Black Bar

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

  A RESPONSIBLE POSITION.

  Confused and still half-steeped in sleep, Mark blundered about for a fewmoments before he reached the door, and was then thrown back, for theschooner heeled over, and then there was a tremendous bump, which madeher shiver.

  "Mr Vandean, sir, quick! All hands on deck!" came in familiar tones,as the lad struggled to the door once more, and then up through thehatchway, to find the schooner on her beam ends rushing through thewater, which was foaming around them. Then a wave once more struck her,deluging the deck, and making her shiver as she rose again upon an evenkeel.

  "Where are you, Tom Fillot?" shouted the midshipman.

  "Here, sir. Wheel," came back; and the next minute he was beside TomFillot and Joe Dance, who were trying to steady the vessel as she rodeon through the surf.

  "Where are we?" shouted Mark, his voice sounding pitifully small amidstthe roar of the waves.

  "Ashore, 'mong the breakers," cried Tom with a groan. "But I thinkwe're 'most through 'em, sir."

  Just then, dimly-seen by its white crest, a huge billow rose up beforethem, as if to crush the little vessel into matchwood, but she liftedand passed right over it, and then over another and another, for therewas a brisk breeze from off the shore; and after a few minutes ofterrible peril the beautifully built vessel glided into smooth water,rapidly leaving the roaring surf behind, though the rollers extended farenough out, and the schooner rose and fell as she sailed away north-westat a rapid rate.

  Not another word had been spoken, though all the men were on deckclinging to the bulwarks, and in the full expectation that the vesselwould go to pieces next time she struck; but, now that the peril waspast, Dick Bannock was sent below to report on the water, while the restrapidly rigged the pump ready for use.

  To their great relief, though, the young sailor came on deck to declarethe schooner dry as a bone; and now to hide his own self-reproach, Markturned to the men for an explanation.

  "I had no business to go below," he said to himself; land then aloud,"How was this, Fillot? Who was at the wheel?"

  "Me, sir," said the cutter's coxswain. "Me it were, and I don't want noone else to be blamed. Tom Fillot was forrard seeing to the watch, andthat them blacks was--them blacks was--them blacks was--"

  "Well, what?" cried Mark, angrily. "What do you mean, man?"

  "Dunno, sir--dunno, I'm sure," said the coxswain, humbly. "It's my headwon't go proper, sir. I was standing there by the wheel one minute,sending her along right enough, and the next minute was--was--was--wasashore with the breakers all around."

  "Why, you went to sleep!" roared Mark. "_You_! in charge of the wheel,went to sleep!"

  "Nay, sir. I never went to sleep. I was steering, and them blackswas--them blacks was--them blacks was--say, Tom Fillot, what was thatalong o' them blacks?"

  "Oh, they're all right, messmate," growled Tom Fillot. "Fact is, sir,he ain't quite right about his main truck yet, and I oughtn't to ha' lethim take his trick at the wheel."

  "I ought not, you mean, Tom," said Mark, bitterly. "I had no businessto go below."

  "Nay, don't say that, sir, 'cause it was your dooty to. Fact is, sir,we was all so knocked about in the upper works that there ain't a man onus good for much; and you see poor old Joe Dance's got it bad next toMr Russell, sir, only we thought him so much better."

  "Yes, I'm better," said the coxswain. "All right again, mate, but Ican't get over it about them blacks. What was it as--"

  "Here, what are you doing with that there wheel?" cried Tom Fillot,rushing at the man, and thrusting him aside. For Dance had suddenlygrown excited, and was turning the spokes first in one direction andthen in another in a most reckless way, while as he was thrust off, hestaggered for a few steps, and then sat down on the wet deck to hold hishead with both hands and rock it to and fro.

  "Want to send us ashore among the breakers again?" growled Fillot.

  "Nay, my lad, nay. There's something wrong in my head, and it wantsfishing or splicing, sir. It won't go. Them blacks has got in itsomehow, and I can't get 'em out."

  "Go below and lie down, Dance," said Mark, gently. "You'll be betterafter a good long sleep."

  "Sleep, sir? No, I can't sleep. Who's to take my trick at the wheel?Point or two more, sir; and, Tom Fillot lad, what was it about themblacks?"

  "Help him down below," said Mark, and two of the men lifted the poorfellow to his feet and then helped him down to the place prepared forthe crew close to the skipper's cabin.

