Part 17 (1/2)

CHAPTER XXIII.

HOW RODRIGUES GOT AT THE TRUTH, AND A LIE INTO THE BARGAIN.

Hearing these sounds, I say, I was a.s.sured that the negro did intend to burst open the trap and take revenge for the wound I had dealt him, and I have good reason to believe that this was his intent and purpose, for standing on the hatch to lend strength to the bolt that secured it, I felt it move beneath my feet; nay, the very boards cracked under the force of his broad shoulders against it.

But this prodigious effort was too much for the strength of the wounded wretch. Presently we heard a hoa.r.s.e cry of rage, and then a heavy fall, as if he had yielded to a faintness and pitched down once more to the ground.

After that we heard no movement below, nor any sound whatever; neither was any further attempt made to raise the trap.

Seeing that Lady Biddy was very much overwrought by this excitement and her previous want of rest, I implored her to return to the other cabin and seek repose--pointing out that we had no more to fear from the black, and promising that, should anything happen to the contrary, I would not fail to let her know. And listening at length to my persuasions, she went back as I bade her, lowered the wick of her lamp, and did, after awhile, as she told me in the morning, unconsciously fall asleep. For my own part, I spent the rest of that night seated on the hatch, never once closing my eyes or relaxing my watch.

In the morning Lady Biddy, coming to me, whispered that search was being made for the negro; indeed, I could with my own ears hear the men bellowing in different parts, ”Tonga! Tonga!” which was the name of this fellow.

I bade Lady Biddy go back again to her cabin, and seem to know nothing of what this search meant.

Soon after she had returned there, Rodrigues comes to her, and, with a vast show of respect and consideration, begged she would have patience to wait a little while for her breakfast, as the cook was not at his post, and could not be found.

”I remarked his manner was strange all day yesterday,” says he, ”and it is as like as not he has thrown himself overboard in a fit of madness, produced by the heat of the sun. However,” he adds, ”this accident shall not interfere with your convenience, for I will dress your victuals with my own hands rather than they shall be ill-served.” And with this polite speech he makes his _conge_ and leaves my lady.

At noon, when the boy had served the dinner, Rodrigues came again to apologize for the quality of the food, saying that they had run short of provisions with having been so long at sea, but that he hoped to provide her with fresh meat and fruit before twenty-four hours, as land was in sight, and he counted to cast anchor the following morning.

Lady Biddy replied as graciously as she could to one whom she so loathed and despised, and in this (despite her natural repugnance to hypocrisy or deceit) her wit was aided by the comfort of this news, and the knowledge that our chance of escape would be greatly aided by lulling Rodrigues' suspicion.

He said not a word about marriage, and indeed behaved himself with becoming civility; and to make him believe that he had succeeded in producing a more favorable impression on herself, Lady Biddy begged him, when he was going, to leave the door wide open that she might have the benefit of the air.

About two o'clock, when all the company were resting (for in these lat.i.tudes it is impossible to work while the sun is in the meridian), Lady Biddy came into the little cabin, and with great glee told me what had pa.s.sed and how we were nearing land.

”But,” says she, ”if we come to an anchor in the morning, will it be possible to escape in broad daylight?”

”No,” says I; ”that we can not, unless we should get away when all are taking their noon rest. But there is no necessity to run great peril by haste. Water, I doubt not, is what is much needed. As Rodrigues said nothing about reaching a port, it is pretty evident he is running to land for the immediate refreshment of his company. They will not be content getting on sh.o.r.e to embark again at once even if they succeed in finding a freshet for the filling of their barrels. Any way I feel certain we shall not lift anchor again for twenty-four hours, and that will give us the night to make our escape in.”

Satisfied with this a.s.surance, Lady Biddy returned to the next cabin, after bathing her sweet hands and face, leaving me to turn over in my mind a hundred schemes for our deliverance; yet none could I hit on but what seemed desperate in the extreme.

Nothing occurred to disturb Lady Biddy's repose the succeeding night, to her great refreshment no less to my satisfaction.

Shortly after daybreak there was much bustle on deck, and presently I heard the anchor drop, whereupon, as if the moment of our release were come, my heart bounded with joy, and I sc.r.a.ped at the wall to awake Lady Biddy. By her quick reply, I knew that the sound had aroused her, and she had divined its meaning.

Then there arose a great hallooing and shouting amongst the men, who seemed no less pleased than we, though from another cause. But there was yet much to be done before a boat could be sent ash.o.r.e. However, the fellows set about their work with a will, and now there was nothing but singing and laughing over it, whereas before they had gone about their business in sullen silence.

It may have been about eight o'clock when the merriment on board was of a sudden hushed, and Lady Biddy, looking from the door to see what this might mean, perceived a seaman coming up the hatchway in the fore part of the s.h.i.+p, with a jar and a bundle in one hand, and dragging the cook's boy up by the hair of his head with the other. Being come on deck he lead the urchin, crying l.u.s.tily, towards Rodrigues, who was standing not far from the roundhouse.

”I've watched the little hound as you bid me, your honor,” says the man, addressing Rodrigues; ”and I ketched him sneaking down below with these here, which he dropped when he sees me, whereby I knowed he was up to no good.”

”What are those?” asks Rodrigues, indicating the jar and the bundle.

”A noggin o' water, your honor,” says the seaman; ”and,” he adds (undoing the clout), ”a mess o' wittles. Axed me not to tell you, your honor.”

”Whom were you taking those things to?” asks Rodrigues.

”No one, your honor,” cries the boy, whimpering. ”I was a-going to eat 'em myself.”