Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the «Seafowl» Sloop
“Well, then, what was? Oh, I say, I do wish you wouldn’t keep on prosing about what nobody wants to hear. There, go on and get it finished.”
“All right; don’t hurry a fellow,” said Murray. “I can’t dash off things as quickly as you can.”
Roberts wrenched himself round so that he could look fiercely at his companion, and he spoke with quite an angry snap.
“Is that meant for a sneer?” he said.
“No, my son; not a bit of it, unless it contains just a go at myself for being so slow.”
“Ho!” ejaculated Roberts. “Well, what’s the curious thing about your chap who had been nearly drowned?”
“They brought him to – ” said Murray deliberately.
Roberts gave himself an angry jerk and reached out his hand to snatch at a marlin-spike stuck just beneath the rail.
“What’s the matter now?” asked Murray.
“You’ll know directly if you don’t finish your twaddling stuff. You told me all that before,” cried the lad irritably.
“Did I? Well, you keep on interrupting me so.”
“There, go on.”
“All right,” continued Murray, in the most imperturbable way. “Well, as I was saying, that when they brought the poor fellow round – ”
“Bravo, oh prince of story-tellers!” cried Roberts sneeringly. “They brought him round, did they? I wonder he didn’t stop drowned if he was surrounded by people who kept on prosing like you are.”
“Well, he didn’t,” said Murray coolly; “they brought him round.”
“Here, Frank, old chap,” cried Roberts, with mock interest, “it’s as well to be quite certain when you are making history – are you sure that they didn’t bring him square?”
“Oh yes, quite,” said Murray quietly; “they brought him round, and it was remarkable what an effect it had upon his temper.”
Roberts turned upon him again quite fiercely.
“He seemed to have turned acid right through, and snapped and snarled at those about him; and then – ”
“Now, look here, young fellow,” cried Roberts, interrupting his companion, “I’m not all a fool, Frank Murray, and I can see quite plainly enough that this is all meant for a go at me. Do you mean to tell me that I have turned upon every one to snap and snarl at them? Because if you do, say so like a man.”
“Well, old chap – ” began Murray, smiling.
“Oh, you do, do you? You’ve made up your mind to quarrel with me, have you? Very well, sir. I don’t want to be on good terms with a fellow who, in spite of the way in which I have made myself his friend ever since he joined, is determined to – determined to – Here, this is beyond bearing, sir. We’re too big now to settle our quarrels, like a couple of schoolboys, with our fists, but the wretched state in which we are compelled to exist by the captain’s absurd prejudices against settling a dispute in a gentlemanly way compels one to put off all consideration of age and position; so come down below. We can easily get to where the men will take care that we are not interrupted by the officers; and if I don’t give you the biggest thrashing you ever had, it’s because I am weak from the effects of that accident and being dragged under water for so long. Now then, come on, and – don’t irritate me any more by grinning in that absurd way, or I shall strike you before you put up your hands on guard, and then – ”
The lad, who was gazing wildly at his companion, stopped short, for, half startled now by his brother middy’s manner, Murray had laid his hand upon his arm.
“Steady, Dick,” he said quietly. “You’re not yourself, old chap. I didn’t mean to irritate you. Don’t go on like that; here’s the doctor coming forward, and I don’t want him to come and see you now.”
These words wrought a complete change, for to Murray’s surprise the agitated lad slipped his wrist free, and brought his hand down firmly upon that of his companion, to close it in a firm grip.
“Here, Frank,” he whispered, “don’t take any notice of what I said. I couldn’t help it. I don’t know what has come to me. I must be like the fellow you were talking about, and if the doctor knows, I feel – I’m sure that I shall be much worse.”
“Hist! Keep quiet. Let’s be looking at the fish. Look at that.”
He pointed downward through the clear water, and making an effort Roberts leaned over the rail.
“Yes; I see,” he said huskily. “A shark, sure enough.”
“Yes; only a little one, though,” said Murray aloud. “I say, isn’t it curious how those brutes can keep themselves just at a certain depth below the keel, and go on swimming easily at just the same rate as we are going, without seeming to make any effort!”
“Yes, very strange; very, very strange,” said Roberts loudly, and with his voice sounding husky and faint. “Hah!” he ejaculated, at last, in a tone of relief. “He’s not coming here.” For the doctor had suddenly caught sight of Titely and crossed the deck to speak to the man.
