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The Black Bar, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 15. A Difficult Task |
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_ CHAPTER FIFTEEN. A DIFFICULT TASK "Old Staples'll serve me out for this," cried Bob, merrily. "Hallo! What's the matter? Don't stare in that solemn fashion." "I was looking at the schooner," said Mark. "Mr Russell has so few men with him in case of a rising on the part of the blacks. He would be as good as helpless." "As bad, you mean," cried Bob. "Oh, it's all right. The niggers won't rise. They'd better!" This was said so importantly that the men began to laugh; and as Bob turned upon them sharply, they grew preternaturally serious. "I say, look at Soup and Taters," whispered Bob; "they're as pleased as children to have a ride. I shall make two clever sailors out of them before I've done." Mark glanced at the two blacks, and saw that their faces were lit up as they rode over the glancing waters. Then turning to Bob,-- "That was a good idea of yours to bring them." "Yes, I reckon that was a bright notion." "Only you've spoiled it by being so cocky. I say, Bob, what a conceited chap you are." "Oh, am I? Pity you aren't a little more so, too. Hallo! what's the matter with Soup?" Mark looked at the black sharply, half expecting that he was again going to leap overboard and swim for his liberty, for the man was glaring at the schooner they were approaching fast, his nostrils distended, and there was a curious lurid light in his eyes as if he were suddenly enraged. "Why, Taters has got it too. Look at him." The bigger of the two blacks had muttered something to his companion as they sat together forward, and they both turned to Mark now as they started up in the boat and pointed to the schooner, uttering a low guttural cry. "Sit down both of you; do you hear?" cried Bob. "I see," cried Mark, excitedly. "They know that it is a slaver, and they think we are going to take them off in it." "No, no!" growled the bigger black, fiercely. "Yes; that's what they think," cried Mark. "Then they're a pair of black-looking old noodles," said Bob. "Here, hi! sit down, or you'll be overboard." "Yes; sit down," said Mark, rising, and speaking authoritatively as he pointed downward. "Yes, sir, begging your pardon, that's what it is; they think you're going to sell 'em, sir." "I wish to goodness they could understand English," said Mark, impatiently. "How am I to explain?" "Oh, they know a lot," said Bob. "Here, I'll show you. Hi, Soup! Taters, ahoy!" The two blacks looked at him excitedly. "It's all right." "All--righ?" said Soup. "Yes, all right." The man turned to Mark and looked at him inquiringly. "All righ?" he said. "Yes; all right," cried Mark, with a look which gave the men some confidence, and they sat down. "That's right, my dark-skinned messmate," growled Tom Fillot, "Why don't you larn to understand that you're a free nigger now?" They were close alongside of the schooner; and the blacks' nostrils began to quiver and their excitement increase as they caught the horrible, sickening effluvium which was wafted from the hold. Starting up, they made as if they were about to jump overboard, in the full belief that they were once more about to be entrapped into the hold of a slaver; but dropping the rudder-lines, Mark sprang to them, and laid his hands upon their shoulders. "I tell you it is all right," he said. "Won't you believe me?" The men could not understand his words, but the open countenance and frank manner of the midshipman inspired confidence, and they sank down, stretched out their hands to him, took his, and held it against their foreheads in turn. "Come, that's right, my lads," continued Mark, smiling. "There, don't think we English folk could be so treacherous. You'll see directly what we want of you. Come along." "Well, I'm blest!" cried Bob. "I say, play fair, Van. You're taking my job out of my hands. I'm showman here. Stow that." "Show up, then," cried Mark, merrily. "There, up with you." He sprang on board, to find that there had been no change in the state of affairs, but that Mr Russell had been anxiously awaiting his coming. The men followed, till only the coxswain and the two blacks remained hanging back, for once more the feeling of mistrust had come uppermost, and they were muttering together and looking wildly round. "Here, I say," cried Bob; "there's sharks enough about here to make any man sorry who begins to swim. Come on board. D'ye hear?" "What is it?" said the lieutenant. "The two blacks are suspicious; they don't understand why we want to bring them aboard this schooner. They think we mean mischief to them." "Poor fellows! No wonder," said the lieutenant. "We must be careful, or we shall scare them, and they'll try to swim ashore." "Well, wouldn't that be best for them?" "No, Vandean; they'd only be captured and sold again. You must coax them aboard." "Are you two coming?" cried Bob, looking as fierce as he could--"fierce as a maggot," Tom Fillot said. "Because if you're not, I'm coming to fetch you." The men joined hands and stood back. "Come," said Mark, quietly, as he stepped to the gangway and held out his hand; "it is all right." "No all righ," cried the big black, fiercely, as he pointed to the vessel's side and listened to the peculiar dull humming sound which came from the hold. "Yes--I--tell--you--it--is--all--right," said Mark, quietly. "You hardly understand me, but you may believe." The big black turned to his fellow, and said something, and then without a word they came on board, with their nostrils working, and the big black's eyes flashed as he pointed to the way down into the vessel's hold, as much as to say, "There, you are deceiving me." "Yes, I know," said Mark, quietly; and the man looked