CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.
TOM MAKES A SUGGESTION.
Morning was a long time coming to the prisoners, but at last the brightlight of day shed hope into all their hearts, and, forgetful of thesufferings of the night, Mark's eyes were strained as far as the cabinwindow would admit in search of their prize.
It was nowhere in sight. Dance's head had evidently proved sufficientlyclear to enable him to sail the craft well enough to keep out of thewould-be captor's reach, unless she were somewhere in sight forward andthe American captain was in pursuit.
Whenever any tack was made, eyes were strained to try and catch aglimpse of her, but all in vain, and the prisoners sat about avoidingeach other's eyes, for, in spite of all determination to be patient andtry and think out some plan, a hopeless state of despondency would creepover them.
Their captors, following their own example, flung them some biscuitthrough the cabin skylight, and lowered a bucket of fresh water, theAmerican skipper shouting down in a fierce snarl that if they made anyfurther attempt to escape he would have them shot like mad dogs.
"If you can," cried Mark, defiantly, and then he shrank and gave anuneasy glance round at his men to see what effect the American's wordshad upon them. For with a contemptuous laugh the Yankee uttered the oneword "cockerel," and slammed down and fastened the light.
"Never you mind, sir," whispered Tom Fillot at the first opportunity;"cockerels is young game cocks, and we know as you're game to thebackbone. You'll give him one p'r'aps 'fore he knows where he is."
It was weary work in that breathlessly hot cabin, but no one murmured,and Mark sat gazing out of the window and wondering why their captorsdid not set them adrift in a boat, the simple explanation being thatthey would have done so had they not dreaded being followed and caughtwhen becalmed, and then surprised. For it was evident that, for reasonsof his own, the American skipper shrank from leaving the coast, with itsmany creeks and rivers, where he could hide or run from pursuit.
It soon became evident that either the other prize had been taken andsent off, or Dance had managed to effect his escape, for there was nofurther sign of her.
Tom Fillot felt bitterly aggrieved.
"He must ha' been a bit flighty still, sir, or he wouldn't ha' done it.He's gone off with that there craft. I would ha' stood by my messmatesif it had been me."
Night came, with the position unaltered. They were still coasting alongsouth, and they had full testimony of the fact that their captors didnot mean to give them the slightest chance to escape.
The skylight was tried and the door. There was a discussion as to thepossibility of getting through the bulkhead forward, and one or twoattempts were made, but each time, at the first crack made by the wood,there was the report of a pistol, and the shattering of the bulkheadabove their heads, plain proof that they were strictly watched by onewho had had orders to fire at the first attempt.
"P'raps we'd best take it coolly, sir," said Tom Fillot, the secondtime, "or else put it off till after dark."
Mark nodded, and sat listening to some cries which made their blackcompanion begin to pant and glare at the cabin-hatch; and Mark himselffelt as if he could have enjoyed lashing with wires the backs of thescoundrels who treated their black fellows worse than they would havetreated dogs.
Then night came once more, with the resolve to make another attempt toget on deck; but to their disgust and misery, they found that a lanthornwas placed upon the skylight, where it would cast down its rays and showwhat they were about, and once more when a movement was made to make anattack upon the door, there came the splintering of glass, a bulletstruck down into the floor, and a sharp report told them how well theircaptors were upon the _qui vive_.
"Look here," shouted Tom Fillot, "I know who you are, Mr Skipper.You'll be hitting some one if you don't mind, and it may be murder."
There was no response, and the little party subsided into a state ofdespair.
Excepting Mark.
He was as determined as ever to escape, and felt that there must be away if he could only hit upon it.
His last idea was to raise some of the cabin floor boards and get downbelow, where they might reach a hatchway; but there was no chance ofdoing this while a man was watching them, armed with a pistol. Nothingcould be done but wait.
Mark sat back against the bulkhead, with his hand playing with the hiltof his midshipman's dirk, which he had managed to retain all through hisvarious struggles, from the habit of thrusting it into its sheath themoment opportunity served; and as he sat he glared up at the skylightfeeling as if he would give anything to have a fair chance on deck, hismen against the American skipper's, and the victory to the bravest andmost strong. He was ready, boy as he was, to lead them on, being woundup to a pitch of utter recklessness.
Almost, for he had sense enough and teaching enough to know that itwould be an act of cruel madness to his men to force them to squeezethemselves, one by one, up through that light, ready to be knocked backhelpless into the cabin.
He glanced at Mr Russell, where he lay in his stupor, and recalled somewords that officer had once said to him respecting the management of hisfollowers:--"Always use them as if their lives were of greater valuethan your own, Vandean," he said. "Never risk them recklessly."
"And that would be recklessly," Mark said, half aloud.
"You speak to me, sir?" said Tom Fillot.
"Eh? No, Tom; I was only thinking."
"Of how to get out of this place, sir, and dropping on to them beggarsup above?"
Mark shook his head.
"Don't say that, sir. Do think o' some way. It's 'orrid, and I feel'shamed o' myself. I'd sooner have a fight for it, and be down inhospital six months arter, than be beaten like this here."
"So would I, Tom; but what can be done?"
"Why, here's five on us, sir, and you to lead us, all ready to make arush for it. We're a bit knocked about, but full of fight. It's onlyfor you to say the word."
"I'm ready to say the word, man, but how can I?" cried Mark, eagerly."Can we get out on deck through that light?"
"Well, I'm feared as only 'bout a couple on us would, sir."
"Right, even if we could manage that; and the survivors would be thrownback, worse off than we are now."
"That's a true word, sir."
"Well, you know what happened trying the cabin window?"
"Yes, sir, I just do," said Tom, dolefully. "I thought Fillot AB's kitwas for sale aboard the _Naughtylass_."
"Then the door--the hatch; what about that?"
"Ah," said Tom, thoughtfully, "what about that?"
"Why, it's wedged and barricaded up, and exit that way is impossible."
"Hah! Exit that way's impossible," said Tom, after a deep breath."Exit that way's impossible."
"We could not batter it open, but if we did, the whole gang would bewaiting for us, ready to beat us back as we crept through, one at atime. Our only chance is to take them by surprise."
"Only charnsh is to take 'em by surprise," said Tom,thoughtfully--"surprise--surprise. Look ye here, sir," he suddenlycried, eagerly, "why not take 'em then by surprise?"
"How?"
"Powder, sir, out o' that there locker."
"What! and blow them up?"
"O' course, sir," whispered Tom, "sky high."
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