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

Chapter Forty Two.

Without a Doctor

Fever? Brain heat? The poor fellow turned cold with horror, and hurried back, careless of any impending danger that there might be, into the rough hut within whose shades he could dimly make out the figure of his comrade, who appeared to be sleeping heavily, but not well, for he was muttering.

“I say, Dick,” he whispered, “how’s your wound?”

There was no reply.

“Dick,” he continued, “your wound doesn’t hurt much, does it?”

Still there was no reply, and beginning to realise now that his own brain was clear, and that he really had been fast asleep, wearied-out beyond the power of watching by the previous night’s exertions, he sank down upon one knee to lay his hand upon Roberts’s forehead, when, feeling that it was burning, and that at the slightest touch the poor fellow started with pain, he began to master himself.

“What fancies one does get into one’s head at a time like this! Of course I’ve been asleep, and no wonder. I was done up; but, thank heaven, I’m all right and able to think and act, while poor Dick’s feverish and bad with his wound.”

“Asleep, Dick?” he whispered again; and once more he laid his hand upon the poor fellow’s brow, but with no fresh result. His comrade was insensible, and as Murray bent over the mutterer a fresh chill of horror ran through him as he thought of his position.

Suppose he grew worse, and no help came. What should he do? The idea was horrible. Suppose he were to —

He determined not to dwell upon the thought, and drawing a deep breath, he whispered to himself, now full of excitement —

“That’s not the way to do any good,” he said. “It’s only playing the coward and thinking of one’s self. I’m playing with shadows.”

And setting his teeth, the middy sprang to his feet and stole quickly and silently to the doorway to peer out and listen as he gazed at the scene of beauty that opened out before him.

The rough plantation was mingled with wild growth, both of which, the cultivated and the natural, were flourishing luxuriantly. Wondrous creepers tangled themselves in the boughs which sheltered the hut from the morning sunshine, and bell-flowers of exquisite beauty hung in the pure limpid air; and as his eyes roamed here and there in search of danger, a couple of ruby-crested humming birds darted into a patch of sunshine, and chased one another round, sparkling, flashing and quivering in the light, till one of them darted away and seemed to suspend itself in front of one of the most beautiful bells, so as to probe the honied depth of the great blossom like a gigantic bee.

The lad snatched himself from this to gaze in a fresh direction, for all at once there was a prolonged whistle; but at its repetition he knew that it was no human utterance; and when fresh bird-calls came from the verdant tangle beyond the plantation, he felt encouraged by the feeling that even if there were no friends forcing their way towards the wild-looking hut in the forest, no enemy could be near, for the birds that played about were too bold.

The next thought which came to the lad’s eager, busy brain was of Tom May and his intent of the previous night to go in search of him. “But I can’t go now,” he thought, and, satisfied himself now that there was as far as he could make out no immediate danger, he hurried back to the side of Roberts, to try and take in his position and promptly decide upon his actions.

This was soon done.

There was water at hand; rough vessels in which to fetch it; and after a moment’s thought as to whether he should carry his companion out into the light, a smile crossed his lips as he thought of the old legend about carrying the well to the pitcher, and making use of his unsheathed cutlass, a few strokes resulted in his hacking away a portion of the rough leafy thatching and admitting a broad band of light right across his comrade’s reclining figure.

A few touches convinced the amateur surgeon that the injury was too tightly bound, and after removing the covering he set to work and bathed the wound with the soft cool water till the temperature was reduced, re-bound it tenderly, and soon after had the satisfaction of noting that his patient’s irritation and evident pain had grown less, while when he raised his head and applied the freshly-drawn nut-full of water to the poor lad’s lips he drank with avidity, and then sank back with a sigh of relief. The muttering grew less frequent, and he sank into a quiet sleep.

It was Murray’s turn to sigh now that he had achieved thus much; but it was not with relief, for he was dripping with perspiration, the heat was dense within the hut, and a sense of faint weariness stole over him of so strange a nature that it seemed to him that his senses were passing away.

