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The Black Bar, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 25. A Horrible Thought |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. A HORRIBLE THOUGHT Two days glided by, during which Tom Fillot proved himself to be invaluable. The merry joker of the ship's company showed that he possessed plenty of sound common sense, and that he was an excellent seaman. Thrown, too, as he was, along with his young officer, he never presumed thereon, but, evidently feeling how great a burden there was on the lad's shoulders, he did all he could to lighten the load, by setting a capital example to his messmates of quick obedience, and was always suggesting little bits of seamanship, and making them seem to emanate from Mark himself. The consequence was that matters went in the most orderly way on board, and they steadily kept on north, north-west, or sometimes due west, according to the trend of the land. "Easy enough thing, sir, navigation," Tom said, merrily, "if you've got nice calm weather, no rocks or shoals, and a fair line of coast to steer by." "Yes, it's easy enough now, Tom," replied Mark. "'Tis, sir; only I should like it better if it was right up in the north, where the sun don't set. One can't help feeling a bit scared sometimes when it's very dark. I was nearly coming las' night and asking leave to let go the anchor." "If I get well out of this, Tom," said Mark, "I mean to study up my navigation. It's horrible to be so helpless. I'm ashamed, too, being in charge here, and obliged to trust to seeing the shore for a guide." "Oh, that'll all come, sir, but it strikes me that as soon as the captain finds we don't get into port, he'll be sailing down after us." "The sooner the better, Tom," said Mark. "But now then, tell me: how are we off for water?" "Plenty yet, sir, and there's enough prog--beg pardon, sir, wictuals--to last us for some days; and--look, sir, look. Here's a chance." "What? Where?" cried Mark, startled by the man's excitement. "Another slaver coming round the point there. You must take that one too, sir, and then you can go into port with flying colours. Double flying colours, sir!" Mark looked eagerly at the long, low vessel just creeping into sight in the distance, and his follower's words inspired him with an intense desire to act and make a second seizure. It was very tempting, but-- Yes, there was a but, a big but, and a suppose in the way. His men were still anything but strong; and though the blacks were willing enough, it would not be wise to trust to them for help in an attack upon a vessel with possibly a strong crew. His musings were interrupted by the sailor. "Shall I alter our course, sir?" he said. "No, Tom. Better not," replied Mark. "I was thinking." "What about, sir--our being able to catch her?" "No; about the dog and the shadow." "What about him, sir? Was he in the sun?" "You know the old fable about the dog with the piece of meat in his mouth, seeing his reflection in the stream and thinking it was another dog with a piece of meat." "I did once, sir, but I've forgot," said Tom. "Well, in his greediness he snapped at his shadow to get the other piece of meat, and dropped his own. Suppose I try to catch that other vessel and the crew prove too strong for me, and I lose this one?" "Mr Vandean, sir! You a British orficer, and talk like that? It ain't greediness, sir, but you a-trying to do your dooty as the orficer as has succeeded Mr Russell, I know what you feel, sir--all the 'sponsibility." "Yes, Tom; and that we are not strong enough to try experiments." "Strong enough, sir? Why, there's that in our chaps now as'll make 'em go through anything. You say slaver to 'em, and it'll be like saying 'rats' to a dog. They'll be vicious to attack; and old Soup and Taters'll be as good as four strong men. You see if they ain't." "It's very tempting, Tom, but--" "Don't say but, sir. You make up your mind to take that vessel; give your orders; and we'll do it." Mark shook his head. "Oh, Mr Vandean, sir, look at her. She's another schooner about the same cut as this, and though she can see us, she isn't showing us her heels, for she don't know there's a man-o'-war's crew aboard, headed by the smartest young midshipman in the ryle navy." "That'll do, Tom Fillot. No gammon, please." "It ain't gammon, sir," cried Tom, sturdily, "but the solid truth. Think I'd come and ask you to do this if I didn't feel what a plucky young orficer you are? Why, the lads'll follow you anywheres. They like Mr Howlett, too, but do you think they'd follow him like they do you? Not they, sir." "It's very tempting," said Mark, hesitating. "Tempting, sir? Why, Captain Maitland and Mr Staples'd both go wild with delight if they got such a chance as has come right to you." "And she isn't running away, Tom?" "No, sir, but just quietly going on her course, and if you do the same it will bring you both close together, and like enough she'll try to speak you." "Yes, Tom, it is very tempting, and if I could feel sure of taking her, I'd try." "Don't you think anything about it, sir. You make up your mind to take her, and send me aboard, or go yourself, and she's yourn." "If she's a slaver, Tom." "Well, sir, what else can she be?" "Trading vessel." "Likely, sir!" cried Tom, with a laugh. "Trading schooner with masts and booms like that! She's made to sail, sir, and her cargo's contraband." "I can't help feeling tempted, Tom." "That's right, sir." "I'll go below and see if Mr Russell can understand me this morning. I should like his advice at a time like this." "Course you would, sir; and if he could give it, he'd say go in and win." Mark went below, to find his officer lying perfectly still, with his eyes closed, and breathing easily, but there was no response to his words, and, hesitating still, and excited, he went back on deck, to find the schooner still gliding on her course, and the stranger well out now from the point. "What did Mr Russell say, sir?" asked Tom. Mark shook his head, and raising his glass, carefully inspected the distant vessel. "Yes," he said at last; "she looks too smart fer a trader." "She do, sir." "And I don't like to run any risks, Tom Fillot." "Oh Mr Vandean, sir!" "But we're out here to deal a deathblow at the slavery traffic." "To be sure we are, sir," cried Tom Fillot, excitedly. "And it would be cowardly to give up such a chance." "Cowardly--begging your pardon, sir--ain't half bad enough word for it, Mr Vandean? sir." "One