Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the «Seafowl» Sloop
To remain away from his companion during the long night was a thing not to be dreamed of, with the possibility of the companionship of reptiles such as he had seen; and the opportunity of creeping back unseen as well as unheard grew more and more promising as the minutes glided by, and he listened now so that he might be in no danger of losing his way. But at the same time there was the risk of this being an enemy.
How he completed his short journey he could hardly tell, for he had to battle with nervous excitement as well as with the darkness that now began to fall rapidly in the deep shades of the forest, and at the last he was attacked by a fresh trouble which was as startling as the first, and showed him beyond doubt that some one was making for the hut. He had more than once nearly convinced himself that he who approached was the huge black, who had startled him with a false alarm of danger; but somehow, when this idea was still hanging in the balance and he felt doubtful of the wisdom of making his presence known to one who might after all prove an enemy, he grasped suddenly at a fresh development, for when at last the movements to which he listened had drawn very near, he felt his heart sink with something approaching dread on his fellow sufferer’s behalf, for certainly now it could not be the huge black he had seen, for two people, evidently well accustomed to thread a way through the forest, were converging upon his hiding-place, and rapidly now.
“If it were only morning!” he said to himself, as, unable to keep down his hard breathing, he covered the last few yards which lay between him and his brother midshipman, and then, cutlass in hand, turned at bay.
The lad’s experience had already been giving him lessons in wood-craft, and so it was that in his last movements he had hardly made a sound; but he had evidently been heard, for the duplex movement amongst the trees ceased at once, and a silence ensued which seemed terrible. So well was it sustained that as the lad crouched there, cutlass in hand, bending over his comrade, upon whose breast he had laid one hand, it seemed to him that his own breathing and that of Roberts was all that could possibly be heard. In fact, there were moments when the lad felt ready to believe that he had been a victim to imagination, and that he had been for some time fancying the presence of a snake. Yes, those were the heavy pulsations of his own breast – of that there could be no doubt; and those others which sounded like the echoes of his own heart were as certainly the result of the beating which kept on heavily in the breast of his wounded companion. It could not be – it was impossible that any one else was near. If there had been pursuers at hand, Murray felt that they must have gone by. And as he leaned forward, staring hard above where his comrade lay insensible, and trying to pierce the darkness, he at last found himself faintly able to make out a little opening which meant feeble light that was almost darkness; and this he now recognised as being the opening he had made with the cutlass by removing a portion of the leafy roof.
“We are alone,” thought Murray, “and this is all half-maddening fancy.”
The effort to retain silence had at last become greater than he could sustain, and even at the risk of bringing down danger upon their heads, Murray felt that he must speak – if only a word or two. If matters should come to the worst he was ready with his cutlass – ready to strike, and his blow would send the enemy, if enemy it was, or even enemies, scuffling rapidly away through the forest. At any rate the lad determined that he could retain silence no longer, and drawing a long, slow, deep breath, he was about to ask who was there in some form or another, and fend off at the same time any blow that might be struck at them, when the silence was broken from close at hand, and in a low deep whisper, with the words —
“Massa – massa! You dah?”
And now, suffering from the strange whirl of excitement which seemed to choke all utterance, Frank Murray felt that it was impossible to reply.
Chapter Forty Five.
A Friend in Need
“Massa sailor officer, you dah?” came again; and still the midshipman could not respond.
“You dah?” came in an angry whisper. “You no open your mouf, sah?”
“Yes, yes,” whispered Murray, recovering himself. “I could not speak. It is you, Caesar, isn’t it?”
“Caesar. Come. Big black fellow Tullus come along to get plantain; see young sailor officer. Tell Caesar. Where big sailor?”
“Tom May? I have lost him.”
“Not killed, sah, and other young officer?”
“No; he is here, Caesar. Where is Mr Anderson?”
“Gone; had big fight with Huggins’s men.”
“Any one hurt, Caesar?”
“Caesar no don’t know. Nearly get kill. Where Massa young sailor hand, take hold?”
Murray raised his hand, and it was taken directly between those of the black speaker; and the midshipman started, for one of these was bandaged up as if the poor fellow had been wounded.
“Where other young sailor officer?”
“Hurt, and lying down here asleep.”
“Very bad hurt?”
“Yes, my man. Where is Mr Allen?”
“Caesar don’t know yet awhile. Want to find Massa Allen. Very much great deal of fighting, sah. Massa Huggins bring many men out of schooner ship kill much slabe boy. Kill very bad, and poor Caesar can’t find Massa Huggins. Want kill um and save Massa Allen.”
“Who wounded you, Caesar?”
