The Young Engineers on the Gulf

by H. Irving Hancock

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE BLACK MAN'S TURN

  Closer to the earth Tom tried to burrow. As to a plan, Tom Reade had nonenow, save to watch, and, if possible, to learn something that he did notalready know.

  Soft-footed, despite his great bulk, the negro approached with an air oflittle concern. Plainly, the wretch did not much fear discovery---stillless interference.

  Humming an old plantation melody the negro reached his concealed magneto,then stood up for a brief moment, staring seaward in the direction fromwhich he had just come. His garments dripped water; his whole appearancewas bedraggled, yet there was something utterly shaggy, majestic, in thishuge specimen of the human race.

  "Ah done reckon dem gemmen gwine lose some mo' of deir wall to-night,"chuckled the negro softly.

  "Go as far as you like, Mr. Sambo Ebony!" grinned Tom Reade, under hisbreath. "I've wished something else on you this time."

  Carelessly the negro bent over his magneto, seized the handle and gave apush.

  Then he straightened up, listening. Only the soft sighing of the southernwind came to his ears.

  "Yo' shuah done gotta use a mo' greasy elbow dan dat, chile," chuckled thisimp of Satan aloud, though in a soft voice that seemed out of allproportion to his bulk.

  Then he gave a half dozen indolent though steady strokes to the handle ofthe magneto.

  "Whah am dat 'splosion?" he asked himself in wonderment. "Am mah eardrumdone gone busted? Moke, yo' am plumb lazy this night!"

  This time the huge negro pumped at the handle of the magneto until he wasall but out of breath. Several dozen shoves he had administered beforehe halted, let go of the magneto and raised himself to his full, majesticheight.

  "Some black witch hab done gwine wish a big hoodoo on me!" grunted thenegro suspiciously. "Dis am do fust time dat de magernetto gwine backon me like dis!"

  In his bewilderment the one whom Tom had named Sambo glared around him.His eyes gleamed with a phosphorescence like that which one sees on thewater on a lowering night. What Reade did not know was that this blackman possessed eyes that were a little keener in the dark than a bat's.

  With a sudden "Woof!" Sambo went up in the air, moved sideways, and camedown on the startled Tom Reade with the force of a pile driver.

  "Wha' yo' doing heah?" demanded the negro, gripping Reade by the coatcollar and dragging that hapless engineer to his feet.

  Tom did not answer. To save his life he couldn't have answered just then,his breath utterly gone.

  "Wha' yo' want heah, anyway?" insisted Sambo, giving the youth a viciousshake.

  There was blood before the negro's eyes, or he would sooner haverecognized his victim. But at last he did see.

  "So, I'se gwine cotch Mistah Reade himself!" snorted Sambo. "An' Ahreckon I'se gwine foun' de differculty wid my magernetto at de sametime! Huh?"

  Again he shook Tom, with an ease and yet a force that further drove thebreath from the young engineer's body.

  "Why doan' yo' talk!" glared the negro, holding Tom out at arm's lengthwith one hand.

  Tom could only groan. Yet that method of communication carried its ownexplanation to the big black.

  "Reckon yo' gwine talk w'en yo' get gale enough in yo' lungs," grinned thenegro. "In dat case Ah gwine lay yo' down on de groun' to fin' yo' breff."

  Sambo's idea of laying Tom down was to give him a violent twist thatbrought the lad flat on the ground at his captor's feet. Then the negrosat on his captive to make sure that the latter did not escape.

  "Take yo' time---ah got plenty," grimaced the black man.

  Slowly the beaten-out breath came back to Tom Reade. Sambo, watching, knewfinally that his quarry was at last able to talk.

  "Wha' yo' do to mah magernetto?" demanded Sambo.

  "Guess," breathed Tom.

  "Oh, take yo' time, boss. Ah got plenty ob dat accommerdation"

  "What magneto are you talking about?" Reade queried innocently.

  "Nebber heard ob it befo', eh, boss?"

  "I've heard of plenty of magnetos, of course," admitted Tom. "But whathave you to do with one?"

  For a brief instant Sambo was almost inclined to believe that Reade didnot fully know his secret. Finally it dawned on the brain of the bigblack man that he was being hoaxed.

  "Ef yo' doan wanter tell, yo' doan hab to, ob co'se," proposed Sambo. "Itain't mah way to be too persistency wid de w'ite quality gemmen. But Ahdone thought maybe yo' know somethin' dat yo's burnin' to tell."

  "Who are you, and what are you doing around here?" asked Tom. "I'm certainyou don't belong to my force of workmen---unless you just joinedyesterday. Are you working on the breakwater job?"

  "Yessah," promptly answered Sambo with momentary gravity. Then his moodchanged to a chuckle.

