Black Bar

  CHAPTER TWENTY.

  WHAT MARK SAID TO THE CREW.

  The position of the men would have been delightful if they had had afair stock of provisions. For the cool water rippled by their boat,there was a refreshing breeze in the shady trees, and a pleasantsensation of dreamy repose and restfulness came over all as they layabout watching the dazzling sea and beautiful verdant tropic shore.

  And as he gazed, Mark felt that undoubtedly fruit of some kind could befound sufficient to sustain life; and, with the determination to waittill another day, when the men would be better able to act, forgetful ofthe fact that fasting would make them more unfit, he thought of landingagain directly after daylight, for a search, and then went to the boatand sat back to gaze out at sea.

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  "Mr Vandean, sir! Mr Vandean!"

  "Eh? Yes! What's the matter?"

  "Nothing sir, only I couldn't wake you up."

  "Was I asleep?"

  "Yes, sir; we've all been asleep, more shame for me to say so, and thelads have only just woke me up."

  "Oh, it's horrible!" cried Mark; "how can I ever trust myself again?"

  "Oh, don't you take on about that, sir: human natur's human natur.Everybody's weak and queer with the knocking about we had, and theproper thing for us was to have a good snooze, and we've only beengetting ready to do a good night's work."

  Mark looked at Mr Russell, who lay breathing comfortably enough, andthen, in a stern way, he gave orders for the boat to be unmoored, andDance rose at once, seeming feeble, but quite in his right mind, andready to resent an attempt on the part of Fillot to relieve him of thetask. A good thrust was given to the boat out into the rushing stream,oars fell on either side, and the men began to row, so as to get out ofthe mouth of the river and begin making their way north.

  But in a very few minutes Mark was enlightened as to the state ofaffairs. While they slept the tide had turned, and in place of a swiftstream of fresh water running out, they were in the rapid tidal currentrunning in, any doubt he might have had on the subject being set at restby scooping up a little water with his hand, to taste it, and find itsalt.

  The men were pulling steadily, but with a feeble, slow stroke, which atfirst kept them about stationary. Then by slow degrees the boat gave alittle and a little more, till in the waning light Mark saw a cluster oftrees ashore, by which they had been passing, begin to glide the otherway.

  "Pull, my lads, pull!" he cried, and the men tugged again for a fewminutes, and managed to keep abreast of the trees, but their strokesagain grew more feeble, and, in spite of spurt after spurt, it wasevident enough that the tide was too strong for men suffering frominjuries, and famishing with hunger, nothing having passed their lipssave water for many hours.

  "Here," cried Tom Fillot, "you don't half pull. Let me come. We'llsoon get outside, where the current won't be so strong."

  "It's o' no use, mate," said Dick Bannock. "She's too much for us. Youcan't do no good. After getting well, and a lot o' beef and biscuit, wemight do it, but there's no pulling agin that 'ere."

  "You don't half try," said Tom Fillot, sitting down and getting an oarover the side to add his strength, when all pulled again, working hardfor quite half an hour, when Mark called to them to stop.

  "Waste of strength, my lads," he said; "we've been drifting all thetime."

  "Yes, sir," said Tom Fillot. "I knowed it and was only waiting for youto speak. Most too dark to see, but I'm 'bout sure."

  "We must let her go up with the tide, Tom, or else moor her again by thetrees."

  "Well, we should be brought back again, sir; but I think it would bebest to make fast."

  "Steadily, my lads," said Mark; "let's pull in shore with the tide tillI see a good place."

  "Or, feel it, sir," whispered Tom Fillot.

  "Yes, or feel it, Tom," said Mark. "How dark it's getting. Easy--easythere; just dip so as to get nearer the shore. The current's so swiftwe may be capsized."

  "Easy it is, sir," said Tom, and they rowed gently on with the current,getting nearer and nearer the shore with its heavy fringe of verdure,Mark watching eagerly in the gathering blackness for a big tree withoverhanging boughs, but all in vain.

  It was so dark now that they seemed to be gliding along right in theshadow, while more out towards the middle of what was evidently a broadriver--the stream widening above the mouth--it was comparatively light,sufficiently so for them to see any object afloat.

  "Can't you make anything we can hook on to, sir?" said Tom Fillot.

  "No, my lad, not yet. But I shall directly. You be ready."

  "Ready it is, sir. If I see a chance, shall I ketch hold?"

  "_Hist_!"

  "What's the matter, sir?"

  "Talk lower. What's that? It may be enemies."

  "Phew!" whistled Tom Fillot, softly. "It was behind me. I didn't seethat. There, you have it."

  He caught hold of the overhanging bough of a tree and brought the boatup as they both stood there watching a gleaming light at a littledistance, which gradually was made out to be a lanthorn carried bysomeone here and there.

  "Ashore," whispered Mark.

  "Afloat," said Tom. "It's somebody aboard ship. Hark at that!"

  There was the rattle of a chain, apparently being let out through thehawse-holes of a vessel, then a little more rattling, followed by thedisappearance of the light, and silence once more.

  "What do you make of it, sir?" whispered Tom.

  As he spoke there came a strange, plaintive, smothered sound, so full ofagony that Mark shuddered.

  "I can hardly tell," he said. "I thought at first it was the_Nautilus_."

  "No, sir; people on board the _Naughtylass_ don't howl like that."

  "Then--no: it can't be! Is it the slaver?" faltered Mark, as his heartbeat rapidly with excitement.

  "It's she or another on the cowardly beggars," whispered Tom Fillot,hoarsely. "Don't make a sound, my lads."

  "But oh, it can't be," cried Mark, trembling now with eagerness.

  "Don't see why not, sir. She was bound to go into hiding a bit till ourship had gone, and she's crept in here to lie by, and sail perhaps whenthe tide turns."

  "Take a turn with a rope round that branch, Tom," whispered Mark; "andnot a sound."

  "Trust me, sir, for that," was whispered back; and there was a littlerustling heard as Mark carefully made his way in the darkness to whereTom Fillot stood.

  "Sit down," whispered Mark. "I want all the men to hear. Lean thisway, all of you."

  There was another rustling sound, and a certain amount of deep breathingas Mark whispered softly,--

  "Mind, not a word when I've done, or we shall be heard aboard thatvessel. She's not two hundred yards away."

  There was not a sound, and after waiting a few moments to command hisvoice and to try and stay the tumultuous beating of his heart, Mark wenton,--

  "My lads, that must be the schooner waiting, as Tom Fillot said."

  He paused again, for his words would hardly come. Then, more and morehuskily from his emotion:

  "My lads, I know you're weak, but you've got the pluck. The crew ofthat schooner stole upon us in the night, struck you all down, andpitched us into the boat."

  There was another pause--a longer one, for it required a desperateeffort to get out the words. Then, so faintly as to be hardly heard,but with a strength in them which electrified the listeners, MarkVandean, midshipman and mere boy, said to the stout men around him,--

  "It's dark as pitch now, lads, so couldn't we steal aboard and servethem the same?"