as a mark against you, Dance, when the time comes for promotion. It is very plain, sir, that you do know, and will not speak. Hark here, my lads, I am going to pass this over. I cannot punish two ignorant, half-savage men for resenting a cruel attack upon them—cruel and cowardly. Go below now, and show me in the future that you have too much common sense to play such boys’ tricks again. Let the two blacks step out.”
Efforts were made to induce the two Africans to advance, but without avail.
“Now, are those men coming aft?” said the captain, sternly; but there was only a buzzing sound below, and something extremely like a scuffle.
“Beg pardon, sir; they don’t understand,” said Bob Howlett. “They’d come up if I spoke to ’em.”
“Then go down and send them aft—or no,” said the captain, impatiently. “I want them to understand that they are pardoned, but that there must be no violence again. There, that’s enough, Mr Staples. Pipe the men below.”
“And that’s an end of it,” whispered Bob Howlett, as soon as the captain was out of hearing. “I say, Van, wasn’t old Joe Dance a trump?”
Chapter Thirteen.The Enemy once more.“All this time sailing here and there,” said Mark one day, “and not done a bit of good.”“Do you hear that, Mr Whitney?” cried Bob. “There’s gratitude, when it has been just as if we were under orders to keep at sea so as to get him and Mr Russell well again; and look at ’em now. Why, it has quite cured ’em both.”“And their doctor has done nothing, Mr Bob Howlett?”“Oh, I didn’t mean that, sir, exactly,” said that gentleman, colouring a little. “Of course you have done them a lot of good, sir, and—”“There, you are only floundering about, young gentleman, and making worse of it,” said the doctor, gruffly.“Wait a bit; you will be laid by the heels one of these days, and then you will sing a very different song. But you are a wonderful deal better, Vandean, and I congratulate you. I shall not have to ask for you to be sent home.”“Oh yes, I’m much better, sir,” cried Mark.“Well, don’t talk as if you were afraid I was going to order you pills and draught. I’ve done with you, but you had better be careful Mr Russell can go on without me now. As for Mr Howlett here—well, we’ll wait for that.”He gave Bob a curious look and strolled away, leaving that gentleman with his face screwed up in a way which made Mark burst out laughing.“Oh yes, it’s all very well for you to grin,” grumbled Bob; “you’re out of the wood. He don’t like me, and you see if he doesn’t serve me out first chance he gets.”“Then you should have been more careful about what you said.”“Well, I was. I do believe he’d like to have me down in his cabin to cut up for experiment, and to practise physic on. Ugh! the old wretch!” he continued, with a shudder.“Hallo! what’s the matter now?” he added, as the man up aloft shouted “Sail ho!” and glasses were rapidly brought to bear upon a point miles away down south, where a few palm trees were dimly-seen through the hot haze.“What do you make of her, Mr Russell?” said the captain to the young officer, who had gone aloft.“Barque, sir. Small. Heavily-rigged. She’s going right in. There must be either a bay there, or a large river.”“No mention of any bay or harbour there,” said the captain. “Looks bad—or good,” he added. “What else can you make out?”“Nothing, sir. The trees hide her now completely.”“Slaver, then, without a doubt. Now, gentlemen, she has gone in without seeing us, and it will be our fault if she gets away. We must have no mistake this time.”“Hurray!” whispered Bob to his companion. “Prize-money at last.”“Chickens,” said Mark.“What do you mean?”“Don’t count ’em till they’re hatched.”“Get out, croaker!”Just then the two blacks came along the deck, looking very smart in their white sailor trousers, and not a little proud of their straw hats. Each man brightened up and displayed his teeth, as he saw the midshipmen, muttering something incomprehensible in reply to Bob’s “How do, Soup? How are you, Taters?” and passing on.“I say,” said Mark, “it’s too bad to nickname the poor fellows like that.”“Not a bit of it. What’s in a name? They answer to ’em right enough, and the men like ’em.”“Yes, of course they do. Whoever heard of a sailor who didn’t like a bit of fun of that kind?”“Oh, then you call it fun?”“Yes—ill-natured fun.”“Bother! Here’s the skipper. Let’s seem to be doing something, or we shall be lectured.”But Captain Maitland was too eager about the sailing of his ship, and paid no heed to the midshipmen’s idleness, only thinking as he was of getting round the land in front, and overhauling the stranger, who was now quite out of sight beyond the point, and it took two hours to get within sight again. But they found that, instead of there being a river, the coast turned sharply to the east, and the barque, in place of being close to them, was sailing steadily away east and south, and farther from them than ever.