ON BOARD THE SLAVER
The terror of the two men as this thought dawned upon them in all its
horror was apparent enough, and, in truth, I shared with them a vivid
sense of our desperate situation. Nothing, not even fire was more to
be dreaded than a visitation of this awful nature on shipboard. I had
heard tales to chill the blood, of whole ships' crews stricken and
dying like flies. Yet I dare not hesitate, or permit those under my
command to flee in terror. Charnal ship though this might be, the
danger to us was not so great, if we only remained in the open air,
and used proper precaution in putting the dead overboard. We were in
health, well nourished, and our stay aboard would be a short one. Even
if the schooner was a floating sepulcher, it was safer by far than the
cockleshell towing alongside.
"Let's find out the truth first, men," I said quietly. "Stay here if
you want to while I go aft; only hold your tongues. There is no use
giving up until we know what the danger is. Will you come with me, or
remain where you are?"
The two exchanged glances, and then their eyes ranged along the
unoccupied deck. I confess it was eery enough--the silence, the
desolate vista, the wind-filled sails above, the schooner flying
through the water as though guided by spectral hands, and that single
motionless figure crouched on the grating amidships. It made my own
nerves throb, and caused me to clinch my teeth, Sam turned his head,
his frightened eyes seeking the scuttle leading into the forecastle.
He was more frightened to remain where he was, than accompany me, but
when he endeavored to say so, his lips refused to utter any sound. The
terror in his eyes caused me to laugh, and my own courage came back
with a rush.
"Afraid of dead men, are you? Then we'll face them together, my lads,
and have it over with. Come on, now, both of you. Buckle up; there is
nothing to fear, if you do what I tell you--this isn't the first
cholera ship I've been aboard."
It was no pleasant job confronting us, although we had less dead men
to handle than I anticipated. Indeed we found only five bodies on
board, and as the slaver must have originally carried a large crew, it
was evident the survivors had thrown overboard the corpses of those
who succumbed first, until they also became too weak to perform such
service. There were only two on deck, the fellow crouched on the
grating, a giant, coal black negro, and a gray-bearded white man, his
face pitted with smallpox, lying beside the wheel. Before he fell to
the deck, he had lashed the spokes and still gripped the end of the
rope in his dead hand. Determined on what was to be done, I wasted no
time with either body. The two sailors hung back, so terrorized at the
mere thought of touching these victims of plague, I steeled myself to
the job and handled them alone, dragging the inert bodies across the
deck, and by the exercise of all my strength launching them over the
low rail into the sea. It was indeed a relief to know the deck was
clear, and I ordered Schmitt to cut the lashings and take charge of
the wheel. Sam was shaking like a leaf, his face absolutely green.
"What---what dey die of, sah--cholera?" he asked faintly.
"No doubt of it; but they are safely over the side now. There is
nothing to be frightened about."
"But s'pose we gits it, sah; s'pose we gits it?"
"There is no reason why we should," I contended, speaking loud and
confident, so both could hear. "We are all in good health and in the
open air. See here, you men, stop acting like fools. We will take a
look below, and then have the others on board."
"But Ah's suah feared, sah."
"At what? You are in no more danger than I am. See here, Sam, and you
too, Schmitt, I am in love with that girl in the boat. Do you suppose
I would ever have her come on this deck, if I believed she might
contract cholera? You do as I say, and you are perfectly safe. Now
Schmitt remain at the wheel, and you Sam come with me. There will be a
dead nigger aboard unless you jump when I speak."
He trotted close at my heels as I flung open the door leading into the
cabin. The air seemed fresh enough and I noted two of the ports wide
open. A tall smooth-shaven man, with an ugly scar down one cheek, lay
outstretched on a divan at the foot of the after mast, his very
posture proclaiming him dead. His face was the color of parchment,
wrinkled with age, but I knew him at once as Spanish. A uniform cap
lay beside him, and I stopped just long enough to scan his features.
"Here, Sam, do you know this fellow."
The negro crept up behind me reluctantly enough, and stared at the
upturned face over my shoulder.
"My Gaud, sah, he wus de ol' Captain."
"The one you served under? What was his name?"
"Paradilla, sah; damn his soul!"
"A slaver, I suppose; well, he's run his last cargo of niggers. Let's
look into the rooms."