“I am going to be bad now,” he thought, feeling that perhaps in spite of pluck and effort his time had come.

“What will poor Roberts do?” he felt in a queer, strange way, and somehow it never seemed in the midst of the feeble dizzy sensation that he was of any consequence himself.

“How hot!” he muttered feebly, and he made an effort to crawl out of the hut, and then on and on almost unconsciously until he had dragged himself to where a bright ray of light flashed from the glowing surface of the clear amber water and played upon the great, green, glossy leaves of a banana plant, one from whose greeny-yellow bunch of fruit he had plucked the night before.

That all seemed dream-like, but it did not trouble him, for his nature had prompted him to thrust forward his lips till they touched the water just where the ray shot forth glowing light and life as well, for he drank and drank, and as he imbibed the fluid, which looked like fire but tasted like water, the feeling of faintness grew less, his senses began to return, and he drew back to lie over with a sigh and gaze dreamily at the great arum-like leaves of the banana and the huge bunch of green and yellow finger-shaped fruit.

“Finger-like – thumb-like,” he muttered, “just as if it was so many huge hands resting one upon the other.”

Murray sighed at his fancy, closed his eyes for a few moments to dream about the refreshing water, and soon after opened them again to let them gaze up the curve of a tree till it rose higher and higher, perfectly straight now, and ended by resting his vision amidst the great fount of green leaves which started from the crown and curved outwards.

There was a curious clump of fruit there, flowers too, and small and large nuts; huge, semi-triangular and rounded masses of fibre, and he looked at the high-up cluster, realising the while that hanging far above him, where they would fall in front of the hut, was an abundance of good satisfying food in the shape of pulpy nut, milk and cream, as well as sweet water that he might drink; so that the occupant of that humble hut might partake, but which was out of his reach, for the fruit would not fall and he could not climb.

Murray lay thinking, as his senses grew stronger, of how blessed by nature the black who lived in that hut must be, with a home that he could easily construct, and with such ripe fruits ready to his hand with hardly a care in the production; and then somehow the feeling of envy seemed to turn to equally profound pity, as it flashed into his mind that the poor wretch paid for it at the cost of labour, misery, and despair forced upon him by some of the vilest wretches that lived beneath the sun.

“Slavery!” muttered the lad, and again slavery mingled with the thoughts of the horrible sufferings inflicted aboard the slave-ships – sufferings that he and those with him were there to check and sweep away.

As these thoughts flooded the lad’s brain, he at the same time grew clearer and began to think of Tom May and Titely, of where they were, and whether they would come to him and Roberts. He even pictured to himself the former, big, hulking, and strong, coming staggering into sight with his wounded comrade upon his back. Then his thoughts floated away to Mr Anderson and his men. How had they got on? he asked himself. Would the captain soon come with their vessel and by means of a few shots sweep the place clear of the slave-hunting miscreants?

The midshipman’s brain was fast growing clearer still, and all at once he found himself gazing in imagination at the faithful black, shiny of face, and clothed in white. Would he find him and his wounded comrade and guide them back to the boats, or only perhaps to where he hoped Mr Anderson was holding out at Plantation Cottage? And as he thought, strangely enough it seemed to Murray in his faint, dreamy state, he stretched out one hand to separate the great green leaves of the banana near at hand so as to open a way for him to look beyond the great plant through the plantation and see if the blacks were coming.

Then somehow, half unconsciously, the middy’s hand closed upon something soft to the touch and smooth – something that he plucked and peeled and ate, and then plucked and ate again and again, till he began to grow less faint, and refreshed as well as clear of brain, ending by feeling strengthened and ready to crawl back into the hut, half wondering at what had happened, until he fully realised it all and was able to tell himself that he had been thoroughly exhausted and was now refreshed as well as rested and ready to take fresh steps to help his less fortunate comrade.

“Asleep still, Dick, old chap?” he whispered cheerfully.