“Massa Huggin, sah. Poor slabe fellow too much afraid. Run away. Caesar t’ink massa sailor officer killed dead.”
“Is your wound very bad?” asked Murray.
“Yes, sah; dreffle bad.”
“Let me examine it.”
“Examine?”
“Yes; let me see how bad it is and tie it up.”
“No time. Caesar tie corn-leaf all about and stop bleed. Caesar don’t mind. What massa sailor officer call himself?”
“Murray – Frank,” was the reply.
“Murray Frank, sah. Murray Frank, sah, come away dreckerly and bring your brudder sailor. Caesar couldn’t find young massa for big long time. Now come?”
“Come where?” asked Murray quickly.
“Caesar don’t know. Want find Massa Anderson lieutenant. Want find big Tom May chap. Massa know where?”
“No, Caesar. Can’t you show me?”
“No, sah! Everybody run all away. Lot people get killed. Caesar glad find Massa young sailor ’gain.”
“So am I, my lad. But now can you find Tom May and Bill Titely?”
“Caesar try, sah. Come along.”
“But I can’t leave my wounded friend here.”
“No, sah. Take um ’long.”
“That’s right; but can you find the way in the darkness?”
“Caesar going try,” said the black confidently; but he did not inspire the midshipman with the same amount of confidence. In fact, the little he felt was a good deal shaken by a great hand darting as it were out of the darkness and seizing him roughly by the shoulder.
“What does that mean?” he cried.
A deep-toned whispering ensued, and it seemed to Murray that the huge black who had so much startled him by his appearance before was eagerly whispering to his recovered friend.
“Big Tullus,” whispered Caesar. “Say Massa Huggin men come along. Murray Frank come along quick.”
“Yes, but I tell you I cannot leave my brother midshipman,” whispered Murray.
“No, sah,” said the black. “Big Tullus take um ’long on back.”
“But you must be careful,” whispered Murray. “He is wounded.”
“Big Tullus fellow take care,” replied the black, and he whispered to his invisible companion, with the result that, in spite of the darkness, Murray made out that poor Roberts, who moaned slightly, was easily lifted up, and the huge black seemed to have no difficulty in throwing the slightly-made wounded lad over his shoulder as if he had been a child.
“Now massa, come quick,” whispered the black.
“But will your black friend keep up with us in the dark?”
“Yes, massa. Caesar knock um head off if don’t. Him Caesar man. Come and tell young massa um find young sailor. Now carry other one. Come along quick, ’fore sailor crew find um and catch um. Now Murray Frank hear?”
“Oh yes, I hear plainly enough,” replied Murray. “Now lead on.”
It was evidently quite time enough, for from somewhere near at hand the voices of some of the overseer’s crew of followers could be heard, as if making for the middle of the clearing where the big black had set up his hut, a spot which was evidently known to Huggins’s people, by the way in which they had come in search of food.
So close were the men that the midshipman seized the big black by the arm and stopped his progress.
“What massa do?” whispered the black.
“Take care! They will hear you,” replied Murray.
“Yes, hear massa if massa talk,” whispered the man warningly. “Massa come along.”
“But do you know the way to Mr Allen’s cottage?”
“Iss – yes, Caesar know the way. Come along,” whispered the man, and seizing the lad by the arm, he thrust him before his companion, who the next minute was making his way through the woodland, with the enemy so close behind that it was plainly evident that they were ignorant of the proximity of the fugitives, who pressed on steadily, with the huge black bearing his burden as lightly as if he were in no way troubled by the weight.
A very real danger, however, now began to show itself, for, becoming uneasy at being swayed about by Catullus, Roberts began to mutter impatiently, though in an incoherent way, with the result that the great black suddenly stopped short and, bending towards Caesar, uttered a few words in a tone full of protest.
“What does he say, Caesar?” whispered Murray.
“Say massa young sailor no talk so much. Bring Massa Huggin men come see what’s all a bobbery and kill um all.”
“I can’t stop him, my lad,” whispered back Murray. “He is insensible from his wound and does not know what he is saying.”
“Caesar tell big slabe boy walk fast and get along a way;” and Murray heard a low whispering follow as he was thrust onward, with the canes and other growth being brushed aside. But, in spite of the extra pressure brought to bear, it became more and more evident that their enemies were keeping up with them and following their movements so exactly that it was hard to believe that they were not aware of their proximity.
Murray whispered words to this effect, but the black only laughed.
“No, no,” he said; “Huggins’s men don’t know we come along here, or run fast and kill Massa Murray Frank, kill Roberts, kill Caesar, and big Tullus. Come along and see if Massa Allen find way back to cottage.”
