CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
"A LAST RESOURCE."
But Mark Vandean soon began to show the American slaving skipper what hemeant to "dew now," and that in times of emergency he did not mean totalk much. For turning to Tom Fillot, he gave his orders respecting theslaver's crew.
"Keep them below in the forecastle," he said; "and place the secondblack over them as guard."
"Ay, ay, sir!" cried Tom, and he proceeded to plant Taters on guard overthe hatch, armed with a drawn cutlass, to the black's intensesatisfaction.
"Here, I say, mister," cried the skipper, "yew ain't going to put anigger as sentry over a crew o' white men, air yew?"
"I have done it," said Mark, sharply.
"What! going to keep them free American citizens prisoners below like apack o' niggers?"
"Why not?" said Mark. "Do you think I'm going to let you and your menhatch up a scheme to retake this schooner?"
The man laughed.
"Guess yew're a sharp one, squaire. Wall, what are you going to do withme?"
"Take you aboard my ship, sir."
"And hang me at the yardarm, squaire?" said the skipper, with a grin.
"Not if you behave yourself," said Mark; "but I warn you not to try anytricks, sir, or matters may turn out unpleasantly. Here, Soup!"
He made a sign, and the great broad-shouldered black ran up to himeagerly.
"Here, my lad," said Mark, signing to the man what to do; "draw yourcutlass and take this gentleman on board the other schooner. You'llkeep guard over him till I come."
Soup whipped out his cutlass, caught the American skipper by the arm,and there was a tremendous yell.
"Say, mister, yew didn't tell him to kill me."
"No, no, Soup, you don't understand," cried Mark, arresting the man, forhe had evidently taken it that he was to play the part of executionerupon the white skipper; while to judge from his aspect, he was preparedto perform his part with great gusto. Then making the men understand,he was about to despatch them over the side in one of the boats, whenthe American turned obstinate.
"Look here, squaire," he said, "I give in, but yew're an officer and I'man officer. Play fair with a man. That nigger'll kill me sure as a gunif I go along with him. Seems to me I shan't be safe 'less I'm along o'you, so I guess I'll stop here."
Mark was about to insist, but a glance at Soup was sufficient to alterhis mind.
"Very well, stop for the present, sir, till I go back aboard."
"Yew're going back, then?" said the American, with a flash of the eye.
"I am, sir," said Mark, sharply, "but I'm going to leave a strong prizecrew here on board, and I wouldn't advise you or your men to make anyattempt at recapture. Matters might turn out, as you call it, `ugly.'"
"All right, squaire, but I don't see where your strong prize crew iscoming from," said the man, drily.
"Indeed!" said Mark. "I shall be able to show you. I can pick outhalf-a-dozen blacks from the other schooner who will help the manforward to keep pretty good watch over your crew, and who will not beover particular if there are any tricks."
"Oh! slaves!" said the man, with a sneer.
"There are no slaves here, sir, now. Under the British flag all men arefree."
"Oh, if yew're going to talk Buncombe, squaire, I've done."
"And so have I, sir," said Mark, "for there is plenty of work wantingme."
Leaving the American in charge of the big black, Mark set to at once tomake his arrangements, after the poor creatures had been let out of thehold, where they had been nearly suffocated, and now huddled together ondeck, trembling and wondering what was to be their fate.
"I don't like parting with you, Tom Fillot," said Mark, "but I must.You will take charge here with Billings, Dance, Potatoes, and three ofthe blacks Soup drilled as his guard. It's a poor crew for you."
"Best we can do, sir," said Tom Fillot, cheerily.
"I'll have half the Americans on board with me."
"Beg pardon, sir, don't."
"But they are too many for you to have with your weak force."
"Well, sir, quite enough, but you keep the skipper on one schooner, andthe men on the other. They're best apart, sir."
"But you cannot manage."
"Lookye here, sir, I'm going to have a talk to old Taters, and I shallgive him a capstan bar to use, instead of the cutlash. I don'tunderstand his lingo, but him and me can get on, and I can make him seewhat I want; and after that it won't be safe for any man o' the Yankeecrew to put his head above the combings of that hatch. You trust me,sir, to manage. Dick Bannock'll be quite as good as me if you appynthim mate. Get back aboard, and make sail, and we'll follow steady likein your wake."
