"What zay?" cried Pete sharply. "Never zay die, lad. English lads are
never beat. Look at that!"
He pointed through the trees at where the streamlet widened into the
little creek where they had first landed, and Nic rubbed his eyes,
refusing to believe in what he saw.
But there it was plain enough in the dim, grey dawn--the boat lying tied
up to the post; and a great sob rose to the poor fellow's lips, while
for a few moments he could not stir.
Then a thrill of excitement ran through him as he looked round and saw
that the dogs had passed out of sight beyond the long, low shed which
had been their jail.
It came like a flash to him now what must have taken place--one of those
guesses at the truth which hit the mark. He knew that his enemies had
dashed off in pursuit of the men who had made for the boat.
They must have been overtaken during the night, brought back, and were
doubtless at that moment shut up in their old quarters.
Nic hurriedly told Pete his impression, and the latter slapped his leg.
"That's it," he said, "and zarve 'em right, zir. That's tumbling into
the hole you made for zomebody else, isn't it? That's why they've not
blown the old shell yet and didn't put the boat back. Been out all
night."
"Could we make sure by trying to see whether there is any one on guard
at the barrack-door?"
"Zoon do that, zir," said Pete; and, going down upon hands and knees, he
crawled away among the bushes, to be back in a few minutes.
"Old Zamson and Zerk both there at the door, zir, with guns."
"Then they have caught them," said Nic excitedly. "But the blacks are
both sitting down, fast asleep, zir."
"Worn out with their night's work, Pete; but the prisoners will be well
ironed and safe enough."
"Ay, zir, or they'd have had the boat by now."
"Now then, can we crawl to it under cover? We must be off at once."
"Couldn't on'y crawl half-way, zir, and then it's all open, and we might
be shot at if they zaw us from the house. Better make a dash for it at
once and chance it."
"Come on, then," cried Nic; and they ran as quickly as they could down
by the side of the creek, reached the boat in safety, found that the
poles and oars were in their places, and jumped in.
There was no stopping to untie the rope which ran across the gunwale.
Pete's knife flew out and sawed through it in a moment or two. Then one
vigorous thrust sent the craft into the stream; but before they had
cleared the creek there was a shout, followed by the whiz of a bullet
and the report of a musket.
"All right; fire away. Shouldn't come back if you was a ridgment of
zojers," cried Pete, who was sending the boat along vigorously with the
pole. "Lie down, Master Nic; they're going to shoot again."
"And leave you there?" cried Nic. "No."
Instead of screening himself by the boat's side, Nic seized two oars,
got them over the rowlocks, and as soon as they were in the river he
began to pull with all his might, watching the figure of Saunders
limping slowly down after them and stopping from time to time for a
shot; Samson and Xerxes, wakened by the firing, hurrying up, handing him
a fresh musket, and reloading each time.
"Don't see nothing of the gaffer," said Pete coolly; "he must have been
hurt too, or he'd have been after us. There come the blacks. Hear
that?"
Plainly enough, for the whistle was very shrill, and it was answered by
the dogs, which came tearing round the end of the shed to follow the
overseer.
"Row faster than they can zwim," said Pete, laying down the pole.
"Here, give us one oar, Master Nic," he continued; and, taking his seat,
the oar was handed to him, and, aided by the current, the boat began to
move more swiftly.
"Why, there's the gaffer," cried Pete suddenly; and Nic saw that the
settler was coming down from the house by the help of a stick, while the
dogs stood close by Saunders, barking loudly.
"There must have been a desperate fight in the night, Pete," cried Nic.
"Look, there are two of the blacks with their heads tied up."
"And jolly glad I am, Master Nic. I shouldn't have cried much if they'd
all killed one another and left nothing but the bones. There, put that
gun away, stoopid; you can't hit us at this distance."
The overseer seemed to have thought so too, for he lowered the musket,
and Nic just caught sight of him striking savagely with it at the dogs,
which began to bay and make rushes at him. But Nic saw no more, for a
bend in the river, with a clump of trees thereon, hid the plantation
from their sight; while Pete began to sing an old West-country ditty,
something about a clever moneyless adventurer who, no matter what task
he undertook, always succeeded in getting the best of his adversaries.
The words were absurd and often childish, but there was a ring in the
familiar old melody that went straight to Nic's heart and brought a
strange moisture to his eyes, for it thrilled him with hope, and brought
up memories of the far-away home that he began to feel now he might see
again. And that feeling of hope drove away the horrible dread and the
miserable sensation of weariness, sending vigour through every nerve,
and making him bend to his oar to take a full grip of the water and
swing back at the same moment as Pete, making the river ripple and plash
beneath the bows and driving the boat merrily along, just as if the two
fugitives were moved by the same spirit.
