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Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the "Seafowl" Sloop, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 50. Caesar Finds The Key |
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_ CHAPTER FIFTY. CAESAR FINDS THE KEY It was at the end of a desperate struggle, during which the brave little party of sailors had again and again driven their assailants back and repaired the defences of the two windows they held by dragging fresh pieces of furniture to their breastwork from other rooms, and they had now thrown themselves down, panting and exhausted, so as to recover what strength they could before another attack was made. Nothing could have been better done, but as Tom May said, they wanted time. "'Tain't wittles and drink, Mr Murray, sir," he said. "There's been plenty o' that, sir. I think we've all had too much. What we want is, as I says afore, time, sir, for it all to turn into strength." "Yes, Tom," said the middy bitterly; "we are all completely exhausted-- that is to say, you and all our brave fellows are." "Well, arn't you too, sir? Seems to me as you're much more zausted than we lads is." "Oh, don't talk about me, Tom. I'm as weak as a child now." "Nat'rally, sir. Your muscles is done up, and what you ought to do now is to see if you can't hit on some dodge." "Tom," cried Murray despairingly, "I've tried to hit on some plan till my brains refuse to act." "Yes, sir; nat'rally, sir; but can't yer hit on something in the blowing-up-of-the-beggars line?" "Tom!" cried the lad passionately. "How can I scheme an explosion and blow the wretches up without powder?" "Zackly so, sir; that's what I've been thinking. You can't, can yer?" "No, Tom." "Couldn't make a big pot or kettle so hot that when they come along next time it would bust, could you, sir?" "No, Tom, I certainly could not," said the middy decisively. "Course not, sir," growled the man, frowning. "We're beaten, Tom; we're absolutely beaten," said Murray bitterly; "and the next time the wretches come on it will be the last." "Oh, I dunno, sir. Never say die! Don't you be downhearted, sir. There's a deal o' fight in us yet, as you'll see nex' time the beggars makes a roosh." "No, Tom; we're getting weaker and weaker." "Yah! I wonder at you, sir," said the sailor, moistening his hand, taking a good grip of his cutlass, and then laying it down again. "We're getting a bit longer rest this time, and jest as like as not, sir, they'll begin to tire soon." "No, Tom; they fight with a desperate energy which is too much for us." "Well, they do go it, sir, I must say. You see, it makes a deal o' differ when a man's got a noose round his neck. They knows that if they don't get the best of us they'll be strung up to the yard-arm, and it sets 'em thinking that they may as well fight it out as that. But there, we're not licked yet, sir, though I must say as it was a nasty knock for us when the first luff went down, knocked silly as he was by that swivel-eyed Molatter chap--'bout as ugly a ruffian as ever I did see. Then, too, it was a bit o' hard luck for us when that darkie chap got rooshed off in the muddle. He would ha' been useful to fetch powder and help load." "When there was no powder, Tom?" said the lad bitterly. "Yes, sir; I meant if there had been any, o' course. Poor chap, he couldn't help being a black un, could he, sir? I've thought over and over again that if he could ha' grown white and talked like a Christian, sir, he'd ha' made quite a man." "Lie still, Tom," cried Murray, laying a hand upon the big sailor's arm. "Thought they was coming on agen, sir?" "No, no! I'll rouse you up the moment I hear them advancing. Rest all you can." "Thankye, sir," said the man drowsily. "But you won't go to sleep, sir? You must be dead tired yourself, sir, and it's so dark it may tempt yer, sir." "You may trust me, Tom." "Course I may, sir. But I think if I was you I'd give the first luff another drink o' water, sir." "I did a short time ago, Tom." "And I been thinking, sir, that if you could tie three or four sheets together and slide down 'em you might get hold o' that ladder they put up again' the window to swarm up." "I did, Tom, when you told me the last time." "Course you did, sir, and I forgot," said the man drowsily. "But what's that there?" "What?" asked Murray, as he sat listening in the darkness, with his exhausted comrades lying about beside the barricaded window. "That there," whispered the man, pointing through the gloom over where a dark line was formed by a piece of furniture. Murray made a snatch at the sailor's cutlass, took a firm grip of the hilt, and then creeping cautiously over two of the recumbent sailors, made