The Black Bar Part 61

"Eh? Dew yew mean give myself up as a prisoner?"

"Yes, of course, sir."

"Then why didn't yew say so, mister, and not talk in that windy-bag way?"

"Disarm the others, my lads," cried Bob. "Now you sir," he continued to Mark, "give up your sword."

"Shan't."

"What?"

"I'm not going to give it up to yew. Tell 'em to send an orfycer, not one of the s.h.i.+p's boys."

"You insolent hound!"

"If yew call me a hound again, squaire, I'll kinder punch your head,"

said Mark, quietly.

"What!" cried Bob, trying to give his prisoner a shake, but shaking himself instead. "If you dare to say that again, sir, I'll have you clapped in irons. Here, my lads, bring 'em all out, and let's have a look at the hang-dog scoundrels."

"c.o.c.k-a-doodle-do!"

Mark gave a fair imitation of the crowing of a c.o.c.k, and Bob was furious.

"How dare you, sir!" he cried. "Recollect you are prisoner to Her Majesty's s.h.i.+p _Nautilus_."

"Commanded by Bob Howlett, Esquire," said Mark, in his natural tones, "Oh, I say, Bob, how you can bully and bounce!"

Bob's hands dropped to his side, and just then a familiar voice shouted,--

"Where's Mr Howlett?"

"Here, sir," said Bob, dismally.

"Ah, that's right. n.o.body there, I suppose?" The voice was quite close to the door now, and a shadow was cast down into the darkened cabin.

"Oh yes, sir, there's some one down here," said Bob. "We haven't taken the schooner after all."

"What!"

"It's all right, sir," said Mark, stepping out on to the deck to face Mr Staples. "We took the schooner."

"Mr Vandean! Bless me, my dear boy, I am glad to see you again. We thought you were gone. But in the name of all that's horrible, how did you come in this state?"

"State, sir?" said Mark, who had for the moment forgotten his injuries.

"My dear boy, yes; why, you haven't a bit of hair on face or head, and you're black as a negro."

"I'd forgotten, sir. It was the powder."

"Powder! an explosion?"

"Yes, sir; no, sir."

"Mr Vandean," cried the lieutenant, "do you want to aggravate me?"

"No, sir," cried Mark; and he told him hastily what had taken place.

"Lucky for you that you did stop the train," cried the lieutenant; "why, my good sir, it was too desperate; not one of you would have been left alive. But where is Mr Russell?"

"In the cabin, sir, wounded."

"Tut--tut--tut! Signal for the surgeon, Mr Howlett," he cried; and Bob went off, while the lieutenant looked sharply around.

"Where are the rest of your men?"

"Dance and Grote are in the other schooner we took, sir."

"Another? Well, this is a curious state of affairs. You are left in charge of a prize--"

"Yes, sir, and we lost her and took her again, and then captured a second prize. Dance and Grote have charge of her. Haven't you seen her, sir?"

"No--yes. Of course, that is the vessel we sighted just before we attacked here to-day. But the other three men?"

"Don't know, sir, unless they are prisoners in the forecastle."

"Go and see, my lads," cried the lieutenant; and, to the delight of their messmates, the others were set free from where they had been imprisoned.

"Then we are all accounted for," said Mark, holding his hand to his burning face, "But where are the Yankees, sir?"

"Oh, they performed their old manoeuvre," said the lieutenant, bitterly; "as soon as we set off from the _Nautilus_ to board, they took to the boat they had ready trailing alongside, and made for the sh.o.r.e, where I hope the n.i.g.g.e.rs'll catch 'em and turn 'em into slaves. Hah, here comes Mr Whitney! Poor Russell! has he been long like this?"

"Yes, sir; all the time since the Yankees came off in their boat and surprised us."

"Then you--you--Why, Mr Vandean, you don't mean to say you've been in command all the time?"

"Yes, sir," said Mark, modestly. "Fillot has been my first lieutenant."

"Humph! the forecastle joker, eh?" said Mr Staples, grimly.

"No, sir, there has been no joking," said Mark. "It has been too serious for that."

"So I should suppose, my lad. Hah, Whitney, here's work for you. Poor Russell again. Been insensible for days."

"And this lad--burned?" said the doctor, sharply. "Why, Mr Vandean!

why, my dear boy, what a state you're in! Get him under an awning at once. I'll dress your face soon."

Mark was quite ready to walk, but he was carried and laid down under the shelter of a sail, and in a few minutes Mr Russell was laid beside him, and the doctor went down on one knee to make a careful examination.