Nic Revel Part 21

It seemed to be no new thing to the blacks, for the huge fellow who had acted as smith stepped down into the boat, followed by his a.s.sistant, walked aft, and deposited his bag with the dogs, and then stooped down and drew from under the side-seat a couple of muskets, one of which he handed to his a.s.sistant, both examining their priming, and then seating themselves one on either side of the boat, with their guns between their legs, watching the embarkation.

"You next," said the overseer to Pete; and the prisoner walked to the edge, made as if to leap, but checked himself and climbed down, feeling that the other way would have been risky, weighted as his legs were by the shackles. "Help your young mate," said the overseer roughly; and Pete's eyes flashed as he stood up and held out his hand to Nic, who shrank from the contact as his wrist was caught. Then he descended feebly into the boat, and then had to be helped right forward, to sit down close to one of the blacks who was now holding on to the woodwork with a boat-hook.

The other prisoners followed awkwardly enough in their irons, and took the places pointed out to them by one of the blacks who had been in charge of the boat.

As the second of the party took his place next to Pete, he hung down his head and whispered:

"Humpy says we're to make a dash for it and take the boat."

Pete started; but the man, under the pretence of adjusting his irons, went on, with his head nearly in his comrade's lap:

"T'others know. We shall push off into the stream, where he can't hit us with his pistols, and we can soon pitch the n.i.g.g.e.rs overboard."

"Silence, there!" shouted the overseer.

The other men descended, and exchanged glances with their companions-- glances which Pete saw meant "Be ready!"--and his blood began to dance through his veins.

Should he help, or shouldn't he?

Yes; they were his fellows in adversity, and it was for liberty: he must--he would; and, with his heart beating hard, he prepared for the struggle, feeling that they must succeed, for a blow or two would send the men by them overboard, and a thrust drive the boat gliding swiftly up-stream, the man with the boat-hook having enough to do to hold on.

"Young Nic Revel don't zeem to understand," thought Pete; "but he couldn't help us if he did."

He had hardly thought this when, in obedience to an order from the overseer, the last man, Humpy Dee, tramped clumsily to the edge and seemed to hesitate, with the result that there was a sharp bark from one of the dogs right astern, and a chill ran through Pete's burning veins.

"I forgot the dogs!" he said to himself.

"Get down, fool!" cried the overseer, and he struck at the hesitating prisoner with the whip.

It was all a feint on the part of Humpy to gain time and carry out his plan.

He winced as the whip-lash caught him on his leg, and then, instead of descending slowly, leaped down right upon the black who held the boat to the stage by the hook.

It was cleverly done, and acted as intended, for the black was driven over the side, and the prisoner's weight gave the boat the impetus required, sending it a little adrift into the stream, which began to bear it away, but not before the result of a little miscalculation had made itself evident.

For Humpy Dee had not allowed for the weight and c.u.mbersomeness of his fetters; neither had he given them credit for their hampering nature.

He had leaped and suddenly thrust the black overboard, to hang clinging to the boat-hook; but he had been unable to check himself from following; and, as the boat yielded to his weight and thrust, he seemed to take a header over the bow, there was a tremendous splash, and the water was driven over those seated forward.

The two blacks astern leaped up, and the overseer uttered a cry of rage; the water closed over Humpy Dee's head, while the dogs set up a chorus of baying as the boat glided steadily away.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

"WHAT'LL Ma.s.sA SAY?"

The scene taking place before him acted strangely upon Nic. It seemed to rouse him from his dreamy state, and awakened him to a wild pitch of excitement.

He sprang to his feet, and was on the point of springing overboard to the man's help; but a touch from Pete upon the shoulder was enough: he sank down beneath its pressure, weak and helpless as a child.

"What are you going to do?" whispered Pete. "Are you mad?"

"Help! Save him! Can you stand like that and see the man drown before your eyes?"

"What can I do, lad?" growled Pete angrily. "If I go over after him, it's to drown myself. These irons'll stop a man from zwimming, and take one to the bottom like a stone."

"Ay, ay; ye can't do 'un," growled one of the other prisoners, in whom the desire for escaping died out on the instant. "Sit still, lad; sit still."

