King o' the Beach: A Tropic Tale

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

  The proximity of the evil-smelling serpent to Carey's legs doubtless hadsomething to do with the speed of his movements in quitting the canoeand climbing the side; and on reaching the gangway he looked round invain for the doctor and Bostock, for they were not visible, neither wasMallam on the deck.

  "Where's the doctor?" he said to one of the blacks, but the man merelystared at him blankly. "Cookie?" cried Carey, and the man grinned andpointed towards the galley.

  But Carey did not go in that direction, turning aft towards the saloonentrance, where on reaching the top of the brass-bound stairs he stoppedin alarm, for a hoarse groan ascended to his ears.

  A shiver of dread ran through the lad, for it was evident that somethingterrible had happened during his absence, and for a few moments he stoodlistening.

  Then, mastering the coward dread, he took a few steps down.

  "What's the matter?" he cried, excitedly, but there was only anothergroan, and he leaped down the remaining stairs to the saloon door, butonly to find that it was shut and fastened, and that the startlingsounds had not come from there, but from the lower cabin.

  The boy did not stop to question, but began to descend. He had nottaken two steps, however, before there was the sharp report of a pistol,and a bullet whistled by his ear. Then there was another shot, whichwas better aimed, striking him in the chest, and he fell back againstthe bulkhead, to slide down in a half-sitting, half-lying position uponthe stairs, struggling to get his breath, while a deathly feeling ofsickness made his head swim and everything seemed to be turning black.

  It was some minutes before he came sufficiently to himself to realisethat he was lying back there upon the stairs, unable to move, and agreater time elapsed before he fully recalled the cause and clearly knewthat he had been shot at, the second shot having caused the dull, heavypain in his breast, with the accompanying oppression.

  His first movement was to clap his hand to his chest, the act dislodginga bullet, which flew off and went rattling loudly down the brass-boundstairs.

  The next moment another shot was fired, and struck the wood-work abovehis head, while before a puff of evil-smelling smoke had risen far therewas another shot, with the shivering of plate glass, which fell janglingdown.

  There was a feeling as if a tiny hand were passing among the roots ofCarey's hair and he tried to crouch lower, but it was impossible.Feeling though, that his life--if he were not already fatally injured--depended upon his getting beyond reach of the person firing, he gavehimself intense pain by trying to ascend the stairs. But at the firstmovement he could not restrain a sharp cry, and immediately therefollowed two more shots, which crashed into the wood-work overhead.

  Not daring to stir now, Carey clapped his hand once more to his breast,where the pain was most acute, shuddering meanwhile at the thought thathis breast must be wet with blood.

  But no; his flannel felt dry enough, and plucking up courage as herecalled the fact that the first two shots stung by his head and breast,while the last four had flown high, he felt pretty sure that by crawlingto the top he might reach there in safety. Besides, a revolvercontained only six shots, and that number had been fired.

  Acting upon this, he turned quickly over upon his breast, and in spiteof the sickening pain he felt, began to crawl up; but his hope that thelast shot had been fired was damped on the instant, for the firing oncemore began, and he felt certain that his assailant must be Dan Mallam,since he always carried two revolvers.

  Carey was desperate now, and he kept on breathlessly, hearing three moreshots fired, nine in all, before he sank down on the landing now by thesaloon door, to faint dead away.

  How long he lay he could not tell, but it could not have been any greatspace of time before in a sickened drowsy way he found himself listeningto the distant chattering of the blacks on deck.

  Carey's hand went to his breast again, where the heavy dull paincontinued; but there was no trace of blood, and, satisfied on thispoint, he crouched there listening to a dull, moaning sound coming fromthe bottom of the stairs.

  What did it all mean, and where was Doctor Kingsmead? He knew thatBostock was forward in the galley, for the black had pointed there whenhe asked, and the thing to do now was to go and find him to hear theworst.

  Just then, like a flash, came the recollection of the two reports he hadheard that morning when he was on the sands, and he began to wonderwhether that was in any way connected with what had happened.

  And now he tried to rise and get up on deck, but at the first movementthe sick feeling came back, and he leaned back to let it pass off.