“No, he’s not coming here,” said Murray quietly.
“I oughtn’t to be afraid to meet the old fellow, though, Frank,” said Roberts, with a sigh, “for I must be ill to turn like that.”
“Not ill, old chap,” said Murray quietly. “Come on down below.”
“Then you think I’m bad?” whispered the midshipman, turning upon his companion sharply.
“Not bad, but upset by the accident.”
“And nearly losing my life,” whispered Roberts.
“Yes, that’s it. Come down and take off your jacket.”
“Not to fight,” said the lad bitterly. “Oh, Franky! And after you had just saved my life! I must have been half mad, old chap.”
“Bah! Drop it, Dick,” said Murray quietly. “You come down, and turn into your berth.”
“Yes; for a good nap.”
“That’s right, old chap. Have a good snooze if you can; but don’t mind if you can’t get to sleep. I’ll open the port-hole as wide as possible so as to get as much cool air as I can into the place. All you want is rest. You don’t want the doctor.”
“No; that’s right; I don’t want the doctor.” And then, eagerly taking his companion’s arm, the lad permitted himself to be led below, where he threw off his jacket and turned into his cot with a sigh of relief.
“Ah,” he said, “that’s better! Never mind me now. Go up on deck, and if any one asks about me say I’m having a sleep after the ducking.”
“All right,” replied Murray, and he saw in the semi-darkness that the middy had closed his eyes tightly but seemed to have to make an effort to keep the quivering and twitching lids still.
“I say, Franky,” came from the cot, after a short pause.
“Well?”
“You’re not gone on deck.”
“No, not yet. Come, off you go. Like a glass of water?”
“No! No water.”
“Well, what is it?”
“I only wanted to say something, Frank,” whispered the poor fellow, in a faltering voice.
“Better not, old chap. You want rest, and not to bother your brain with talking.”
“Thank you, doctor,” said the lad, with a faint smile. “Why, you’re ever so much better than old Reston. Yes, I want sleep, for my head seems to be all of a buzz; but I must say something before I can get off.”
“Well, then, look sharp and say it. Well, what is it?”
“Only this, Franky, old fellow – ”
“Well, what is it?” said Murray, after the pause which followed the last words. “There, let it go; I’m sure it will keep.”
“No, no,” whispered the lad excitedly. “It won’t keep. I feel as if I can’t bear to say it, and yet that I can’t bear to keep it back. There, that sounds half mad, doesn’t it? I – I – ”
“Is it anything to do with what you said to me a bit ago?”
“Hah! Thank you, old fellow; you’ve made me feel as if I could say it now,” whispered the lad hoarsely. “Franky, I feel as if I’ve been an ungrateful beast to you.”
“Hold hard, Dick,” said Murray quickly; and he laid his hand upon the one lying close to the edge of the cot. “I understand how hard it must be for you to talk about it, and it’s just as hard for me to listen. So look here, Dick. You haven’t been yourself, lad; when a fellow’s a bit off his head he isn’t accountable for what he says. I know; so look here. Am I hurt and annoyed by what you said? Not a bit of it. That’s right, isn’t it?” he continued, as his hand closed firmly upon that of the half hysterical lad. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
“Hah! Yes!” sighed the lad gently; and it sounded to Murray as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off the poor fellow’s breast.
“Then now you can go to sleep, and when you wake up again I hope you will have forgotten all about it, for that’s what I mean to as a matter of course, and – How rum!” said the lad to himself, for the hand that had been returning his pressure had slowly slackened its grasp and lay perfectly inert in his. “Why, he must be asleep! Well, I shall soon know.”
As the lad thought this he loosened his own grasp, and the next minute was able to slip his fingers away. Directly after he drew back a little more, and quietly rose from the locker upon which he had been seated close to his companion’s side with his back to the cabin stairs.
Then turning to go up on deck, Murray started to find himself face to face with the doctor, who had followed the lads down and stepped in without being heard.
“Asleep?”
Murray pointed to the occupant of the cot without a word, and the doctor bent low and then drew back.
“That’s good,” he whispered. “It was a nasty shock for the poor fellow, but there’s nothing for me to do, my lad. A few hours’ sleep will quite set him right. I like this, though, Murray,” he continued, laying his hand upon the lad’s shoulder and giving it a friendly grip. “You boys are thoughtless young dogs sometimes, but this sort of thing shows that you have got the right stuff in you – the right feeling for one another.”
