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Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the "Seafowl" Sloop, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 39. On The Strain |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY NINE. ON THE STRAIN Roberts and Titely lay close by, breathing heavily, but to Murray's horror it seemed as if, faintly spoken as it was, the big sailor's warning had reached the sensitive nerves of both the wounded, making them stir uneasily and mutter something unintelligible, while the light of morning, which had before been so sluggish in its approach, seemed now to be coming on by a steady glide, as if the black darkness which had pressed so heavily upon the spirits of two of the party was now being swept away like a cloud. A terrible dread came over Murray, for he saw in the moving figures death coming upon him in most probably some horribly brutal form, and he could feel his nerves thrill with an icy sensation which had its origin among the roots of his hair and then began to glide down his spine till it reached to and made its exit from his toes; while in spite of what he suffered, he could not help recalling some of the words which had passed between him and his waking companion as he was conscious of fresh movements on the part of Roberts and Titely, and he wished that he could carry out what had been proposed, namely, to sit upon the pair and keep them quiet. "They'll let the wretches know where we are," he thought, and quietly reaching out one leg till he could reach Tom May's big body, he gave him a steady thrust. "That will keep him on the _qui vive_," he thought to himself; and then the lad started violently, for the big sailor responded with a well-meant but decidedly forcible kick, which Murray took for a warning of impending danger, and raised his head to look, but dropped it again on the instant, throbbing with excitement, for there were the moving figures, clearly seen now, in the shape of a villainous-looking party of about a dozen well-armed men, clothed sailor fashion and graduated in colour from the sun-tanned skin of a white through the swarthiness of the Malay and Mulatto to the black of the East Indian and the intense ebony of the African black. He gazed in that moment, as he knew for certain, upon a party of the cut-throat ruffians belonging to the crew of one of the slave-trade vessels, and as he subsided, it was with the feeling upon him that his head must have been seen, that in another instant he should be listening to the rush of feet, and would have to make a desperate effort to preserve his life, while all the while he was lying there suffering from a kind of paralysis which held him as if he were passing through the worst phases of a nightmare-like dream. "Poor old Dick!" he thought, as if in a flash. "We were always quarrelling, and he was horribly jealous of me; but I liked him, and I'd do anything to save him. But he'll never know, for the brutes will kill him in his sleep. Poor Billy Titely the same. But Tom May must be ready to fight for his life, and he'll pay out some of the butchers, and I shall help him _too_, though I haven't got his strength. Why don't I spring up before they come?" It seemed curiously misty and dream-like to him, and he fully realised that something must be wrong, as he seemed to fight hard to answer that question; but so far from replying to the mental query, and springing up to help his brave companion, he could not move, till he was roused into a state of action by the touch of the big sailor's foot, which did not come in a heavy kick this time, but in steady pressure. Murray drew a slow, deep breath, and instead of starting up he softly turned his head sidewise till he could peer with one eye through the bushes, and see that the crew of ruffians had turned off to the right and were slowly and cautiously passing away. So far Murray felt the murderous wretches had not seen them, but as he knew that the slightest movement on the part of the sleepers, or a muttered word, would bring them to their side, he lay quivering and trying involuntarily to press himself deeper into the soft earth for some minutes, clinging to hope, till once more the intensity of the strain was broken by a sharp clear snap which sounded awfully loud, and he started up, resting upon his right elbow, and gazed, not upon the fiercely savage face of one of the enemies, but upon the big, frank, apologetic countenance of Tom May, who was in precisely the same attitude. "Who'd have thought it?" he whispered. "But they didn't hear." "Oh, Tom," replied the lad, hardly above his breath, "how you frightened me!" "Frightened you, sir?" chuckled the big fellow, with his face expanding into a grin. "Why, it frightened me." "What was it?" whispered Murray, pressing his left hand upon his throbbing breast. "This here, sir," replied the man, holding up a round brass tobacco-box. "Thought I'd take a quid just to put a bit o' life into me, and as soon as I'd got it I shut up the lid, and it went off like a pistol." "But do you feel sure they didn't hear?" "Oh, there's no doubt about that, sir. There they go, and we're all right so long as none of 'em looks round, and Billy Titely and Mr Roberts