CHAPTER FORTY ONE.
FUN!
"This" was, of course, Bob Howlett's little midshipman's dirk, a weaponworn more for ornament than use. But the boy looked as if he meant touse it, for, according to his own way of expressing himself, his monkeywas up, he was bubbling over with excitement, and ready for anything.As it happened, he was exceeding his duty, for the officer in commandwould never have given a mere lad charge of men to make a desperateattack upon enemies who had apparently taken refuge below. But withouta moment's hesitation he bore Mark back against the bulkhead, grippinghim with one hand and with the other holding the point of his dirkagainst the lad's throat.
"Here, do as I do, my lads," he shouted; and then to Mark:
"Yield, you miserable Yankee hound, or I'll run you through."
Excitement, the emotion and relief at finding himself among friends oncemore, and the prize safe, robbed Mark for a few moments of all power ofspeech or action; and then the absurdity of the position tickled himinto the determination to hold his peace for a few minutes, and keep upthe joke.
"Here," he cried, imitating the Yankee captain's drawl, and speaking ina husky, disguised voice, "just mind what yew're about with that theretoothpick, or yew'll be hurting somebody if yew don't cut yewrself."
"Silence, you dog!" cried Bob, fiercely. "Do you surrender?"
"Eh? Dew yew mean give myself up as a prisoner?"
"Yes, of course, sir."
"Then why didn't yew say so, mister, and not talk in that windy-bagway?"
"Disarm the others, my lads," cried Bob. "Now you sir," he continued toMark, "give up your sword."
"Shan't."
"What?"
"I'm not going to give it up to yew. Tell 'em to send an orfycer, notone of the ship's boys."
"You insolent hound!"
"If yew call me a hound again, squaire, I'll kinder punch your head,"said Mark, quietly.
"What!" cried Bob, trying to give his prisoner a shake, but shakinghimself instead. "If you dare to say that again, sir, I'll have youclapped in irons. Here, my lads, bring 'em all out, and let's have alook at the hang-dog scoundrels."
"Cock-a-doodle-do!"
Mark gave a fair imitation of the crowing of a cock, and Bob wasfurious.
"How dare you, sir!" he cried. "Recollect you are prisoner to HerMajesty's ship _Nautilus_."
"Commanded by Bob Howlett, Esquire," said Mark, in his natural tones,"Oh, I say, Bob, how you can bully and bounce!"
Bob's hands dropped to his side, and just then a familiar voiceshouted,--
"Where's Mr Howlett?"
"Here, sir," said Bob, dismally.
"Ah, that's right. Nobody there, I suppose?" The voice was quite closeto the door now, and a shadow was cast down into the darkened cabin.
"Oh yes, sir, there's some one down here," said Bob. "We haven't takenthe schooner after all."
"What!"
"It's all right, sir," said Mark, stepping out on to the deck to faceMr Staples. "We took the schooner."
"Mr Vandean! Bless me, my dear boy, I am glad to see you again. Wethought you were gone. But in the name of all that's horrible, how didyou come in this state?"
"State, sir?" said Mark, who had for the moment forgotten his injuries.
"My dear boy, yes; why, you haven't a bit of hair on face or head, andyou're black as a negro."
"I'd forgotten, sir. It was the powder."
"Powder! an explosion?"
"Yes, sir; no, sir."
"Mr Vandean," cried the lieutenant, "do you want to aggravate me?"
"No, sir," cried Mark; and he told him hastily what had taken place.
"Lucky for you that you did stop the train," cried the lieutenant; "why,my good sir, it was too desperate; not one of you would have been leftalive. But where is Mr Russell?"
"In the cabin, sir, wounded."
"Tut--tut--tut! Signal for the surgeon, Mr Howlett," he cried; and Bobwent off, while the lieutenant looked sharply around.
"Where are the rest of your men?"
"Dance and Grote are in the other schooner we took, sir."