“Oh, I say, doctor, don’t!” whispered Murray.
“Not going to, much,” said the gentleman addressed. “I’m a rough fellow sometimes, I know, but I notice a deal, and I like to see a bit of feeling shown at the right moment. You don’t know how it pleases me when one of our foremast fellows has been laid aside, and I see that a messmate has sneaked down to keep him company, and take care that he is not short of tobacco to chew – Hang him for trying to poison a man who would be far better without it! – Yes, looks as guilty as can be, and quite shamefaced at having been caught playing the nurse. It shows that the dog has got the true man in him, Murray, and though I don’t let them see that I notice anything I like it more than you think. There, Roberts is all right,” said the doctor gruffly, “but don’t stop here breathing up the cool air I want for my patient. Come on deck, my lad; come on deck.”
Chapter Twenty One.
“Niggah, Sah.”
A month passed swiftly away, during which the Seafowl sighted and chased vessel after vessel, each of which had been forced to lie to in response to a shot fired across her bows, but only with a disappointing result – one which sent the captain into a temper which made him dangerous to approach for a full half-hour after the strangers’ papers had been examined, to prove that she had nothing whatever to do with the slave-trade.
Then the captain would calm down, and something like the following would take place:
“Did I speak rather sharply to you when the boat returned, Mr Anderson?”
“Oh! Well, rather hastily, sir,” said the chief officer drily. “But that’s nothing, sir. I’m afraid I was not very polite to you. I was horribly disappointed, sir.”
“Naturally,” the captain cried excitedly. “Here we are, getting well within range of the islands where we know this wretched traffic is carried on, where the plantations are cultivated by the unfortunate blacks, and we seem bound to encounter a slaver, and yet the days pass on and we prove to be hunting a will-o’-the-wisp.”
“Yes, sir, it is maddening,” replied the lieutenant. “Day after day I have swept the offing, feeling certain that fate would favour us by letting the sloop come up with that Yankee, or with one of his kidney; but disappointment is always the result.”
“Yes, Mr Anderson,” cried the captain; “always the result. Never mind,” he continued, speaking through his closely set teeth; “our turn will come one of these days.” And then with his telescope tightly nipped beneath his arm he would tramp up and down the quarter-deck, pausing now and then to focus his glass, take a peep through, close it again with a snap and renew his march.
“Look at him,” said Roberts, one bright morning, as the two lads stood together well forward, where they fondly hoped that they were quite out of their chief’s way.
“No, thank you, Dick,” was the response; “it isn’t safe. He’s just in one of his fits, ready to pounce upon any one who gives him a chance. Every one is getting afraid of him. I wish to goodness we could overtake something and have a chance of a prize.”
“Well, we must find something to do soon, lad. We’re right in amongst the islands, and we shall have to land and hunt out some nigger driver’s nest.”
“But we can’t do anything if we do. We daren’t interfere with any plantation where the blacks are employed.”
“No, I suppose not; but it would be a glorious change if we got orders to land at one of the islands and could pick up some news or another.”
“What sort of news?”
“What sort? Why, information that a slaver was expected to land a consignment, and then – ”
“Oh yes, and then! Well, we shall see.”
“Yes, we shall see; but I don’t believe any of the planters will give us a bit of information.”
“Don’t you? I do,” said Murray. “There are good planters as well as bad planters, and I feel full of hope.”
“I don’t,” said Roberts bitterly. “I think we ought to go back to the West Coast and watch the rivers again. We shall do no good here.”
But Murray proved the more likely to be right, for after touching at the little port of one island, where the Seafowl was visited by the English gentleman who acted as consul, and who had a long interview with the officers in the cabin, it became bruited through the vessel that something important was on the way, and after boats had been sent ashore and a plentiful supply of fresh water and vegetables taken in, the sloop set sail again, piloted by a fishing boat. Under its guidance the Seafowl lay off the shores of what seemed through the glasses to be an earthly paradise, a perfect scene of verdant beauty, with waving trees and cultivated fields, sheltered by a central mountain the configuration of which suggested that it must at one time have been a volcano, one side of which had been blown away so that a gigantic crater many miles across formed a lake-like harbour. Into this deep water, after careful soundings had been taken, the sloop glided and dropped anchor, the pilot with his two men hoisting sail directly after receiving pay.
