Hunting the Skipper Part 72

"Boys run away, sah. 'Fraid ma.s.sa take 'em sell to bad ma.s.sa."

"Oh no," said Murray, reaching forward to pat the man upon the shoulder; but the poor fellow's action told its own tale. He started violently, shrinking right away with a look of dread in his eyes. "There, don't do that," Murray continued, "I'm not going to hurt you;" and following the man he patted his shoulder softly, when the look of horror faded away, to give place to a faint smile, one which broadened into a grin.

"Ma.s.sa no take and sell boys away?"

"No; tell them we come to set them free," said Murray.

"Set n.i.g.g.ah free?" cried the black excitedly.

"Yes; that's why my ship has come."

"Ma.s.sa Huggin say come catch all de boy an' flog 'em heart out."

"Did your overseer tell you that, boy?" growled Tom May; and the man winced at the deep fierce voice of the sailor.

"Yes, sah; flog 'em all, sah."

"Then you tell your Ma.s.sa Huggin he's a liar," growled the big sailor.

The black showed his teeth in a wider grin than ever as he shook his head.

"No tell um," he said. "Ma.s.sa Huggin kill um dead."

"Where is he now?" said Murray sharply.

"Ma.s.sa Allen sick, sah."

"No, no; Mr Huggins!"

"Ma.s.sa sailor captain tell Ma.s.sa Huggin--"

"No, no; I'm not going to tell your overseer anything."

The black looked at the speaker searchingly for a few moments, glanced round as if to see whether they were likely to be overheard; and then, as if gaining confidence, he leaned towards the midshipman and whispered--

"Ma.s.sa overseer go to get men from schooner--fighting men come and kill sailor and burn up ship. Big fire. Burn ship. Burn, kill sailor.

Ma.s.sa no tell what Caesar say?"

"Oh no; I shall not tell Master Huggins, Caesar," said Murray, smiling.

"Now tell your men to come back and row your boat. I want to find Mr Allen."

The black looked searchingly in the midshipman's face once more, and then apparently gaining confidence, he turned sharply upon the big sailor, when that which he had gained seemed to be dying out again and he glanced at the sh.o.r.e of the lagoon, and Tom read so plainly that the black was thinking again of flight that he gave him a sharp slap on the shoulder, making him wince violently and utter a low sob.

"Why, you are a pretty sort of fellow," cried the sailor, his face opening out into a jovial smile. "You seem to have a nice idee of a British sailor!"

"Bri'sh sailor?" said the black, slowly repeating the tar's words. "You Bri'sh sailor, hey?"

"To be sure I am, my lad--leastwise I hope so."

"Bri'sh sailor no hurt poor n.i.g.g.ah?"

"Not a bit of it, darkie. Can't you understand we've come to set the slaves free?"

"No," said the black sadly. "Ma.s.sa Huggin say--"

"Ma.s.sa Huggin say!" growled the big sailor, frowning fiercely. "You tell your Ma.s.sa Huggins that the British sailor is going to--See here, you benighted heathen. I want to make you understand some'at. There, hold still; I'm not going to hurt you. Now see."

As the sailor spoke he untied the knot of his neckerchief and threw it round the black's neck, made a fresh slip-knot and drew it tight, and with horrible realism held up one end of the silken rope, while with a low wail the poor shivering wretch sank unresistingly upon his knees in the bottom of the boat.

"Don't, don't, Tom! You're frightening the poor fellow to death."

"Nay, sir; he'll understand it directly. It's all right, darkie," he continued, with a broad grin at the black's fear. "I want to show you what a British sailor means to do with your Ma.s.sa Huggins."

"Ma.s.sa Huggin? No kill Caesar?"

"Kill Caesar, darkie?" cried the sailor. "No, no. Hang--yard-arm-- Ma.s.sa Huggins. We'll teach him to talk about burning his Majesty's Ship _Seafowl_. There, now do you understand?" cried Tom, slipping off the black silk handkerchief and knotting it properly about his own brawny neck, while as he gave the black another hearty clap on the shoulder the poor fellow's shiny black face seemed to have become the mirror which reflected a good deal of the tar's jovial smile. "There, sir,"

continued the big sailor; "that's our Mr Dempsey's way o' teaching a man anything he don't understand. 'Show him how it's done,' he says, 'with your fisties, and then he can see, and he never forgets it again.'"

"That's all very well, Tom," said Murray, smiling, "but it's rather a rough style of teaching, and you nearly made the poor fellow jump overboard."

"That was afore he began to grasp it, sir. He's got it now. You can see now; eh, darkie?"

"Bri'sh sailor kill Ma.s.sa Huggin, no kill poor n.i.g.g.ah," cried the black.

"There, sir, what did I say?" cried Tom. "British tar's the n.i.g.g.e.rs'

friend, eh, what's your name?"

The black sprang up and executed two or three steps of what he meant most probably for a triumphal dance.

"Steady, my lad, or you'll have one of them stick-in-a-brick pretty little foots of yours through the bottom planks of the boat."

_Plop_! went the black, letting himself down, not upon his feet, but upon his knees, and laying his head between the sailor's feet he caught one by the ankle, raised it and began to plant it upon his woolly head.

"What game does he call that, sir?" cried Tom, in astonishment.

"He's following up your style of teaching by an object-lesson, Tom,"

cried the middy merrily. "It's to show you he's your slave and friend for ever."

"Ho!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the big sailor. "That's it, is it? Well, that'll do, darkie; we understand one another; but recklect this, you arn't civilised enough yet for object-lessons. Here, what are you up to now?"

For the black had shuffled upon his knees to the side of the boat, to hold his hands to the sides of his capacious mouth, while he sent forth a cry wonderfully like the blast given trumpet-like through a conch sh.e.l.l to call slaves to plantation work in the fields.

No sooner did the deep tone float across the water than there was a movement amongst the giant reeds, and first in one place and then in another and from both sides, black faces and woolly heads began to appear, while the black who had uttered the cry made for one of the oars, pa.s.sed it through the rowlock astern and began to paddle the boat along cleverly enough towards his fellows, who one by one began to take to the water like so many large black dogs, springing in with heavy splash after splash and beginning to swim.

This went on, to the amus.e.m.e.nt of the sailors, till every member of the boat's black crew had been dragged into, or by his own effort had climbed into, the planter's boat.

"Better be on the lookout, my lads," said the middy. "They may play us false and row off."

"Not they, sir," said Tom confidently. "You may depend upon it they've been squinting at us through them bamboozling reeds, and took all my lesson in right up to the heft. I begin to think, sir, that when Mr Huggins shows his ugly yellow phiz to us again he'll find that we've been making a few friends among the n.i.g.g.e.rs."