The Black Bar Part 1

The Black Bar.

by George Manville Fenn.

CHAPTER ONE.

TWO MIDDIES AND A MONKEY.

"We've done wrong, Van. There'll be a jolly row about it."

"Get out! What's the good of talking now? You were as ready to have him as I was. Lie still, will you? or I'll pitch you overboard."

Two middies talking in the stern-sheets of the cutter belonging to Her Majesty's fast little cruiser _Nautilus_, stationed on the west coast of Africa "blackberrying," so the men called their duty, Tom Fillot, one of their jokers, giving as the reason that the job was "black and berry nasty." The sun shone as it can shine in the neighbourhood of the equator, and the sea looked like so much glistening oil, as it slowly heaved up and sank with the long ground swell, the light flashing from the surface attacking the eyes with blinding power, bronzing the faces of some, peeling the noses of others.

Setting aside the smart crew of the cutter in their white duck shirts and trousers and straw hats, with faces, necks, and hands of a mahogany brown, the two speakers may be taken as fair samples of what the sun could do with a fresh-coloured English lad of sixteen or seventeen.

Mark Vandean, who leaned back and had wrenched himself round to sharply adjure something behind him in the bottom of the boat, was burned of a good warm Russian leather brown, while his companion, Bob Howlett, who held the rudder-lines, displayed in addition to ruddy brown cheeks a nose in a most disreputable state of rag.

The boat went swiftly through the water, as the men bent with regular stroke, and made the tough ash blades of their oars curve ere they rose and scattered the flashing drops, which seemed to brighten the scene where all was flat and monotonous, and the view contracted by a dead silvery haze of heat. Behind them was the low flat sh.o.r.e with a few scattered white houses and factories behind a rough landing-stage.

There were palms of different kinds in a straggling line, and on either side of the opening out of a muddy river, a bordering of dingy green mangroves--tree cripples, Mark Vandean called them, because they all looked as if standing up on crutches. A few boats lay in the mouth of the river, a dissolute-looking brig with its yards unsquared was at anchor higher up, and a sharp eye could detect a figure or two about the beach. On either side, as far as eye could reach, there was a line of surf.

That was all sh.o.r.eward, while out to sea, a couple of miles or so away, smart and business-like, with her tall spars and carefully squared yards and rigging, cobweb-like in texture at that distance, lay at anchor in the open road-stead HMS _Nautilus_ waiting to gather "blackberries" at the first opportunity, and toward which smart little vessel the cutter was being steadily propelled.

The object ordered to lie still under pain of being pitched overboard did not lie, but crouched a little lower, and increased the wrinkles in its deeply lined forehead, above which was a thin fringe of hair, blinked its wondering eyes, and looked piteously at the speaker.

It was the face of an old man with enormous mouth pinched together, and devoid of lips, but giving the idea that it was about to smile; nose there was none, save a little puckering in its place, but as if to make up for the want, the ears were largely developed, rounded, and stood out on either side in a p.r.o.nounced fashion. For it was the most human of all the apes, being a chimpanzee about as big as a st.u.r.dy two-year-old boy.

All at once the stroke oarsman ceased rowing, and began to wipe the perspiration from his open, good-humoured face.

"Hullo!" shouted one of the middies, "what's that mean? Why are you not pulling?"

"Beg pardon, sir; won't be none of me left to," said the man, "I'm trickling all away. Like to put the new hand in my place?"

"New hand?" said the other middy; "what do you mean?"

"Gent as you have behind you there."

Mark Vandean frowned, and drew himself up, tried to look severe as an officer, but he was confronted by five grinning faces, and the mirth was contagious; he smiled at the idea, and the men roared.

"There, pull away, my lads, and let's get on board. This is no time for skylarking."

The men bent to their oars again, and the boat answered to its name, cutting swiftly through the water towards the little man-o'-war.

"But there will be a row about it, old fellow," whispered Bob Howlett.

"Oh, very well then, they must row," said Mark Vandean pettishly.

"There's no harm in having a monkey onboard--if we can get it there."

"Don't you be uneasy about that, Mr Vandean, sir," said the stroke oarsman; "me and my mates'll smuggle the young n.i.g.g.e.r gent aboard somehow, even if I has to lend him my duds."

"You leave off cutting jokes, Tom Fillot, and pull hard."

"Ay, ay, sir," cried the man, chuckling, and he and his fellows made the boat skim through the glowing water.

"Perhaps the letter is important," said the first middy, "and may mean business at last."

"I hope not," said the other. "I'm sick of it. Nothing but wild-goose chases after phantom ships. I don't believe there are any slavers on the coast."

"Oh, aren't there, Bob?"

"Don't seem like it. Where are they, then; and why don't we catch 'em?"

"I dunno."

"Fancy going off again to-night sneaking down to another of these rivers all among the mosquitoes and fever mists. Ugh! If I'd known, you wouldn't have caught me coming to sea."

"Oh, we shall catch one of 'em yet. A big Yankee schooner full of slaves; and then look at the prize-money."

"No catchee, no havee, Van. Oh, I say, I am hot. Why, I believe you could fry eggs in the sun."

"Dare say you might if you could get there, Bob."

"Oh, my! aren't we witty this morning! I say, I wonder what old Staples will say to the monkey, Van."

"So do I," said the first middy, uneasily. "I half wish we hadn't bought it. But it seemed such a chance."

"Well, we're in for it now. Staples will give it us pretty sharply, and then forget all about it."

"But then there's the skipper."

"Ah," said the second middy, thoughtfully; "I forgot about him. Bother the monkey! Phew! I am hot. I say, they may well call this Oily Bight. The sea looks just as if it had been greased. Oh, don't I wish I were in a good wet fog in the Channel. This is a scorcher."

The lads ceased speaking, and sat back watching the anch.o.r.ed vessel and relieving the tedium of the long row by scratching the monkey's head and pulling its ears, the animal complacently accepting both operations, and turning its head about so that every portion should receive its share of the scratching, till all at once the boat was run alongside, the c.o.xswain took hold with his boathook, and while the falls were hooked on, an order was given above, and they were run up to the davits.

Directly after, Mark Vandean stepped on deck, touched his cap to a severe-looking officer, and presented a letter.

"Take it in to the captain," he said; and Mark marched off to the cabin, while the first lieutenant, who had turned toward the boat, out of which the men had sprung, suddenly raised one hand, and pointed at the boat's side, above which a head had been raised, and its owner was gazing round with wrinkled forehead as if wondering what was going to happen next.

Bob Howlett saw the first lieutenant's fixed stare and pointing hand, and glancing round, he caught sight of the head with its chin on the gunwale.

"Who's that?" cried the first lieutenant, sharply; and the men screwed up their faces and looked comically solemn on the instant, but no one spoke.

"Mr Howlett," cried the officer again, "I asked you who that was in the boat!"

"Beg pardon, sir; didn't know you were speaking to me. Which, sir?"

The lieutenant's lips were compressed as he took a couple of strides and brought himself alongside of the middy.

"If you are not careful, sir," he said severely, "trouble will follow this. You did know I spoke to you, sir. I said, 'Who is that young black?' Why, it's an ape."