“This is something like,” said Roberts, rubbing his hands. “I wonder how soon we shall go ashore.”
“Almost directly, I expect,” replied Murray.
“Why? What do you know?”
“Not much; only what Mr Anderson let drop to me.”
“Let drop to you!” cried Roberts pettishly. “He never lets things drop to me.”
“Well, what does that matter? I always tell you anything that I hear.”
“Never mind that. What did Anderson let drop?”
“That the skipper has learned that there is an English gentleman here who farms a plantation with a number of slaves.”
“Well, lots do,” said Roberts sharply.
“And on the other side of the island there is a very large sugar plantation belonging to an American who is suspected of having dealings with slaving skippers who trade with the West Coast. What do you say to that?”
“That sounds likely; but what then?”
“Well, according to what Mr Anderson told me, the skipper will, if he waits for a chance, be able to catch one if not more of the slavers who come here to land their cargoes, for this American planter to ship off by degrees to other planters who require slaves.”
“Ah, yes, I see,” cried Roberts. “This Yankee, then, keeps a sort of slave store?”
“Something of the kind,” replied Murray, “and if we are careful I suppose that the skipper will have his chance at last; only he says that he is not going to trust any stranger again.”
“Well, never mind that,” said Roberts, speaking excitedly now as he scanned the slopes of the old verdure-clad hollow in which the sloop lay as if in a lake. “If we are about to lie up here for a time and go ashore and explore we shall have plenty of fun and adventure, with a bit of fighting now and then.”
“Likely enough,” said Murray.
“But I should like for us to have hit upon the place where that West Coast Yankee brought his cargoes. There’s no possibility of this being the spot?”
“One never knows,” said Murray thoughtfully.
“Too much to hope,” said his companion.
“Oh, I don’t know. We’ve been horribly unlucky, but the luck is bound to turn some time. One thing we do know for certain: that Yankee skipper brings slaves across to the West Indies.”
“Yes, we know that.”
“Well, this is one of the West Indian Islands.”
“A precious small one, though,” said Roberts in a depreciatory tone.
“What of that? We know for certain that there is the owner of a plantation here who trades in slaves, and there is nothing to prevent his having dealings with the man we want.”
“M-m-no; but there must be several such men as he. Well, we must get some fun,” cried Roberts, “and if we don’t find all we want – ”
“We may get something,” said Murray cheerfully. “Now then, which of us will have the first chance of going ashore?”
“You, of course,” replied Roberts bitterly. “Some fellows get all the luck. No, no; I don’t mean that, old chap.”
“Look at Anderson,” cried Murray; “he’s taking orders from the skipper. Hooray, Dick! See if it isn’t for a boat to be sent ashore. Whose turn is it going to be?”
That question was soon answered, for the captain, who was pacing to and fro searchingly overlooking the preparations for a boat going ashore, suddenly caught sight of the two lads.
“Oh, there you are, Mr Murray!” he exclaimed. “Well, has not Mr Anderson given you your orders to accompany the boat?”
Roberts’s face puckered up.
“No, sir,” said the lieutenant, taking upon himself to answer. “I intended to take Mr Roberts with me.”
Murray felt disappointed, but all the same he could not refrain from laughing at the sudden change which came over his fellow middy’s face, to the latter’s wonder.
“Oh, I see,” said the captain, raising his hat and re-adjusting it in a fidgety way he had when excited, which was followed by a fresh settling of the head-covering. “Quite right; quite right; but here’s Mr Murray growing dull and sluggish with doing nothing; you had better take him too. One will help to keep the other out of mischief.”
Roberts winced, and turned sharply to glance at Murray angrily, as the latter hurried to take his place in the stern sheets.
“What’s the matter, Dick?” Murray whispered, as soon as the pair were in their places.
“Matter? Any one would think I was a child and ought to have some one to take care of me. Now, look here, young fellow, if you grin at me before old Anderson there’s going to be a quarrel.”
“All right,” said Murray coolly; “but keep it till we get back.”
Roberts looked round sharply, but he had no opportunity to say more, for the chief officer descended to his place, Murray moved aside to let his comrade take the tiller ropes, the boatswain gave the cutter a vigorous thrust off, the men lowered their oars, and then bending low to their task they made the smooth water of the natural harbour begin to rattle beneath the bows.
