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Mass' George: A Boy's Adventures in the Old Savannah, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 11 |
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_ CHAPTER ELEVEN. Our first task on getting out of the main river and up our stream to the landing-place where the boat was made fast, was to get the boy ashore, and it proved to be no light task; coaxing and threats were received in the same spirit--for of course he could not comprehend a word. All he seemed to realise was that he was in the hands of his enemies; and that if he could get a chance, he ought to bite those hands. "You'll have to be careful, Morgan," I said, as our man stooped down to unfasten the rope which held the boy to the thwart. "Careful? What for, Master George? Think I should break him?" "No; he bites." "Oh, he won't bite me," said Morgan, confidently. "Like to catch him at it." He had his wish, for the boy swung himself round and set his teeth hard in Morgan's leg. "Oh! Well, he is hungry, and no mistake," said Morgan, freeing himself by giving the boy's head a sharp thrust. "Has he bitten you?" said my father. "Well, he have, and he haven't, sir. Breeches was a bit too tough for him, but he has nipped me finely. Wonderful power in his jaw. No, no, Master George, don't you touch him; he'll have to go in the copper first. Ah, would you! Why, he's like a fish, only he arn't hooked." For the boy had made a dash for liberty, and it was only after a severe struggle that he was held down, and this time I was the sufferer; for, as I helped to keep him from springing overboard, he swung his head round and fixed his teeth in my left arm in a pinch that seemed to be scooping out a circular piece of flesh. "Well, he is a warmint, and no mistake. Let go, will you, sir?" "Don't strike the boy," said my father. "Let me get hold of his jaw." The boy saw the hand coming and wrenched himself away, seeming to take a piece of my arm with him, and leaving me throbbing with agonising pain, and feeling as if I must yell out and sob and cry. "Well done, George!" said my father, pressing my shoulder in a firm grip. "That's brave; always try and bear pain like a man." "But it hurts horribly," I said, with my eyes full of tears. "I know it does, my lad, but noise will not ease the pang.--Now, Morgan, you had better fetch another rope and bind him well." "S'pose I had, sir. I'd take hold of him and carry him ashore, but he'd have his teeth into me directly. S'pose people don't go mad after being bit by boys? On'y feel mad, eh, Master George?" I nodded, for I could not trust myself to speak, and I stood looking on as the boy was held back in the bottom of the boat, with my father's foot upon his breast. "Shall I fetch a rope, sir? Can you hold him?" "Yes, I think so. We can manage him between us." Morgan leaped ashore, and he was about to go up to the house, when a rush and scramble brought him back, for the boy was struggling like an eel; and how he managed I do not know, but he wriggled from beneath my father's foot, passed under the thwart, and, as I tried to stop him, threw me backwards, and was over the side with a splash and beneath the stream. As I uttered a cry of horror I saw the boy's woolly head appear for a moment above the surface, and then go down, weighted as he was by the shackles on his ankles; and, as I gazed, I nearly went after him, the boat gave such a lunge, but I saved myself, and found that it was caused by Morgan leaping back rope in hand, after unfastening the moorings, and it was well he did so, sending the boat well off into the stream, floating after our purchase. "See him?" cried my father, eagerly, as he threw off hat and coat ready to dive in. "Not yet, sir," said Morgan, standing ready with the boat-hook. "I would not have him drowned for five hundred pounds," cried my father. "No, no, George, my boy, you must not go after him; his struggles would drown you both." "Don't see him, sir. Big alligator hasn't got him, has it?" "Don't talk like that, man," cried my father, with a shudder; "but you ought to be able to see him in this clear water." "I see him!" I cried, excitedly; "give me the boat-hook." It was passed to me, and after a couple of misses, I felt the hook take hold, drew up gently, and as I hauled in, we found that the boy was coming up feet first, the iron having passed between the ring of the shackle and the boy's ankle. "Steady, my lad, steady!" cried Morgan, as I drew the boy nearer, and the next minute he was seized and drawn into the boat, feeble and helpless now, half dead, and making no further attempt to escape as the boat was paddled back toward the landing-place. "That's quieted him a bit anyhow, sir," said Morgan. "Won't take his clothes long to dry, Master George, will it?" "Poor fellow! He has been so ill-used," said my father, "that he thinks we mean to do him harm." "Oh, we'll soon teach him better, sir," replied Morgan, as I laid my hand on the boy's side to feel if his heart was beating. "Oh, he arn't drowned, sir, and the wash 'll do him no end of good. Here we are!" He leaped out, made the boat fast, and then, coming back, was about to carry the boy ashore; but my father had forestalled him, and stepped out with the boy in his arms, laying him gently down on the grass, and then looking wonderingly at Morgan, who had followed, and knelt down to pass a rope through the shackle and make it fast to a ring-bolt used for mooring the boat, and driven into one of the tree-trunks close to the water. "Not necessary," said my father. "Begging your pardon, sir, he'll come to and be off while we're busy perhaps. Now about the man; I'm rather 'fraid about him." "We must get him ashore," said my father; and after securing the boat parallel with the log which formed the bottom of the landing-place, they managed to get the poor creature, who was quite an inert mass, out upon the bank, and then, after placing one of the bottom-boards of the boat under his back, I joined in, and we dragged him right up to where the boy lay insensible. "I'm afraid we are too late," said my father, as he felt the black's pulse. "Yes, sir, you've threw good money away here," said Morgan; "he'll never do a stroke of work for us, but thank you kindly for meaning help all the same, and I must try what I can do with the boy." "Is he dead, father?" I whispered, in an awe-stricken tone. "No, but dying, I am afraid. He has been starved and suffocated in that vile schooner. Good heavens! How can men be such fiends?" "Ay, that can't do no harm," said Morgan, as I filled the boat's baler with water, and knelt down by the negro's side to begin trickling