"Zome zaid a penny, but I zaid five poun'.
The wager was laid, but the money not down.
Zinging right fol de ree, fol de riddle
lee
While I am a-zinging I'd five poun' free,"
chanted Pete in a fine, round, musical bass voice, and the trees on one
side echoed it back, while the ungreased rowlocks, as the oars swung to
and fro, seemed to Nic's excited fancy to keep on saying, "Dev-on,
Dev-on, Dev-on," in cheery reiteration.
"Zinging right fol de ree!" cried Pete. "Zay, Master Nic, why don't you
join in chorus? You know that old zong."
"Ay, Pete, I know it," said Nic; "but my heart's too full for singing."
"Nay, not it, lad. Do you good. That's why I began. Mine felt so full
that it was ready to burst out, and if I hadn't begun to zing I should
ha' broken zomething. I zay, Master Nic, get out o' stroke and hit me a
good whack or two with your oar and fisties, right in the back."
"What for?"
"To waken me up. I'm dreaming, I'm afraid, and I'd rather be roused up
than go on in a dream like this. It's zo hearty, you zee, and makes me
feel as if I could go on rowing for a month without getting tired."
"So do I now, Pete."
"Well, that's real, Master Nic. I dunno, though; p'raps it aren't, and
I want it cut short. It would be horrid to wake up and find it all
zleep-hatching; but the longer I go on the worse I shall be. It's
dreaming, aren't it, and we didn't get away?"
"You know it is not a dream, Pete," replied Nic. "We have escaped--I
mean, we have begun to escape."
"Begun, lad? Why, we've half-done it," cried Pete, who was wild with
excitement. "Pull away, and let's zhow 'em what West-country muscles
can do. Pull lad, pull, and keep me at it, or I zhall be getting up and
dancing zailor's hornpipe all over the boat, and without music. Music!
Who wants music? My heart's full of music and zinging of home again,
and I don't know what's come to my eyes. Master Nic, all this river,
and the trees, and fog rising on each zide through the trees, looks zo
beautiful that I must be dreaming. Zay, lad, do tell me I ra-ally am
awake."
"Yes, Pete, awake--wide awake; and I am feeling just the same. My
heart's beating with hope as it never beat before."
"Hooroar for Master Nic's heart!" cried the big fellow wildly. "Beat
away, good old heart, for we're going to do it, and it'll be just as
easy as kissing your hand."
"We mustn't be too sanguine."
"Oh yes, we must, lad. I don't know what being zangwing is, but if it's
anything to do with fancying we shall get away, I zay let's be as
zangwing as we can. None of your getting into the dumps and `shan't do
it' now. We're free, my lad--free; and I should just like to have a cut
at any one as zays we aren't. Zlaves, indeed! White zlaves! But I
knowed it couldn't last. You can't make a zlave of an Englishman,
Master Nic. You may call him one, and put irons on him, or shut him up
like zyder in a cask, and hammer the bung in; but zooner or later he'll
zend the bung out flying, or burst the hoops and scatter the staves. It
was only waiting our chance, and we've got it; and here we are rowing
down this here river in the boat, and they may hoe the old plantation
themselves. Zay, Master Nic."
"Yes, Pete."
"Don't it zeem strange what a differ a black skin makes in a man?"
"What do you mean--in the colour?"
"Nay-ay-ay-ay, lad! I mean 'bout being a zlave. Here's these niggers
brought here and made zlaves of, and they zettles down to it as
happy-go-lucky as can be. They don't zeem to mind. They eat and drink
all they can, and zleep as much as they can, and they do as little work
as they can. Why, I zometimes did three times as much hoeing as one o'
they in a day; and that aren't bragging."
"No, Pete; they took it very easy."
"I should just think they did, my lad; and then the way they'd laugh! I
never zee any one laugh as they could. I s'pose that's what makes their
mouths zo big and their teeth zo white. Gets 'em bleached by opening
their mouths zo wide."
"Look, Pete!" whispered Nic. "Wasn't that something moving on the right
bank?"
"Yes; I zee it, Master Nic. Dunno what it was, but it waren't a man on
the watch. Zay; they aren't got another boat anywhere, have they?"
"Oh no; I feel sure they have not," said Nic sharply.
"Then we're all right. This water's running zwift, and we're making the
boat move pretty fast. They can't zwim half as fast as we're going, and
they've no horses, and the dogs can't smell on the river, even if they
made a raft of the trees they've got cut down yonder."
"It would take them a day, Pete."
"Ay, it would, Master Nic; and going on as we're going, we shall be a
long way on at the end of a day."
"Yes; we shall be some distance towards the mouth. I begin to think,
Pete, that we shall really manage to escape."