for the opening, now quite satisfied that May's eyes even now had been sharper than his own, and that one of the enemy was stealing up by means of some bamboo pole or ladder, to guide his companions into the bravely defended room. Murray rose slowly, threw back the heavy sharp blade till the hilt rested against his left ear, and gathering into the effort all his force he was about to deliver his cut upon the unguarded enemy's head, when there was a quick whisper: "Massa Murray no hit. Take hold 'fore Caesar tumble down." The middy loosened his hold of the cutlass just in time, and catching hold of the black's hand with both his own, dragged him over the barricade right into the room. "Hullo, darkie," whispered Tom May; "it is you, is it?" "Yes, Massa Big Tom," replied the black feebly, and as if speaking in weakness and in pain. "Thought you'd come back to your friends again. Didn't bring in any more powder, did you?" "No, Massa Tom," replied the poor fellow faintly. "Caesar nearly get kill. T'ink nebber see poor Massa Allen again. Couldn't find um." "Did you, blackie? Well, we all began to think something of that kind." "Massa Murray Frank and all Bri'sh sailor come 'long o' Caesar. T'ink take um where Massa Allen must be." "No, my man," said the middy sadly. "I can't leave my friends here. We must hold this place to the last." The black sank back on the littered floor and groaned. "Poor Massa Allen!" he said. "Lookye here, darkie," said the big sailor; "tain't no use to howl. What do you say to getting a good bunch of palm leaves and waiting till these slaver beggars come again, and then setting fire to the place and burning them all up together?" "Yes, sah," said the black sadly. "Caesar go and set fire to sugar-barrel; all burn up." "Bah! Take too long, darkie. Now, if you'd got a barrel o' powder!" "Big Massa Tom want barrel o' powder?" "Do I want a barrel of powder?" growled the big sailor, in a deep-toned voice full of contempt and scorn. "Not big barrel sugar," said the black sadly; "lilly barrel black powder, all black like niggah." "Here, what are you talking about, you old pitch kettle?" cried the sailor, full of animation now. "You don't know where there's a lilly barrel, do you?" "Yes," said the man quietly. "Not a lilly white barrel?" "No, sah; lilly black barrel. Two--ten--twenty lilly barrel." "What!" cried Murray excitedly. "Where is it?" "Down'tair," said the black, speaking with more animation now. "Massa Murray Frank wantum?" "Yes, of course," cried the lad. "Where do you say it is? Down-stairs?" "Yes, massa. Down'tair long wi' Massa Allen bottle of wine. Plenty bottle o' wine. Two, ten, twenty lilly barrel black powder." "Avast there, my lads," said the big sailor, in a deep, low whisper. "Rouse and bit, my chickens. Here's corn in Egypt and no mistake." And then, as the men sprang up ready to meet another attack, even if it might be the last, Tom May turned to Murray. "Beg pardon, sir, but what's it to be?" "Get a barrel of powder up directly, Tom," replied the lad; "that is, if it doesn't turn out too good to be true. You serve it out to the lads, too, and be ready to give the enemy a surprise when they come on again." "Beg pardon, sir, but hadn't we better make it a mine, sir? Clap a couple o' barrels just in their way. Lay a train, and one on us be ready to fire it just as they're scrowging together under the window." "Yes, far better, Tom; far better than blazing at the wretches with the muskets. Here, Caesar, show us where the powder is. Is it locked up?" "Yes, massa; down'tair. Caesar know where key." The feeling that he was going to be of some great assistance to those who were the friends of his master seemed to rouse up the black, who staggered at first as he rose, and then seemed to grow stronger as he led the way towards the door, caught at the balustrade, and before he could be seized fell and rolled heavily down the stairs, to lie groaning feebly at the bottom. "Look at that now!" cried the big sailor, as he helped Murray to raise the poor fellow to his feet. "Why didn't you speak out about the gunpowder before?" "Caesar not know," moaned the shivering black. "Key dah," he panted. "Key dah." "Key dah!" growled the big sailor. "Who's to know where _dah_ is? Can't you show us? I believe we shall have the beggars here before we can find it, sir." But the black began to recover a little and ended by leading the way in the darkness to a closet in the principal down-stairs room, leaving it open, and then, armed with a key and hurrying his companions back, he opened a door in the wide hall, and holding on by the big sailor, showed the way down into the cellar of the well-vaulted house. The rest proved to be easy, though