Part 67 (1/2)
”Them black chaps, sir?” replied the man. ”You mean them as rowed the boat?”
”Yes, or any other ones about the place.”
”No, sir, only them as rowed, sir, and I was wondering where they got to. They seemed to go out, boat and all, like a match. I see 'em one minute, and the next they'd gone in amongst the trees; but where it was I couldn't make out, and when I asked one of my messmates he didn't seem to know neither.”
”Go back to your post, my lad,” said Murray. ”Keep a sharp lookout, and report everything you see.”
”Ay, ay, sir!” said the man, saluting and going back amongst the trees, watched by Murray and May till he disappeared, when their eyes met in a questioning look.
The sailor was the first to speak.
”Yes, sir!” he said. ”Was you saying anything?”
”No, Tom; I thought you were going to speak.”
”No, sir. I was only thinking it seemed precious queer.”
”Yes, it does--queer is the word, Tom. I can't quite make it out.”
”That's what's the matter with me, sir. Seems so lonesome like. Makes me feel as if somebody was dead here, and I was precious glad when you spoke. Something arn't right somehow.”
”The place is lonely because the people have taken fright at our coming and gone off into the forest, I suppose. It is a lonely place, as we found out for ourselves when we had lost our way.”
”Oh, that's it, is it, sir? Well, I'm glad to know it, but somehow that don't seem quite enough for me. I still keep feeling as something's wrong, and as I said sir,--don't laugh at me, sir, 'cause I can't help it. I arn't got a head like you as eggsplains everything for you. I get a bit silly and puzzled like sometimes, and just now it seems to me like a man might feel if some one was dead here.”
As the sailor spoke he pushed his straw hat back from his forehead and wiped the big drops of perspiration away.
”Tom,” said Murray sharply, ”you're about the most superst.i.tious fellow I ever ran against. You're frightened of shadows.”
”Yes, sir, you're right,” whispered the man eagerly, and he glanced sharply about him. ”Shadders--that's it, sir; that's just what I am: things as I can't understand and feel like. I allers was, sir, and fell foul o' myself for it; but then, as I says to myself, I ain't 'fraid o'
nothing else. I'm pretty tidy and comf'table in the wussest o' storms, and I never care much if one's under fire, or them black beggars is chucking their spears at you, because you've got some'at to shoot at again.”
”No, Tom; you're stout enough then.”
”Thankye, sir; I am, arn't I? But at a time like this, when you've got pyson sarpents crawling about over your head, and what's worse, the sort o' feeling comes over you that you're in a place where as we know, sir, no end of them poor n.i.g.g.e.rs as was torn away from their homes has come to a bad end, I'm that sooperst.i.tious, as you call it, that I don't know which end of me's up'ards and which down. I don't like it, Mr Murray, sir, and you may laugh at me, sir, but I'm sure as sure that there's something wrong--some one dead, I believe, and pretty close to us too.”
”Not that Mr Allen, Tom?” said Murray, starting, and in spite of his fair share of common sense, lowering his voice, as for the moment he seemed to share the sailor's fancies.
”Him, sir?” whispered the man. ”Like as not, sir. He looked bad enough to be on his way for the locker.”
”Yes,” agreed Murray; ”he looked bad enough. But pooh! Nonsense!”
”Pooh! Nonsense it is, sir. But mightn't it be as well to go in and see how he is, sir, and ask him 'bout where the black servants is?”
”Wake the poor fellow up from a comfortable sleep just because you have taken a silly notion into your head, Tom? Why, you are going to make me as fanciful as you are yourself!”
”Yes, sir, I wish you was,” said the man. ”I should feel a deal better then.”
”But I don't know, Tom,” said Murray suddenly. ”I don't want to disturb him; still, as he told me to do just as I pleased here, and when I wanted anything to ring for the servants--”