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The Black Bar, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 14. In The Schooner's Hold |
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_ 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 the _Naughtylass_, 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. _ |
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