Chapter Forty Six.
Caesar’s Proposal
For the most part of that night all thought of sleep had passed away, and a feeling of wonder filled the middy’s brain at the ease with which the black forced his way through the darkness.
“Black as a bat,” thought Murray, “and just like one. It’s wonderful how these fellows can see as they do. It can’t be because they are used to it, for my eyes would never be of any good, I am sure.”
But there it was all the same.
“Come ’long. Massa Huggins man dat way want to find Caesar;” and the black led the way and seemed to put pressure upon his white companion just at the right moment, “steering” him, Murray mentally called it, in and out among tree and cane so that he never came in contact with any obstacle, while the lad’s anxiety about his wounded comrade was always alleviated when a halt was made by the comforting whispered assurance from Caesar after an examination.
“Massa sailor Roberts fas’ ’sleep. No know nothing at all.”
There were times, though, when at one of their many halts Murray’s heart sank very low, for generally when all was silent save for some strange cry of night bird, croak of reptile, or weird whirr of insect that seemed to be magnified in power by the heated misty air, the black’s fingers would tighten upon the lad’s arm with spasmodic suddenness, in company with what seemed to be the piercing humming trumpet of a mosquito. Twice over Murray as he toiled on in the black darkness took it for granted that the black had stopped short to avoid being bitten or stung, but only to find afterwards that the sound came with perfect realism from the black’s lips, being his warning to his big companion to halt while he reconnoitred as to the position of the enemy.
And now a fresh direction would be taken, or more than once it seemed to Murray that they completely retraced their steps; but after a time a feeling of dullness akin to despair came over the lad, and he resigned himself to his fate, satisfying himself that Roberts was being carefully carried, and then plodding on and on, plunging as it seemed to him in a state of torpidity or stupid sleep in which he kept on dreaming about the ship and the boats and going through various adventures at sea.
Then he would start awake with a strange suddenness, feeling as if his conscience had pricked him for his drowsiness and neglect, and he would begin to tremble with anxiety, for he felt that he must have spoken aloud just at a time when they were near their pursuers, and so have betrayed their whereabouts.
Thoroughly wakened then, Murray found that they were motionless with his black companions listening, while Caesar’s fingers were pressing his arm very tightly.
“No speak,” he whispered; and the man’s breath came hot into his ear. “Huggins fellow chap everywhere. No catchee.”
Murray’s brain was closing up again, so it seemed to him, back into a deep sleep, and he remembered afterwards that during the latter part of that night he woke up from time to time when Caesar pinched his arm for him to stop, but directly the journey was continued he dropped asleep again.
Then it seemed to the middy that he must have been asleep an immensely long time, and he started up awake, staring hard at his guide, who had laid one hand over his lips while the other was offering him a ready-opened cocoanut.
“No speak, massa.”
“Why?”
“Huggins man over dah. See sailor officer – see slabe boy – see Caesar – shoot, kill.”
The man pointed over where Roberts lay half hidden by the undergrowth, while beyond him the big black was seated munching away at some half-ripe bananas, and ready to meet his eyes with a pleasant smile.
“It’s morning, then!” whispered Murray, in surprise.
“Yes: to-morrow morning, sah,” said the man, smiling; and it appeared to Murray that he had made a very absurd remark, for it must have been daylight for many hours, the sun being high.
“Whereabout do you think Mr Allen’s cottage is?” he whispered now, as his head seemed to clear.
“Over dah,” was the confident declaration. “Huggins man all round about come to fight.”
“Fight? Who with?”
“Massa officer sailor men.”
“Do you think they have got back to the cottage?”
The black nodded.
“Big very much fight. Sailor kill big lot Huggins man.”
“How do you know that?” said Murray sharply, for it seemed to him now that the last dreamy feeling of exhaustion had passed away.
“Caesar find free dead men. Him tread on two,” was his ready reply, “him” being the big black.
“But not white men!” said the midshipman, with his voice sinking to a whisper that was almost inaudible.
“Huggins man, massa. Bad fellow. Caesar berry glad.”
“Hah!” sighed Murray, and he crept to where Roberts lay apparently sleeping comfortably now.
“Is it far to Mr Allen’s cottage?” asked the lad, after a pause.
“Over dah, sah,” replied the black, pointing.
“Then why not go on at once?”
The black showed his teeth as his face lit-up in a smile.
“Lots Huggins man all about. Wait shoot white man. Wait shoot massa sailor officer. Shoot big slabe boy and Caesar. ’Top here get dark again and Massa Murray Frank crawl up close to cottage ’long o’ Caesar show de way. Massa Murray Frank put hand to mouf so how, like Caesar and say, Ahoy! No shoot, my boy! Friend!”