  "Dat am all right, Massa Reade," he allowed. "But yo' doan' fool disnigger as easy as yo' maybe think. Ah know what yo' watchin' me fo',and Ah done know I'se been doin' jess w'at yo' think. So I guess wedoan' need no mo' conversationin', unless yo' willing to talk right outand tell me w'at's w'at."

  "Sambo," said Reade solemnly, "I imagine I'm not very intelligent, afterall. I listened to you attentively, but, for the life of me, I couldn'tmake out what you were talking about."

  "Kain't yo'?" the negro demanded, mockingly. "Den Ah done reckon Ah mustbe a good deal of a scholar, ef Ah can talk so dat er w'ite quality gemmenkain't undahstan' me."

  Mr. Sambo Ebony chuckled gleefully in appreciation of his own joke.

  "There's one thing I guess you can tell me, Sambo," Reade suggestedhopefully.

  "W'at am dat, massa?"

  "When are you going to change your seat and stop making me feel like avery thin pancake?"

  "W'en Ah done get mah mind made up."

  "When you have your mind made up about---what?"

  "About w'at I'se gwine do wid yo', Massa Reade."

  "Well, what do you think you're going to do with me?" insisted Tom. "I'lladmit, Sambo, that I'm about losing my patience. Unless you get up offof me soon, and move away to a respectful distance, I shall be obliged todo something on my own account."

  "Go as far as yo' like, massa," returned the negro, unmoved. "I'se boun'ter admit dat yo' done got me fo' curiosity. W'at yo' done think yo'_can_ do?"

  Plainly the negro meant to go on having sport with him. Tom decided thatit would be of no use to try to deceive this great mountain of blackflesh. So Reade, who had been doing some brisk thinking during the lastfew moments, gave a sudden heave---a trick that he retained from the oldfootball days.

  Much to Sambo's surprise he found himself going. Yet the black man was asagile as he was big. He leaped to his feet, bounding one step sideways,while Tom, who had been watching for this very chance, sprang to his ownfeet.

  "Not so fas', massa!" mocked the big black, reaching out and taking astrong clutch on. Tom's coat collar.

  Reade would have squirmed out of his coat and placed more distance betweenthem, but Mr. Ebony, with a stout twist, gathered the two ends of the coatcollar, holding the young engineer as though in the noose of a halter.

  Quick as a flash Reade struck out with his right fist for the black man'sbelt-line. Had the blow landed even the huge Sambo would have gone downto earth. But the negro parried with his own disengaged fist, then gavea twist to the coat collar noose that made Reade turn black in the facefrom choking.

  "Ah might as well tell yo'," Sambo observed dryly, "dat yo' ain't donegot no new fight tricks dat yo' can wish on me. Ah done seen all detricks of fightin' dat any man done know, an' Ah nebber yet seen no mandat could put any kind oh a blow ober on me to hurt!"

  The negro spoke boastfully, yet there could be no doubt that he believedall he said.

  Tom Reade next schemed to land a hard kick against the negro's shins. Erehe had his foot well lifted, however, the watchful Sambo seemed to divinethe intent. He gave a quick twist at the coat collar that made Reade'shead swim. It was some time before the young engineer's head recov
eredfrom that sudden confusion and blackness.

  "Am' yo' gwine beliebe dat yo' kain't wish no kind oh a trick ober on me?"demanded the black man in an injured tone. "Ah nebber seen no odder w'iteman dat had such a ha'd time beliebing w'at Ah done tole him!"

  "I've got to land this wicked brute, some way, or I may as well concludethat the jig is danced through, as far as I am concerned," Reade thoughtruefully.

  Panting, quivering, in dread of being choked again, and much harder, Tomtried to think fast in the effort to devise some new plan for worstingthis terrible opponent.

  "I've been fooling myself all along," Tom told himself, with a sinkingheart. "I've been up against several men who were too weak or too cowardlyto fight, and I've somehow gained the opinion that I could fight. Butthis black fellow has taken all the conceit out of me. I was a fool everto think that I could fight! I'm nothing but a piece of jelly---or putty!"

  Of a sudden Reade tried to wrench himself free at the collar, at the sametime raising his right knee with a forceful jerk. He wanted to drive thatknee into the black man's wind.

  But Sambo seemed to guess the plan without trouble. He gave a twist thatchoked Tom, once more, until all went black before him. Then the negroslammed his victim down hard on the ground, well-nigh stunning the youngengineer.

  "Ah done see w'at Ah gotta do wid yo'," Sambo announced. "Ah gotta tieyo' up, load yo' pockets wid rocks, and den take yo' out in de Gulf ah'lose yo'! Dat's w'at Ah gotta do, an' Ah ain' gwine lose no time aboutit either."

  Sambo was in earnest, too. He had mapped out that very course!