Part 54 (1/2)
”Oak.u.m,” said the Cuban sharply; and the old sailor faced round, wondering whether he had been heard, while Rasp went on mending and arranging his diving tackle as if nothing was the matter.
”Sir to you,” said Sam.
”I shall sail to-night or to-morrow morning. Have all ready.”
”Ay, ay, sir,” said Sam cheerfully; and then to himself, ”Perhaps you will, and for a longish voyage.”
”We've got all the silver here, and I think I shall try one more spot.”
”All right, capen,” said Sam; ”nothing like having a good cargo while you're about it.”
”Have all ready,” said the Cuban gloomily.
”Right, capen,” said Sam, ”but--”
”Well, what?” said the Cuban, looking sharply round as if in search of danger; but the sh.o.r.e was on every side verdant and beautiful, the sea calm and bright, and nothing to show the horrors of the s.h.i.+p but a few spots of blood upon the white deck.
”I was on'y going to say as if I was skipper I should put off the start till the morning.”
”Why?” said the Cuban, looking at him searchingly.
”The sun'll be down afore we could work out of this snug place so as to ketch the breeze, and there's a rock there, and a rock there, and a couple more to starboard, and three off yonder to port. I shouldn't like to take off a bit of the schooner's keel, or poke a hole in her bottom, with all that silver aboard. A man likes to obey orders, capen: but when he's got a stake in the safe running of the cargo, it makes him partickler like.”
”You're right,” said the Cuban. ”At daybreak, then.”
”Daybreak it is,” said Sam, giving his trousers a hitch; and taking out a little silver pipe, he blew a shrill note. ”All hands ahoy!” he roared, and as the men collected, he set to work clearing away the lumber, coiling ropes s.h.i.+p-shape, hoisted a boat that had been down over the side, and then altered his mind and had it lowered again. ”We shall want it for towing her head round in the morning,” he said, and so busied himself so as to have everything well forward, while the Cuban looked on with an approving eye.
”You shan't be forgotten for all this, Sam Oak.u.m,” he said.
”Thankye, capen, thankye,” said Sam, as the Cuban walked forward, and the old sailor filled a pipe for an extra luxury, just as it was getting dark.
”Here, you black-faced son of a coal-hole, give's a light,” cried Sam, loudly, as he went to the galley where 'Pollo was busy preparing tea for all on board.
”Yes, Ma.s.s' Oak.u.m,” said the black, flinching from a blow aimed at him as he spoke, when, to the poor fellow's horror, Sam seized him by the scruff of the neck, pushed his head into an open barrel, and whispered:
”Don't you make a sound, 'Pollo, old man. It's all my larks. Don't laugh, you lubber, but get your biggest carving knife, and hide here in the middle watch: there's a game on, my lad, and I want you to help to retake the s.h.i.+p.”
”Oh, golly, Ma.s.s' Oak.u.m, sah, dat I will; I bress de lor', sah, you not big rufiyun affer all. I bress de lor'.”
”Hus.h.!.+ hold your tongue, lad. Mum's the word. Now then, you black n.i.g.g.e.r, look alive with that grub,” he said aloud. ”I'm 'most starving.”
He came out puffing away at his pipe as the Cuban came slowly along the deck, looking suspiciously at Sam, who, however, did not seem to heed his look, but fixing himself on the bulwark, with his legs under him, and his arm round one of the shrouds, he half-shut his eyes, and smoked away as if with real enjoyment, blinking at the sh.o.r.e, and all the while ripening his plans for the fierce work to be undertaken that night.
STORY ONE, CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
PRISONERS.
Meanwhile, to Hester's horror, she found that they were to be prisoners in Laure's cabin, and that the drunken scoundrel who shared it with him kept coming down blinking and leering at them, making their very blood run cold.