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Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the "Seafowl" Sloop, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 49. "Caesar Don't Know" |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY NINE. "CAESAR DON'T KNOW" It was a little later on that, during a quiet interval and while in obedience to his officer Murray had been seeing to the men and taking care they were well refreshed ready for the next attack that might be delivered, the lieutenant joined the lad. "Are the men satisfied?" he said quietly. "Yes, sir; any one would think that we were out upon an excursion." "Poor lads!" said the lieutenant. "I'm afraid it is going to be a sad excursion for them." "Oh, I don't know, sir," said Murray cheerily. "Who knows, sir, but what the captain may come and cut us out at any time, and call upon us to help him rout out the horrible wasps' nest?" "That's a good, bright, boyish way of looking upon things, my boy," said the lieutenant, "and we shall see. There, come and let's look at our wounded ones. Have you had a chat with your messmate lately?" "I've been to see him three times to-day, but he is very weak yet. You have been with him too, sir. He told me. I wish you would speak to Titely, sir. He wants to get up and fight, and he is not fit." "I've already forbidden it, Mr Murray," said the lieutenant; "and the poor fellow looked quite cut up, so I promised him a double allowance as soon as he got well enough." The lieutenant was silent for a few minutes, and stood as if listening so intently that Murray grew uneasy. "Do you hear anything, sir?" he asked. "No, my lad; I wish I could. I am getting anxious." "The men are keeping a very sharp lookout, sir." "Oh yes; I am not afraid of that, my lad. My anxiety is for the _Seafowl_. It is so long since I have heard her guns, and then they were apparently a long distance away." "Yes, sir," said Murray cheerfully; "but then it is a long while since we heard the slaver's guns, and that seems to mean that the captain has silenced and perhaps--" "Perhaps what, Mr Murray?" "I was going to say sunk the schooner, sir; but I hope he has not done that, for the men's sake." "What, on account of prize money?" replied the lieutenant. "Oh, by the way, Mr Murray, I suppose you still believe in that black fellow, Caesar?" "Oh yes, sir, thoroughly. I'm sure he saved my life." "Humph! Well, I want to have faith in him, but it is hard work to trust in people sometimes. Then I get thinking a great deal about that Mr Allen. I suppose he is sincere." "Oh, I feel sure he is, sir. The thorough reverence the black Caesar has for him is sufficient to prove that his master is good to his people." "Well, after the ill these slave-owners have done the poor creatures they owe them something in the way of recompense. Humph! How strange! We begin talking of the black, and here he is. He wants to speak to you, seemingly. Call him up." Caesar had come peering in at one of the doors, and as soon as Murray signed to him he hurried eagerly into the room, when the lieutenant looked at him searchingly and said-- "What about your master, my man? Where do you think he is now?" Caesar started violently, and his lips quivered as he said huskily-- "Caesar don't know, sah. Berry much frighten." "What, about the slavers and their schooners?" "No, massa. Caesar 'fraid Massa Huggin take um and kill um." "What for? Why should he kill one who is his master?" "Bad man, massa. 'Fraid Massa Allen talk to Bri'sh cap'en and set all a black free. 'Fraid Massa Huggin kill um." "Not so bad as that, I hope," said the lieutenant. "Caesar berry much 'fraid Massa Allen no let Caesar kill Massa Huggin." "I should think not!" said the lieutenant; and Caesar looked at him curiously. "Massa Huggin bad man, sah. Caesar kill, sua. Him take away and kill um. Caesar t'ink so first time. T'ink so now." "Where would he take them?" "Caesar know, sah. Show Bri'sh officer where. Oder side island where slabe barracks and slabe ship come." "You could take us there, my man?" said the lieutenant. "Yes, massa. Caesar show way when Bri'sh cap'en come wif plenty men. Not 'nough now. All get kill. Show Bri'sh officer all um slabes. All Massa Huggin strong men, berry strong men." "Good. You shall, my man," said the lieutenant; "and as you say this Huggins's men are so strong we will wait for reinforcements, so as to make sure of taking them." "Massa try," said the black. "Try sabe Massa Allen. Try quick." "But what are you fidgeting about?" said Murray sharply. "Caesar t'ink Massa Huggin man come and fight soon." "What makes you think that?" asked Murray. "Caesar don't know, massa. Caesar feel Massa Huggin man come soon. Look, massa. Big Tom May come 'long." The black turned excitedly to point in the direction of the head of the open staircase, where the big sailor had suddenly appeared. "Rocks ahead, sir," he said, in a low gruff whisper. "Something wrong to report, my lad?" "Ay, ay, sir. They arn't come out yet, but three lookouts report seeing the enemy just inside the edge of the plantation, sir." "Off with you then, Mr Murray," cried the lieutenant, "and take your old station. Use your ammunition carefully," he added, with a meaning intonation and a peculiar look which made the lad nod his head quickly. "Keep the sharpest lookout for fire. They must not get hold of us there." Murray hurried off with Tom May, followed by the black, and before many minutes had elapsed the expected attack had developed so rapidly, and was delivered with such energy, that but for the brave resistance, the enemy must have carried all before them. As it was the little party of defenders met them with so fierce a fire that the savage-looking mongrel crew were sent staggering back, followed by the triumphant cheers of the _Seafowls_, who were still cheering when Mr Anderson made a gesture and called for silence. "Up on to the head of the staircase, my lads," he cried. "We must make our stand there." "Beg pardon, sir," growled Tom May, with the look of an angry lion, "but will you have some cartridges sarved out, for me and my messmates have fired our last." "Yes, my lads," said the lieutenant, "that is a bitter fact. We have fired our last shots, and we must fall back now upon our cutlasses." "Ay, ay, sir," said the big fellow coolly. "D'yer hear, my lads? Cutlashes it is." And at that crucial moment, as Murray ran his eyes along the faces of the men, there was no sign of dismay--just the cheery, contented look of Seaman Jack Tar ready for the worst, and the deep threatening tones of the beaten-back enemy were pretty well deadened by a hearty cheer. But an hour later, the enemy were back in stronger force, to be driven off once more, but at a terrible expenditure of force, for as Murray and Tom May came back from the sheltered room where they had laid their gallant leader, badly wounded, by the side of Roberts, it was to find the members of their sadly diminished force sitting wearily together discussing another loss which Harry Lang unwillingly communicated to the young officer. "But have you looked round well? Perhaps he's lying somewhere among the trees." "Oh yes, sir, we've looked, and he arn't there. We've been talking it over, sir, and we all think the same: he's had enough of it, sir, and gone." "Who has?" said Tom May gruffly. "That there nigger, Caesar, Tom." "Dunnot believe it," said Tom May fiercely, for he was very sore. "Well, messmate," said Harry Lang, "he arn't here." _ |
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