  "He'll come round again, sir," said Tom from the wheel. "Spoke or twoloose in his steering gear, that's all. Lucky I got to him in time, orwe should have been ashore hard and fast."

  "Was that on a sandbank we struck?" said Mark.

  "Yes, sir, twice over; and if the masts had gone it would have been allover with us. But plenty of sail on and a nice breeze helped us toscrape off, though my heart was in my mouth all the time."

  "The schooner must be wonderfully well-built, Tom."

  "Well-built and ill built, sir. First as to timbers, second as to use,sir. Why, some of our merchant craft would have been shook to pieceslike one o' them card houses as we used to build when we was littleones."

  That morning, as they were sailing on over the calm waters, rising andfalling slowly to the gentle Atlantic swell, it seemed hard to believethat they had been so near wreck only a few hours before. But Mark hadonly to turn his eyes eastward to where the great billows broke upon theshore, making a chaos of foaming, tumbling waters, to be convinced ofthe danger they had escaped.

  The blacks soon forgot the scare, and lay basking about on deckperfectly happy, and ready to smile at the crew; and, saving a few cutsand bruises, which did not show, apparently very little the worse fortheir encounters. The swellings, too, on board the prize crew, to useTom Fillot's way of expressing it, had diminished rapidly. A little toorapidly, Tom said.

  "You see if we've got no marks to show the officers and men, they won'tbelieve we've been in so much trouble, sir. My heye! wouldn't theskipper have given it to you, Mr Vandean, if you'd took us back withoutthis craft."

  Mark had plenty of anxieties to cope with. So long as the weather keptfine, he had no great difficulty about the navigation. There was thelow-lying shore, two or three miles on their starboard bow, and as faras was possible this distance was kept to. Provision on board wasample; the water-casks had been well filled, and even if the store ofthis prime necessity had failed there would have been no greatdifficulty in running up one or other of the rivers for a fresh supply.

  As to the blacks, the hours glided on, and there was very little todisturb Mark's confidence. The two sailors--Soup and Taters--paradedthe deck forward with a great show of authority, to which theirunclothed fellow-countrymen submitted with a very excellent grace; andit was evident that there was nothing to fear from them.

  "They're rum sort of beggars, sir," Tom said.

  "Why, Tom?"

  "Well, sir, I ain't good at explaining what I mean, but it seems to melike this:--Give them enough to eat and drink, and plenty of sunshine tolie about in, that's about all they want."

  "Yes, Tom, they're soon satisfied."

  "That's so, sir, and they don't seem to have no memories. You'd thinkthey'd all be fretting to get away ashore, and back home; but look at'em: they don't, and it seems to me that they're not troublingthemselves much about to-morrow or next day neither."

  The young sailor appeared to be quite right, for hour by hour as thehorrors of the slaver's hold grew more remote, the little crowd ofblacks forward appeared to be more cheerful.

  Mark's great trouble was the state of Mr Russell, who still lay calmlyenough either below in the Yankee skipper's cot, or under an awning thesailors had rigged up on the deck. He ate and drank mechanically, butmade not the slightest sign when spoken to, and for his sake Mark keptevery stitch of sail on that the schooner could bear, so as to reachmedical assistance as soon as possible.

>   Dance was decidedly better, but subject to fits of absence; and on theseoccasions Tom Fillot said he was mad as a hatter.

  But in spite of the anxieties and the terrible feeling ofresponsibility, Mark found something very delightful in being thecaptain for the time being of the smart schooner which sailed swiftlyalong at the slightest breath of wind. There was the hot, hazy shore onhis right, and the glistening sea on his left, an ample crew which hecould recruit if he liked from the blacks, and all ready to obey hisslightest order with the greatest alacrity. He felt at times as if hewould be glad to sight the _Nautilus_, and so be relieved of all hiscares; but, on the other hand, he could not help feeling that he wouldbe sorry to give up and return to the midshipman's berth.

  "I wish, though, that Bob Howlett was here," he said to himself, as helonged for a companion of his own age and position.

  "I don't know, though," he said, directly after. "If Bob were here, hewould not like to knuckle under and play second fiddle. Well, Ishouldn't either. Perhaps it's best is it is, I'm captain, and can doas I like, only it isn't always nice to do as one likes, and I oftenfeel as if it would be much nicer to have some one to order me."

  But there was no one to order him, and with the whole responsibilityupon his shoulders, he for the first time in his life began to realisewhat it meant to be the captain of a ship, answerable for everythingthereon.