"But the blacks we have set free?"
"Taters and me'll manage them, sir, and 'fore many hours are up, we'llhave two or three on 'em good at pulling a rope. You won't make muchsail, sir, of course, now?"
"As little as I can, Tom; just as much as we can manage. Then now I'llget back, and the sooner we can set eyes on the _Nautilus_ the better."
"So say I, sir. But you keep a good heart, sir, and above all thingsdon't you trust Mr Yankee Skipper, sir."
Mark gave the sailor a meaning look.
"That's right, sir, and above all things mind he don't get hold o' nopistols."
Mark laughed, and after a few instructions he ordered the American intothe boat; his men followed, and he was about to step down too, whenthere was a yell forward, and the sound of a heavy blow or chop.
Mark faced round in time to see that Taters had struck at one of theAmerican sailors, but missed him, his cutlass coming in contact with theedge of the hatch, and the next moment there was a desperate strugglegoing on. The second schooner's crew were forcing their way up on deck,and as Mark called up the men from the boat to help quell the attempt,the American skipper took advantage of his being for the momentunwatched, and climbed on deck once more to make a rush to help his men.
But quick as he was, Tom Fillot was quicker; and turning sharply round,he struck out with his double fist, catching the American right in thecentre of his forehead, with the result mathematical that two movingbodies meeting fly off at a tangent.
The American skipper's head flew off at a tangent, and then he rolledheavily on the deck, while in less than five minutes, with the help ofSoup and Taters, who fought fiercely, the American crew were beatenback, and driven or tumbled down into the forecastle one after theother.
"Hi! yew, don't shut down that there hatch," cried one of the men;"yew'll smother us."
"And a good job too," panted Tom Fillot, as he banged down the squarecovering. "Here, you Taters, sit down on this, will you?"
The black understood his sign, and squatted upon it, sitting upon hisheels with a grin of satisfaction.
While this struggle was going on, the freed slaves huddled togetherhelplessly, seeming more bent on getting out of the way of thecombatants than on joining in, though some of the men, warriors perhapsin their own country before they had been crushed down by conquest,imprisonment, and starvation, did once or twice evince a disposition toseek some weapon and strike a blow. But they soon subsided into anapathetic state, and watched.
"Hurt much, Tom Fillot?" said Mark, as soon as excitement would let himspeak.
"Well, sir, tidy--tidy. I was just thinking about some of our chapsaboard the _Naughtylass_, growling and grumbling at her for being anunlucky ship, and no fighting to be had. They wouldn't find fault ifthey was out here, sir, eh?"
"No, Tom; we're getting our share of it. I wouldn't mind if Mr Howlettwas here to have his taste."
"My! how you can crow over him, sir, when we get back, eh?"
"Let's get back first, Tom."
"Oh, we'll do that, sir, never you fear. That ain't what I'm scaredabout."
"Then what is?"
"Well, sir, I want to get back without killing anybody if I can, butwhen they come these games with us and hit hard as they do, it's 'mostmore than
flesh and blood can bear to have a cutlash and not use it. Iknow I shall make someone bleed with a cut finger 'fore I've done."
There was so much meaning in the sailor's words, and at the same time sodroll a look in his eyes, that Mark could not forbear a smile.
"If it's only a cut finger, Tom, I shan't mind," he said.
"That's right, sir. Well, I think you might start back now, and we'llget sail on. Sooner we've got these two into port the better I shalllike it. I think I can manage, sir."
"But I've altered my plans," said Mark, thoughtfully.
"Yes, sir? What do you mean to do now?"
"I'll tell you. It seems to me madness, after this lesson in theAmerican's intentions, to divide my little crew. I want themaltogether, and we're weak enough then."
"Don't say you mean to give up the prize, sir," cried Tom Fillot,appealingly.
"Not while I can lift a hand, Tom. We'll try another plan. I'll getthe skipper on board the other schooner. Then we'll have the crew downin our forecastle."
