Part 31 (1/2)
Then all the events of his young days rose up before his mind--his governess and Towsie Jock; he laughed, melancholy though he was, when he thought of that night in the tree--his garden, his summer-house, and pets, and his dear friend Andrew.
He touched a gong and Doomah appeared.
”Are you sleepy?”
”No, sir, I not sleepy.”
”Then come and tell me a story--the story of your life.”
”Ah! dat is not mooch, sir. Plenty time I be in action. I have many wounds from Arab guns.”
”Because you're a spy, you know.”
”A spy, sir! Not I, sir. No, I am interpreter; I fight in de interests of de Breetish Queen of England.”
”Well, well, have it so.”
”Pah! I no care dat mooch for de Arabs. Pah! When dey catch me den dey kill me. What matter? Some day all die. I am happy, I have one, two, tree wife, and dey all love Doomah, ebery one mooch more dan de oder. And when I go home I shall marry Number 4. Ha! ha!”
Doomah kept talking to Harry till all his melancholy had almost if not quite gone.
It was now about four bells in the middle watch, and Harry was thinking of sleep, when the curtain was drawn aside and Nicholls the bo's'n entered. He was Harry's lieutenant.
”Sorry to say, sir, the s.h.i.+p is leaking like a sieve, sir.”
”That is bad news, Nicholls,” said Harry, starting up.
”It be, sir; but what makes matters worse is that I believe she is scuttled.”
”But there were no signs of leakage before we parted with the _Bunting_.”
”No, indeed, sir, these rascally slaver Arabs know what they are about.
The scuttling was filled up with paper, sure to come out after she had a few hours of way on her.”
”This is serious indeed. Think you--can we keep her afloat till we reach Zanzibar?”
”If we could pump, yes.”
”Well, rig the pump.”
”_It is gone, sir. Doubtless_ thrown overboard.”
”That is indeed serious, Mr Nicholls.”
By daybreak the breeze had freshened considerably, but veered a bit, and was now dead ahead. The water had gained so much that the slaves had all to be taken on deck. Bailing was kept up, but seemed to do comparatively little good.
Harry walked up and down the deck for some time in deep thought. At last he called Mr Nicholls.
”Put her about,” he said, ”she'll make less water, then we will try to run for Magadoxa. We know the Pa.r.s.ee merchant there. And the Somalis are civil.”