Black Bar

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

  A CONFUSED AWAKENING.

  "Now then, out you come."

  Mark Vandean did come out of the bunk in remarkably quick time, but hewas still confused, and his brain refused to solve the puzzle beforehim, so he, to use a familiar expression, pulled himself together. Theyoung officer resented being spoken to in this rough manner andthreatened by a stranger with an American accent, and in as haughty atone as he could assume he cried,--

  "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

  "Come, I like that. Hear him. Oh, all right," cried the man, as therewas a hoarse chorus of laughter. "Who'm I, eh, my bantam cock? Waal,I'm Cap'n Ephrum Bynes, o' Charleston, South Car'lina. That's who I am.And what am I doing here? I'm kicking a set o' sarcy Britishers out o'my ship. Now you know that."

  "Where's Lieutenant Russell?"

  "Down in the boat, my sarcy Tom chicken; and that's all you've got toknow. Say another word, and I'll have you pitched into the sea amongthe sharks instead of into the boat. So mind that. Bring him on deck."

  Rough hands seized Mark on the instant, and as a man carrying thelanthorn stepped back, Mark saw the legs of the Yankee skipper ascendingthe companion ladder, and a minute later he was rudely dragged on deck,his heart beating wildly as he tried to pierce the darkness around insearch of his companions. But all was pitchy black, and though his eyeswandered in search of the bright star-like lamp of the _Nautilus_, itwas not to be seen. The next moment he knew why; a pleasant breeze wasblowing off shore, hot but powerful enough to be acted upon, and inthose brief moments he knew that the vessel must have sailed.

  He had little time for thought. He was suddenly lifted from the deck,and he began to struggle wildly, striking out with his fists, but all invain.

  "Over with him!" cried the Yankee skipper, and a cry escaped from Mark'slips as he felt himself swung out over the side of the schooner, tofall, he expected, splash into the sea. He had time to think all this,for thought flies fast in emergencies, but his fall was partly uponsomeone below, partly upon the thwart of a boat, and a deep groan camefrom close to his ear as he looked up and saw the lanthorn resting onthe schooner's bulwark, and several faces staring down.

  "My compliments to your skipper," said a mocking voice, "if you everketch him, and tell him he's welkim to my boat. I'll take a glass o'liquor with him if ever he comes our way.--Now then, shove off, youthere forward. If you stop another minute, I'll send a pig o' ballastthrough your bottom."

  This was said with a savage snarl, and as Mark struggled up into asitting position, he felt the boat begin to move.

  "Here, ahoy, below there! You'd best lay your head to the north," camethe voice again, as the light was suddenly hidden or put out. "Yourskipper made signals when the wind rose, and we answered 'em for you.Get your oars out sharp, or you won't overtake them this year."

  Then all was silence and darkness save where the movement of an oarsculling over the stern made the water flash and gleam withphosphorescence, and raised up ripples of pale lambent, golden light.

  "Who's that?" said Mark, in a whisper.

  "On'y me, sir," replied a familiar voice, in company with a smotheredgroan.

  "Tom Fillot?"

  "Ay, ay, sir," came back dismally. "I've got us out o' reach o' thatpig o' ballast."

  "But, Tom," cried Mark, excitedly, "what does it mean? Where's MrRussell?"

  "Somewheres underneath you, sir. I think you're a-sitting on him."

  "There's someone lying here," cried Mark.

  "Yes, sir, several someuns," said Tom Fillot. "Oh, my poor head!"

  "But you don't tell me what it all means," cried Mark, angrily.

  "Didn't know as it wanted no telling on, sir. Thought you knowed."

  "But I know nothing. I was roused up, dragged out of the cabin, andthrown down into the boat."

  "Yes, sir; so was we, and not very gently, nayther."

