The Black Bar Part 60

Directly after the man walked away, and they heard him giving some orders, which were followed by a quick trampling, and directly after, to the lad's annoyance and disgust, the cabin was partially darkened by a sail being hung down over the stern.

"To keep us from seeing what is going on," grumbled d.i.c.k Bannock.

"No," said Mark; "to keep us from signalling."

But though they could not see, they could hear, and they all sat listening with intense excitement as shot followed shot, and the schooner lay so much over to one side that it was evident that she was carrying a very heavy press of sail, and that the slaver captain was straining every nerve to escape.

"Now, then," cried Mark, "be ready for a rush either at the door or up through the skylight, in case the boats board. We can then take the Yankee between two fires."

"Ay, ay, sir," cried Tom; "strikes me, begging your pardon, sir, as some of us aboard the _Naughtyla.s.s_ is terrible bad shots. I want 'em to hit us--forrard, o' course; not here."

"They could hit fast enough," said Mark, petulantly, for he was in great pain, "only they are firing at the rigging, so as not to injure the slaves."

"Course. I forget that, sir; only if they don't bring down a spar, and the beggars escape again, where are we?"

Just at that moment there was a rattling and thumping at the cabin door, as if something was being removed; and as the prisoners listened, the skipper's voice was heard at the skylight.

"Below there!" he cried. "Ah, it's of no use. I'm covering yew with this pistol. Look here, I've got a boat alongside ready; that door's a-going to be opened, and one of yew will come out a time, and tumble into the boat. One at a time, mind; and if there's any show o'

fighting, we'll shoot you down without mercy. Do yew hear?"

"Yes, I hear," said Mark bitterly.

"Soon as yew're all over the side, we'll cut yew adrift; and when yew're skipper picks yew up, yew may tell him that I'll throw every n.i.g.g.e.r overboard before he shall take us, and run the schooner aground and blow her up this time."

"You can give your message when Captain Maitland has you safely in irons, sir," said Mark, stoutly.

"Thankye," said the skipper; and at that moment, in obedience to an order previously given, the cabin door was dragged open.

"What d'yer say to a rush, sir?" whispered Tom Fillot.

He had hardly uttered the words, when there was a fresh crashing noise, a heavy report, and a splintering of wood, accompanied by a strange rustling sound. The door was clapped to again and fastened, and as there was a rush of feet, a shouting of orders, and the sound of axes being used, the schooner swung round, stopped, and the prisoners set up a cheer.

"Mainmast down by the board," cried Tom Fillot, slapping his leg. "We can aim straight, sir, arter all."

Mark forgot the smarting and throbbing from his burns on the instant, as he s.n.a.t.c.hed out his dirk, for knowing as well as if he could see everything that the whole of the after-rigging was lying across the deck and dragging at the side, so that the schooner lay on the water like a gull with a broken wing, he felt that in a few minutes a couple of boats' crews from the _Nautilus_ would be aboard; and if there was to be any resistance, now was the time to make a diversion.

"Make ready, my lads," he cried. "Cutla.s.ses only. Quick!"

Just then there was a fresh crackling and breaking sound, and the skylight, through which he had meant to lead his men, was also darkened by the falling over it of a part of the great sail and the gaff; so that they were in twilight.

"Better try the door, sir," cried Tom Fillot. "We'll kick it out now, sir; there's nothing behind."

"Quick, then, quick!" cried Mark, excitedly; and the men went at it with a cheer, while the shouting of orders on deck grew more loud and angry.

"We must get out, Tom," cried Mark, "and make a desperate effort ourselves. If the boats get here first, they will claim to have taken the schooner, and rob us of all the honour."

"We'll try, sir," cried Tom. "Go it, my lads! Lay your backs into it.

Soup, heave!"

But the door resisted all their efforts, and it was evident that the Americans had wedged it with a couple of pieces of wood.

"Oh, this is maddening," cried Mark. "They mustn't find us prisoners here below."

"Let's try the skylight, sir," cried Tom Fillot; and at a word from Mark, he mounted the little table, and began to drag at the heavy canvas, so as to get it aside, but came down with a crash, as there was a flash and the report of a pistol.

"Hurt, Tom?" cried Mark, in agony, as he went down on one knee in the dim cabin, and caught at the sailor's arm.

"Hurt, sir!" grumbled the man. "Just you lose your footing, and come down with your ribs on the edge of that table, and see if you wouldn't be hurt."

"But I mean shot--wounded."

"Yah! no. He couldn't hit a hay-stack, sir. I'm all right."

"Let me try," said d.i.c.k Bannock, "while he's loading his pea-shooter."

The man mounted the table, and began to drag at the canvas and tangle of rope, and blocks, but there was no attack made upon him, and he struggled on till he was obliged to give up with a sigh of despair.

"Can't you do it?" cried Mark.

"No, sir, nohow. Wants someone on deck with a hax."

"Let's try the window again," cried Mark; but a few minutes decided that. Hampered by the great sail hanging down, there was no exit there without cutting a way through, while those who tried would have been quite at the mercy of the men on deck.

Back at the door, they hammered and beat and thrust, trying all they knew without avail, till suddenly, as a cheer was heard alongside, one of the pieces of wood which wedged them in so securely gave way a little, then a little more, and with the tramping of feet increasing overhead, the door flew open.

Mark bounded out, but was driven back into the cabin by Bob Howlett, who forced his way in with his men, his first words shouted in the dark cabin--doubly dark to those who entered from the glaring Afric sunshine--silencing Tom Fillot and his comrades, who shrank back puzzled at first, then full of mirth and enjoyment at the midshipman's mistake.

For, seeing in the blackened object whom he had helped to drive back into the cabin a foe of a calibre suited to his size, and one whom he could tackle, Bob Howlett shouted to his men--"Cut 'em down if they resist," and then to Mark. "Now you slave-catching dog, surrender, or this goes through you like a spit."

CHAPTER FORTY ONE.

FUN!

"This" was, of course, Bob Howlett's little midshipman's dirk, a weapon worn more for ornament than use. But the boy looked as if he meant to use it, for, according to his own way of expressing himself, his monkey was up, he was bubbling over with excitement, and ready for anything.

As it happened, he was exceeding his duty, for the officer in command would never have given a mere lad charge of men to make a desperate attack upon enemies who had apparently taken refuge below. But without a moment's hesitation he bore Mark back against the bulkhead, gripping him with one hand and with the other holding the point of his dirk against 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 once more, and the prize safe, robbed Mark for a few moments of all power of speech or action; and then the absurdity of the position tickled him into the determination to hold his peace for a few minutes, and keep up the joke.

"Here," he cried, imitating the Yankee captain's drawl, and speaking in a husky, disguised voice, "just mind what yew're about with that there toothpick, or yew'll be hurting somebody if yew don't cut yewrself."

"Silence, you dog!" cried Bob, fiercely. "Do you surrender?"