But there was no reply, and after bathing the poor fellow’s injury again and watching him anxiously by the clear light that struck through the roof, Murray rose to his feet, feeling more and more refreshed and ready to act. He was encouraged, too, by the growing restfulness that came like a soft flood through his senses.

“Well,” he said to himself, “there’s nothing wrong with me now. I was completely done up. It’s of no use to despair, for it is only cowardly. I’m in a bad position, but it might be worse, even as poor old Dick’s is horribly bad, but as soon as I got to work I found that I could make him better. It was a very simple thing to do, and if I could make him better when he was so bad, now he is better I ought to be able to make him better still.”

But first of all he tried to settle thoroughly within himself what it was his prime duty to do.

“Nature says to me, Try and save your own life. But then that seems to be so horribly selfish and unnatural. I am fairly healthy and strong now that I have got over that bit of a fit – bit of a fainting fit, I suppose.”

Here the lad pulled himself up short to think a little more.

“Fainting fit,” he said to himself. “That sounds like being a girl. I don’t know, though: men faint as well as women when they are exhausted by pain or by bleeding. Well, I was exhausted, and now I’m strengthened and mustn’t let myself get so weak again, and what’s more, I mustn’t let poor Dick grow so weak. Oh, if old Reston were only here with his bottles of stuff! But I don’t know; perhaps I can get on without them, for it isn’t as if the poor chap was bad of a fever. Fever there is, of course, but it’s only the fever that comes from a wound, and wounds heal by themselves. So I’m not going to despair.

“I’m sure of one thing,” he continued, after a little more thought, “as I’m so much better I don’t want any doctoring, and it’s my duty to attend to poor old Dick, and I’m going to do it. It’s very horrible to be in such a hole as this, but I know that the first luff won’t rest until he has found every one of his party, and the captain won’t rest till he has found his officer, and – ”

Frank Murray’s cogitations were at an end, for just as he had come to the conclusion that matters were far better than he expected, and that all he had to do was to devote himself to his comrade’s recovery, which was already on the way, he started suddenly, for he was conscious of a slight rustling noise somewhere apparently at the back of the hut, a sound as of some animal forcing its way through the dense growth which shut the building in upon three sides.

Murray’s heart began to beat fast as he listened, for the noise was repeated, and though there was caution connected with the movement, the sound was of such a nature that he was not long in doubt as to its cause.

It was, as far as the lad could determine, a man forcing his way through the jungle at the back; and then, just as it came close at hand, so close that the rough walls of the hut seemed to quiver, the sound ceased again, and in the midst of the deep silence which ensued, the lad felt convinced that he was being watched by some one who was peeping through the wall opposite to where he crouched over his sleeping companion; and he waited in agony for some fresh movement, ready to spring up with his cutlass gripped in his hand.

His excitement seemed to grow till he could bear it no longer, and he rose to his feet, and stepped softly to the side of the door, just as there was a louder rustle than ever, and some one bounded out of the thicket right to the front of the doorway, stared into the darkness for a brief moment, and then turned and ran along the edge of the rough plantation, disappearing amongst a clump of maize-stalks. Murray was beginning to breathe freely, in the hope that in the brief glance he had not been seen in the darkness within, when his heart sank once more, for he recalled the hole he had hacked in the thatch – a hole which must have flooded the place with light.

At that moment there was the soft pad of footsteps again, and to his horror, in company with the rustle of the tall corn stalks, the figure of the black, who now seemed to be herculean in build, dashed into sight, armed, as the middy could see, with a heavy machete, and coming rapidly straight for the door of the hut.

Chapter Forty Three.

Nocturnal Visitors

Desperate, but ready for action in defence of his comrade, Murray gripped his cutlass hard, and in those exciting moments found time, oddly enough, to congratulate himself upon the fact that he was armed with the heavy service weapon in place of the ordinary ornamental dirk that formed part of a midshipman’s equipment. As to his chance, slight, well-built and youthful, he could not help feeling doubtful, pitted as he was about to be against a heavy, work-hardened negro wielding the heavy cutting weapon utilised for laying low the canes; but on the other hand he felt that skill would count somewhat on his side, for in company with the wounded lad he sought to defend he had devoted every opportunity that presented itself to small-arms practice, and was no mean handler of the service sword.