  "Then the--" began Mark, but he did not finish. "That's it, sir.You've hit it. The Yankee captain come back from up the river somewherein his boat as quiet as you please, and the first I knowed on it wasthat it was dark as pitch as I leaned my back against the bulwarks, andstood whistling softly, when--_bang_, I got it on the head, and as Iwent down three or four of 'em climbed aboard. `What's that? Youthere, Fillot?' I heered in a dull sort o' way, and then the poorlufftenant went down with a groan, and same moment I hears a scrufflin'forrard and aft, cracks o' the head, and falls. Minute arter there wasa row going on in the fo'c's'le. I heered that plain, sir, and wantedto go and help my mates, but when I was half up, seemed as if my headbegun to spin like a top, and down I went again, and lay listening tothe row below. There was some fighting, and I heered Joe Dance lettinggo awful. My, he did swear for a minute, and then he was quiet, andthere was a bit o' rustling, and I hears a voice say, `Guess that's all.Show the light.' Then there seemed to me to be a light walking aboutthe deck with a lot o' legs, and I knowed that they were coming roundpicking up the pieces. Sure enough they was, sir, and they pitched allthe bits of us overboard into a boat alongside; and I knowed we hadn'thalf kept our watch, and the Yankee skipper had come back and took hisschooner."

  "Oh, Tom Fillot!" groaned Mark. "And was that all?"

  "No, sir; for I heered the skipper say, `Anyone been in the cabin?' Andwhen no one spoke he began to cuss 'em for a set o' idgits, and they allwent below with the lanthorn, and come up again along o' you. My word,Mr Vandean, sir, how you must have slep'!"

  "Oh, Tom Fillot!" cried Mark again.

  "Yes, and it is `Oh, Tom Fillot,' sir," groaned the poor fellow. "Myskull's cracked in three or four places sure as a gun."

  "And the others. Oh! the others. Are they killed?"

  "I dunno, sir. I ain't--not quite. Sims to me that they'd got bats,and they hit us with 'em like they do the pigs in the north country, orthe cod-fish aboard the fishing smacks. My poor head feels as if it'sopening and shutting like a fish's gills every time I moves my mouth."

  "Are all the men here, Tom?"

  "Yes, sir; I think so. If they're not, it's 'cause they're dead."

  "This is Mr Russell; I can feel his uniform," whispered Mark; "and he'sdead--no, I can feel his heart beating. Come here, Tom, and help me."

  "I'll come, sir; but I can't help you, and it don't seem no use for meto be waggling this 'ere oar about. Just as well let the tide send usalong."

  There was the sound of the oar being laid along the thwart, and then ofsomeone stumbling.

  "That was most nigh overboard, sir. Wish it warn't so dark. Why, it'sblack. What's that?"

  There was a creaking sound from a little distance, and the manwhispered,--

  "They're making sail, sir, and they'll creep out afore morning, and getright away."

  "With those poor creatures on board."

  "Just as we'd made 'em clean and comf'able, sir. Oh, my poor head!"

  "Let's see to Mr Russell first, and then I'll bind up your head as wellas I can."

  "How's one to see to Mr Russell, sir? Why, plagues o' Egypt's nothingto darkness like this."

  Mark bent over his brother officer, and passed his hand over his faceand head.

  "He's not bleeding," he whispered, impressed as he was by the darknessand their terrible position.

  "More am I, sir, but I'm precious bad all the same. Don't s'pose anyone's bleeding, but they got it hard same as I did. Wood out here ain'tlike wood at home. Oak's hard enough, but iron-wood's like what theycall it."

  "Who is this?" said Mark, as, after gently letting Mr Russell's headsink back, his hands encountered another face.

  "I dunno, sir. It was every man for hisself, and I was thinking aboutTom Fillot, AB, and no one else. What's he feel like?"

  "Like one of our men."

  "But is it a hugly one with very stiff whiskers? If so be it is, youmay take your davy it's Joe Dance."

  "How am I to know whether he's ugly?" cried Mark, petulantly.

