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The Black Bar, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 37. On Deck Again |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN. ON DECK AGAIN Nothing of a climb up over the stern of that schooner, a trifle compared to the same task on the _Nautilus_; but it was hard work to Mark Vandean, who had to move by inches, getting well hold and drawing himself up till he was about to reach his hand over the top, when he felt one foot gliding from its support, and thought that he was gone. But a spasmodic clutch saved him, and after clinging there motionless and in a terribly constrained attitude for a time, he drew a long breath once more, reached up suddenly, got a secure hold, and then hung for a few moments before seeking about with his foot for a fresh resting-place. To his great delight, he found one directly; and, slight as it was, it was sufficient to enable him to raise his head very slowly till his eyes were level with the edge, and he could peer over the stern rail. That which he saw paralysed him, and he remained perfectly motionless, gazing at the black silhouette of the man at the helm seen against the dull, soft light shed by the binnacle lamp. This man was motionless, leaning on the wheel with his back to the spectator, but the light shone softly upon the forehead of another, seated on a coil of rope not six feet from Mark, and a little to his left. This man, whom he recognised at once as the fellow who had struck at him, was intent upon the task of shredding some tobacco up finely, and tucking it into the bowl of a pipe, dimly-seen below where the light from the lamp struck; and as Mark watched him, not daring to move for fear of being heard, the slaver finished his task. "Open that lantern," he said shortly to the other; and, rising, he took a step forward, Mark taking advantage of the noise he made to lower his head and listen. The next moment the man altered his mind, as he stuck his pipe between his teeth, and turning and stepping aft, he came to the stern and looked over on the port side, Mark being more to starboard. Thump--thump--thump went the lad's heart in those perilous moments, as he clung there close to the stern, preparing to drop the moment the man made a step to knock him off into the sea, and consoling himself with the knowledge that the line was tight round his waist, and that his friends had the other end ready to haul him into safety. They certainly were agonising moments, and yet the man did not stir, only seemed to gaze out over the sea, then downward; and at last he turned away from Mark and walked back to his companion. "Why didn't you open the lantern?" he said, sourly. "Hands full," came to Mark's ears, as, unable to restrain his curiosity, the lad raised his head slightly and peered over again to see the lamp opened and the glare of light fall on the thin, sharp features of the smoker, as he drew the flame into the bowl of his pipe till the tobacco was glowing. Then the lantern was closed again with a snap, and the light was softened to a faint glow, shining on the binnacle and the black, shadowy figures before it. "Keep a sharp look-out," said the man at the helm in a harsh growl; "don't want them fellows to come up and break my head while I'm not looking." "Not likely to. They'd better. Make out anything of the little schooner?" "Not since I saw her light. She's ten mile away by now." "She'll be a cable's length astern to-morrow," said the man, significantly. "Will she?" thought Mark, but he felt directly after that he had made a slip, for he could see no way of carrying out the plans they had hatched below, and a miserable feeling of despondency came over him. For he knew that if he stirred and made the slightest noise, he must be heard by the man posted to guard against attack. To get on deck was next to impossible, and even if he did he would not be able to make the line fast unless--Mark shuddered and set aside the horrible thought, which was in full--unless he used his dirk. In open fight it would have been terrible enough, but then it would have been in self-defence, and for the sake of the poor enslaved creatures they were trying to save; but to wait there for an opportunity to strike would be like playing the assassin, and he felt that he would rather jump back into the sea and risk the sharks. It was hard work hanging there. His arms and wrists ached, his legs felt cramped, and a peculiar tingling numbness began to assail him, as more and more he was forced to the conclusion that there was only one way out of the difficulty, and that was to descend--if he could, for he knew that this would be as difficult a task again. There was a slight rustling, and raising his head once more very slowly, he looked over to dimly make out the figure of the man who was on guard leaning over the same part of the stern as before, and smoking, a faint glow arising from his pipe at every puff. "It's all over," thought Mark. "I shall have to drop into the water and let them haul me in. I can't get down. If I move, he'll come and break my head or smash my fingers." In this spirit he turned his head a little to try and look downward, but it was too dark to see anything, and if it had been otherwise, he could at the most have seen his shoulder, in the cramped attitude he occupied. He had some idea of signalling by tugging at the cord, but he found that he could not get at it without loosening one hand, which was not to be thought of; besides, if he had tugged, in all probability Tom Fillot would have believed that it was the signal that the cord was made fast, tighten it, and drag him off. So at last he said to himself, "Now for it," and prepared to drop. But he hesitated. Who would not under the circumstances? It was not many feet down, but the water was black, and there was the thought of the sharks. He tried to make up his mind for the bold plunge, but still he could not. The perspiration stood out on his forehead, his hands grew wet, and his breath came short; but at last, when feeling that his task must be done, for if he did not drop, Tom Fillot would begin to climb up, only to be struck back, he drew a long breath, and pressing his feet hard against the stern, instead of descending he began