“Bah! another false alarm,” cried Mr Staples; “are we never to capture one of the scoundrels?”Just then Mark touched his elbow, and pointed to a vessel which had been unnoticed before, lying as it did close under the shore, with bare poles raked well back, and the whole of the long, low, schooner-rigged vessel wearing a look of having been built for swift-sailing more than for any ordinary trading purpose.“Well done, sharp eyes!” cried the lieutenant; “that’s one of the scoundrels;” and the course of theNautiluswas changed directly with a peculiar result.The minute before not a soul was to be seen on board the schooner, which might have been absolutely deserted; but, as soon as the course of theNautiluswas changed and those on board saw that, in spite of lying close up under the trees of the muddy shore of what appeared to be a creek, they had been observed, sails were rapidly hoisted, and the slight, graceful vessel began to glide so swiftly through the water that it was evidently no slow ship that would catch her should she once get into the offing.She was about a mile away and promised to escape, but Captain Maitland did not mean to be out-manoeuvred this time. The crew were beat to quarters, a gun fired, and the colours run up as the course of theNautiluswas again altered so as to cut the schooner off, and in due time a second gun gave out its puff of smoke.But no heed was taken, and the schooner kept along close in shore till her captain saw that escape was impossible in the direction he was taking, and altering his helm, the swift vessel glided round and made off in the opposite direction.But theNautiluswas again too quick for her, and in a few minutes was once more hard in chase and sending shot after shot, till one better directed than the rest went through her maintopmast.The crew of theNautilussent up a tremendous cheer as the great spar came down with its gaff sail, leaving the schooner for the time like a bird with a broken wing.“We shall have her now for certain,” said Bob Howlett.“Yes; and she has shown no colours,” replied Mark; “but suppose she does not turn out to be a slaver, after all.”“Suppose pigs were to fly,” cried Bob. “She’s a slaver for certain, and we’ve got her.”“Doesn’t look like it,” replied his companion; “where’s she making for now? Why, she sails as well as ever.”This was a slight exaggeration, but all the same the vessel glided along rapidly, and through the glasses the crew could be seen rapidly cutting away the damaged rigging, while her helm was manipulated so that she appeared to be sailing right for the shore.Another shot and another was fired, but not the slightest heed was paid; and as theNautiluswent swiftly on, it was noted that, unseen before, there was a narrow river running up through the trees, with its regular fringe of mangroves, and the schooner was being steered for this.“She’ll get right up that river, after all,” said Mark, who in the excitement had forgotten all his past illness, and appeared to be as strong as ever.“Not she. We shall have her first, my lad. Hurray! look, she has given in. They’ve stopped and surrendered.”“She has struck on one of the banks, sir,” cried Lieutenant Staples, excitedly, for the schooner’s way through the water had suddenly ceased, and she slowly swung round broadside on, with her sails shivering and flapping.“A prize at last!” cried Mark, as the men cheered, and theNautilusglided on, till, when they were about a quarter of a mile away, Mr Russell announced that a couple of boats were leaving the schooner, and it was seen that her captain and crew were making for the shore.“No doubt now about what she is, gentlemen,” said the captain. “Pipe away the cutter’s crew. Mr Russell, you would like to begin work again. Jump in, sir, and go and take possession.”“And pursue the boats, sir?”“Bah! no! They are not worth the labour. You can take one of the young gentlemen with you.”Bob took a step forward, but Mr Russell turned to Mark.“You’ll come, Vandean,” he said; and the lad leaped into the cutter, which was rapidly rowed away through the muddy water, just as the schooner’s boats disappeared round a headland covered with trees, which screened the outlet of a stream far larger than had been imagined, and for which without doubt now the schooner’s captain had been making.“A splendid prize, Vandean,” said Mr Russell, as they drew near and saw the admirable build of the vessel, which looked nearly new. “She was evidently on her way for a cargo of the poor wretches. We ought to have taken her afterwards, when she was laden.”“Yes, we should have done more good then. But if they had no slaves on board, why did they run? Oh!”The midshipman uttered an ejaculation expressive of the utter disgust which he felt as they neared the schooner’s side.“What is it? What’s the matter?” cried the lieutenant; and then his countenance changed. “Back water!” he exclaimed, as he turned away his head. “How horrible!”Then, altering his order, he cried, “Row—row, my lads—pull!”For from somewhere on board, now not a dozen yards from them, there rang out in smothered tones a piteous cry of despair.