“I can only do my best,” he thought; and in this spirit he stood on guard in the darkness, his eyes flashing, and fresh and active, prepared for everything that might befall him.

And that for the time being proved to be nought, for in those brief moments the black made for the doorway, Murray noting the glistening of the great fellow’s opal eyes, and standing ready to receive him upon his point, when with a sharp swerve to his right, the man sprang at the broad-leaved banana plant which had supplied the lads’ sustenance, and disappeared from his sight, and then there was the sharp hacking sound of a couple of blows being delivered at the fruit stem, before the huge fellow backed into sight again with a banana bunch thrown over his left shoulder.

A minute later the black had plunged in amongst the canes, and Murray, whose heart was still beating hard from excitement, was listening to a repetition of the sounds he had first heard, as the man worked himself round by the back, the imaginary danger passing away and leaving the middy wondering how it could have happened that the black had not caught sight of him, and coming to the conclusion that the poor fellow was so intent upon obtaining the food that he had been driven from by his enemies, that he had eyes for nothing else.

“What a coward I must be!” thought Murray, as he calmed down. “I’m precious glad that there was no one by to see what a fine brave-hearted fellow I am. Poor fellow, why, he must be the black who built this hovel and planted the fruit. Well, of course he’s a slave, and I only hope we may have the opportunity to set him free.”

Murray stood thinking for a few moments, and then in obedience to a sudden thought he made a dash for the spot where the black had plunged in. But all was silent again, and he felt that it would be impossible to follow his trail.

“It’s a pity,” thought the lad, as he went slowly back to the hut doorway. “Here was a friend, if I had only known – one who would have helped me to find the way back to the others – if I could have made him understand what I wanted.”

Upon reaching the side of Roberts he had the satisfaction of finding him sleeping more calmly, and after making up his mind to be on the watch for the black’s next coming, he crouched down by his wounded companion to think again about trying to hunt out Tom May; but he ended by wrinkling up his brow and coming to the conclusion that it would be cruel to forsake his friend in such distress.

“A hundred things might happen,” he mused. “I should as likely as not lose my way and be unable to get back. Poor Dick – I don’t think I care much for him, for he always sets himself against me and is as jealous as can be; but trouble seems to wipe all that away, and I suppose I am pretty fond or I shouldn’t have been ready to fight for him. Yes,” he mused, “he might recover his senses and find himself alone and so weak that he could hardly stir. Why, it would be enough to drive him nearly mad.”

Murray employed himself twice over in the course of that day bathing and dressing his comrade’s wound, and always with good results, for though the lad remained insensible, he sank each time into a more restful slumber, leaving his nurse and surgeon at liberty to watch and plan as to their future.

It was towards evening that he had another scare – one sufficiently real to make him feel that they were again in imminent danger, for though he could not identify a couple of fresh-comers of whose advent he had warning, their fierce aspect, the way in which they were armed, and their action, seemed to show for certain that they belonged to one or other of the slavers’ crews.

Murray heard them approach suddenly, and darting out of the hut, he took refuge in the shelter of the cane plantation, from amidst whose thick growth he saw them step to the front of the hut, which in no wise excited their curiosity; but they stopped short for a few minutes, just long enough for one of them to climb one of the cocoanut trees and hack off a couple of the great husks, to fall with heavy thuds, before the climber slipped to earth again, when both set to work hacking off the husk and cutting away one end of the half-hardened shell.