  As he sat there, there was a burst of laughing from the blacks--a soundso full of careless, boyish merriment that it cheered him with thethought that perhaps, after all, nothing very serious was the matter.

  He made another effort, and stood up to take a step or two, with thesick feeling passing off as he once more listened to the laughter of theblacks.

  And now a fresh thought came to him; he must not let the blacks see thathe was suffering, or they might look down upon him with contempt, sothat he would perhaps lose the high position he had won in theirestimation.

  This seemed to give him strength, and, setting his teeth hard he put onan air of stoical indifference as he stepped out on deck, feeling thathe was growing firmer each moment.

  There was a strange sight before him as he walked aft, for the blackswere gathered round four of their party, who had evidently begun in themiddle and worked away from thence towards head and tail, in pairs,skinning the great snake, to the great defilement of the clean deck.

  Black Jackum made way for the boy to see as he came up, grinning as washis wont.

  "Good eatum," he said, eagerly. "Cookum, good."

  "Yes," said Carey, quietly. "Where is Cookie?"

  "Cookie?" repeated the black, half-wonderingly, and he turned to one ofthe party who had stopped on board.

  "Baal. Cookie he."

  The man made some reply, and ran towards the forecastle to squat uponthe deck and thump upon the hatch with his fists, saying something withgreat rapidity of speech, the only words Carey could grasp being Dan andmumkull.

  Black Jackum turned to the boy as soon as his companion had finished.

  "Cookie," cried Jackum, pointing down at the closed and fastened hatch."Big Dan mumkull everybody open dat."

  "Big Dan says he'll kill everyone who opens that hatch?" cried Carey.

  "Issum," said the black, nodding a good deal, looking sharply from Careytowards the cabin entry and back.

  "Mumkull ebberbody. Shoot, bang."

  "Let him shoot me then if he dares," cried Carey, in a fit ofdesperation, and the two blacks looked at him with horror and admirationas the boy bent down over the hatch, pulled out an iron bolt thrustthrough the staple, and threw open the heavy lid of wood; but all wasstill below.

  "Bob! Are you there?" cried Carey, for there was a chilling silencebelow.

  "Ay, ay!" came in half-smothered tones, and this was followed by thesound of someone turning out of a bunk. The next minute Bostock'sbloodstained face appeared, with a tremendous swelling on the brow, theresult evidently of a blow given with marlin-spike or club.

  "Bob!" cried Carey, wildly, as he caught the old sailor's hand.

  "Master Carey!" cried the injured man, stumbling out as if giddy. "Thisis a good sight, dear boy."

  "Which of the blacks struck you that cowardly blow?"

  "Nay, nay, it warn't one of the black fellows, my lad, but Old King Colehimself."

  "But how? why--what for?"

  "Don't you puzzle a chap with too many questions at once, my lad, for myhead's a bit swimming."

  "Oh, Bob, my poor fellow! Here, Jackum, a bucket of water to bathe hishead."

  "Bucketum waterum? Iss!" cried the black, darting off, and Bostockseated himself on an upturned barrel.

  "Let's see," he said; "how was it? I forgot, sir."

  "Never mind that, then. Where
's the doctor?"

  "The doctor, sir?" faltered the old fellow, to Carey's agony, "I dunno.Ah, I 'member now. Comes to me in the galley, he does."

  "The doctor?"

  "No, sir; Old King Cole. `Come here,' he says, `and get me somethingout o' the forecastle.' I goes with him, gets to the hatch, and hesays, `Fetch me up that noo axe as is down there.' `Right, sir,' Isays, and I'd got down three steps when I sees his shadder across me asif he was lifting something, and I turns sharply to see a club in hishand just lifted up. I shies and dodges, but I was too late; down itcomes dump on my forrid, and I dropped down into the forecastle."

  "Bob!" cried Carey.

  "That's true enough, sir, and then I seemed to go to sleep with everyidee knocked out o' me. I just recklect thinking I should be better ina bunk, and I lay there dreaming like till you calls me, and that wokeme up. What's o'clock, sir?"

  "Time we bestirred ourselves, Bob, to find the doctor. Bob, he musthave served poor Doctor Kingsmead the same."