"And leave me to navigate this one, sir? No, that won't do, sir. Whatisn't safe for me, isn't safe for you."
"No, I felt that. My plan's a different one. We'll have a hawser fromour schooner to this one, after you've made all snug aloft, and tow herwhile the weather keeps fair."
"Well, sir, I don't see why not," said Tom, thoughtfully.
"We can leave the blacks on board; and then we shall have plenty offorce to meet the Yankees if they try to master us again."
"That's right, sir; and as long as the weather holds good, we may do,though I think we shall have our hands full. But look here, sir; whynot--"
"Why not what?"
"There's lots o' irons below, such as they used for the poor niggers.Why shouldn't we couple a lot of the prisoners together, and make 'emsafe?"
"Put them in irons, Tom? No, I don't like to do that--only as a lastresource."
"Very well, sir," said Tom, rubbing his head where he had received aheavy blow, "only if you wouldn't mind telling on me, sir, I should liketo know what you calls a last resource."
"I will, Tom, when I know," said Mark, smiling. "Hail our schooner, andtell them to come aboard in the other boat."
Tom turned away and obeyed the order, passing the American skipper, whowas leaning on the bulwark looking sick, and as the sailor came up heturned to him with an ugly leer.
"Guess I'm going to pay yew for that, young man," he said. "I don't leta chap hit me twice for nothing."
"Like to do it now?" said Tom, sharply.
"No; I'm not quite ready, mister. Yew'll know when I am."
"Thankye," said Tom Fillot. "Then now look here; just you let me giveyou a hint, too. I'm acting as mate to my young officer here, and hetakes a good deal o' notice o' what I say. If you don't keep a civiltongue in your head, I'll tell him as you're real dangerous, and thatthe best thing he can do is to have some o' them irons clapped on yourarms and legs, and then shove you below along with your men."
"What!" cried the skipper, fiercely; "put me in irons! Me, an Amurricancitizen. I should like to see him do it!"
"You soon shall," said Tom, "if you don't mind. Now then, get down intothat boat."
"Who are yew ordering about, sir?"
"You," cried Tom. "Now then, once more, get down into that boat."
The skipper turned to walk away, but Tom's temper was getting hot, andwithout a moment's hesitation he seized the man by the collar andwaistband, thrust him to the side, and jerked him out of the gangway.
"Ketch hold!" he shouted, and the man in charge of the boat caught holdand dragged the skipper down into the boat just as the other was rowedalongside.
The skipper started up to revenge himself, and then sat down again tobrood over the affront, while, as rapidly as they could be transferred,two more men were thrust into the same boat with him, and the rest intothe other boat, the fellows looking fierce, and ready for a freshattempt to recapture their schooner. But the arms of the Englishsailors, and the fierce readiness of the blacks, Soup and Taters, awedthem, especially as their skipper made no sign, and a quarter of an hourlater captain and men were safely fastened in the forecastle, with Soupnow as sentry--Taters having been sent on board the second schooner tosee to the freed slaves, with another man to help him. Then a hawserwas made fast and sail set, the first schooner towing the second fairlywell, and some knots were sailed toward the north before the position ofthe sun suggested to Mark that an anxious time was coming. For if anattempt were made to turn the tables upon them, it would for certain bethat night.
However, Mark went on with his preparations. The blacks on both shipswere fed, every precaution taken, and, giving up all idea of sleep forthat night, a well-armed watch was set, and he paced the deck, feelingquite an old man with his responsibility. He asked himself whetherthere was anything he had left undone, whether the tow-line would hold,and a score of other questions, while all above was calmness, and thegreat stars glittered and shone down from the purply black sky.
"Are we to have a peaceful night?" he thought, as he looked over theschooner's counter at the dark silent vessel towed behind.
Tom Fillot gave him the answer, by running aft to him, his bare feetmaking a soft _pad_ _pad_ upon the deck.
"Got your shooter, sir?" he whispered.
"Yes."
"Loaded?"
"Of course; but why do you ask?" cried Mark, excitedly.
"The game has begun, sir. It will have to be the irons, after all."
Almost as he spoke there was a flash and the report of a pistol, firedfrom the forecastle hatch.
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