“Yes, I understand,” said Murray eagerly.
“Dat’s de way,” said the black, laughing with satisfaction; and he placed his hollowed hand to the side of his mouth and cried very softly again: “Ahoy! No shoot, my boy! Friend! British sailor boy shoot more than Huggins man. Shoot drefful bad. Kill friend in a dark. Kill Murray Frank. Kill Roberts officer. Kill big slabe boy, and kill poor ole Caesar; and dat drefful bad job, eh, sah?”
“Yes,” said Murray, responding to the black’s smile most heartily; “that would be a dreadfully bad job, and no mistake.”
“And no mistake, sah,” cried the black, bringing to bear his natural imitative faculty apparently with a feeling of intense enjoyment, and repeating the expression, “And no mistake, sah. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Hallo! ’Top, ’top!” he added, in an excited whisper. “Caesar make too much noise enough and tell Huggins man where we hide umself. Massa Murray Frank eatum Caesar nut. Do um good and makum fight like sailor man.”
“Yes, I’ll eat it soon,” replied Murray. “But you’re right, Caesar; we must wait till it is dark, for fear that my people should shoot us by mistake.”
“Yes, sah; dat be bad job and no mistake,” whispered the black, bringing in the fresh expression again. “What Massa Allen do widout Caesar? Hey?”
“Mr Allen trusts you, then?” said Murray.
“Yes, sah. Massa Allen berry much trust Caesar. Massa Allen tell Caesar he berry sorry he ebber trust Massa Huggin. Wish um nebber come plantation. Caesar see big tear in Massa Allen eye, and make Caesar berry sorry. Make um fink a deal. Massa Huggins kill poor black niggah, sah, lots o’ times. Massa Huggins got bad brudder come sometime with ship schooner full o’ slabes. Flog um and sell um. Make um die sometime. Massa Huggins’ brudder tell um bad sailor man. Talk like dis way;” and the man as he knelt by Murray’s side gave an exact imitation of the keen Yankee skipper. “Say ‘Chuck um overboard,’ sah.” As the black uttered the command he acted it, and added grimly: “‘Chuck um overboard to de shark?’” and added now a horrible bit of pantomime, dashing and waving his arms about to represent the terrible fish gliding over one another in a wild struggle to seize their prey.
“Don’t! Don’t!” whispered Murray, with a look of horror which proved the realism of the black’s word-painting and gesticulation.
“No, massa,” whispered Caesar solemnly. “Um nebber chuck black niggah overboard. But,” he added, with a fierce look that was even ferocious, “Caesar like chuck Massa Huggins overboard. Like see shark fish bite all a pieces and eat um. So – so – so!”
As he uttered the last words with hideous emphasis he brought his imitative faculty once more into action by laying bare his fine white teeth, throwing his head from side to side, and snapping like a savage animal.
“Horrible!” ejaculated Murray.
“Yes, sah; dreffle horrible see shark bite poor half-dead niggah a pieces.”
“But you have never seen this?”
“Yes, massa – long time ago. Caesar brought in schooner ship from Caesar own country. Bring lot of poor niggah all shut up down below. Ship quite full, and ebery night some shut um eyes, and to-morrow morning some won’t open eyes again. Gone dead. Sailor chap come along rope, haul niggah up on deck – haul on deck, and Massa Huggins brudder say: ‘Chuck um o’erboard,’ and chap come and take rope off Caesar and make um open um eye like say: ‘What’s de matter?’ Den Massa Huggins’ brudder say, ‘What’s dat, you lubber? Dat one not dead!’”
“Did you hear that?” said Murray, with his lips apart as he listened in horror to the black’s narrative.
“Yes, sah. Caesar no understand den what um mean, but um say – ‘What’s dat, you lubber? Dat one not dead!’ Nebber forget um – nebber! Caesar shut um eye now and see it all again – those niggah chap chuck overboard and shark fish coming up out of water and roll over and over and snap, snap, snap – so. Make Caesar keep eyes open so dat couldn’t go to sleep again for long time. Massa Huggins man come take hold of um by arm and leg and chuck down below. Caesar not dead a bit. Caesar quite ’live now. Go and talk lot o’ time to pore black niggah when Massa Huggins’ brudder bring schooner ship full of niggah. Caesar talk to um, not like um talk to Massa Murray Frank. Talk to um in own way sometime. Sometime poor niggah can’t understand, but berry glad find Caesar sorry for um. Make um happy; laugh again.”