a few drops from time to time between his cracked lips, and sprinkling his face. "I will fetch a few drops of spirit," said my father. "Keep on giving him a little water." He went away toward the house while I continued my task, and Morgan kept up a running commentary upon the man's appearance. "Pity, too," he said. "Master oughtn't to have let them cheat him though, like this. Fine working chap. See what a broad, deep chest he's got, Master George. Don't think much of his legs, but he's got wonderful arms. My! What a sight of hoeing I could have got him to do, but it's a case of hoe dear me! With him, I'm afraid." "You don't think he'll die, Morgan, do you?" I said, piteously. "Ay, but I do, my dear lad. They've 'bout killed him. We want help, but I'm 'fraid all that slave-dealing's 'bout as bad as bad can be. Give him a few more drops o' water; those others trickled down." I gave the man a few more drops, pouring them from my fingers almost at minute intervals, but he made no sign. Then, all at once, I felt half startled, for a pair of eyes were watching me, and I saw that the boy had recovered sufficiently to be noticing everything that was going on. As our eyes met, he looked at me like a fierce dog who was watching for an opportunity to make a successful snap; but as he saw me trickle a few more drops of water between the man's lips, his face suddenly grew eager, and he looked at me, found my eyes fixed upon him, and slowly opened his mouth widely. "Want some water?" I said; and I was going to him when he jerked himself fiercely away, and showed his beautiful white teeth at me. "Wo ho!" cried Morgan. "Mind, lad, or he'll have his teeth in you." "He's thirsty," I said; and I held the tin baler half full of water to him. He looked at me, then at the water, and I could see his lips move and his teeth part, showing his dry tongue quivering like that of a dog. Then he fixed his eyes upon me again fiercely. "Let me give it him," said Morgan, as the boy's mouth opened widely again, and there was a pitiful, imploring look in his eyes. Now I could not understand all that when I was so young, but I've often thought about it since, and seemed to read it all, and how nature was making him beg for water for his parched tongue, while his education forced upon him the desire to fight me as a cruel enemy. "There," I said, going a little nearer, pushing the baler close to his hands, and drawing back. He looked at me, then at the water, and back at me, fixing me with his eyes, as one hand stole slowly from his side towards the baler, drawing it nearer and nearer stealthily, as if in dread of my snatching it away; and then it was at his lips, and he gulped down the contents. "There, I'm not going to hurt you," I said, stretching out my hand for the baler, and getting it, meaning to go and fill it once more; and as I returned I saw that he was watching me so wildly that I walked up, with him shrinking away as far as he could go, and offered the tin to him again. He took it in the same shrinking way, evidently expecting a blow, and drank heavily once more. "Well, he couldn't ha' swallowed much, Master George, else he wouldn't be so thirsty," said Morgan. "Now give this here one a dose, though it seems to me labour in vain; only it may make him go off a bit easy." He filled the baler, and I knelt down again to sprinkle the poor fellow's temples, and trickle a few drops once more between his lips, the boy watching me the while, and then giving me the first notice of my father's return by shuffling away in another direction. "Poor wretch!" I heard my father mutter, as he gave me a piece of bread-cake, and pointed to the boy, before taking the cork from a bottle, and slowly dropping a spoonful or two of spirit between the man's teeth. After this he waited, and I saw that the boy was watching him wildly. Then he poured in a little more, without apparently the slightest effect, and after looking on for a few minutes, I advanced toward the boy, holding out the cake. But I stopped short, with my hand extended, looking at him, and then, as he took no notice of the cake, but stared wildly at me, I broke off a few crumbs, and began to eat before him, treating him as I would have treated some savage creature I wished to tame, and breaking off a piece and throwing it within his reach. Then I went on eating again, and after a time I saw his hand steal slowly to the bread, his eyes fixed on mine, and he snatched the piece and conveyed it to his mouth with a motion that was wonderful from its rapidity. This I repeated two or three times before feeling that I ought now to have won his confidence a little, when I went close to him, put down the cake, and went back to kneel by my father, whose hand was upon the man's throat. "Is he getting better?" I said. There was a shake of the head, and I looked then with a feeling of awe at the black face before me, with the eyes so close that there was just a gleam of the white eyeballs visible; but as I gazed, I fancied I saw a jerking motion in the throat, and I whispered to my father to look. "A good sign, or a bad one, my boy," he whispered. "You had better go now, back to the house." "Yes, father," I said, unwillingly; "but don't you think you can cure him like you did me when I was so ill?" "I would to heaven I could, boy!" he said, so earnestly that I was startled, and the more so that at the same moment the man slowly opened his eyes, and stared at us vacantly. "It is a hopeful sign," said my father, and he took the baler, poured out all but a few drops of water, added some spirit, and placed it to the man's lips, with the result that he managed to drink a little, and then lay perfectly still, gazing at my father with a strange look which I know now was one full of vindictive hate, for the poor wretch must have read all this attention to mean an attempt to keep him alive for more ill-treatment, or until he was sold. "Take a little more," said my father, offering the vessel again, and the man drank and once more lay still, glaring at us all in turn. "Why, you'll save him after all, sir," said Morgan, eagerly. "Hurrah!" But no one paid heed to his remark, for at that moment there was a sort of bound, and we saw that the boy had contrived to force himself so near that he could lay his hand on the man's cheek, uttering as he did so a few words incomprehensible to us, but their effect on the man was magical: his features softened, and two great tears stole slowly from his eyes as we watched the pair, the boy glaring at us defiantly, as if to protect his companion, and I heard my father say softly-- "Thank God!" _ |
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