But Pete stood with staring eyes, gazing wildly at the place where his enemy had disappeared; the veins in his forehead swelled, his lips parted, and he panted as he drew his breath, looking ready at any moment to leap overboard and make an effort to save his old companion's life.

Meanwhile the overseer was shouting orders to his blacks ash.o.r.e as well as to those in the boat, which was gliding faster up the stream, and the men laid down their guns and picked up and put out a couple of oars, the dogs barking frantically the while.

"Pete Burge," whispered one of the men, "we must make friends now.

Here's our chance; shall we take it?"

"No, no," cried Pete furiously, but without taking his eyes from where Humpy had disappeared.

"I cannot bear it," panted Nic to himself, as he once more sprang up; and before he could be stayed he dived out of the boat, rose, and struck out for the landing-stage.

Pete shouted at him in his agony, and jumped overboard to save him, forgetting what was bound to happen, and going down like a stone, feet foremost, but rising to the surface again, to fight gallantly in spite of the weight of his irons, and strive to overtake Nic, who, unenc.u.mbered, was some yards away.

But it proved to be as Pete had foreseen; there was the gallant will and the strength to obey it, but it was merely a spasmodic force which only endured a minute or two. Then the brave young swimmer's arms turned, as it were, to lead, the power to breast the strong current ceased, and he remained stationary for a moment or two, before being gradually borne backward, his efforts ceasing; while the men in the boat watched him and Pete, who, with the water quite to his nostrils, was swimming with all his strength, but only just able to keep the heavy fetters from dragging him to the bottom.

"Two more on us going," said one of the men. "Here, Bob; come and help.

You stop and grab 'em as soon as they're near."

The man and the comrade he had addressed scrambled over the thwarts towards where the two blacks were rowing hard, but hardly holding the heavy boat against the powerful tide; and as soon as the fetters clanked, the dogs barked savagely and leaped up to meet them; but as the intelligent beasts saw the men seize a couple of oars and thrust them over the sides, they stopped short, panting.

"All the better for you," growled one of the men to the dog glaring at him, "for I'd ha' choked you if you'd come at me.--Pull away, blackies."

The additional oars had the right effect, for as the four men pulled with all their might the boat began to stem the current and shorten the distance between it and the two drowning men. But, in spite of his great strength, Pete was being mastered by the heavy weight of the irons, and was getting lower and lower in the water; while Nic's arms had ceased to move, and he was drifting with the tide.

"Keep up; strike out, lads," cried the man in the bows, in agony.

"We're coming fast now."

It was not the truth, for the heavy boat was moving very slowly against the swift tide, and the swimmers' fate seemed to be sealed, as the man reached back, got hold of another oar, and thrust it out over the bows, ready for Pete to grasp as soon as he came within reach.

"We shall be too late," groaned the man, with all his enmity against Pete forgotten in those wild moments of suspense. "Here, look out for the oar. Pete, lad, swim back. Oh! poor lad, he can't hear me. He's drownin'--he's drownin'."

Pete could not hear, and if he had heard during his frantic efforts to reach Nic, he would not have heeded, for there was no room in the man's brain in those wild moments for more than that one thought--that he must save that poor, weak fellow's life.

It takes long to describe, but in the real action all was condensed into less than a minute. Pete, who fought wildly, frantically, to keep his head above water, fought in vain, for his fettered legs were fast losing their power, and he was being drawn gradually lower and lower, till, after throwing his head back to gasp for a fresh breath, he straightened his neck again, with the water at his eyes, and saw that what he could not achieve the current had done for him.

He made a wild, last effort, and caught with one hand at the arm just within reach; his fingers closed upon it with a grip of iron, and another hand caught desperately at his hair.

Then the water closed over the pair, joined together in a death-grip, and the tide rolled them unresistingly up the stream.

"Pull, pull!" yelled the man in the bows, as he reached out with his oar; but he could not touch the place where he saw the figures disappear. Quick as thought, though, and with the clever method of one accustomed to the management of a fishing-boat, the man changed his tactics. He laid the oar over the prow, treating the iron stem as a rowlock, and gave a couple of strokes with all his might, pulling the boat's head round, and bringing it well within reach of the spot where Nic's back rose and showed just beneath the surface. Then, leaving the oar, the man reached over, and was just in time to get a good hold, as the oar dropped from the bow into the river, and he was almost jerked out of the boat himself.