“All this time sailing here and there,” said Mark one day, “and not done a bit of good.”
“Do you hear that, Mr Whitney?” cried Bob. “There’s gratitude, when it has been just as if we were under orders to keep at sea so as to get him and Mr Russell well again; and look at ’em now. Why, it has quite cured ’em both.”
“And their doctor has done nothing, Mr Bob Howlett?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that, sir, exactly,” said that gentleman, colouring a little. “Of course you have done them a lot of good, sir, and—”
“There, you are only floundering about, young gentleman, and making worse of it,” said the doctor, gruffly.
“Wait a bit; you will be laid by the heels one of these days, and then you will sing a very different song. But you are a wonderful deal better, Vandean, and I congratulate you. I shall not have to ask for you to be sent home.”
“Oh yes, I’m much better, sir,” cried Mark.
“Well, don’t talk as if you were afraid I was going to order you pills and draught. I’ve done with you, but you had better be careful Mr Russell can go on without me now. As for Mr Howlett here—well, we’ll wait for that.”
He gave Bob a curious look and strolled away, leaving that gentleman with his face screwed up in a way which made Mark burst out laughing.
“Oh yes, it’s all very well for you to grin,” grumbled Bob; “you’re out of the wood. He don’t like me, and you see if he doesn’t serve me out first chance he gets.”
“Then you should have been more careful about what you said.”
“Well, I was. I do believe he’d like to have me down in his cabin to cut up for experiment, and to practise physic on. Ugh! the old wretch!” he continued, with a shudder.
“Hallo! what’s the matter now?” he added, as the man up aloft shouted “Sail ho!” and glasses were rapidly brought to bear upon a point miles away down south, where a few palm trees were dimly-seen through the hot haze.
“What do you make of her, Mr Russell?” said the captain to the young officer, who had gone aloft.
“Barque, sir. Small. Heavily-rigged. She’s going right in. There must be either a bay there, or a large river.”
“No mention of any bay or harbour there,” said the captain. “Looks bad—or good,” he added. “What else can you make out?”
“Nothing, sir. The trees hide her now completely.”
“Slaver, then, without a doubt. Now, gentlemen, she has gone in without seeing us, and it will be our fault if she gets away. We must have no mistake this time.”
“Hurray!” whispered Bob to his companion. “Prize-money at last.”
“Chickens,” said Mark.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t count ’em till they’re hatched.”
“Get out, croaker!”
Just then the two blacks came along the deck, looking very smart in their white sailor trousers, and not a little proud of their straw hats. Each man brightened up and displayed his teeth, as he saw the midshipmen, muttering something incomprehensible in reply to Bob’s “How do, Soup? How are you, Taters?” and passing on.
“I say,” said Mark, “it’s too bad to nickname the poor fellows like that.”
“Not a bit of it. What’s in a name? They answer to ’em right enough, and the men like ’em.”
“Yes, of course they do. Whoever heard of a sailor who didn’t like a bit of fun of that kind?”
“Oh, then you call it fun?”
“Yes—ill-natured fun.”
“Bother! Here’s the skipper. Let’s seem to be doing something, or we shall be lectured.”
But Captain Maitland was too eager about the sailing of his ship, and paid no heed to the midshipmen’s idleness, only thinking as he was of getting round the land in front, and overhauling the stranger, who was now quite out of sight beyond the point, and it took two hours to get within sight again. But they found that, instead of there being a river, the coast turned sharply to the east, and the barque, in place of being close to them, was sailing steadily away east and south, and farther from them than ever.
