CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
A STRANGE AWAKENING.
"What's a wonder to me, sir," said Tom Fillot, respectfully, "is as noone seems to have been killed."
"But we don't know that," said Mark, sharply. "Tired as I was when Ilay down last night, I couldn't sleep for thinking of those men. Do youthink they could reach the shore?"
"Reach the shore, sir! Why not? What was to prevent 'em?"
"Some of them were half-stunned when they were dashed overboard."
"Then the water would make 'em come to, sir, and freshen 'em up. Don'tyou wherrit yourself about that, sir. I saw 'em all swimming for thebank, and they'd get there before the crocks woke up to try for 'em."
"Crocodiles?"
"Oh yes, sir, I should think there'd be plenty of them in the river:sure to be in a hot country like this."
"I wish I could feel sure they were safe."
Tom Fillot's look at the young officer was a mingling of admiration andcontempt.
"It's very nyste of you, sir, to think so much about the enemies asnearly killed our Mr Russell, I didn't think nothing o' them. I washard at it about our poor chaps as has been knocked about, and the waythey bear it all without hollering is, I says, sir, a credit to aEnglishman, let alone a Scotchman such as Dick Bannock is. As I saysafore, it's wonderful as none of us was killed, being whacked over thehead as we was, 'sides being nigh drownded."
"It was wonderful, Tom, and if only poor Mr Russell would come round, Ishould be as happy as could be. But he doesn't show a sign ofrecovery."
"No, sir, he don't, but there's the t'other side o' the book in keepingaccount like--he don't show no sign o' getting worse and dying. Youknow what's the matter with him, o' course?"
"Matter?" said Mark, looking at the man wonderingly, as the schoonerglided along, a mile away from the coast, the evening after theirstruggle in the river. "Of course I do. He was beaten about the headworse than any of us."
"'Zactly, sir; but did you examine on him?"
"Yes, and retied the bandage about his head."
"That's good, sir; but you didn't find out quite what was the matter."
"I thought I knew enough."
"Yes, sir, but I did examine him when you sent me below to see how hewas, and I found out."
"What?" cried Mark, eagerly.
"Well, sir, he's got the same as an old messmate o' mine had in my lastship--the _Foogoose_."
"The what?"
"_Foogoose_, sir."
"Oh, the _Fougueux_."
"That's her, sir. Well, we was up aloft shortening sail on a rough day,and Micky missed the stirrup just as the ship give a regular pitch.`I'm off, Tommy,' he shouts, and down he went head fust on to the yardbelow, and then Snoots off on to one of the stays, and from there on tothe deck, where every one thought he was killed. But he warn't, onlyonsensible because his skull was dinted in, and the doctor said itrested on his brain; and that's what's the matter with our lufftenant,for I felt his head."
"And did the man die?" cried Mark.
"No, sir; the doctor tackled him, and lifted up the bit o' broken bone,and made him a better man than ever; and that's what Mr Whitney'll dowith Mr Russell, sir, as soon as we get back to the _Naughtylass_."
"Oh, if we only could get back, Tom!"
"All right, sir; give us time; and the longer the better, I say, sir,for if you goes aboard with us lads looking all chipped and knockedabout like we are, Cap'en Maitland'll be arksing you why you ain't tookbetter care of your men."
"Oh, I don't mind that, Tom," cried Mark, triumphantly; "I've got theschooner, and the slaves."
"You have, sir, and it's such a splendid job for a young orficer likeyou to have done, that Mr Howlett'll be ready to eat his head off likewith disappyntment because he warn't in the game. You've done it thistime, sir. Why, our skipper ought to put you down for a swab on yourshoulder as soon as you've got one big enough to carry it."
"Now, no joking, Tom Fillot, because I'm friendly with you. RecollectI'm your officer."
"Right, sir, I will. I didn't mean no harm. It's only a way mytongue's got o' saying things. I say, sir, just look at them poorhalf-starved blacks. 'Most makes me feel like a girl, sir, and soft, tosee how happy they are."
"Yes, poor creatures. But tell me, Tom. It's a terrible responsibilityfor me with this vessel and all those people. Are they likely to make afight for their liberty?"
"Why, they've got it, ain't they, sir?"
"Yes, but they don't understand it. They may think it's only a changeof masters, and rise against us."
"Not they, sir. Why, see how they looks at us, sir. They'd lay downand let you walk over 'em, sir. Why, I've seen all them poor women lookas if they could eat you, sir. I don't mean with their teeth, but withtheir eyes. They're safe enough, sir. They've been well-fed on Soupand Taters--I mean them two black messmates of ourn's talked to 'em tillthey understands about being under the Union Jack, and all that sort o'thing."
"I hope they do, Tom, for it makes me very uneasy."
"Course it do, sir. But now just look here, sir; there's nothing foryou to fear, so if you'll take my advice, you'll go and have three orfour hours' sleep below."
"What?"
"I mean it, sir. You can't keep on without rest, so go and have it.Joe Dance and me'll keep the schooner steady on her course till you'vehad your dowse, and then you come up and give us a turn below."
"I can't leave the deck, Tom."
"Yes you can, sir, and you must. What are we going to do if you runyourself aground and break up? Orficers want rest like other folk.Look here, sir; you're dead beat. Out, ain't you? Why, you warn't downbelow an hour."
"Yes, I feel done up, Tom, but--"
"You can't do everything yourself, sir, and must get yourself fit tokeep going. Now look round, sir. There's Soup and Taters keepingguard; shore's a mile away; light breeze sending us norrard; Joe Danceat the wheel. Could you find a better time for a snooze?"
Mark hesitated. He knew that he could not hold out. It was within anhour of sundown, and the blacks were lying about forward in restfulcontent; the schooner's sails were gently filled, and there was not acloud in the sky. No better opportunity could be found for a rest, and,after giving strict commands to Tom Fillot to call him at eight bells,he went below, bent over Mr Russell, and shudderingly satisfied himselfthat Tom Fillot was right.
"It's horrible," he muttered; "but it may not mean death;" and, throwinghimself on a locker, he dropped off into a deep sleep almost instantly,and then sprang to his feet directly after, as he imagined, roused up bya tremendous shock, followed by a heavy thud; and he knew what wascoming then--to wit, the rush of water, as a wave deluged the schoonerfrom stem to stern, while all was so pitchy dark that he could not forthe moment make out where the door of the cabin lay.