Black Bar

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

  INTERPRETING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

  "Come _on_!"

  Bravery or determination, whichever you please, say both, were displayedby Mark Vandean as he fought horror and disgust in his effort to do hisduty and master self.

  Stepping quickly down, he stood at the bottom of the ladder in utterdarkness once more, listening to the strange whispering, thrilling noiseabout him, while first one and then the other black cautiously descendedwith the bucket of water he bore.

  By the time they were in the hold his sight was beginning to growaccustomed to the change from the bright glare of sunshine on deck, andonce more there were faint suggestions of glistening eyes watching himout of the cave-like darkness, as if so many savage beasts were about tospring.

  But he had no time to think of his own feelings, for the two blacks nowstood gazing at him inquiringly, and with some trace of their oldsuspicious aspect lingering still.

  "Water--to drink," said Mark: and he pointed away into the darkness.

  They understood him, and dipping the pannikins full, they took each astep into the darkness, and held out the precious fluid toward those whomust have been suffering agonies for its want. But no one stirred--notan advance was made, to Mark's great surprise, for he had anticipatedthat the black faces of his ambassadors would have been sufficient tomake the prisoners feel confidence that no harm was intended.

  "Go closer," said Mark; and the two blacks looked back at himinquiringly, but obeyed as soon as he laid his hand upon their shouldersand pressed them forward.

  Then a voice broke the silence, the big black saying a few words in hisown tongue, their effect being magical. A low murmur ran through thehold, and a harsh voice croaked out what was evidently a question, forthe big black answered in a hesitating way, saying a few words, and thensharply one in a questioning tone, as if he had not understood.

  The harsh, croaking voice was heard again, speaking angrily, and therewere several interchanges of question and answer, as if between two menwho did not quite understand each other's dialect.

  And now Mark's eyes had become so accustomed to the darkness that hecould dimly see that the place was full of a steamy mist, through whichhorrible-looking, ill-defined figures were moving, wild-eyed andstrange. Some were tossing their arms about, others were stretching outtheir hands supplicatingly toward the water pannikins, which the twoblacks kept dipping full and handing to those who pressed toward them;but there was no scuffling or fighting for the water, as might have beenexpected under the circumstances. The wretched prisoners seemed gentleand tolerant to each other, drinking and making way for companionsufferers.

  As this went on, and Mark was able to search the horrible gloom more andmore, he shuddered; and, suffering as he was from the effects of thedeadly mephitic air, the whole scene preyed upon his mind until he couldhardly believe that he was gazing at reality, the whole tragedy beforehim resembling the dream accompanying some fever, and it was only by aneffort that he could master the intense desire to struggle up the ladderand escape into the light and the free fresh air.

  The buckets were nearly empty, and he felt that it would be better forwhat was left in one to be poured into the other, so that the supplyingmight still go on while more was fetched, when it suddenly struck himthat there was something wrong. In the darkness he could dimly make outtwo or three tall blacks pressing forward toward where the white-clothedsailors were dispensing the precious fluid, and it struck him that theiraspect was threatening. The next moment he set the idea down as beingimaginative, and the result of the unreal-looking, dreamy scene beforehim. For it was impossible, he argued, for the slaves to be about toresent the treatment they were receiving.

  "It's my head all in a whirl," he said to himself; "and it's just like Iused to feel when I was ill and half dead in the boat."

  But the next minute he felt that the first idea was correct; somethingwas wrong, and it struck him that the prisoners were going to make anattack. But he could not be sure; the darkness was too thick, and theexcitement and horror of the whole scene made his imagination playstrange pranks. At one moment he could see right back into the forepart of the hold where it was crowded with writhing, struggling beings;the next the mist closed over it apparently, and he could only make outgleaming eyes and shadows sweeping toward him and fading away, to appearat the side or hovering over his head.

  "Yes; it's all from a disordered imagination," he said to himself; andhe had hardly come to this conclusion, when he knew that he was gazingat the real, for dimly-seen, there before him was a crowd of figuressurrounding the two black sailors. A harsh sound arose--a mingling ofmuttered cries and savage growlings as of wild beasts; there was thenoise of the buckets being knocked over, of a fierce struggle and heavyblows, and a hot, sickening wave of mephitic air was driven outward.Thoroughly alarmed now, Mark shouted for help, and was then thrust asideas one of the blacks whom he had brought down made for the hatchway, andin the brief glance he obtained in the light which shone down fromabove, he saw that the man was covered with blood.

  For a moment or two, weak still from his late illness, Mark feltcompletely prostrate and unable to act; but he recovered himself asquickly, and started forward to grasp the black's arm.

  "Hurt?" he cried.

  The man dropped back from the ladder to gaze at him, and then uttered afew words excitedly as he pointed back into the forward part of the darkhold.

  "Here, stand aside!" cried the lieutenant, as he stepped down into thenoisome hold, followed by Tom Fillot and a couple of the crew, each manwith sword or cutlass in hand. "Now, Mr Vandean, quick; an attack?"

  "Yes, sir; the slaves attacked our two men. One of them's badlywounded."

  At that moment a dead silence fell, and the big black's white shirt andtrousers were visible, and he, too, now stepped forward into the light,while before he could speak a low groan came out from the darkness.

  "I thought he was killed," cried Mark, and the man began to speakvolubly and gesticulate, pointing back.