They were empty, all in disorder, but unoccupied. In what was
evidently the Captain's room I discovered a pricked chart and a
log-book, with no entry in it for three days. Without waiting to
examine these I stowed them away in my pocket and returned to
Paradilla, relieved to learn our labor aft was so light, and eager to
have it over with. Some physical persuasion was necessary to compel
Sam to assist me, but finally he took hold, and between us we forced
the stiffened form of the Captain through the open after port, and
heard it splash into the sea astern. Then I closed the cabin door, and
led the way forward.
To my great relief the hold was empty, although the smell arising
through the partially opened hatch was stifling, the reminder of a
cargo lately discharged. There were two dead seamen in the forecastle,
both swarthy fellows, with long Indian hair. I never saw a dirtier
hole, the filth overpowering, and once satisfied that both men were
beyond help, I was content to lower the scuttle and leave them there.
God! it was a relief to return once more to the open deck and breathe
in the fresh air. Schmitt was holding the schooner close up in the
wind, which, however, was barely heavy enough to keep the sails full.
Yet at that the sharp-nosed craft was making the best of it, leaving a
long wake astern, the waves cresting within a few feet of her rail as
she swept gloriously forward. I leaned over, and hailed the boat,
towing below.
"Come aboard, Watkins," I called sharply. "Pass the lady up first, and
turn the boat adrift."
"What is she, sir?"
"An abandoned slaver. I'll tell you the story later. Come aboard."
"Ay, ay, sir."
I caught Dorothy's hands and aided her over the rail, the schooner
rode steady and she stood still grasping me, her eager eyes on the
deck aft. Then they sought my face questioningly, the seamen beginning
to gather between us and the rail.
"Why was the vessel abandoned?" she asked. "What has happened? Do you
know?"
"Yes; the story is plain enough," I explained, deeming it best to tell
the whole truth. "This is a slaver, the _Santa Marie_, plying between
Cuba and the African coast. Sam, the negro who came aboard with me,
served as cook on board for one voyage. I do not know why they should
be in these waters--driven north by a storm likely--but cholera was
the trouble. The crew are all overboard, or dead."
"Overboard, or dead? You found them dead--the slaves also?"
"No; there were no slaves; the hold was clear. We found a few dead
men, the last of the crew to survive. One man was lying beside the
wheel; he had lashed it to its course before he died; and the Captain
was in the cabin."
"And he was dead?"
"Yes, a tall, lean Spaniard; Sam said his name was Paradilla. We found
five altogether, and flung their bodies over the side except two
sailors in the forecastle."
Her eyes evidenced her horror, her lips barely able to speak.
"They--they died of cholera? All of them? There was no one left alive
on board?"
"Not even a dog. It was a tragedy of the sea, of which we will never
know all the truth. I have the log here in my pocket all written out
until three days ago--perhaps that was when the Captain died. But can
you imagine anything more grim, more horrible, than this schooner,
with all sails set, standing on her course with a dead man at the
wheel?"
"And--and other dead men in cabin and forecastle!" her voice broke and
her hands covered her eyes. "O Geoffry, must we stay aboard? The
thought is terrible; besides, you said it was cholera."
"There is nothing we need fear," I insisted firmly, clasping the
upraised hands and meeting her eyes frankly, "and I rely upon you to
help me control the men. They are sailors filled with superstition,
and will look to us for leadership. Please do not fail me. You have
already passed through too much to be frightened at a shadow. This is
a staunch vessel, provisioned and fit for any sea. We are far safer
here than in the boat; it is as if God had sent us deliverance."
"Yet we face disease--cholera?" "I do not hold that a peril--not to
us, if we use precautions. That is an ever-present sea danger, and I
have read every book treating of the disease. So long as we are well
fed and keep in the fresh air, we are not liable to suffer. The dead
are overboard and every hatch closed. I will have the deck scoured
from end to end. The bedding we need, and the food, is being brought
up from the boat; we shall come in contact with nothing to spread the
disease. You must meet this emergency just as bravely as you have the
others; you will, will you not?"
Her eyes met mine smilingly, resolute.
"If you say so--yes. How can I help you?"
"Tell the men just what I have told you," I said gravely. "They will
pay more heed to what you say, and will be ashamed to show less
courage than you. Do you agree?"
We turned and faced them together, as they formed a little group
against the rail. Their dunnage, together with a few boxes of
provisions, and a couple of water casks, lay scattered about the deck,
and now, their immediate task done, the fellows were sullenly staring
around. Hallin was first to speak.