  "By t
he feel, sir. Try his nose. Joe Dance's nose hangs a bit over tostarboard, and there's a dent in it just about the end where he chippedit agin a shot case."

  "Oh, I can't tell all that," cried Mark--"Yes, his nose has a littledent in it, and his whiskers are stiff."

  "Then that's Joe Dance, sir."

  "Avast there! Let my head alone, will yer?" came in a low, deep growl.

  "That's Joe, sir, safe enough. Harkee there! Hear 'em?"

  Sundry creaking sounds came out of the darkness some distance away now,and Tom Fillot continued in a whisper,--

  "They're hysting all the sail they can, sir. Look! you can see thewater briming as she sails. They're going same way as we. Tide'staking us."

  "Oh, Tom Fillot, I oughtn't to have gone to sleep. I ought to havestopped on deck."

  "No yer oughtn't, sir. Your orders was to take your watch below, andthat was enough for you. Dooty is dooty, sir, be it never so dootiful,as the proverb says."

  "But if I had been on deck I might have heard them coming, Tom."

  "And got a rap o' the head like the pore fellows did, sir."

  "Well, perhaps so, Tom. I wonder why they didn't strike me as they didyou."

  "'Cause you're a boy, sir, though you are a young gentleman, and aorficer. Fine thing to be a boy, sir. I was one once upon a time.Wish I was a boy at home now, instead o' having a head like this here."

  "I'm thinking of what the captain will say," muttered Mark,despondently, as he ignored the man's remark.

  "Say, sir? Why, what such a British officer as Cap'n Maitland's sure tosay, sir, as he won't rest till he's blown that there schooner right outof the water."

  "And those poor blacks," sighed Mark.

  "Ah, it's hard lines for them poor chaps, and the women and bairns too,even if they are niggers. Oh, if I'd only got that there skipper by thescruff of his neck and the waistband of his breeches! Sharks might havehim for all I should care. In he'd go. Hookey Walker, how my head doache all round!"

  "I'm very sorry, Tom Fillot."

  "Which I knows you are, sir; and it ain't the first trouble as we two'sbeen in together, so cheer up, sir. Daylight'll come some time, andthen we'll heave to and repair damages."

  Just then there was a low groan from forward.

  "That's one of our blacky-toppers, sir. 'Tarn't a English groan. Youfeel; you'll know him by his woolly head, and nose. If he's got a nosehooked one way, it's Soup. If it's hooked t'other way--cocks up--it'sTaters."

  "The hair is curly," said Mark, who was investigating.

  "P'raps it's Dick Bannock, sir. There, I said it warn't an Englishgroan."

  By this time some of the men were recovering from the stunning effect ofthe blows they had all received, and there were sounds of rustling andscuffles.

  "Steady there, mate," growled one man. "What yer doing on?"

  "Well, get off o' me, then," said another.

  "Here, hi! What are you doing in my bunk? Hullo! Ahoy there! whereare we now?"

  "Steady there, and don't shout, my lads."

  "All right, sir," growled a voice. "I was a bit confoosed like! Oh, myhead!"

  "Ay, mate," said Tom Fillot, "and it's oh, my, all our heads. Begpardon, sir, for the liberty, but if you'd do it for me, I should knowthe worst, and I could get on then. I'm all nohow just now, and itworries me."

  "Do what, Tom?" said Mark.

  "Just pass your finger round my head, and tell me for sartin whetherit's broke or no. It feels all opening and shutting like. Go it, sir;don't you be feared. I won't holler."

  Mark leaned forward and felt the man's head.

  "It's not fractured, Tom," he said. "If it had been it would have madeyou feel very different from this. You would have been insensible."

  "Well, that what's I am, sir, and always have been. I never was asensible chap. But are you sure as it ain't broke, sir?"

  "Certain, Tom."

  "Then who cares? I don't mind a bit o' aching, and I'm ready for anygame you like. What do you say, sir, to trying to captivate theschooner again?"