to draw himself up. Striving gently he glided on to the rail, and from there, as softly as a serpent, lowered himself to the deck, crept along for a few feet and then began to unfasten the line about his chest, and secured it to the stout iron upon which the block ran from side to side, and held down the heavy boom of the fore and aft mainsail. For all at once, when he was at his worst pitch of agony and despair at his failure, a familiar voice from somewhere forward cried sharply: "Jeffs." "Hello," said the man close by him, softly. "Forward!" The man went away, and Mark felt that his time had come. He might be able to make the rope fast after all, without being heard by the man at the wheel. He could hardly believe in his good fortune, for just as the fellow Jeffs went forward, the helmsman began to hum over some sea-song, pretty loudly, to amuse himself; while he held his hand below his eyes and gazed over it forward, to see what was going on, and why his companion had been summoned. He was still occupied in this way when Mark gave the line the signal tugs, and crept sidewise into the shelter of the bulwark, where all was perfectly black. There he crouched dirk in hand, listening to the beating of his heart, and the peculiar dull sound made by the line as it tightened, and this was supplemented by a crack or two as it gave over the wood across which it was strained. The man at the wheel was so intent upon his song, and that which was going on forward, that he did not notice the sounds which were terribly loud to the midshipman's ear, till Tom Fillot had climbed up, was about to throw his legs over, but slipped. The noise he made in his slip was slight in the extreme, but unfortunately he uttered a sharp ejaculation as he saved himself from going down. The helmsman looked round, uttered a shout of warning, and picked up a heavy cudgel lying by him on the deck. Tom Fillot leaped forward, then back, and shouted: "Up with you, lads!" and then made a rush at the helmsman, avoided a blow aimed at him, and retaliated with a thrust which sent the man staggering back against the next corner, checking him for the moment, and giving Dick Bannock time to get over on to the poop. But before the others could mount, the schooner's crew came with so fierce a rush that, being in the forefront boldly heading his little party of two, Mark was driven back to the rail, and tossed over, but made a desperate clutch to save himself, and caught at the line he had secured. It was a terrible scrape for his hands, but he held on, came with a heavy bang against the stern, and feeling as if his arms had been jerked from his shoulders, he hung there for a moment, and was then helped into the cabin by the black and Stepney, who had been stopped from climbing up by the strength of the defence. Then after a sturdy struggle there were a couple of heavy splashes in the dark water below, while from overhead came a jeering series of cheers. Fortunately, when the man left the wheel, the way of the schooner was to some extent stopped, or Tom Fillot and Bannock would have been hopelessly left behind, the slavers not having the slightest intention of lowering a boat to pick up their enemies; but under the circumstances, as the vessel rolled in the hollow with her sails flapping and the great booms swaying to and fro, the men rose and swam close under the stern, Dick Bannock getting hold of a ring-bolt, and holding on in the darkness, while Tom Fillot swam with all his strength to keep up. "Can't lend you a hand, mate," growled Dick, "or I would. Take a grip of me with your teeth--oh!" Dick uttered a yell, so firmly had Tom Fillot followed out his instructions, and there the pair hung as the wheel was seized once more, and the schooner began to glide rapidly through the water. "How long can you hold on?" cried Mark, whose hands were busy the while. No answer came, but by this time he had reached up as high as he could, and cut the line, at which the men on deck were jerking and tugging. There was enough for his purpose, and rapidly making a loop, he threw it down. "Get an arm through that, Tom, and we'll haul you up," cried Mark. "Got it!" There was a peculiar sound from Tom Fillot, and then a cheery "All right, sir," as the line tightened. For his first utterance had been when his teeth were set fast in Dick Bannock's trousers and leg, the second when he had quitted his hold. With four in the cabin to haul, and Tom Fillot's activity to help, it was not long before he was up and in at the window, getting the noose of the line off his arm. "Hold on, Dick," cried Mark, leaning out as far as he could. "Can't, sir," came like a groan. "There's so little to hold on by." "Here, quick! the line!" cried Mark, dragging it to him in loops, and, leaning out, he dropped it right on to the man, who made a desperate snatch at it, and twisted it round his wrist as the swift current seemed to snatch him from his hold. The lad's heart felt as if it had stopped in those brief moments when he gazed down at the dimly-seen figure in the agitated water. "Right!" came the next moment; and then the word, "Haul." In another minute Dick lay panting on the cabin floor, breathless and trembling, so that for a time he could not speak. "Better now?" said Mark, sympathetically. "Yes, sir," said the man, faintly. "I'm a-coming round, sir, but that there was very near." "Near?" "Yes, sir; I thought I was gone." "But you warn't, mate," said Tom Fillot; "and you and me's got to pollergise for making the cabin floor so wet." "Never mind the cabin floor," said Mark. "You dunno how juicy I am, sir, or you wouldn't talk like that," said Tom. "Are either of you much hurt?" said Mark. "Can't tell yet, sir; haven't had time to think. Pretty tidy, though, I should say." "Let's have a light and see." "Oh, never mind about that, sir. We shan't hurt, Dick and me. It was all wrastling, and no knives or pistols. We shall do. Sorry we didn't get up quicker." "It was a failure, Tom, but only the first time. They tried till they took the schooner; we're going to try the same." "That's the way to take it, sir. Won't try again to-night, I suppose?" "Of course not, nor yet that way, Tom. We'll wait for morning now." _ |
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