The Black Bar Part 28

"Well, it ain't a very strong force, sir, be it?"

"We must wait for daylight, Tom, and I hope by then some of the lads will be able to pull an oar."

"Ay, ay, sir, o' course."

"I'm ready now," said d.i.c.k Bannock, with his voice sounding husky out of the darkness; and there was silence, broken only by a groan or two for a few minutes, during which Mark, feeling the terrible responsibility of his position, tried to make some plan as to his future proceedings, but only to be compelled to come back to the conclusion that there was nothing to be done but wait for morning.

At one moment insane ideas as to the recapture of the schooner came to trouble him, and this brought to mind what ought to have been his first duty as the officer upon whom the command had suddenly fallen.

"Tom Fillot," he cried, excitedly, "go round the boat as carefully as you can, and count the men, ourselves included. We ought to be eleven, ought we not?"

"Let's see, sir. Two orficers is two; six AB's and c.o.xswain seven, and seven and two's nine; and the two nig--blacks, sir; nine and two's 'leven. That's right, sir 'leven."

"Go round then, and count."

"I think they could all answer to their names, sir, now, if I might be so bold."

"Call them over, then."

"Ay, ay, sir. Here goes, then, lads. First orficer, Mr Russell, sir, and you, sir's, two as we needn't count. Joe Dance, answer to your name."

"Ay, ay," came in a growl.

"d.i.c.k Bannock."

"Here."

"Bill Billings."

"What's left on me, mate."

"Sam Grote."

"Here, but ain't got no head."

"Bob Stepney."

"Here; and wish I warn't," came surlily out of the darkness.

"Don't you be sarcy 'fore your orficers, Bob, or there may be a row,"

said Tom Fillot, sharply.

"I can't see no orficers, messmate," said the same voice.

"That'll do, Bob Stepney. That's cheek. Tim Dunning."

"That's me."

"All here, sir, and able to use their tongues. Fisties, too, I dessay."

"The two blacks!" said Mark, quickly, and with a feeling of thankfulness to find matters so far well.

"Ay, ay, sir. Thought I'd give the white uns a chance first," said Tom Fillot. "Now, you two, try and understand plain English. Answer to your names. Soup."

There was no reply.

"Taters."

Still no reply.

"Not here?" said Mark, anxiously.

"Don't sabbee, p'raps, sir. I'll try again."

"Taters."

No answer.

"Soup."

No reply.

"Soup and Taters."

"Aren't aboard," growled several voices in chorus. "I'm 'fraid the Soup and Taters is done, sir," said Tom Fillot in a low voice.

"Oh, man, man, how can you try to joke at a time like this!" cried Mark, angrily.

"'Tarn't no joke, sir," cried Tom Fillot. "I'm sorry as you are, for they were getting to be two good messmates. They'd on'y got minds like a couple o' boys, but the way in which they took to their chew o' 'baccy was wonderful to behold."

"The men must have overlooked them," cried Mark. "They were below asleep."

"Nay, sir, they didn't care to go below. They was both asleep curled up forrard under the bulwarks. They'd had so much being below, that they s.h.i.+ed at going down a hatchway."

"Then what do you think about them, Tom?" cried Mark, excitedly.

There was no reply.

"Why don't you answer, man?"

"Didn't like to tell you, sir," said Tom Fillot, quietly.

"Tell me what you are thinking at once."

"Well, sir, I thinks same as my mates do here. Them piratical sharks o'

slavers didn't dare to be too hard on us because they knowed if they was ketched arterwards it meant a bit o' hemp round the neck, and a dance on nothing at all in the air; but when it comes to blacks, they're no more account to them than blackberries as grows on brambles. Strikes me they give them poor chaps a crack o' the head apiece, and knocked 'em down, same as they did we, but they wouldn't take the trouble to carry them and pitch them into a boat. They just chucked them overboard at once."

"Oh, impossible!" cried Mark, excitedly. "They could not be such brutes."