"Vot vas eet you say 'bout dis sheep? Eet haf cholera--hey?"
Dorothy took a step forward, and confronted them, her cheeks flushed.
"You are sailors," she said, speaking swiftly, "and ought not to be
afraid if a girl isn't. It is true this vessel was ravaged by cholera,
and the crew died; but the bodies have been flung overboard--Captain
Carlyle risked his life to do that, before he asked us aboard. Now
there is no danger, so long as we remain on deck. I have no fear."
The Swede shook his head, grumbling something, but before the revolt
could spread, Watkins broke in.
"An' that's right, miss. I wus on the _Bombay Castle_ when she took
cholera, an' we hed twenty-one days of it beatin' agin head winds off
the Cape. We lost sixteen o' the crew, but not a man among us who
stayed on deck got sick. Anyhow these blokes are goin' ter try their
luck aboard yere, er else swim fer it."
He grinned cheerfully letting slip the end of the painter, the
released quarter-boat gliding gently away astern, the width of water
constantly increasing, the light craft wallowing in the waves.
"Now bullies, jump fer it if yer want ter go. Why don't yer try it
Ole? You are so keen about getting away, you ought not to mind a
little water. So ye prefer to stay along with the rest of us. All
right then, my hearties, let's hunt up something to work with and
scrub this deck. That's the way to clean out cholera."
He led the way and they followed him, grumbling and cursing, but
obedient. I added a word of encouragement, and in a few minutes the
whole gang was busily engaged in clearing up the mess forward, making
use of whatever came to hand, their first fears evidently forgotten in
action. Watkins kept after them like a slave driver.
"That's the style; throw all the litter overboard. Bend your back,
Pierre; now Ole, take hold here. What the hell are you men loafing
for? Now, heave altogether."
I glanced astern, catching a fleeting glimpse beneath the main boom,
of the disappearing quarter-boat, bobbing up and down in the
distance; then my eyes sought the face of the girl. She met my gaze
with a smile.
"They are all right now, are they not?" she asked.
"Yes, as long as they can be kept busy, and I will see to that. Let's
go aft, and get out of this mess. I want to plan our voyage."
It was not difficult finding plenty for the lads to do, making the
neglected schooner shipshape, and adjusting the spread of canvas aloft
to the new course I decided upon. Fortunately we had men enough to
manipulate the sails, real seamen, able to work swiftly. Sam started a
fire in the galley, and prepared a hot meal, singing as he worked, and
before noon I had as cheerful a ship's crew forward as any man could
possibly ask for. The weather kept pleasant, but with a heavy wind
blowing, compelling us to take a reef in the canvas, but the schooner
was an excellent sea boat, and all alike felt the exhilaration of
rapid progress. Dorothy and I glanced over the log, but gained little
information. The vessel had been driven into the northwest by a
succession of storms, and lack of provisions had weakened the crew,
cholera broke out among them the third day at sea, the first victim
being the cabin steward. With no medicine chest aboard and everything
below foul, the disease spread rapidly. Within twenty-four hours
sixteen bodies were thrown overboard and, in their terror, the
remainder of the crew mutinied, and refused to work ship. Both mates
died, and finally only three men were left alive--a negro known as
Juan; the quarter-master, Gabriel Lossier, and the Captain, who was
already lying sick and helpless in the cabin. That was the last entry
barely decipherable.
As the sun reached the meridian I ventured again into the cabin, and
returned with the necessary instruments to determine our position.
With these and the pricked chart, I managed fairly well in determining
our location, and choosing the most direct course toward the coast.
Dorothy watched closely, and when I looked up from the paper, the men
were gathered about the open door of the galley, equally interested. I
ordered Watkins to send them all aft, and, as they ranged up across
the narrow deck, I spread out the chart before them, and explained, as
best I could, our situation, and what I proposed doing. I doubt if
many were able to comprehend, yet some grasped my meaning, bending
over the map and asking questions, pointing to this and that mark with
stubby forefingers. From their muttered remarks I judged their only
anxiety was to get ashore as early as possible, out of this death
ship. Convinced this was also my object, they ventured forward
cheerfully, as I rolled up the chart, and placed it in the flag
locker.
One of the Frenchmen relieved Schmitt at the wheel, and, a little
later, Sam served Dorothy and I on deck. The food was appetizing and
well cooked, and we lingered over it for some time, while Watkins
busied the men forward.