moment I feel that I ought not to risk it, and the next I feel that I ought, Tom," said Mark, slowly. "Safe and sure is the motto to go upon, but--Oh, I can't, as I am officer in command, stand still here and see that vessel go away, perhaps loaded with slaves, Tom Fillot. Wrong or right, I must do it." "Three cheers for you, sir!" cried Tom, excitedly; "and there ain't no wrong in it, for if you made a mess of it you would still be doing right. Then now, sir, shall I have a little more canvas shook out, and alter her course, sir?" "No," cried Mark, firmly. "You won't try and take her, sir?" said the sailor, despondently. "Indeed, but I will, Tom Fillot," cried Mark; "but if we begin to chase her, she'll be off, and sail perhaps as quickly as we do. We must trap her, Tom, by pretending to take no notice, and then be ready to go aboard." "Why, of course, sir. My, what a dunder-headed beetle of a fellow I am. Cunning's the word." "Yes," said Mark, decisively now. "Now, my lads, quick. Off with those duck frocks, all of you, and make yourselves untidy-looking. Tom Fillot, get that American flag ready to hoist if she signals us, and send the blacks below, all but our two and their gang. Let them lie down on the deck." The blacks looked surprised at being sent down into the stifling hold, but Soup seemed to have some inkling of what was intended, and he spoke eagerly to his companion before talking very earnestly, and with a good deal of gesticulation, to the men whom he had selected for his followers. These appeared to understand what was on the way, looking earnestly at the distant vessel, and then taking the positions assigned to them when all was ready, and Tom Fillot burst into a hearty laugh. "They'll walk into the trap beautiful, sir, see if they don't," he said. "Lor', sir, if you only could make yourself look like the Yankee skipper, we should be lovely." Mark said nothing, but quietly went on with his preparations. He made the man at the wheel look as much as possible like an ordinary sailor, and transformed another in the same way. Then, counter-ordering his instructions about the men's duck frocks, he partly lowered down the boat with an armed crew, including Tom Fillot, with instructions to keep out of sight, and ready for him to drop and board the stranger later on. Then, going below, he made a few alterations in his own dress, so as to conceal the fact that he was in uniform; threw his belt, dirk, jacket, and cap into the stern-sheets of the boat, and clapped a Panama hat, which he found in the cabin, upon his head. Then he walked about the deck in shirt and trousers, and with the Yankee skipper's big spy-glass under his arm. The last thing he did was to plant two of the men forward, where they readily played their parts of standing looking over the bulwarks, and watching the coming vessel. For she had altered her course and came steadily toward them, after hoisting her colours--the Stars and Stripes--the same flag being sent aloft by Dick Bannock at a word from Mark. "Now, my lads," he said, "whatever you do in the boat, keep out of sight. If they catch a glimpse of you they'll be off, and we may never get alongside." "Ay, ay, sir," came eagerly from the boat in which the two black sailors had also been stowed, each looking eager and excited about the work to come. The wind was light, and a couple of hours passed, with Mark's steersman gradually edging the schooner nearer to the stranger, which, having the advantage of the wind, glided down to them, evidently meaning to speak them, and ask for news. "It couldn't be better, sir," said Tom Fillot; "only if you would get one of the skipper's big cigars and smoke it as you walk about, they're sure to be using a spy-glass now and then." "But I can't smoke, Tom." "Then light it, sir, and only blow at it so as to make the smoke show now and again. Have a lighted lanthorn under the bulwarks, and shove the end in now and then. It'll make it all look so quiet and safe aboard that they'll walk right into the trap." Mark did as he was requested, but with a good deal of discomfort; and then waited with a throbbing heart, and a strong desire to cough and sneeze from time to time as he marched about the deck, stopping to use his glass, and making out a tall, thin man similarly armed with a glass, and wearing a Panama hat as well. But there was no sign of a black on board. Some half-dozen ordinary-looking sailors lounged about the deck, and save that it was such a smartly-built heavily-rigged craft, there was not a trace of her being anything but an ordinary trader. Matters went exactly as Mark desired, the stranger schooner gliding nearer and nearer, while the midshipman's heart beat faster, and he trembled lest a glimpse should be caught of the armed boat hanging from the davits, with her keel just dipping into the water from time to time. But by clever steering it was kept out of sight, and when the right moment came a turn or two of the wheel sent the schooner a little way ahead, and then another turn, and she swept round a little, her sails shivered, and she lost way, while the stranger hailed them as she came closer, and was thrown up head to wind. By this time the two schooners were not above fifty yards apart, and a hail came in decidedly American tones,-- "I'll send a boat aboard." There was a little movement, and Mark lay waiting for his time, for this action on the part of the stranger was thoroughly playing into his hands. The American's boat was lowered down on the side farthest from them, with the skipper sitting aft with four men to row; and as her head appeared round the stern, Mark dropped over into his own boat. The falls were cast off as she dropped into the water, and bidding the men give way, she shot off round the schooner's bows, the Panama hat gave place to the naval cap, the jacket was hurried on, and away they went for the stranger, whose crew on board stared in astonishment over the bulwarks at the man-of-war's men, while a horrible thought struck the young officer. He was going to seize the stranger vessel, but he had left his own almost unprotected, and the Yankee skipper was being rowed to her. "I'm playing dog and the shadow, after all, Tom," he whispered, excitedly. "What do you mean, sir?" "Suppose the Yankee seizes our prize while we try to take his schooner." "Murder!" exclaimed Tom Fillot, leaping up in the stern-sheets. "I never thought of that." _ |
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