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The Black Bar, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 29. Difficult Prisoners |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. DIFFICULT PRISONERS Never was morning greeted with greater joy than by the crew of the _Nautilus'_ first cutter. For with the darkness half the troubles to which they were exposed faded away; and though tired out from long watching, excitement, and loss of sleep, the bright sunshine made things look quite hopeful. So when the midshipman had partaken of a good breakfast and attended to Mr Russell's wants, he felt ready to believe that his brother officer was a little better, and had understood him when he spoke, for there was a look of intensity in his countenance widely different from the vacant, drowsy aspect which had been so marked ever since the hour when he was struck down. On deck there was so much to see to that weariness was soon forgotten. There were the unfortunate blacks to feed on both vessels, though this had already grown into a much simpler task, Soup and Taters giving orders to the men they had selected to help them; and these latter, now that they had thoroughly grasped the fact that nothing but good was intended by their fresh captors, eagerly devoting themselves to the task of distributing the rations amongst their unfortunate fellow-country folk, and watching Mark and his men with the greatest intentness as they strove to comprehend their wishes. That morning, as soon as the party on board the first schooner was provisioned, the boat was manned, and Fillot, accompanied by Soup, went aboard the second schooner, where all proved to be satisfactory, Taters greeting them smilingly, while the emancipated slaves were ready to lie down on the deck. "To make it soft for us to walk upon," Tom said on his return. This was eagerly looked for by Mark, who had spent his time watching the schooner astern, and the shore a couple of miles away, in the hope of their coming upon a town where he could land his prisoners, their presence on board being risky in the extreme. Tom Fillot's return was looked for so eagerly on account of the action of the prisoners, who had begun to clamour for the hatch to be opened, and after several orders to be silent had been disregarded, now beat heavily on the hatchway cover, and shouted to be let out. Mark had deferred taking any action while his right-hand man was absent; but the uproar became at last so obstreperous that he walked to the cable-covered hatchway and struck heavily upon the deck. "Now," he said, sharply, "what is it?" "Look here, squaire," came in the skipper's muffled tones, "guess yew don't want to kill us?" "Then have off that there hatch. We're being smothered: that's so." "It's not true," said Mark, firmly. "The ventilator's open." "Wal, that say gives 'bout air enough for one man to drink in. We want more." "You're getting more now than you considered enough for those unfortunate blacks, sir. So be silent, or I'll have you all in irons." "Don't you try it, mister," cried the skipper. "But look here, squaire, we want our breakfast." "Your rations shall be served out to you all in good time," replied Mark. "But we want 'em now, mister; my lads are half famished." "I tell you that you shall have them soon, so wait patiently." "Wall, don't be ugly about it, squaire. We're not ugly now. Look here, it's hot and smothering down here. Let us come up on deck and have a confab about this business. It's of no use for us to quarrel about it, so let's square matters." "I don't understand you." "Yew don't? Wall, look here; yew've took the schooner, and I s'pose she's your prize if yew say yew ain't pirates. 'Scuse me for thinking yew was, seeing as yew came in a schooner as don't look a bit like a Britannic Majesty's ship o' war." "I told you that was a prize to her Majesty's ship." "Ah, so yew did, and now yew've got another, but yew don't want a lot o' Murrican corpses aboard, squaire, so let us out, so as we can breathe. We'll make a truce with yew." The boat had come back from the second prize, and Tom Fillot walked up to look on, listening and wondering. "You mean to say that if I let you come on deck--you and your men--you will not attempt to escape or recapture the schooner?" "That's so, captain." Tom made an angry gesticulation, and took a step nearer to his young officer. "Then to show your good faith," cried Mark, "hand up all your pistols through the ventilator." There was a few moments' silence, and Tom slapped his knee softly. "Well, do you hear?" cried Mark. "Wall, captain, I'm willing," said the skipper, "but my lads here say air yew to be trusted? and what's to become o' them if they come up and yew and yewr men turn nasty, and them without weepons?" "You heard what I said, sir; hand up your pistols," said Mark, firmly. "Guess we can't do that, squaire. But look here, captain." The complimentary title did no good, for Mark turned sharply away. "See that some biscuit and water are lowered down to these people, Fillot," he cried. "Ay, ay, sir." "Biscuit--water?" roared the American skipper, his voice coming up through the ventilator with a yell. "Yew don't mean to say--" He stopped short to listen to Tom Fillot's next words. "Shall we open the hatch, sir?" "No; lower all down through the ventilator," cried Mark, from where he had walked. Tom Fillot joined him, with a grim smile on his countenance, soon after. "Hear the skipper, sir?" he said. "No; what did he say?" Tom Fillot gave the midshipman a comical look. "I don't think you'd care to hear what he said, sir. But my word, he is in a snag. Swears he'll be even with you yet, sir, and that we're a set of thieves and pirates, and not British sailors at all." "I thought you were not going to tell me what he said, Tom." "I ain't, sir. That was only some of the nice innercent bits. You'll excuse me, sir, won't you?" "Excuse what?" "Just hinting again about the irons, or setting of 'em afloat near the shore." "I'll excuse you, Tom Fillot, but I shall not do it." "Very good, sir; you're officer, I'm only man; but I'm afeared of 'em." "I don't believe it, Tom." "Well, sir, I don't mean feared in one way, but in the t'other. I mean I'm feared they'll get out, and if they do, and we surwive, they'll either put us in irons or set us ashore." "They've got to get out yet, Tom. That cable's heavy enough to keep them from opening the hatch." "Yes, sir; it's heavy enough, but I can't feel sure of 'em. These Yankees are such clever chaps. It's wonderful what dodges and tricks they can think of. I only wish the _Naughtylass_ would heave in sight, and take charge of both schooners. The blacks are enough to take care on without a gang o' savage chaps like them below." _ |
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