“Bah! another false alarm,” cried Mr Staples; “are we never to capture one of the scoundrels?”
Just then Mark touched his elbow, and pointed to a vessel which had been unnoticed before, lying as it did close under the shore, with bare poles raked well back, and the whole of the long, low, schooner-rigged vessel wearing a look of having been built for swift-sailing more than for any ordinary trading purpose.
“Well done, sharp eyes!” cried the lieutenant; “that’s one of the scoundrels;” and the course of theNautiluswas changed directly with a peculiar result.
The minute before not a soul was to be seen on board the schooner, which might have been absolutely deserted; but, as soon as the course of theNautiluswas changed and those on board saw that, in spite of lying close up under the trees of the muddy shore of what appeared to be a creek, they had been observed, sails were rapidly hoisted, and the slight, graceful vessel began to glide so swiftly through the water that it was evidently no slow ship that would catch her should she once get into the offing.
She was about a mile away and promised to escape, but Captain Maitland did not mean to be out-manoeuvred this time. The crew were beat to quarters, a gun fired, and the colours run up as the course of theNautiluswas again altered so as to cut the schooner off, and in due time a second gun gave out its puff of smoke.
But no heed was taken, and the schooner kept along close in shore till her captain saw that escape was impossible in the direction he was taking, and altering his helm, the swift vessel glided round and made off in the opposite direction.
But theNautiluswas again too quick for her, and in a few minutes was once more hard in chase and sending shot after shot, till one better directed than the rest went through her maintopmast.
The crew of theNautilussent up a tremendous cheer as the great spar came down with its gaff sail, leaving the schooner for the time like a bird with a broken wing.
“We shall have her now for certain,” said Bob Howlett.
“Yes; and she has shown no colours,” replied Mark; “but suppose she does not turn out to be a slaver, after all.”
“Suppose pigs were to fly,” cried Bob. “She’s a slaver for certain, and we’ve got her.”
“Doesn’t look like it,” replied his companion; “where’s she making for now? Why, she sails as well as ever.”
This was a slight exaggeration, but all the same the vessel glided along rapidly, and through the glasses the crew could be seen rapidly cutting away the damaged rigging, while her helm was manipulated so that she appeared to be sailing right for the shore.
Another shot and another was fired, but not the slightest heed was paid; and as theNautiluswent swiftly on, it was noted that, unseen before, there was a narrow river running up through the trees, with its regular fringe of mangroves, and the schooner was being steered for this.
“She’ll get right up that river, after all,” said Mark, who in the excitement had forgotten all his past illness, and appeared to be as strong as ever.
“Not she. We shall have her first, my lad. Hurray! look, she has given in. They’ve stopped and surrendered.”
“She has struck on one of the banks, sir,” cried Lieutenant Staples, excitedly, for the schooner’s way through the water had suddenly ceased, and she slowly swung round broadside on, with her sails shivering and flapping.
“A prize at last!” cried Mark, as the men cheered, and theNautilusglided on, till, when they were about a quarter of a mile away, Mr Russell announced that a couple of boats were leaving the schooner, and it was seen that her captain and crew were making for the shore.
“No doubt now about what she is, gentlemen,” said the captain. “Pipe away the cutter’s crew. Mr Russell, you would like to begin work again. Jump in, sir, and go and take possession.”
“And pursue the boats, sir?”
“Bah! no! They are not worth the labour. You can take one of the young gentlemen with you.”
Bob took a step forward, but Mr Russell turned to Mark.
“You’ll come, Vandean,” he said; and the lad leaped into the cutter, which was rapidly rowed away through the muddy water, just as the schooner’s boats disappeared round a headland covered with trees, which screened the outlet of a stream far larger than had been imagined, and for which without doubt now the schooner’s captain had been making.
“A splendid prize, Vandean,” said Mr Russell, as they drew near and saw the admirable build of the vessel, which looked nearly new. “She was evidently on her way for a cargo of the poor wretches. We ought to have taken her afterwards, when she was laden.”
“Yes, we should have done more good then. But if they had no slaves on board, why did they run? Oh!”
The midshipman uttered an ejaculation expressive of the utter disgust which he felt as they neared the schooner’s side.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” cried the lieutenant; and then his countenance changed. “Back water!” he exclaimed, as he turned away his head. “How horrible!”
