"Aren't you a bit hard on me, Master Nic?" said Pete, busy at his task
in the plantation of hoeing the weeds, which seemed to take root and
begin to grow again directly they were cut down.
He did not look up, but spoke with his head bent over his work,
conscious as he was that they might be keenly watched.
"I have said nothing harsh to you," said Nic coldly.
"No, zir; but I thought that when you got a bit better, zeeing as we're
both in the zame trouble, working together like them niggers, you might
ha' got a bit more friendly."
"Friendly!" said Nic bitterly.
"I don't mean reg'lar friendly, but ready to say a word to a man now and
then, seeing how he wants to help you."
"You can't help me," said Nic sadly. "I seem to be tied down to this
weary life for always, and for no fault of mine--no fault of mine."
"And it's no fault o' mine, Master Nic. You don't believe it, but I
couldn't help coming that night; and I did try all I could to keep Humpy
Dee from hurtin' you."
"Don't talk about it, please."
"No, zur, I won't; but you're hot and tired. You haven't got your
strength up yet, though you are a zight better. Wish I could do all the
work for you. Here, I know."
They were hoeing a couple of rows of corn, and Pete was some feet ahead
of his companion, who looked at him wonderingly, as, after a quick
glance round, he stepped across and back to where Nic was toiling.
"Quick," he said, "you get on to my row and keep moving your hoe and
resting till I ketch up."
"But--" began Nic.
"Quick," growled Pete fiercely; and he gave the lagger a sharp thrust
with his elbow. "If they zee us talking and moving, old Zaunders'll
come across."
That meant a fierce bullying, as Nic knew, and he hesitated no longer,
but stepped into Pete's row.
"I don't like this; it is too full of deceit," said Nic. "You will be
blamed for not doing more work."
"Nay; I shan't," replied Pete, "because I shall work harder. We're
a-going to do it this way; they won't notice it, and if I keep pulling
you up a bit level with me it'll make your work easier."
"But I have no right to let you."
"'Taren't nought to do wi' you; it's for the zake of the old country.
When you get stronger and more used to the hoeing you'll do more than I
can, p'raps, and help me."
For the prisoners had been compelled to settle down at the plantation;
and men who had never been used to regular hard toil, but had lived by
fishing and salmon-spearing, and any odd task which offered, now slaved
away among the sugar-canes or the Indian-corn, the rice cultivation
being allotted to the blacks.
The settler had kept his word as to the behaviour to his white servants,
treating them with what he considered stern justice; but every effort
Nic had made to obtain a hearing failed, the last producing threats
which roused the young man's pride, and determined him to fight out the
cruel battle as fate seemed to have ordained.
Three months had passed since the boat reached the place that night, and
there had been little to chronicle, for the prisoners' life had been
most monotonous, embraced as it was in rising early, toiling in the
plantation in the hot sunshine all the day, with the regular halts for
meals, and the barn-like shed at night, with the men's roughly-made
bunks, a blanket, and a bag of husks of Indian-corn.
The life suited Nic, though, for after the first fortnight he rapidly
began to gain strength, and soon after he was sent out with the rest of
the men.
There had been no open trouble; the prisoners shared the same building,
and their meals were served out to them together; but there was a
complete division between them which was kept up whenever possible; and
one day out in the field Pete began about it to Nic, who took no heed of
either party.
"Zee Humpy Dee look at me, Master Nic?" said Pete.
"Yes."
"Know why, don't you?"
"No."
"You do: I telled you. He zays, as you heered, that I set the zailors
on 'em to get 'em brought out here."
Nic said nothing.
"He means to kill me one o' these days. He'll hit me on the head, or
pitch me into the river, or zomething; and the others won't interfere."
Nic looked up at the speaker quickly.
"Comes hard on me," continued Pete. "I never done nothing, and they
keeps me off, and don't speak; and you don't, Master Nic, zo I zeem all
alone like. It makes me feel zometimes as if I must make mates o' the
blacks, but I s'pose they wouldn't care for me. Wish I'd got drowned."
