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The Black Bar, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 3. Saving A Brother's Life |
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_ CHAPTER THREE. SAVING A BROTHER'S LIFE There was a moment's dead silence after Mark had, in his excitement, cried for help. Then the word "Fire!" was uttered sharply, and there was the deafening report of a gun, whose shot again passed between the schooner's masts, but without doing the slightest harm. Then, almost mingled with the bass roar of the cannon, the captain's orders rang out; the boatswain's pipe sounded shrilly, and as the _Nautilus_ was thrown up into the wind, and her sails began to shiver, down went the boat with its crew, Mark, at a sign from the captain, who gave him a friendly smile, having sprung in. Then there was a quick thrust off by the coxswain, the oars fell on either side with a splash, and the young midshipman stood up, balancing himself on the thwart in the stern-sheets, directing the officer who held the rudder-lines how to steer, for far-away on the moonlit water, when the swell rose high, he could still see the dark head and the rippling made by the swimmer struggling for his life. "Starboard!" shouted Mark. "Pull, my lads, pull. Starboard a little more." "Starboard it is," cried the officer. "See him still?" "Yes," cried Mark. "Oh, pull, my lads, pull, or he'll go down before we get to him. Now port a little: they're pulling stronger on one side than on the other--not too much. That's right. Yes, I can--no, he is down in the hollow. There he is again. Pull your hardest," he cried, excitedly; and the men jerked at their oars as they cheered. "Hold on; we're coming," cried Mark to the drowning man, thoughtless of the fact that the negro would not understand his words, even if he heard them, which was doubtful in the wild agony of his struggle, as with breath growing short, weak as he was from confinement, he struck out more quickly, and fought hard with the waves for his unhappy life. "See him still?" cried Mark's companion, as the boat made the water foam. "Yes--no--no," said Mark, hoarsely; "he's down in the hollow again. Straight on. We're going right for him, and--" "Don't say he has gone down," cried the officer. "No; I shall see him directly. We must be close to him now. Ready there with the boathook." "Ay, ay, sir," cried the man in the bows, as he stood up ready to make a snatch at the drowning man. "See him, sir?" Mark was silent as he strained his eyes over the surface of the sea, looking vainly for the struggling figure which had been making so brave a fight for life. There was a terrible feeling of dread oppressing him, as for the first time he was face to face with death; and in those awful moments he was unconscious of the regular reports of the guns as the _Nautilus_ kept up her fire at the flying schooner. He heard nothing, saw nothing but the sea shimmering in the moonbeams. For after a long and desperate fight, with the water rising higher about his lips, the unfortunate black had grown weaker and weaker, and at last had given one tremendous plunge, which raised him high, so that he could glare wildly round for help; then he had ceased his struggle and gone slowly down, the water closing over his staring eyes and glistening teeth; there were a few bubbles, and the sea heaved and fell gently over the spot where he sank. "I have been close here, sir," cried the coxswain. "Easy, my lads," cried the young lieutenant in command. "Can't you see him, Van? Oh, hang it, lad, look! We mustn't let the poor beggar drown, even if he is a nigger." Mark uttered a groan. He had come to save a human being--a fellow-creature cast to destruction by the brutal captain of the slaver--and he had failed. "Got him?" came faintly from the distant ship. "No, sir," shouted the second lieutenant, through his hands. "Oh, look! look!" cried Mark, wildly. "Pull, my lads. Starboard men, back water. He must be somewhere here. He is sure to come up again." The men obeyed, and in those terrible moments the silence was appalling. Then came the deafening roar of a gun--the last fired then at the now distant schooner--and Mark sank down from the thwart and was turning away from the men to hide his drawn face, when he uttered a wild cry, flung himself half over the side of the boat, and made a desperate clutch at something which just rose above the water. Then hand grasped hand, the white holding the black in a desperate clutch, as the lieutenant dropped the rudder-lines, and saved Mark from going overboard by seizing him round the waist. Then came a little hauling, followed by a cheer, as the nude figure of a stalwart black was dragged in, to sink helpless, perfectly insensible, in the bottom of the boat. "Now pull, my lads!" shouted the lieutenant; "pull all you know, and let's get aboard. We've got to take that schooner before we've done." The men cheered, and pulled for the ship, from which came an answering cheer; but as Mark knelt down by the black he felt they had been a little too late, for the man lay there, in the moonlight, apparently quite dead. He had not stirred, neither did there seem to be the slightest pulsation as the boat was pulled alongside the _Nautilus_ and run up to the davits, the graceful vessel beginning to glide once more rapidly in pursuit of the schooner, which had by the cruel manoeuvre placed a considerable distance between her and her pursuer. "The black-hearted scoundrel!" cried the captain, as he stood looking down at the slave. "I'll follow him to America but what I'll have him. Well, doctor, all over with the poor fellow?" "Oh no," said the gentleman addressed; "he's coming round." Almost as he spoke there was a faint quiver of the black's eyelid, and a few minutes after he was staring wildly round at the white faces about him. The men set up a cheer, while a feeling of exultation such as he had never before experienced caused a strange thrill in the midshipman's breast. "He may thank you for his life, Vandean," said the second lieutenant, "for we should never have seen him. Now I wonder whether that scoundrel will try the same game over again." "Safe to, Russell," said the first lieutenant, gruffly. "Here, my lads, get the black below; give him a place to lie down. He'll be all right in the morning, and a free man at any rate." "I say, Van," said Bob Howlett, "aren't we all making a precious lot of fuss about a nigger? Wonder whether you'd all make as much about me." "Go overboard and try," said Mark. "Eh? Thankye. Well, not to-night. I say, can't that schooner sail?" "So can we--and faster. What a rate we're going at. Shan't capsize, shall we?" "Hope not, because if we did that schooner would escape. Why don't they fire?" "Waste of powder and shot, my boy," said a voice behind them; and, looking sharply round, there stood the first lieutenant with his glass to his eyes, watching the flying boat. "Ha! we're moving now. Better get on a lifebelt, Mr Vandean, if you feel afraid." He walked away, leaving the lad flushed and indignant. "Needn't catch a fellow up like that," he muttered. "Who said anything about being afraid?" Bob Howlett laughed, and then turned his eyes in the direction of the schooner. _ |
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