more at ease, but still terribly suspicious. "There," cried Bob; "now you see what a pair of black fools you were." "That will do, Mr Howlett," said the lieutenant sternly; "let Mr Vandean manage them. He can do it better than you." "Well, I am blest!" muttered Bob, turning scarlet. "That was a capital thought of yours, Mr Vandean. You brought these men to interpret." "Well, I _am_ blest, and no mistake," muttered Bob, "and him going to take all the _kudos_. It's too--" He had no time to say _bad_, for Mark spoke out,-- "No, sir; it was Bob Howlett's idea." "Oh, was it?" said Mr Russell. "Well, never mind; they seem to trust you. Go on and see what you can do." "It's so difficult, because they cannot understand, sir," replied Mark; "but I think I can show them what we want. Shall I try?" "Yes, of course," said the lieutenant, to whom Mark had already given his message. "The schooner is too fast on the bank here for us to get her off, so the blacks must be taken to the _Nautilus_, and then we'll fire her at once. Pity too--such a fine boat. There, try and get the poor wretches on deck, and let's see how many there are. I'm afraid that some are dead." Mark shuddered and turned to the blacks, who were watching him eagerly. Signing to them to pick up a couple of buckets, he led them to the fresh-water tub, made them fill them, and then, taking up a couple of pannikins, he led the way to the mouth of the noisome hold, from which low moans were now issuing. They followed him, and he pointed down, but they shrank away wildly, their eyes rolling, and the fear of treachery still in their breasts. "Very well, then," said Mark, quietly, while the officers and boat's crew looked on. "We are going to give those poor creatures some water;" and he stepped through the hatch to the ladder, and once more began to descend. That was enough. The two blacks carefully raised their buckets of water and followed him down, to the satisfaction of every one save Bob Howlett, who felt horribly aggrieved. "Hadn't I better go too, Mr Russell?" he said. "I understand those two blacks." "Perhaps you had," said the lieutenant, drily. "By all means go." "Thankye, sir," cried Bob; and he stepped toward the hatch, where, as Mr Russell turned away, he found Tom Fillot looking at him with his face puckering up into a broad grin. Meanwhile Bob had reached the hatch and bent over it prior to stepping down, but instead of raising his foot for that step, he started back, his hand to his face, and a look of the most intense horror and disgust overspreading his merry countenance. "Oh!" he ejaculated; and then again, "Oh!" "What is the matter, Mr Howlett?" said the lieutenant, quietly. "Oh, just you go there, sir. 'Pon my word! it's just awful." "Ah, yes, I know," said the lieutenant, quietly. "The hold is bad with the poor creatures being shut up there. That is why I want to get them on deck;" and he walked to the hatch. "You beggars! I'll serve some of you out for this," said Bob to himself, as he saw several of the men grinning hugely at his discomfort. He turned away and found himself face to face with Tom Fillot, who looked at him with a preternaturally solemn aspect. "Find it a bit strong, sir?" "What?" cried Bob, haughtily. "I said find it a bit strong, sir? I did at first when I went down; but, bless your 'art, sir, after the first few sniffs you don't mind it a bit, you rather likes it." "Then you'd better go down, sir," said Bob, sharply. "Yes, sir, soon as I'm wanted, sir. I did go down before with Mr Vandean." "Did he go down, then?" "Oh yes, sir. We was there ever so long. Just you go down and see, sir; it's very interesting. Never was in the hold of a slave ship, sir, I s'pose? It's something to talk about, I can tell you. Wonderful dark, and all you can see is the niggers' eyes. You see, them being black, they fits in with the darkness, and as they never laughs you don't see their teeth. I'd go if I was you." Bob hesitated. It would never do for him to show the white feather before the man, and if he did not go Mark Vandean was taking all the credit. Tom Fillot was right, it would be something to talk about, and after another moment's hesitation, he turned to the sailor. "I say, Tom Fillot," he whispered, "is it very bad?" "What, down there, sir?" "Yes; I mean can a fellow bear it?" "Bear it, sir? Oh yes, if it comes to that; you see, Mr Vandean and me bore it ever so long. You'd stand it, I should say. Oh yes, you've got so much pluck in you, sir, you'd stand it right enough. There, sir, if I was you I'd go. You could but come up again." "Yes, of course," said Bob, cavalierly. "I could come up again." "Of course, sir, if you could stand it, and didn't faint right away." Bob turned upon him sharply, with the fact dawning upon him that Tom Fillot, the most impudent joker on board the _Nautilus_, was laughing in his sleeve at his expense; but before he could make quite sure, a thrill ran through all on deck, and a rush was made for the hatchway. The moment before, Mr Russell was peering down uneasily, and his conscience was smiting him for allowing so young an officer to undertake the onerous task of descending into that loathsome den. For strange noises--low mutterings, and harsh whisperings--were going on; and directly after, to his horror, Mark's voice rang out in wildly excited tones, just as there were the sounds of a struggle going on. "Here, men--Mr Russell! Help--quick!" shouted Mark; and in response thereto the lieutenant shouted to the boat's crew to come on, took a step downward to lead the way, and then stepped back as the lesser of the two black sailors suddenly appeared at the hatchway with his face wild with excitement, and his white duck frock and trousers horribly stained with blood. _ |
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