every step was taken under a state of intense excitement, while the wounded and worn-out sailors forgot every suffering, inspired as they now were by hope. At last, armed with a couple of fair-sized kegs of powder, held in reserve in case of troubles with the large body of slaves that were always about the plantation and at the so-called barracks, the plan of laying a mine and firing it when next the enemy made an attack was modified at Murray's suggestion into the preparing of some half-dozen shells, each composed of an ordinary wine bottle or decanter fully charged and rammed down with an easily prepared slow match such as would occur to any lad to contrive ready for lighting from a candle held prepared in the upper chamber, risk being a matter that was quite left out of the question. "Hah!" ejaculated Murray, as the shells were at last prepared. "Now they may come on as soon as they like. This must be the best plan, Tom--to wait till they begin to attack, and fire from here." "Well, it's the safest, sir; but mightn't we load every piece we've got and give 'em a taste of that wittles as well, sir?" "Of course," was the reply; and every piece was loaded; but still the enemy did not come. "I say, sir, this here arn't going to end in a big disappyntment, is it, sir?" "What, do you think they mayn't come?" "Yes, sir, that's it." "What could be better, Tom?" replied Murray. "Oh, I want 'em to come, sir," grumbled the man. "They've made us so savage that we shan't none of us be happy without we gets a chance to use this here dust." "They'll come; depend upon it, Tom," said Murray. "Then how would it be to light a fire out yonder, sir?" suggested the big sailor. "What, so as to see the enemy?" "Nay, sir; we shall manage that, and when the shells busts, sir, they'll light it up a bit; but what I meant was, sir, to start a pretty good fire just at a fair distance in front of the window, sir, just handy for some of us to make up good big charges of powder tied up in the sleeves of our shirts, sir, handy and light ready to heave into the hot parts where the fire's burning. They're pretty tough, them slavers, but a few of them charges set off among 'em would be more than they'd care to face. We've got plenty o' powder, sir, to keep it on till to-morrow; so what do you say?" "I say, certainly, Tom," replied Murray; "and on thinking again of what we had first planned, I say that we will lay a train from the door under this window to a mine consisting of one of the barrels just hidden." "And me fire it, sir?" cried the big sailor eagerly. "No; I shall do that myself," said Murray firmly. "All right, sir; you're orficer," said the big sailor, rather sulkily, "and a sailor's dooty's to obey orders; but I did think, sir, as a orficer in command was to give orders and let them as was under him do the work. I don't mean no offence, Mr Murray, sir, but I thought you was in command now that the first luff was down in orspittle, or as we say, in sick bay." "Well, we'll see, Tom," said Murray. "I don't want to disappoint you, my lad. What we've got to make sure of is that the mine is fired." "Ay, ay, sir; but you might trust me, sir." "I do trust you, Tom," replied Murray. "There, let's have the powder up and take the head out of another keg." "Ay, ay, sir. Give the word, sir, and we'll soon do that." "Off with you," cried Murray; and while the men were gone below, he carefully arranged the so-called shells that had been prepared, so that they were handy for hurling from the window, and once more examined the quick match that had been formed of strips of linen and moistened powder--a fuse that could be depended upon to keep burning when once set alight. He had hardly satisfied himself as to the arrangement of the terrible weapons that had been prepared, before a sound that floated through the open window drew him close up, and he had hardly stood there in doubt a couple of minutes before his doubt was dispelled, for plainly enough, and apparently from the other side of the island, came the report of a heavy gun, which was answered by another report, evidently from a gun of different calibre. Just then the men who had been below came hurrying up, bearing the powder as coolly as if it was so much butter. "I've brought two on 'em, sir," said the big sailor, "and if you'll just look on, sir, we'll make all right." "Be careful, my lad," said Murray. "Remember the light's here." "Ay, ay, sir; we'll be on the lookout for sparks," replied the man; "but hullo, sir! Hear that?" "Yes," said Murray; "firing over there, and the captain at work." "Three cheers for 'em, my lads! We shall have the beggars at us here soon." _ |
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