Then, altering his order, he cried, “Row—row, my lads—pull!”
For from somewhere on board, now not a dozen yards from them, there rang out in smothered tones a piteous cry of despair.
Chapter Fourteen.In the Schooner’s Hold.It was undoubtedly a terrible cry of despair from a human being in deadly peril, and with all the force of Englishmen sent to answer such a call for aid, the boat was rushed through the water, the coxswain hooked on, and setting at defiance that which had horrified and disgusted them, the two officers, followed by all their men but the boat-keeper, sprang on board the beautifully clean, trim-looking schooner, where the remains of the broken spar, axes that had been hastily thrown down, and a tangle of cordage and canvas cumbered the deck.“What is it?” cried Mark, excitedly. “Is someone being killed?”“Some dozens,” cried Russell, fiercely, as the cry was repeated from beneath their feet, followed by a horrible scuffling sound mingled with groans. “The wretches have battened down the hatches, and the poor creatures below are suffocating.”As he spoke, he caught up one of the axes from where it lay, an example followed by Mark, and they struck off the fastenings which held down the hatches close by where they stood.The horrible sounds ceased at the first blow of the axe, and a deathly silence succeeded, followed by a low, deep, murmuring roar.“Stop!” cried Mr Russell. “Stand by, lads, and be prepared. The poor wretches may not know friends from foes.”The next minute the hatch was thrown up, and there was a fearful rush, not that for which they had prepared, but one perhaps worse. The wretched blacks crowded down in the stifling hold were too much cowed by the brutality from which they had suffered to dare then to raise a hand; and, instead of making a dash for liberty as anticipated, they waited in expectation of death being the portion of the man who first reached the opening.The boat’s crew shrank away from the hatch, driven back by the rush of poisonous air of so fearful an odour that the lieutenant turned ghastly as he cried,—“Oh, horror! how can the poor creatures exist?” How indeed? Relief had only come in time. The captain of the schooner had probably intended to pretend that he had no slaves on board, but had altered his mind and fled after the poor wretches had been shut down; and, without doubt, if they had been unable to break out to the deck, in less than an hour not a soul would have been left alive.“Here, Vandean,” cried Mr Russell, “we must risk their attacking us, and have them on deck. How are we to make them understand? Hi! below there! Come up into the fresh air.”But there was no reply, save a stifled moan or two.“Volunteers,” cried the lieutenant. “Two men to go down and bring one of the poor wretches up. We can show him that we mean well, and then he can act as interpreter.”For a few moments no one spoke, and Mr Russell cried:—“I know it’s a terrible task, my lads. Who’ll come with me?”“No, with me,” said Mark, quickly; and he stepped to the mouth of the noisome pit.“Oh, I’ll go with you, Mr Vandean, sir,” cried Tom Fillot; and without a word Mark drew a deep breath, stepped in on the ladder, and descended, the light being shut out directly by the sailor.The heat was awful, and after holding his breath till he reached the bottom, at the first inspiration Mark felt giddy and sick; but making a brave effort, he took a step forward, trying to pierce the darkness around—black darkness to one who had just come out of the blazing sunshine—and made a snatch at the arm of the man nearest to him in the crowd.He only held on for a moment, and then the arm was wrested free. He seized another, speaking gently the while. The man uttered a yell of horror, and struggled so fiercely, that Mark was fain to let go.“We must get one on deck, Tom,” cried Mark. “Lay hold of one as gently as you can, and let’s pull him up.”Tom Fillot seized the first he could distinguish in the herd of poor cowering wretches, but this one, too, filled the foul air with his piercing yells, and fought so hard to free himself, that Tom let go, and stepped back below the hatch.“They think we want to chuck ’em overboard, Mr Vandean, sir. I don’t know what to say to ’em. No good to tell ’em that under the British flag they’re free.”“Let’s go and breathe for a few moments, Tom,” said Mark, his voice sounding as if he were half-stifled.“I’d rather do that, sir, than have the best glass o’ grog ever mixed,” said the man.“Now below there!” came from the hatch; “how are you getting on?”Mark answered the question by stumbling up the ladder till he could put his face over the combings of the hatch, and breathe the air blowing over the vessel, Tom Fillot following suit.