"Another? Well, this is a curious state of affairs. You are left incharge of a prize--"
"Yes, sir, and we lost her and took her again, and then captured asecond prize. Dance and Grote have charge of her. Haven't you seenher, sir?"
"No--yes. Of course, that is the vessel we sighted just before weattacked here to-day. But the other three men?"
"Don't know, sir, unless they are prisoners in the forecastle."
"Go and see, my lads," cried the lieutenant; and, to the delight oftheir messmates, the others were set free from where they had beenimprisoned.
"Then we are all accounted for," said Mark, holding his hand to hisburning face, "But where are the Yankees, sir?"
"Oh, they performed their old manoeuvre," said the lieutenant, bitterly;"as soon as we set off from the _Nautilus_ to board, they took to theboat they had ready trailing alongside, and made for the shore, where Ihope the niggers'll catch 'em and turn 'em into slaves. Hah, here comesMr Whitney! Poor Russell! has he been long like this?"
"Yes, sir; all the time since the Yankees came off in their boat andsurprised us."
"Then you--you--Why, Mr Vandean, you don't mean to say you've been incommand all the time?"
"Yes, sir," said Mark, modestly. "Fillot has been my first lieutenant."
"Humph! the forecastle joker, eh?" said Mr Staples, grimly.
"No, sir, there has been no joking," said Mark. "It has been tooserious for that."
"So I should suppose, my lad. Hah, Whitney, here's work for you. PoorRussell again. Been insensible for days."
"And this lad--burned?" said the doctor, sharply. "Why, Mr Vandean!why, my dear boy, what a state you're in! Get him under an awning atonce. I'll dress your face soon."
Mark was quite ready to walk, but he was carried and laid down under theshelter of a sail, and in a few minutes Mr Russell was laid beside him,and the doctor went down on one knee to make a careful examination.
"Very bad?" Mark heard the first lieutenant whisper.
"Bad enough," replied the doctor. "Fracture, with a piece of boneresting upon the brain. We must get him on board the _Nautilus_ atonce."
"Dangerous?"
"Pretty well."
"Fatal?"
"In some hands," said the doctor, importantly, "but we shall see."
Mark could hardly believe it true an hour later when he was lying in acomfortable cot on board the _Nautilus_, with cool applications to hisface and head, and a man told off to attend upon him--that man being TomFillot. The captain had been to see him, and shaken hands, thanking himfor what he had done toward capturing the two schooners, the second,with Dance and Grote on board, being now only a few cables' lengthsaway.
"We found you did not put in an appearance, Mr Vandean, so we sailedsouth in search of you, and a pretty dance you have led us. But youhave behaved uncommonly well, my dear boy--very well, indeed."
As soon as he could get a chance, Bob Howlett paid the patient a visit,and reported that the doctor had performed an operation upon MrRussell's head, and said that he had borne it very well.
"What an unlucky fellow he is," Mark cried, as he lay there in perfectpeace now that he was relieved of his responsibility, and could rest.
"Not half such an unlucky beggar as some one I know," grumbled Bob.
"Oh, you mean me," said Mark, quietly.
"That I don't," cried Bob. "I call you lucky."
"Me?"
"Yes; look at the fun you've had all to yourself. A regular cruise."
"Fun?"
"Yes, fun. Captain of the schooner; capturing another; complimented bythe skipper; praised by old hooks and staples; and of course, just whenI thought I was going to distinguish myself, and charged down into thatdark cabin and made sure I'd captured the skipper at the point of mysword--"
"Dirk," said Mark.
"Well, dirk, if you lik
e--of course it must turn out to be you. Bah!it's disgusting."
"Nonsense!"
"It is, I say," cried Bob, angrily. "You get all the fat and gravy oflife. And now you're as good as wounded, and you'll be named in theskipper's despatch, and--but oh, what a lark!" cried Bob, bursting intoa roar of laughter. "What a jolly old fifth of November guy you dolook!"
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