"Yes, we've done it this time, Master Nic; and we only want a veal-pie,
a cold zalmon, a couple o' loaves, and a stone bottle o' zyder, to be
'bout as happy as any one could be."
"But do you think we can reach the mouth of the river without being
stopped?"
"Don't zee who's to stop uz, zir," said Pete coolly. "What we've got to
do is to row a steady stroke till we come to a place where we can get
zome'at to eat; and then we'll row right out to zea, and get ourselves
picked up by the first ship we can board. But we zeem to want that
there veal-pie, cold zalmon, two loaves, and the stone bottle."
"Yes, we want provisions, Pete. Are you keeping a good, sharp lookout?"
"I just am, Master Nic. I'm afraid it's taking zome of the bark off
when I look among the trees. But we needn't; nobody can't overtake uz
unless we tie the boat up to a tree on the bank and lie down to go to
zleep."
"And that we shall not even think of doing, Pete."
"That's zo, Master Nic. But by-and-by, when the zun gets hot and you're
a bit tired, we'll get ashore zomewhere to break off a few good leafy
boughs and make a bit of a shelter in the stern of the boat, zo as you
can lie down and have a zleep."
"Or you, Pete."
"When it's my turn, Master Nic. We'll take watch and watch, as the
zailors call it, zo as to keep the boat going till we get aboard a ship.
I zay, how far do you make it to the landing-place where we come aboard
the boat?"
"I can't say, Pete," replied Nic. "I was in such a confused state that
I have lost all count."
"And I aren't much better, zir. You zee, we landed and slept on the
road, and that took up time; but I've allowed us three days and nights
as being plenty to get down to the zea; and that means tying up to the
bank when the river's again' uz--I mean, when we come to where the tide
runs, for we should knock ourzelves up trying to pull this heavy,
lumbering old boat against the stream."
Nic nodded, as he kept on looking anxiously astern; but he said nothing,
and they rowed steadily on.
"Zay, Master Nic," said Pete suddenly.
"Yes."
"Getting hot, aren't it?"
"Terribly."
"Well, I can't zay that, zir, because the zun aren't shining now on a
zlave's back; it's on a free man's, and that makes all the differ. But
what are you thinking about?"
"The possibility of seeing another boat coming round the bend of the
river."
"It's unpossible, zir. The gaffer hadn't got no other boat to come in.
I believe we was the only other planters up the river, and that there'll
be no boat till we come to the places where we stayed of a night, and
it's a zight nearer the zea. I keep on thinking, though, a deal."
"What about--our escaping?"
"Nay. It's very queer, Master Nic, and I s'pose it's because I'm zo
empty."
"Thinking of food, Pete?" said Nic sadly.
"Yes, Master Nic. More I tries not to, more I keeps on 'bout veal-pie,
cold zalmon, and zyder."
"Ah yes, we must contrive to get some provisions after a bit."
They rowed on in silence for some time, with the sun gathering power and
beating down upon their heads, and flashing back from the surface of the
river, till at last Pete said suddenly:
"We must run the boat ashore close to those trees, Master Nic, or we
shall be going queer in the head for want of cover."
"Yes; I feel giddy now, Pete. Do you think we could tie a few leaves
together for hats?"
"You'll zee, my lad," said the man. "I could do it best with rushes,
but I'll work zomething to keep off the zun."
The boat was run in under the shade of a tree whose boughs hung down and
dipped in the running stream; and as Pete laid in his oar he glanced
down over the side and saw fish gliding away, deep down in the
transparent water.
"Zee um, zir?" said Pete.
"Yes; there are some good-sized fish, Pete."
"And either of 'em would make uz a dinner if we'd got a line."
"And bait, Pete."
"Oh, I'll manage a bait, Master Nic. Dessay they'd take a fly, a
beetle, or a berry, or a worm, but I aren't got neither hook nor line.
I'm going to have one, though, zoon, for the way I'm thinking o' cold
zalmon is just horrid. I could eat it raw, or live even, without
waiting for it to be cooked. These aren't zalmon, but they're vish."
Nic said little, for he could think of nothing but the overseer coming
into sight with musket and dogs, and his eyes were constantly directed
up the river.
But Pete took it all more calmly. He had dragged the boat beneath the
shade of the overhanging tree, secured it to one of the boughs with the
remains of the rope, several feet having fortunately been passed through
the ring-bolt to lie loose in the bottom; and while Nic kept watch he
roughed out something in the shape of a couple of basket-like caps, wove
in and out a few leaves, and ended by placing them before his companion.
"They aren't very han'some, Master Nic," he said, "but they'll keep the
zun off. What do you zay now to lying down and having a nap while I
take the watch?"
"No, no," cried Nic excitedly; "let's go on at once."
