Part 24 (1/2)

Just as the pet.i.tion was concluded the sun found a loop-hole in the prison, and poured a flood of light into it which partly illumined the dark corner, and revealed two men seated on the ground with their backs against the wall. They were fine-looking men, nearly naked, and joined together by means of a ponderous piece of iron above two feet long, with a heavy ring at either end which encircled their necks. The rings were so thick that their ends must have been forced together with sledge-hammer and anvil after being put round the men's necks, and then overlapped and riveted. Thus it became impossible to free them from their fetters except by the slow and laborious process of cutting them through with a file. Several old and healed-up sores on the necks and collar-bones of both men indicated that they and their harsh couplings had been acquainted for a long time, and one or two inflamed spots told all too clearly that they had not yet become quite reconciled. _See Note 1_.

”Now isn't that awful,” said John Hockins in a low voice with a sort of choke in it, ”to think that these poor fellows--wi' that horrible thing that can't be much under thirty pounds weight on their necks, an' that must ha' bin there for months if not for years--are singin' an' prayin'

to the Almighty, an' here am I, John Hockins, with little or nothin' to complain of as yet, haven't given so much as a thought to--”

The choke got the better of our sailor at this point, and he became suddenly silent.

”Das so!” burst in Ebony, with extreme energy. ”I's wid you dere! I tell you what it is, 'Ockins, dem brown n.i.g.g.e.rs is true Kistians, an' we white folks is nuffin but hipperkrits.”

”I hope we're not quite so bad as _that_, Ebony,” said Mark, with a sad smile. ”Nevertheless, Hockins is right--we are far behind these poor fellows in submission and grat.i.tude to our Maker.”

While he spoke the heavy door of the prison opened, and a jailor entered with two large basins of boiled rice. The largest he put on the ground before our three travellers, the other in front of the coupled men, and then retired without a word.

”Well, thank G.o.d for this, anyhow,” said Mark, taking up one of the three spoons which lay on the rice and going to work with a will.

”Just so,” responded the seaman. ”I'm thankful too, and quite ready for grub.”

”Curious ting, 'Ockins,” remarked Ebony, ”dat your happyt.i.te an' mine seems to be allers in de same state--sharp!”

The seaman's appet.i.te was indeed so sharp that he did not vouchsafe a reply. The prisoners in the dark corner seemed much in the same condition, but their anxiety to begin did not prevent their shutting their eyes for a few seconds and obviously asking a blessing on their meal. Hockins observed the act, and there pa.s.sed over his soul another wave of self-condemnation, which was indicated by a deprecatory shake of his rugged head.

Observing it, Ebony paused a moment and said--

”You's an awrful sinner, 'Ockins!”

”True, Ebony.”

”Das jist what I is too. Quite as bad as you. P'r'aps wuss!”

”I shouldn't wonder if you are,” rejoined the seaman, recovering his spirits somewhat under the stimulating influence of rice. The recovery was not, however, sufficient to induce further conversation at the time, for they continued after that to eat in silence.

They had scarcely finished when the jailor returned to remove the dish, which he did without word or ceremony, and so quickly that Ebony had to make a sudden scoop at the last mouthful; he secured it, filled his mouth with it, and then flung the spoon at the retiring jailor.

”That was not wise,” said Mark, smiling in spite of himself at the tremendous pout of indignation on the negro's face; ”the man has us in his power, and may make us very uncomfortable if we insult him.”

”Das true, ma.s.sa,” said Ebony, in sudden penitence, ”but if dere's one thing I can't stand, it's havin' my wittles took away afore I'm done wid 'em.”

”You'll have to larn to stand it, boy,” said Hockins, ”else you'll have your life took away, which'll be wuss.”

The probability of this latter event occurring was so great that it checked the rise of spirits which the rice had caused to set in.

”What d'ee think they'll do to us, sir?” asked the sailor, in a tone which showed that he looked up to the young doctor for counsel in difficulty. The feeling that, in virtue of his education and training, he ought to be in some sort an example and guide to his comrades in misfortune, did much to make Mark shake off his despondency and pluck up heart.

”G.o.d knows, Hockins, what they will do,” he said. ”If they were a more civilised people we might expect to be let off easily for so slight an offence as rescuing a supposed criminal, but you remember that Ravonino once said, when telling us stories round the camp-fire, that interference with what they call the course of justice is considered a very serious offence. Besides, the Queen being in a very bad mood just now, and we being Christians, it is likely we shall be peculiarly offensive to her. I fear that banishment is the least we may count on.”

”It's a hard case to be punished for bein' Christians, when we hardly deserve the name. I can't help wonderin',” said the seaman, ”that Lovey should have bolted as he did an' left us in the lurch. He might at least have taken his risk along with us. Anyhow, he could have spoke up for us, knowin' both lingos. Of course it was nat'ral that, poor Mamba should look after number one, seem that he was in no way beholden to us; but Lovey was our guide, an' pledged to stand by us.”

”I can't help thinking,” said Mark, ”that you do injustice to Laihova.

He is not the man to forsake a comrade in distress.”

”That was my own opinion,” returned the sailor, ”till I seed him go slap through yon port-hole like a harlequin.”