King o' the Beach Part 41

"No brok.u.m," said Jack.u.m, turning sharply to Carey and catching at the boy's wrist. "Feelum."

Carey felt the injured head gently, and was not a bit the wiser, save that he could not feel the movement of fractured bones, so he nodded back to Jack.u.m and repeated the black's words.

"No brok.u.m," he said, and the black laughed, caught hold of Bostock's loose neckerchief, slipped it off, and tied it round the injured place, laughing and nodding as he turned the old sailor round and pointed out the bandage to Carey. "Big Dan hit um," he said.

"That's right, sonny," cried Bostock, laughing. "I say. Big Dan, drink.u.m, drink.u.m," and he made a pantomimic gesture with his hand as if tossing off a dram.

Black Jack.u.m gave a sharp glance aft to make sure that his white chief was not on deck, and then, grinning with delight, he imitated Bostock's action with his doubled hand as if drinking.

"Rum--rum," he said, and then, with a wonderful display of the imitative faculty, he went through a clever pantomime, turning his black face into a grotesque copy of Mallam's, as he made believe to pour rum out of a bottle, drinking again and again, smiling in an imbecile manner at first, and then beginning to grow fierce, while his companions squatted on the deck, nodding and enjoying the performance.

In a few seconds Jack.u.m's countenance changed, his eyes began to roll, his face seemed puffed out, and a brutally savage look came over it. He growled like a wild beast, turned on his black companion suddenly, and kicked him over, ending by jumping on him softly, to the black fellow's great delight. Then he seemed to run _amok_ among a number of imaginary people, pulling out his boomerang, pretending to c.o.c.k it, and shooting in all directions, ending by making a furious rush at Bostock, making believe to drag him to the hatchway, where he took out his club, struck one tremendous blow and clapped down the trap-door. Then he took up a bottle and gla.s.s from where they did not stand on the deck, drank two gla.s.ses and, after pretending to drain the bottle, threw it overboard, and, with his eyes half shut and a horribly brutal look, went slowly to the side, settled himself down, and went to sleep.

The whole performance did not take a minute, and then he was back beside Carey.

"Big Dan," he whispered, with his eyes twinkling with the same delight which infused his companion, who rolled on the deck in the excess of his mirth.

"Yes, that's it," said Carey, impatiently. "Big Dan. Drink. Bad.

Now, Jack.u.m, look here."

"Look?" said the black. "What look?"

"Listen, then. Find doctor."

"Find doctor. Where doctor?"

"Yes," said Carey.

Jack.u.m turned to his companion and asked him, but it was evident that the man knew nothing, and Jack.u.m stood for a moment or two thinking.

"Doc-tor," he said at last, making a significant gesture downward.

"Sleep um," and he shut his eyes and laid his face upon his hand.

"No," said Carey.

"Jack.u.m go see."

He started to run aft, and Carey and the other two followed, the black fellows, who were busy picking and cleaning the game they had brought back, paying no heed.

As they reached the cabin entry Carey anxiously caught Jack.u.m's arm.

"Mind," he whispered, pointing downward. "Big Dan. Shoot, shoot!"

The black nodded, and dropped upon his face, to crawl up and cautiously thrust his head inside and listen, drawing it back again directly, shutting his eyes, puffing out his face and uttering a low deep snore.

The next moment he was in again, crawling like a huge black slug head first down the stairs, till they saw only the soles of his feet, and then they disappeared, the other looking on grinning as he squatted down.

"It's not snoring, Bob," whispered Carey. "There is something terrible below. I think the doctor is dead, after wounding Mallam badly."

"Oh, don't say that, my lad; but hullo! what's wrong with your chesty?

You keep putting your hand there."

"I don't think it's much," said the boy. "Never mind now. It hurts badly now and then. Mallam shot at me."

_Bang_!

There was a sharp report, a rush, and quite in a little cloud of smoke Jack.u.m bounded out on the deck, whipped his club out from where it was stuck in his girdle behind, and made several vicious blows at nothing in the direction of the cabin stairs, his teeth bared, and a savage look of rage in his eyes.

Then, clapping his left hand to his ear, which was bleeding, he whispered:

"Big Dan shoot."

He turned to his fellow, who examined the wounded ear, the lobe of which was split. Then the injury was pinched together for a few moments, a little gra.s.s bag was produced from somewhere, and a pinch of clay-dust applied to the wound.

This done, Jack.u.m grinned again.

"Big Dan there," he whispered.

"But the doctor?" whispered Carey, excitedly.

"Jack.u.m find," was the confident reply, and with a quick nod he bounded to one of the open saloon skylights, lay down, and edged himself through the slit, let his body go down, hung by his hands a moment or two, and let go, dropping into the saloon without a sound.

Carey and Bostock stood listening for some minutes, but there was no sign made, and though the boy lay down on the deck with his ear close to the opening he could hear nothing; and at last he rose and made for the cabin entrance, to kneel down and listen there to the low, deep groans uttered from time to time.

It was horrible, and in spite of the pain he was in Carey was ready to risk everything and rush down to put an end to his suspense.

Just when this was unendurable he felt a light touch upon his shoulder, and turned to find the second black pointing upward to the quarter-deck.

Carey went up at once, and found that Jack.u.m was just squeezing himself edgewise beneath the hinged opening of the saloon skylight.

He grinned with satisfaction.

"Find doc-tor," he said, fumbling in his girdle. "Big Dan shoot-- shoot."

"Not killed--mumkull?" whispered Carey, in a voice full of the anguish he felt.

"No, no, no. Baal mumkull. Big Dan shoot. Doctor broke."

"Where, his head?" said the boy, with a sigh of relief, as he touched his own.

"Baal head. Leggum," said the black, touching his thigh; and then from out of one tightly clasped hand he took a roughly doubled-up piece of paper, holding it out to the boy with a peculiar look of awe in his countenance.

"Ah!" cried Carey, joyfully, as he s.n.a.t.c.hed at the paper, a leaf evidently torn out of a little pocket-book. "Here, Bob," he said, with his voice trembling, as he opened out the sc.r.a.p to display a few words hastily pencilled in straggling characters, and he read:

"Thank Heaven you are alive. That ruffian fired at me, and the shot divided an artery. I am too weak to stir. Take care. He is somehow injured and lying at the bottom of the cabin stairs groaning. I am dreadfully weak and faint, but I managed to stop the bleeding."

"Three cheers for that," said Bostock, softly. "This is bad noos, Master Carey, but there's a deal o' good in it, though; now, aren't there?"