“You look white as ashes, Vandean,” said the lieutenant. “I had no business to let you go down. But the men are not dangerous?”“Like so many sheep,” replied Mark, rather faintly; “but we could not get one to come.”“Come out, and I’ll go myself.”“No,” said Mark, stoutly. “I have only half done my work. Come along, Tom Fillot.”Before he could be stayed, he stepped down once more into the terrible hold, where, his eyes growing now more accustomed to the darkness, he began to make out eyes everywhere—glistening, starting eyes—all apparently staring fiercely, and in a threatening way.The whole scene was horrible, every surrounding was sickening. The poor creatures had been herded together down in the foul place, with less care for their health than if they had been cattle, while in the emergency of the slave captain’s escape, they had been left to die. But, horrible as the place was, Mark made a brave effort to master his dread and compunction. Risking attack from some one or other of the men who might very well have been infuriated by his wrongs, the young midshipman once more made an effort to seize one of the blacks and get him on deck. Watching his opportunity, he stepped boldly forward to where the crowd had shrunk back together, and again caught a man by the arm.“Now, Tom Fillot,” he cried, “help me.”The sailor seconded him well, but the poor wretch, in an agony of fear, made a desperate plunge, got free again; and at that moment, in alarm about his young officer’s safety, Mr Russell sternly ordered him to come back on deck.It was with a mingling of satisfaction and disinclination that the lad obeyed; and as they stood about the open hatch, Mr Russell said,—“We must give them time to find out that we are friends. This is my first experience, in spite of all our chasing, Vandean, and it is worse than I could have believed.”“Signal from theNaughtylass, sir,” said Tom Fillot. “Yes; the captain is getting anxious. Here, Vandean, go back in the boat, and tell them the state of affairs.”“And leave you alone with these people? There must be fifty or a hundred down below.”“I shall have four defenders with me,” said the lieutenant, quietly, “and you will be back soon with a reinforcement. We must get the poor wretches on deck, out of that loathsome den, or they will half of them be dead of fever in four and twenty hours.”“You wish me to go?” said Mark, hesitating.“I order you to go, my lad,” said the lieutenant, speaking sternly, but with a friendly light in his eye. “There, off at once.”Mark passed over the side with half the boat’s crew, and, feeling extremely uneasy about his officer’s fate, had himself rowed back, and stated the case to the captain.“Horrible!” he said. “Well, the men must be brought on board if the schooner is a fixture. Take back ten men with you, and tell Mr Russell to get out an anchor and see if he cannot haul off the vessel. If he cannot, the slaves must be brought on board, and the schooner burned.”“But how are we to get the men out of the hold, sir? They are frightened to death of us,” said Mark.“To be sure, yes. Try fair means, and if they do not answer, the poor wretches must be hoisted on deck with ropes. They will soon grow satisfied when they feel that we mean them no harm.”“But—I beg your pardon, sir,” faltered Mark; “we cannot make them understand that we are friends.”“May I speak, sir?” cried Bob Howlett.“Silence, sir; don’t interfere,” said Mr Staples, sternly.“Oh, you lucky beggar,” whispered Bob; “you get all the fun.”“Go back at once, Mr Vandean,” said the captain. “You understand. Get the schooner off if possible. If not, bring the slaves on board, and the vessel is to be set on fire. Well, Mr Howlett, why are you making signs?”“I beg pardon, sir, but I could make the slaves understand.”“You?”“Yes, sir; I should take Soup and—I mean the two black fellows—and make them interpret.”“Of course; a capital idea, my lad; but—stop. How are you going to understand the men you would take?”“Oh, I think I could manage that, sir,” said Bob, importantly.“Indeed?”“Yes, sir. I am making a study of their language, and I’ve learned a few words and taught them.”“Take them with you in the boat, then, sir, by all means;” and Bob darted a triumphant glance at the first lieutenant, in ignorance of the fact that this gentleman was watching him, and met his look in a terribly stony fashion, which made Bob’s face turn blank in the extreme.To hide his confusion, he ran off forward, and, partly by signs, partly by hauling, he drew the two blacks to the waiting boat, into which they stepped willingly enough, and five minutes later the little party were on their way back to the schooner.