  "You and I, Tom?"

  "Well, it ain't a very strong force, sir, be it?"

  "We must wait for daylight, Tom, and I hope by then some of the ladswill be able to pull an oar."

  "Ay, ay, sir, o' course."

  "I'm ready now," said Dick Bannock, with his voice sounding husky out ofthe darkness; and there was silence, broken only by a groan or two for afew minutes, during which Mark, feeling the terrible responsibility ofhis position, tried to make some plan as to his future proceedings, butonly to be compelled to come back to the conclusion that there wasnothing to be done but wait for morning.

  At one moment insane ideas as to the recapture of the schooner came totrouble him, and this brought to mind what ought to have been his firstduty as the officer upon whom the command had suddenly fallen.

  "Tom Fillot," he cried, excitedly, "go round the boat as carefully asyou can, and count the men, ourselves included. We ought to be eleven,ought we not?"

  "Let's see, sir. Two orficers is two; six AB's and coxswain seven, andseven and two's nine; and the two nig--blacks, sir; nine and two's'leven. That's right, sir 'leven."

  "Go round then, and count."

  "I think they could all answer to their names, sir, now, if I might beso bold."

  "Call them over, then."

  "Ay, ay, sir. Here goes, then, lads. First orficer, Mr Russell, sir,and you, sir's, two as we needn't count. Joe Dance, answer to yourname."

  "Ay, ay," came in a growl.

  "Dick Bannock."

  "Here."

  "Bill Billings."

  "What's left on me, mate."

  "Sam Grote."

  "Here, but ain't got no head."

  "Bob Stepney."

  "Here; and wish I warn't," came surlily out of the darkness.

  "Don't you be sarcy 'fore your orficers, Bob, or there may be a row,"said Tom Fillot, sharply.

  "I can't see no orficers, messmate," said the same voice.

  "That'll do, Bob Stepney. That's cheek. Tim Dunning."

  "That's me."

  "All here, sir, and able to use their tongues. Fisties, too, I dessay."

  "The two blacks!" said Mark, quickly, and with a feeling of thankfulnessto find matters so far well.

  "Ay, ay, sir. Thought I'd give the white uns a chance first," said TomFillot. "Now, you two, try and understand plain English. Answer toyour names. Soup."

  There was no reply.

  "Taters."

  Still no reply.

  "Not here?" said Mark, anxiously.

  "Don't sabbee, p'raps, sir. I'll try again."

  "Taters."

  No answer.

  "Soup."

  No reply.

  "Soup and Taters."

  "Aren't aboard," growled several voices in chorus. "I'm 'fraid the Soupand Taters is done, sir," said Tom Fillot in a low voice.

  "Oh, man, man, how can you try to joke at a time like this!" cried Mark,angrily.

  "'Tarn't no joke, sir," cried Tom Fillot. "I'm sorry as you are, forthey were getting to be two good messmates. They'd on'y got minds likea couple o' boys, but the way in which they took to their chew o' 'baccywas wonderful to behold."

  "The men must have overlooked them," cried Mark. "They were belowasleep."

  "Nay, sir, they didn't care to go below. They was both asleep curled upforrard under the bulwarks. They'd had so much being below, that theyshied at going down a hatchway."

  "Then what do you think about them, Tom?" cried Mark, excitedly.

  There was no reply.

  "Why don't you answer, man?"

  "Didn't like to tell you, sir," said Tom Fillot, quietly.

  "Tell me what you are thinking at once."

  "Well, sir, I thinks same as my mates do here. Them piratical sharks o'slavers didn't dare to be too hard on us because they knowed if they wasketched arterwards it meant a bit o' hemp round the neck, and a dance onnothing
at all in the air; but when it comes to blacks, they're no moreaccount to them than blackberries as grows on brambles. Strikes me theygive them poor chaps a crack o' the head apiece, and knocked 'em down,same as they did we, but they wouldn't take the trouble to carry themand pitch them into a boat. They just chucked them overboard at once."