The boat was run across beside the heavily forested shores, where, before long, but after many disappointments, an opening was found which seemed to be the entrance to a sluggish river, and as they glided in the overhanging trees soon shut them off from all sight of the sunny bay they had crossed. The bright light gave place to a dim twilight which at times grew almost dark, while the river wound and doubled upon itself like a serpent, and twice over, after a long pull, the lieutenant bade the men lie upon their oars, to rest, while he hesitated as to whether he should go farther.
But all seemed so mysterious and tempting that, in the full expectation of reaching some town or port belonging to the island, the rowing was again and again resumed till hours had passed, and at last the chief officer exclaimed —
“It’s like chasing a will-o’-the-wisp, gentlemen, but I cannot help feeling that we are on the highroad to the interior, and, in spite of the utter loneliness of the place, I don’t like to give up.”
“Of course you don’t, sir,” said Murray, as the men rested upon their oars, and he scanned the heavily wooded banks. “I wonder whether there are any plantations worked by the slaves: I can see no sign of a house.”
“No, I was thinking of that,” said Roberts, who was sweeping the distance with a glass; “but there is a bit of an opening yonder which looks as if the river branched there, and – Hallo! I didn’t see it at first. There’s some sort of a boat lying moored in that nook.”
“Where?” cried Murray.
“Yonder among the trees. Take the glass, sir.”
Mr Anderson took the telescope.
“To be sure: the river does branch there. Steer for that cove, Mr Roberts, and let us see what the little vessel is like. At all events here is some sign of the place being inhabited. Give way, my lads.”
The men pulled hard, and as they progressed, instead of obtaining a better view of the vessel, it seemed only to glide in behind the trees until they were close in and passed up what proved to be the mouth of a little creek, when Murray uttered an ejaculation.
“What is it, Mr Murray?” cried the lieutenant.
“The lugger, sir!”
“Well, I see it is, my lad. I dare say its owner’s house is close at hand.”
“But don’t you see, sir?” cried Murray excitedly.
“Of course I do, but there’s no one aboard, apparently.”
“Oh, I don’t mean that, sir!” cried the lad. “It’s the lugger we first came upon off that African river.”
“What!” cried the lieutenant. “Impossible! Run close in, Mr Roberts.” And the men pulled the cutter close alongside the swift-looking boat with its raking masts and lowered lug sails.
“Humph!” said the lieutenant. “The same build, the same rig, the same coloured canvas. Well, really, Mr Murray, it is a strange resemblance.”
“I’m almost sure it is the same boat, sir,” cried Murray.
“That’s as good as saying that the Yankee who tricked us so has sailed right across the Atlantic with the slaving schooner, and we have had the luck to follow in her track, and caught up to her.”
“Yes, sir; I don’t think there’s any doubt of it,” cried Murray.
“Then, if you are right, Mr Murray, the slaving schooner will be somewhere close at hand.”
“Yes, sir; I hope so,” replied Murray. “I am ready to hope so, my lad, but I say it is impossible. That was a lugger, and this is a lugger, and of course there is a certain amount of resemblance in the rig; but you are jumping at conclusions just because this is similar.”
“I think not, sir. I took so much notice of the boat; but look here, sir, Tom May was with me when I went forward to speak to the Yankee, and he would know. – Here, May, isn’t that the lugger the American planter was on when we brought her to?”
The sailor stared hard at the vessel hanging by a line fastened to what seemed to be a cocoanut tree.
“Same build, sir; same rig, sir. Might have been built up the same river, but it arn’t the one we saw that day, sir – Wish it was!”
“There, Murray, what do you say now?”
“That I didn’t think it possible that I could have been so deceived. Would it be possible that it could have been built by the same shipwright, sir?”
“Quite, my lad; and it is quite possible that we may come across a schooner or two built just like the one we saw escape. There is no doubt that many slaving schooners are built in these islands especially for the trade. Look out, my lads, and don’t miss anything. There may be one of them moored safely in a snug creek. – What was that?”
“Nigger, sir,” said Tom May. “I just ketched sight of him squinting at us among the trees. There he is again, sir.”
This time Roberts had caught sight of a black figure wearing the very simple costume of a pair of loose cotton drawers, his round woolly head covered with a broad-brimmed hat formed of extremely thin strips of thin cane.
“Scared at us,” said the sailor, for as the cutter was rowed alongside of the lugger, the black darted out of sight, but, evidently curious to know what was going on and the object of the strangers, he peered out again.