  "Bah!" exclaimed Mr Russell. "We ought not to be here without aninterpreter. He is not hurt; it is the other black. Stand fast, mylads, in case the poor wretches attack. Now, then, where are you hurt?"

  This was to the second black sailor, whose white duck shirt was horriblewith stains of blood, as he began to talk fast now and point forward.

  "Wounds must be slight," cried the lieutenant. "Can you make out a wordof what he says, Vandean?"

  "No, sir; but let me try."

  Mark pointed forward, and without a moment's hesitation the two blacksailors plunged into the darkness and returned, half dragging, halfcarrying a ghastly-looking object into the square of light shed fromabove.

  "Oh, here's the wounded man, then," cried the lieutenant. "Let's gethim up into the daylight."

  Mark pointed down at the slave, who was bleeding freely, and the bigsailor now spoke out a few words fiercely, with the result that half adozen nude slaves came shrinkingly forward, and in obedience to agesture, lifted the wounded man and carried him up to the deck.

  The officers and men followed, and the two black sailors came last, topay no heed to the wounded man, but proceed at once to refill thebuckets, and carry them down into the hold past the guard set over thehatchway. Then after bidding Bob Howlett to hoist a signal for thesurgeon to come aboard, Mr Russell roughly bandaged the terrible woundthe slave had upon his head, the others who had carried up the suffererlooking stupidly on, blinking and troubled by the sunlight, to whichthey had evidently been strangers for some time.

  "Now," said Mr Russell, as he rose, "we are in the dark as much asever. Can't you explain what was wrong, Mr Vandean?"

  "No, sir; I saw a struggle, and one man seemed wounded."

  "And it was someone else. Tut--tut--tut! and we can't understand aword. What a useful thing speech is, after all."

  Just then the two blacks came up for more water, and Mark tried tocommunicate with them, but only with the re
sult that they looked puzzledtill the midshipman pointed to the wounded man.

  "How did it happen?" he said; and the big black looked at him heavily.Then he seemed to grasp the meaning of the question, and laughedexcitedly.

  Pointing to the wounded man lying on the deck, he ran to the group ofslaves standing staring at him, with their foreheads wrinkled up andtheir eyes full of despair; he seized one, whose countenance assumed astern look of anger as the black sailor pointed to him, and made thesign of striking a blow, pointing again at the wounded man.

  "He evidently means that the man was wounded by his fellow-slave," saidMr Russell.

  The black sailor watched the officer, and then thrust his hand behindthe slave to take a short, flat piece of wood from the poor wretch'swaistband--a piece of heavy wood, shaped something like a willow leaf.

  "The weapon evidently," said Mr Russell; "but I don't see why he shouldwound his fellow-sufferer."

  But the black sailor had not done with his explanation. He looked tosee that the officers were watching him, and then placed the weapon inits owner's hand, which he raised, and said a few words to his fellowblack with the blood-stained garb.

  This man waited a moment to assist in the pantomimic explanation, andthen, as his companion brought down the weapon towards his own head, herushed up between them and received the blow, staggered away as if verymuch hurt, and, still acting, reeled and fell down beside the woundedman, pointing to him as he half rose, and then at the stains upon hisown shirt.

  "Well, what do you make of it?" said Mr Russell.

  "I know, sir," cried Bob Howlett; "he wants you to understand that if wetake them and make sailors of them, they'll kill all the slavers."

  "Thank you, Mr Howlett. Now, then, Mr Vandean, what do you say?"

  "I see now," cried Mark, eagerly. "What happened below helps me. Thatbig fellow thought our man Taters was an enemy, and he tried to cut himdown, but this poor fellow knew better, rushed between and received theblow."

  "I'm inclined to think you are right," said Mr Russell. "Ah, herecomes the doctor. Now, then, about getting these poor wretches up.Perhaps they'll come now."

  He was right, for the task was easy. The blacks on deck, apathetic asthey were, gradually comprehended that they had fallen into hands wherethey would be well treated, and after a few gestures and orders given byMark, the two black sailors turned to the slaves and spoke. The resultwas that the big, fierce-looking black who was answerable for the injurydone to his fellow-prisoner went down on his knees before Soup, andtouched the deck with his forehead before rising with some show ofanimation, and then going to the hatch, descended in a half-crippledway, and they heard his voice directly after.

  By this time the doctor was on board, sniffing about with an air of themost intense disgust.

  "Faugh!" he ejaculated; "how horrible! And no disinfectants. Hallo!wounded man, eh? Humph!"

  He forgot everything else in the interest he took in his fresh case,while now, slowly and shrinkingly, the slaves began to come up frombelow, foul, weak from injuries, and suffering from the dreadful airthat they had been forced to breathe. They were a terrible crowd togaze upon. Men, women, and children, all herded together like cattle,and flinching away whenever a sailor went near, as if expecting a blow.

  There were nearly a hundred when all were on deck, and the first thingdone was to distribute food and water. The next, to arrange about theirbeing rowed on board the _Nautilus_, while the schooner was burned.

  "And the best thing too," said the doctor. "Faugh! the vessel'sloathsome. Nothing like fire for purifying."

  "But we have to try first if we can get her off," said the lieutenant.

  "Then all I can say is I hope you will not," said the doctor.

  "But if we get her off," said Mark, smiling, "it means that the slaveswill stay on board here."

  "Eh? Does it? Oh, well then, I hope you will," cried the doctor."Now, Russell, have me rowed back. That fellow's badly wounded, buthe'll soon get well."