“Poor creatures!” said Murray.
“Yes, massa. Poor creature! Come and talk togedder in de night sometime. Massa Huggins flog um when him find um out, but poor niggah don’t mind dat. Like to talk about de ole country where um come from. Massa Allen find um out too, but um only laugh and say, ‘Poor fellow!’ But Massa Huggin flog um, and some shut eye and nebber open um again. Poor Massa Allen good massa, but won’t do what Caesar say. He berry ill now, and get frighten of Massa Huggins. Tell Caesar one day he wish Massa Huggins die.”
“He told you that!” said Murray, for the black had ceased speaking, and his narrative had so great a fascination for the lad that he wanted to hear more.
“Yes, massa; um say he wish Massa Huggin die so that poor niggah boy be happy again and do um work. Massa Allen say so free time to Caesar, and den Caesar wait till Massa Huggins go out and Caesar go in to Massa Allen in de cottage, where um sit down by de table like dat.” And the black rested his head sidewise upon his elbow and hand. “‘What you want, Caesar, lad?’ he say, and um put um white hand on Caesar black arm. ‘Poor niggah ill and can’t work? Bad time, Caesar, to be sick man.’ ‘Yes, massa,’ I say to um. ‘Berry bad to be sick man.’ ‘Who is it, my lad?’ he say. ‘Caesar, massa,’ I say to um. ‘Caesar berry sick.’ ‘You bad, Caesar!’ him say. ‘Your massa berry sorry, for you de only frien’ I got in de worl’ now, Caesar.’ ‘Yes, massa,’ I say. ‘Caesar know dat.’ ‘What de matter, boy?’ he say. ‘Caesar bad to see massa so berry sick. Caesar ’fraid massa die.’ ‘Ah, dat’s berry good of you, Caesar,’ he say – ‘berry good. Then you no want me to give you doctor ’tuff?’ ‘No, massa,’ I said. ‘Nigger know what to do when niggah ill. Shut um mouf up tight free day, and niggah quite well again.’ ‘Ah, Caesar,’ he say, ‘dat do me no good, dat not do for your massa.’ Then I say to um, ‘No, massa, but you let Caesar do massa good and um quite well again and make all de poor niggah happy over again.’ ‘No, no, my boy,’ um say; ‘nebber again.’ ‘Yes, massa,’ I say; ‘you let Caesar try.’ ‘What wiv?’ um say, laughing; and den I say in um whisper like: ‘Fetish, massa.’”
“What!” cried Murray, half indignantly. “You don’t believe in that nonsense, Caesar?”
“Not nonsense, massa.”
“Well, my good fellow,” said Murray, rather coldly, “I’m not going to argue with you now, but some other time, I hope. Now tell me, what did Mr Allen say?”
“Um say, ‘No, my lad, no; I’ll hab none of dat.’”
“Of course; but surely he does not believe in it?”
“Yes, massa; um believe for sure. Massa Allen know what niggah know and bring from own country. But Massa Allen say, ‘Nebber, nebber, Caesar. Your massa done too much bad in dis worl’, and he nebber do no more now.’”
“Well, that’s very good of him, Caesar, but I don’t quite understand what you mean.”
“No, massa? Dat Huggins bad man do bad things to everybody. Make Massa Allen ill and go die. Massa Allen say not fit to live.”
“And quite right too, Caesar.”
“Yes, sah. Massa Allen quite right, and Caesar come one night and bring niggah Obeah and put in bad Massa Huggin rum. Den Massa Huggin drinkum, drinkum, and go drefful bad and nebber flog no more poor niggah. Nebber. Poor niggah dance and sing, and Massa Allen get well.”
“But – what – here – I say, Caesar!” cried Murray, staring hard at the black – “You don’t mean to say that you mean you would poison the wretch!”
“Yes, massa,” said the black, in the most innocent way. “Gib um Obeah snake poison. Gib um manchineel in um rum. Make um curl up and go dead.”
“Oh, that wouldn’t do at all, Caesar,” cried Murray earnestly. “He’s a horribly bad wretch, of course.”
“Yes, massa; ollible bad wretch, and ought to be killed dead; but Massa Allen say no, he won’t do any more wicked thing.”
“And he is quite right, Caesar.”
“No, sah,” said the black, shaking his head. “Not do no wicked thing. Caesar do it, and it not wicked thing. All good.”
“No, no; it would be murder, Caesar,” cried the middy.
“What murder, massa?”
“Eh? What is murder? Why, to kill innocent people.”
“What innocent people, massa?”
“What are innocent people, my man? Why, those who have done no harm.”