  "Oh, impossible!" cried Mark, excitedly. "They could not be suchbrutes."

  "What! not them, sir?" cried Tom Fillot, indignantly. "Harkye here,messmates; I says as chaps as'd half kill such a orficer as Mr Russell,who's as fine a gen'leman as ever stepped, 'd murder a King as soon aslook at him."

  "Ay, ay," came in a low growl.

  "And if any o' you thinks different to my sentiments, let him speak outlike a man."

  "That's what we all think, messmet," came in another growl.

  "And there you are, sir, and them's fax. They chucked them two porechaps overboard, and, speaking up for my messmates and self, I says wedon't hold with killing nobody 'cept in the name of dooty; but here's aset o' miserable beggars as goes about buying and selling the poreniggers, and treating 'em worse than they would a box o' worms to gofishing with. Why, it's murder, sir, wholesale, retail, and forexportation, as the man said over his shop door in our town o' Bristol,and if we can only get at 'em--well, I won't say what we'll do, but ifthere ain't some fatal accidents that day, my name ain't Tom."

  "That's so, messmet--that's so," came in another deep growl.

  "It's horrible, horrible," groaned Mark; and he bent over Mr Russell'sface, and tried to make out whether there was any sign of returningconsciousness.

  "At a time like this, messmets," whispered Tom Fillot to those nearestto him, "I'd be quiet. Mr Vandean's in a deal of trouble about thelufftenant."

  "Hi! all on you," came sharply from the forward part of the boat, whichrocked a little from some one changing his position; and as it rockedtiny waves of light like liquid moonbeams flowed away to starboard andport, while dull sparks of light appeared in the water down below.

  "What's the matter there?" said Mark, rousing himself up to speak. "Besilent, and keep the boat still."

  "Ay, ay," growled Tom Fillot, but the boat still swayed.

  "Do you hear there?" cried Mark, sharply. "Who's that?"

  "Hi! all on you!" came again.

  "Did you hear my order, Dance?" cried Mark. "Sit down, man. Do youwant to capsize the boat?"

  "I want my hitcher," said the man, sharply. "Who's been a-meddling withmy boathook? it ain't in its place."

  "Sit down, man. This is not the first cutter, but one of the schooner'sboats. Your boathook is not here."

  "Do you hear, all on you? I want my hitcher. Some on you's been andhidden it for a lark. Give it here."

  "Are you deaf, Dance?" cried Mark, angrily. "How dare you, sir! Sitdown."

  "I know," continued the man, who was tumbling about forward. "Some onyou's took it for a game, and Lufftenant Staples ain't the man to standno larks. `Where's that there boathook, Joe Dance?' he says. `Produceit 'twonce, sir, or--' `Ay, ay, sir. Starn all it is. Where are youcoming? Pull. Starboard there--On Portsmouth hard in Portsmouth town.Three cheers, my merry lads--Now then, pull--pull hard--Ay, ay, sir--Nowall together, my lads!'"

  As the coxswain was speaking from out of the darkness, to the wondermentof all, Tom Fillot whispered quickly to his young officer,--

  "It's the crack he got, sir. He'll be overboard if we don't mind. Poorchap, he has gone right off his nut."

  Creeping forward past the men, Tom made for where Joe Dance was speakingloudly, evidently under the belief that he was talking to a number ofpeople around. Then, stamping about in the boat, his words came forthmore rapidly, but in quite a confused gabble, of which hardly a singleword was comprehensible. Invisible though he was, it was evident thathe was growing more and more excited, for his words flowed strangely,swiftly, and then became a mere babble, as, with a shout, he rushed aftat the touch of Tom Fillot.

  "Stop him, some on you; he's mad!" roared Tom Fillot; and asinstinctively Mark started up, it was to be seized by the poor wretch inhis delirium, and held back, in spite of his struggles, more and moreover the side of the boat toward the sea.