Part 87 (1/2)

”I think I shall get behind you, sir,” said the big sailor, with a chuckle, ”so as he can take the sharp edge off his tongue on you first.”

”Tom May!” whispered the mids.h.i.+pman bitterly. ”How can you laugh at a time like this!”

”I dunno, sir, but I don't mean nothing disrespectful to my officer, sir. I thought a bit of a joke would cheer us up a bit. But it arn't nat'ral like, for I feel as if I could lay my cocoanut up again' a tree and howl like a sick dog as has got his fore foot under a wheel. But it is a muddle, sir, arn't it? What shall we do?”

”I can only think one thing, Tom, and it is horrible. It seems like giving up in despair.”

”Never mind, sir: let's have it, for I want to be doing something.”

”I can think of nothing but waiting till daylight.”

”Can't you, sir? Well, I thought that, but it seemed to me too stoopid.

But I don't know as there isn't some good in it, for we might get them two to lie still and sleep, and that's about all they're fit for. It's orful dark, but that don't matter for the sick bay, and when they wake up again in the morning, perhaps they won't talk silly. You're right, sir; let's put our wounded to bed, and then divide the rest of the night into two watches. I'll take the first, and you take the second watch, which will carry us well on till daylight. What do you say to that, sir?”

”That it is the best thing to be done; only we'll watch together, Tom, and rest.”

”Not you go to sleep, sir?” said Tom dubiously.

”I could not sleep, Tom. We'll talk in whispers about the blacks'

meeting and what they were planning to do.”

”Very well, sir.--What say, Billy? No, no! No answering, my lad.

You'll be telling the n.i.g.g.e.rs where we are. You've got to lie down, for it arn't your watch.--That's the way.--Now, Mr Murray, sir, you let your one down easy. That's the way, sir--close up together. It'll keep 'em right, and p'raps ward off the fever. Now you and I sit down and have our palaver. I should say let's sit on 'em as soon as they're asleep, but I s'pose you wouldn't like to sit on Mr Roberts.”

”Oh no, of course not,” said the mids.h.i.+pman.

”All right, sir; you think it wouldn't be fair to your messmate, but it would, for it would keep him warm. But I shall do as you do, sir; or let's try t'other way.”

”What other way, Tom?”

”Sit up close to one another, back to back; then I warms you and you warms me, and that keeps away the chill. You gets a bit tired after a time and feels ready to droop for'ard on to your nose, but when that comes on you can hook elbers, and that holds you upright.--Now then, sir, how's that? Right? Wait a minute; let's have a listen. Three cheers for well-boxed ears!”

The big sailor sat upright and listened intently for a few minutes, before he whispered--

”I can just hear the beetles crawling about among the dead leaves and things, sir, and seeming to talk to one another in their way, but I can't hear no n.i.g.g.e.rs coming arter us. Strange thing, arn't it, sir, that one set o' blacks should take to capturing another set o' blacks and selling 'em into slavery? Them's a savage lot as that Huggins has got together, and it strikes me as we shall find 'em reg'lar beggars to fight if it's all right as Master See-saw says about their manning his s.h.i.+ps. So far as I could make out he's got schooners manned with white ruffians as well as black blacks, and all as bad as bad can be.”

”Yes, Tom,” said Murray thoughtfully.

”Nice beauties,” continued Tom, ”and so far as I can make out, sir, there was going to be a reg'lar rising to-night, or last night. The plantation n.i.g.g.e.rs had come to the way of thinking that it was time to mutiny and kill off them as had brought 'em here, and so that there Huggins--my word, shouldn't I like to have the job of huggin' him!--got to know of it and brings his schooners' crews to show 'em they was not the sort of chaps to carry out a mutiny of that kind.”

”Poor wretches, no,” said Murray sadly.

”That's right, Mr Murray, sir. Poor wretches it is. You see, sir, they're a different sort o' n.i.g.g.e.r altogether. I got to know somehow from a marchant skipper as traded off the West Coast that there's two sorts o' tribes there, fighting tribes as fights by nature, and tribes as 'tisn't their nature to fight at all. Well, sir, these here first ones makes war upon them as can't fight, carries off all they can as prisoners, and sells 'em to the slave-traders. Then it comes at last to a mutiny like this here we've seen, and the poor wretches, as you calls them, is worse fighters than they was afore, and slaving skippers like Huggins collects their schooners' crews together and drives the black mutineers before 'em like a flock o' Baa, baa, black sheep, kills a lot and frightens a lot more to death, and then things goes on just the same as before.--Comfortable, sir?”

”No, Tom. Are you?”

”No, sir. But that's about how it is, arn't it?”