It was undoubtedly a terrible cry of despair from a human being in deadly peril, and with all the force of Englishmen sent to answer such a call for aid, the boat was rushed through the water, the coxswain hooked on, and setting at defiance that which had horrified and disgusted them, the two officers, followed by all their men but the boat-keeper, sprang on board the beautifully clean, trim-looking schooner, where the remains of the broken spar, axes that had been hastily thrown down, and a tangle of cordage and canvas cumbered the deck.
“What is it?” cried Mark, excitedly. “Is someone being killed?”
“Some dozens,” cried Russell, fiercely, as the cry was repeated from beneath their feet, followed by a horrible scuffling sound mingled with groans. “The wretches have battened down the hatches, and the poor creatures below are suffocating.”
As he spoke, he caught up one of the axes from where it lay, an example followed by Mark, and they struck off the fastenings which held down the hatches close by where they stood.
The horrible sounds ceased at the first blow of the axe, and a deathly silence succeeded, followed by a low, deep, murmuring roar.
“Stop!” cried Mr Russell. “Stand by, lads, and be prepared. The poor wretches may not know friends from foes.”
The next minute the hatch was thrown up, and there was a fearful rush, not that for which they had prepared, but one perhaps worse. The wretched blacks crowded down in the stifling hold were too much cowed by the brutality from which they had suffered to dare then to raise a hand; and, instead of making a dash for liberty as anticipated, they waited in expectation of death being the portion of the man who first reached the opening.
The boat’s crew shrank away from the hatch, driven back by the rush of poisonous air of so fearful an odour that the lieutenant turned ghastly as he cried,—“Oh, horror! how can the poor creatures exist?” How indeed? Relief had only come in time. The captain of the schooner had probably intended to pretend that he had no slaves on board, but had altered his mind and fled after the poor wretches had been shut down; and, without doubt, if they had been unable to break out to the deck, in less than an hour not a soul would have been left alive.
“Here, Vandean,” cried Mr Russell, “we must risk their attacking us, and have them on deck. How are we to make them understand? Hi! below there! Come up into the fresh air.”
But there was no reply, save a stifled moan or two.
“Volunteers,” cried the lieutenant. “Two men to go down and bring one of the poor wretches up. We can show him that we mean well, and then he can act as interpreter.”
For a few moments no one spoke, and Mr Russell cried:—“I know it’s a terrible task, my lads. Who’ll come with me?”
“No, with me,” said Mark, quickly; and he stepped to the mouth of the noisome pit.
“Oh, I’ll go with you, Mr Vandean, sir,” cried Tom Fillot; and without a word Mark drew a deep breath, stepped in on the ladder, and descended, the light being shut out directly by the sailor.
The heat was awful, and after holding his breath till he reached the bottom, at the first inspiration Mark felt giddy and sick; but making a brave effort, he took a step forward, trying to pierce the darkness around—black darkness to one who had just come out of the blazing sunshine—and made a snatch at the arm of the man nearest to him in the crowd.
He only held on for a moment, and then the arm was wrested free. He seized another, speaking gently the while. The man uttered a yell of horror, and struggled so fiercely, that Mark was fain to let go.
“We must get one on deck, Tom,” cried Mark. “Lay hold of one as gently as you can, and let’s pull him up.”
Tom Fillot seized the first he could distinguish in the herd of poor cowering wretches, but this one, too, filled the foul air with his piercing yells, and fought so hard to free himself, that Tom let go, and stepped back below the hatch.
“They think we want to chuck ’em overboard, Mr Vandean, sir. I don’t know what to say to ’em. No good to tell ’em that under the British flag they’re free.”
“Let’s go and breathe for a few moments, Tom,” said Mark, his voice sounding as if he were half-stifled.
“I’d rather do that, sir, than have the best glass o’ grog ever mixed,” said the man.
“Now below there!” came from the hatch; “how are you getting on?”
Mark answered the question by stumbling up the ladder till he could put his face over the combings of the hatch, and breathe the air blowing over the vessel, Tom Fillot following suit.
“You look white as ashes, Vandean,” said the lieutenant. “I had no business to let you go down. But the men are not dangerous?”