Nic raised his head to look in the man's face; but the old trouble
rankled in his breast. His heart would not go out to him,
fellow-sufferers though they were.
It was so several times over, Pete trying hard to show what goodwill he
could under their painful circumstances; but it was not until that day
out in the corn-rows, when Pete helped him with his work at a time when
the heat was trying his barely-recovered strength, that Nic felt that
perhaps there was some truth in the man's story. At any rate, he was
showing himself repentant if guilty, and the prisoner recalled how Pete
had nursed him and without doubt had saved his life.
Pete went on hoeing till he had worked level with Nic, and then he
worked harder to get as far ahead as he could before slipping back to
his own row, for Nic to return to his with once more a good start, and a
feeling of gratitude for his companion's kindness, which softened his
voice next time he spoke, and delighted Pete, who began talking at once.
"Know where they keep the boat, Master Nic?" he said, as they worked
away.
"No. Do you?"
A few hours earlier Nic would have said, "No," and nothing more.
"Think I do," said Pete, brightening up. "I mean to get it out of the
niggers zomehow. We never zee it go after they've been out in it. They
tie it up at night, and next morning it's always gone."
"Yes," said Nic; "I have noticed that."
"It's that Zamson and old Xerxes who take it away zomewhere in the
night, and walk or zwim back."
"Very likely, Pete."
"Yes, Master Nic; that's it; but keep on hoeing. I've laid awake nights
thinking about it, for we must have that boat. I don't mean Humpy Dee
and his lot when I zay `we,' because you will go off wi' me if I zee a
chance?"
"I--I think not, Pete."
"Master Nic!"
"Well, yes, then; I will."
"Hab, my lad; you zeem to ha' put life into a man. There's zummat to
live for now. I've thought and thought till I've felt zick; but that's
the on'y way. I could risk running for it; but there's the dogs--the
dogs--Pst! look out!"
The warning was needed, for there were steps coming in their direction,
and directly after the overseer strode up.
"I thought so," he said; "I've had my eye on you--you scoundrel! Every
now and then your hoe has stopped, and I could tell from your manner
that you were talking, and wasting your time. Here are you a good six
feet behind this weak young fellow. Get on, and catch up to him."
Nic felt stunned, and he turned to speak and exculpate his fellow-slave;
but there was such an agonised, imploring look in Pete's eyes that he
was silent, and felt compelled to join in the little deception.
"Yes," said the overseer, "a good six feet behind you, my lad, when it
ought to be the other way on. Get on, you, sir, get on."
"Yes, zur; zoon pull up, zur."
"Zur and zoon!" cried the overseer. "Bah! what a savage burr you have."
He went on, followed by one of the two dogs which accompanied him, the
other hanging back to look up at Nic with its tail wagging slowly, till
its absence was noticed and a shrill whistle rang out, which fetched it
along with a rush, doubtless caused by recollections of the whip.
"Oh, Pete!" whispered Nic reproachfully.
"It's all right, lad," said the man, laughing merrily. "What a game it
was. I didn't mind a bit."
"I did."
"Then don't, Master Nic, zur. I can't have you wear yourself out.
We've got to 'scape, my lad, and the boat's the thing; but if you could
get t'other two dogs as friendly as that one, we'd make for the woods.
But anyhow, you've got to grow as strong as me; we can't do nothing
without. Master Nic--"
"Yes."
"If it was the last words I'd got to zay, I did fight for you that
night, and it waren't my fault you was took."
"I begin to believe it now, Pete," was the reply.
"Do, zur: do try hard. I aren't a bragger, Master Nic, but it's just
truth what I zay. I want to get you back again to the old country; and
I can't think o' nought else night or day. If I can get you off, and
come with you, o' course I should like; but if I can't, and I can get
you off--there, I'll lie down and die to do it, lad. But look here, we
must only trust ourselves. If the other lot, who are making some plan
of their own, knew it, they'd tell upon us and spoil us. Master Nic,
can't you believe in me!"
Nic was silent for a few moments as he turned to look in the man's eyes.
"Yes," he said at last; "I do believe in you."
"And you'll trust me, zur?"