Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the «Seafowl» Sloop

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, Mr Murray, sir,” said the man eagerly. “The poor thing took quite a turn like when I knelt down and held my waterbottle to her lips.”

Murray stood looking at the man, with his brow furrowed, and then he nodded.

“Now then,” he said, “where was this?”

“T’other side of this barrack place, sir,” said the man; “just over yonder.”

“Show me,” said Murray abruptly.

“I wouldn’t go, Frank,” whispered Roberts.

“I must,” was the reply. “Lead the way, Tom.”

“One of our lads is with her, sir,” said the man, hesitating.

“So much the better,” cried Murray firmly. “You heard what I said?”

Roberts, who was nearest to the sailor, heard him heave a deep sigh as he gave his trousers a hitch, and led the way past the vile-smelling palm and bamboo erection which had quite lately been the prison of a large number of wretched beings, the captives made by the warlike tribe who kept up the supply of slaves for bartering to the miscreants. Those who from time to time sailed up the river to the king’s town to carry on the hateful trade content if they could load up with a terrible cargo and succeed in getting one-half of the wretched captives alive to their destination in one of the plantation islands, or on the mainland.

Tom May took as roundabout a route as he could contrive so as to spare the young officers the gruesome sights that he and the other men had encountered; but enough was left to make Murray wince again and again.

“Why, Tom,” he exclaimed at last, “no punishment could be too bad for the wretches who are answerable for all this.”

“That’s what me and my messmates have been saying, sir; and of course it’s going to be a nasty job, but we’re all ready and waiting for our officers to give the word – Course I mean, sir, as soon as we get the chance.”

“Only wait, my lad,” said Murray, through his set teeth.

“That’s what we keep on doing, sir,” said the man bitterly. “You see, it’s pretty well all wait.”

“The time will come, Tom.”

“Yes, sir; course it will, and when it does – ”

The man moistened the palm of his right hand, clapped it to the hilt of his re-sheathed cutlass, and half drew it from the scabbard. “My!” he ejaculated, and his eyes seemed to flash in the morning sunshine. “It’s going to be a warm time for some of ’em. I shouldn’t like to be in that Yankee gentleman’s shoes, nor be wearing the boots of his men where they had ’em.”

“Oh, but these people could not be such inhuman wretches,” said Murray excitedly. “The murderous, atrocious treatment – the killing of those poor prisoners must be the act of the black chief and his men.”

“Hope so, sir,” said the sailor bluntly. “It’s too black to be done by a white. But all the same, sir, if the white skipper didn’t want his cargoes, the nigger king and his men wouldn’t supply ’em; and here’s the doctor come ashore, sir,” added the man, in a whisper.

For the two parties met just at the edge of a clump of trees, within whose shade the unfortunate creature who had interested the midshipman in her fate was lying with one of the seamen standing by her head, his musket grounded and his crossed arms resting upon the muzzle.

“Ah, gentlemen, you here!” said the doctor, nodding shortly. “Nice place, this. Humph!” he ejaculated, as with brows contracting he went down on one knee. – “There, don’t be frightened, my lass,” he continued softly, for as he drew near, the poor creature, who had been lying in the shade with her eyes half-closed, startled by the footsteps, suddenly raised her lids in a wild stare of horror and shrank away. “Poor wretch!” continued the doctor. “The sight of a man can only mean horrors for her.”

“Horrors indeed, doctor,” cried Murray excitedly; “but pray do something for her!”

“No,” said the doctor gravely. “Nature is her doctor now.”

“What do you mean?” said the young man, half annoyed by the doctor’s inaction.

“That she is in the hands of a kinder doctor than I could be – one who knows what is best for her. Look!”

He shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

“Let your men cut a few of those big leaves, Mr Murray, and lay over her.”

“You are too late?” said Roberts excitedly.

“Yes, my dear boy,” replied the doctor. “With such hurts as the poor girl had received it was only a matter of time. Ah, I wish to goodness we had caught that schooner! It’s time all this was stamped out. There, come away and bring your men. Oh, here comes Mr Anderson. Well, what are you going to do?” For the first lieutenant came up, followed by some of his men, glanced at the motionless figure and the action being taken, and turned away.

“What am I going to do?” he replied, frowning angrily. “Nothing but communicate with the captain for fresh instructions.”

“But aren’t we going to pursue the black chief and his people through the forest, sir, and punish them?” asked Murray, who was strangely moved by his first encounter with the horrors of a slave encampment.

“No, Mr Murray, we certainly are not,” replied the lieutenant, “for the chief and his men will take plenty of care that we do not overtake them. Here, come away, my lads; this place is pestiferous enough to lay every one down with fever.”

“Yes; I was just going to give you a very broad hint. Fire, eh?” said the doctor.

The lieutenant nodded.

“I must just have a word or two with the captain first,” said the lieutenant, and giving the order, the men began to march to where the boats lay with their keepers, and a sentry or two had been thrown out to guard against surprise.

Murray closed up to the doctor, who was looking sharply about him at the trees which remained standing amongst the almost countless huts.

“Not many cocoanuts, Murray,” he said.

“Oh,” cried the young man, who felt more annoyed by the doctor’s indifference than ever, “I was not thinking about palm-trees!”

“But I was,” said the doctor; “they’ll burn tremendously.”

“Ah,” cried the midshipman, “that was what I wanted to speak about. Did you mean to suggest that the place should be burned?”

“Certainly, sir,” said the doctor shortly.

“The village – but with the slave barrack?”

“Of course,” said the doctor shortly. “Don’t you think it would be best?”

“I – Oh! It seems so horrible,” began Murray.

The doctor looked at him searchingly, and laid his hand upon the youth’s shoulder.

“I understand, Murray,” he said quietly. “It does seem as you say repugnant; but it is necessary, my lad, for several reasons, one of the first of which it that it will be a lesson for the black king.”

“But he could soon have another village built.”

“Then we ought to come and burn that, and his people with him, if we could get hold of the wretches. I’m sure you must have seen enough this morning to make you feel how necessary it is for this slave traffic to be stamped out.”

“Yes, of course,” said Murray, “but – ”