"I'm ready, Master Nic, but, if you could take both oars, I've been
thinking that I could cut off one sleeve of my shirt, loosen and pull
out the threads, and then twissen 'em up into a sort o' fishing-line,
paying it over with some of the soft pitch here at the bottom of the
boat, so as it would hold together a bit."
"And what about a fish-hook?" asked Nic.
"Ah, that's what bothers me, master. I've been thinking that when we
get on into that great big marsh of a place where the river runs through
the trees we might stop and vish, for there must be plenty there, or
else the 'gators wouldn't be so plentiful. I did zee one big fellow,
close to the top, in the clear water where it looked like wine. I
thought it was a pike as we come up, and I felt as if I should like to
try for him; but how to do it without a hook's more than I can tell.
But we must have zomething to eat, Master Nic, or we shall be starved,
and never get away after all."
"Go on making your line," said Nic thoughtfully. "I'll row."
As Nic took both oars Pete unfastened the piece of rope, and the boat
began to glide along with the stream, while the latter burst into a low
and hearty laugh.
"On'y think o' that now, Master Nic. There's no need for me to spoil my
shirt when there's a vishing-line half-made, and a hook waiting to be
finished."
"Where? What do you mean?" cried Nic excitedly. "Why, here in the
bows, lad. I've on'y got to unlay this piece o' rope--it's nearly new--
and then I can twist up yards o' line."
"But the hook, man--the hook?"
"There it be, Master Nic--the ring in the bolt. I've on'y got to zaw it
through with my knife, bend it to get it out, and then hammer one part
out straight, ready to tie on to the line, and there you are."
"But--"
"Oh, I know; it won't be as good as a cod-hook, because it won't have no
point nor no barb, but I'll tie a big frog or a bit o' zomething on to
it, and if I don't yank a vish out with it afore night I never caught a
zalmon."
Nic winced a little at the word "salmon," but he kept his thoughts to
himself and went on rowing; while Pete set to work with such goodwill
that he soon had plenty of the rope unlaid, and began to plait the
hempen threads into a coarse line, which grew rapidly between his clever
fingers. But many hours had passed, and they were gliding through the
interminable shades of the cypress swamp before he prepared to saw at
the ring.
It was Nic who made the next suggestion.
"Pete," he said quickly, "why not take the head off the pole? It is
very small for a boat-hook, and it is quite bright. There's a hole for
you to fasten the line to, and a big pike-like fish might run at it as
it is drawn through the water."
"Of course it might, lad. Well, that is a good idea. Why waren't I
born clever?"
Pete set to work at once, and after a great deal of hard work he managed
to cut away the wood from the nail-like rivet which held the head on to
the shaft, after which a few blows sufficed to break the iron hook away,
with the cross rivet still in place, ready to serve as a hold for the
newly-made line.
"Wonder whether a vish'll take it, Master Nic," said Pete as he stood up
in the boat. "Now if it was one o' them 'gators I could lash my knife
on to the end of the pole and spear a little un, but I s'pose it
wouldn't be good to eat."
Nic shook his head.
"Might manage one to-morrow, zir, if we don't ketch a vish."
Nic shook his head again.
"I mean, zir, when we're nex' door to starvation-point. Don't feel as
if I could touch one to-day."
"Don't talk about the horrible reptiles, Pete," said Nic, with a
shudder.
"Right, Master Nic, I won't, for horrid they be; and I don't mind
telling you that when I zwimmed across to get this boat I was in such a
fright all the time that I felt all of a zweat. I don't know whether I
was, for it don't zeem nat'ral-like for a man to come all over wet when
he's all wet already; but that's how I felt. There we are, then. I'm
ready, Master Nic, if you'll go on steady, on'y taking a dip now and
then to keep her head straight."
He held up the iron hook, which began to spin round, and he chuckled
aloud.
"I wouldn't be zuch a vool as to throw a thing like that into the water
at home, Master Nic," he said, "for no vish would be zuch a vool as to
run at it; but out here the vish are only zavages, and don't know any
better. That's what I hopes."
Nic began to dip an oar now and then, so as to avoid the rotten stumps,
snags, and half-fallen trees, as the stream carried them on, so that he
had little opportunity for noting the occupants of this dismal swamp;
but Pete's eyes were sharp, and he saw a good deal of the hideous, great
lizard-like creatures lying about on the mud or upon rotten trunks, with
their horny sides glistening in the pencils of light which pierced the
foliage overhead, or made sunny patches where, for the most part, all
was a dim twilight, terribly suggestive of what a man's fate might be if
he overbalanced himself and fell out of the boat.
"I believe them great 'gators are zo hungry," said Pete to himself,
"that they'd rush at one altogether and finish a fellow, bones and all."