They were moments of intense excitement for Murray, as he crouched a few yards away, almost afraid to breathe, fully expecting that one or other of the pair might rise from where he had thrown himself down, and entering the hut discover its occupant. But it seemed as if the rough little edifice only represented the hut of a slave in the fresh-comers’ eyes, and having satisfied their thirst with the sweet sub-acid cream, they cast away the shells and sat talking together for a few minutes; and then the crucial moment seemed to have arrived for the discovery, for they suddenly sprang up – so sharply that the lad’s hand flew to his cutlass, and then he had hard work to suppress a cry of relief, as the pair rapidly stalked away.

“It is too risky,” muttered the lad. “I must find some safer hiding-place.”

“So beautiful and yet so horrible,” he thought, as he crouched in amongst the abundant growth, the narrow sunlit openings being visited from time to time by tiny birds whose scale-shaped feathers were dazzling in their hues as precious stones, while they were so fearless that he watched them hang suspended in the air or flit with a low hum to and fro within a few inches of his face. At another time he would be visited by butterflies that were the very perfection of Nature’s painting, while wherever the sun’s rays struck down hottest the jungle was alive with glistening horny-coated beetles whose elytra looked as if they had been fashioned out of golden, ruddy and bronze-tinted metal.

Just when the sun was beginning to sink lower and warning him that it would not be long before he would have the protection of another night, his attention was caught by a fresh rustling noise not far away, and it struck him that this might be the sound made by the returning of the builder of the hut.

So sure did the lad feel of this that he congratulated himself upon the fact that he was well hidden still amongst the foliage around, where he could suddenly start out upon the big black if he should enter the shelter.

But as the faint rustling continued, he awakened to the recollection of the previous night’s alarm, for it now dawned upon him that the movement was not made by a human being, but by one of the reptiles with which he had peopled the thatch.

This was soon plain enough, and whether venomous or not it was enough to startle the watcher, as a serpent some seven or eight feet in length came into sight, travelling through the undergrowth, with its scales ever changing in tint as its folds came more or less into connection with the light that penetrated the leaves.

Murray felt the natural disgust for the lithe creature and dread of the poison fangs of which it might be the bearer, but at the same time he could not help feeling a certain admiration for its wondrous activity, the power with which it intertwined itself among the twigs and in loops and wreaths and coils, while the light played upon the burnished scales in silver greys, chestnuts and ambers, and softly subdued and floating over it as if in a haze of light, played bronze green and softened peacock blues.

For a time the serpent seemed to be making its way towards him, and there were moments when he felt certain that he was its goal, and that two brilliant points of light shot from the two hard jewel-like eyes were marking him down.

Then all at once there was a sharp movement as if a spring had been let loose, and the midshipman felt paralysed for a few moments, before his hand glided to the cutlass and he began to draw it slowly from its sheath ready to make a cut, for, following upon the sharp spring-like movement the serpent had disappeared, the next sound that met his ears being that of the reptile trickling, as it were, through the undergrowth in his direction.

For a few moments he could not stir, and the recollection of what he had read about the fascination displayed by snakes seemed to have a paralysing effect upon him, till his reason suggested that it was the eye that was said to produce the power described, while now the reptile had dropped out of sight amongst the undergrowth. His dread was increased, though, by the fact that the sun was rapidly passing out of sight, according to its way in the tropics, and it began to seem to him that he would be at the mercy of what might probably be a venomous creature approaching slowly amongst the leaves.

All at once there was another quicker and sharper movement, as if something passing amongst the undergrowth very slowly and cautiously had startled the reptile, which made where it was growing dark three or four rapid darts, each more distant, the last being followed by one that developed into a glide, which soon died away, the sound being supplanted by a steady slow rustle that was gradually approaching; and for a certainty the sounds were made by a human being forcing his way through the forest.

“Enemy or friend?” Murray asked himself, and then, freed from the horror of the approaching serpent, he roused himself to try and creep silently back towards the hut.

Chapter Forty Four.

“You Dah?”

Murray’s movements were cautious in the extreme, and as he crept almost inch by inch he grew more confident of his power to do so without being heard, for the movements made by whoever it was that was drawing near were loud enough to cover his own.