don't sing out anything to bring them back." "Oh, don't speak so loud," whispered the middy. "Nay, they can't hear that, sir," said the man. "Lucky beggars!" "What!" "Lucky beggars, sir. Two on 'em's saved their lives, and a couple more's gone off without having any mark upon 'em. For I'm pretty handy with my cutlash, Mr Murray, sir; arn't I?" "Handy, Tom? Yes, of course; but what an escape! I felt as if I couldn't have helped you." "Yah! Nonsense, sir! I always feel like that, just as if I couldn't do anything. It's nat'ral, I suppose. I was allers that how when I was a boy, when I got fighting. Used to feel like running away, till I was hurt, and then my monkey was up directly and I began to bite. Whatcher talking about, sir? I just see you standing still and one of them ugly beggars sticking his long knife into _you_. You'd hold still, wouldn't you? Not much!" "Oh, I don't know, Tom." "Well, sir, I do," said the sailor, half closing his eyes as he kept careful watch in the direction the enemy had taken. "What's to be done now, Tom?" said Murray, after a pause. "Eh? What's to be done, sir? Why, I was waiting for orders. You're my orficer, sir." "Yes, Tom, but this is a terrible position." "Oh, I dunno, sir. 'Tarn't a wreck." "No, Tom, but I want your help." "Say what I'm to do, sir, and here I am." "Yes, I know, but can't you make a good suggestion?" "No, sir; I arn't clever. I want some one to set me going. Seems to me, though, as the best thing we could do would be to--" "Yes," said Murray eagerly, for the man had paused. "Do nothing, sir," said the man slowly. "We know that gang is on the lookout so as we can't follow their way." "No, Tom, but we might go in the opposite direction." "Yes, sir, we might," replied the man, "but there's lots more on 'em about, and we may be tumbling out o' the frying-pan into the fire." "Yes, Tom," said the middy, "and we are pretty well hidden. I propose that we lie here till those two poor fellows wake up. They may be better then and so far able to help us that they may get along with our arms." "Yes, sir," said May quietly, "and I'd stop at that. Besides, Mr Anderson's looking after us, and perhaps he knows the way back to that rondyvoo of his, for it must be somewheres not very far-off. Don't you think the first luff may be sending that black See-saw chap to look for us?" "Yes, very likely, Tom. Capital!" "Yes, sir; it don't seem so bad now we come to think of it. See-saw knows all about these parts, sir, and it would be a pity for him to come to find us, and walk into this patch of trees and find as we'd gone." "Yes, of course, Tom. Then you think that our wisest plan would be to lie here and wait for a few hours at all events and see what turns up?" "That's it exactly, sir." "Then that's what we'll do, Tom." "Thankye, sir." "Why do you say that, Tom?" "Oh, 'cause you said what we'd do." "Of course." "Yes, sir, but some young gents--Mr Roberts there, for instance--would ha' thought he knowed best and wouldn't have listened to a bit of advice. Pst! Don't you hear some un coming along, making the trees rustle and crackle a bit?" Murray listened eagerly, before turning to the big sailor again. "No. Your ears are better than mine, Tom." The middy had hardly ceased speaking before there was a heavy burst of coarse laughter, and then several voices came from some little distance away, while as the listeners crouched together and drew their cutlasses, after Tom May had raised the pan of his musket and closed it again, satisfied that the priming was correct, the pair gazed in each other's eyes, for Roberts started and turned uneasily, waking the wounded sailor, who began to talk aloud and incoherently about manning a boat and getting ashore. "What's to be done, Tom?" whispered Murray; and as he spoke he loosened the knot of his neckerchief and slipped it off, to hold it to the big sailor. "Right, sir. Can't do better than that." And taking the silk kerchief, Tom began to crawl close to where the man's voice was sinking to a low muttering, the poor fellow being perfectly unconscious of the fact that his messmate was leaning over him ready to use the silken tie as a gag and thrust it between his teeth if he went on talking and the enemy drew near. Fortunately it seemed as if all the mutterings were about to die out, and though coarse mirth was on the increase, and the party of searchers were drawing nearer, it appeared to Murray that the rough means of quieting the wounded man would not be called into service, when all at once, when the peril of being discovered was growing to be more grave, Roberts started as if from pain, and threw out his arms sharply, striking Titely upon the side of the head. It was not sufficient to cause pain, but the poor fellow's lips parted to cry out, and he gave forth an inarticulate sound caused by the sudden descent of the rolled-up pad of black silk vigorously planted in its place by the sturdy hand of Tom May. The next minute there was a violent struggling to add to the gurgling noise, and in spite of the big sailor's efforts, the gagged one wrenched his head free from the pressure of the hand, and uttered a loud cry of annoyance and pain. _ |
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