“Like so many sheep,” replied Mark, rather faintly; “but we could not get one to come.”
“Come out, and I’ll go myself.”
“No,” said Mark, stoutly. “I have only half done my work. Come along, Tom Fillot.”
Before he could be stayed, he stepped down once more into the terrible hold, where, his eyes growing now more accustomed to the darkness, he began to make out eyes everywhere—glistening, starting eyes—all apparently staring fiercely, and in a threatening way.
The whole scene was horrible, every surrounding was sickening. The poor creatures had been herded together down in the foul place, with less care for their health than if they had been cattle, while in the emergency of the slave captain’s escape, they had been left to die. But, horrible as the place was, Mark made a brave effort to master his dread and compunction. Risking attack from some one or other of the men who might very well have been infuriated by his wrongs, the young midshipman once more made an effort to seize one of the blacks and get him on deck. Watching his opportunity, he stepped boldly forward to where the crowd had shrunk back together, and again caught a man by the arm.
“Now, Tom Fillot,” he cried, “help me.”
The sailor seconded him well, but the poor wretch, in an agony of fear, made a desperate plunge, got free again; and at that moment, in alarm about his young officer’s safety, Mr Russell sternly ordered him to come back on deck.
It was with a mingling of satisfaction and disinclination that the lad obeyed; and as they stood about the open hatch, Mr Russell said,—“We must give them time to find out that we are friends. This is my first experience, in spite of all our chasing, Vandean, and it is worse than I could have believed.”
“Signal from theNaughtylass, sir,” said Tom Fillot. “Yes; the captain is getting anxious. Here, Vandean, go back in the boat, and tell them the state of affairs.”
“And leave you alone with these people? There must be fifty or a hundred down below.”
“I shall have four defenders with me,” said the lieutenant, quietly, “and you will be back soon with a reinforcement. We must get the poor wretches on deck, out of that loathsome den, or they will half of them be dead of fever in four and twenty hours.”
“You wish me to go?” said Mark, hesitating.
“I order you to go, my lad,” said the lieutenant, speaking sternly, but with a friendly light in his eye. “There, off at once.”
Mark passed over the side with half the boat’s crew, and, feeling extremely uneasy about his officer’s fate, had himself rowed back, and stated the case to the captain.
“Horrible!” he said. “Well, the men must be brought on board if the schooner is a fixture. Take back ten men with you, and tell Mr Russell to get out an anchor and see if he cannot haul off the vessel. If he cannot, the slaves must be brought on board, and the schooner burned.”
“But how are we to get the men out of the hold, sir? They are frightened to death of us,” said Mark.
“To be sure, yes. Try fair means, and if they do not answer, the poor wretches must be hoisted on deck with ropes. They will soon grow satisfied when they feel that we mean them no harm.”
“But—I beg your pardon, sir,” faltered Mark; “we cannot make them understand that we are friends.”
“May I speak, sir?” cried Bob Howlett.
“Silence, sir; don’t interfere,” said Mr Staples, sternly.
“Oh, you lucky beggar,” whispered Bob; “you get all the fun.”
“Go back at once, Mr Vandean,” said the captain. “You understand. Get the schooner off if possible. If not, bring the slaves on board, and the vessel is to be set on fire. Well, Mr Howlett, why are you making signs?”
“I beg pardon, sir, but I could make the slaves understand.”
“You?”
“Yes, sir; I should take Soup and—I mean the two black fellows—and make them interpret.”
“Of course; a capital idea, my lad; but—stop. How are you going to understand the men you would take?”
“Oh, I think I could manage that, sir,” said Bob, importantly.
“Indeed?”
“Yes, sir. I am making a study of their language, and I’ve learned a few words and taught them.”
“Take them with you in the boat, then, sir, by all means;” and Bob darted a triumphant glance at the first lieutenant, in ignorance of the fact that this gentleman was watching him, and met his look in a terribly stony fashion, which made Bob’s face turn blank in the extreme.
To hide his confusion, he ran off forward, and, partly by signs, partly by hauling, he drew the two blacks to the waiting boat, into which they stepped willingly enough, and five minutes later the little party were on their way back to the schooner.