Confused and still half-steeped in sleep, Mark blundered about for a few
moments before he reached the door, and was then thrown back, for the
schooner heeled over, and then there was a tremendous bump, which made
her shiver.
"Mr Vandean, sir, quick! All hands on deck!" came in familiar tones,
as the lad struggled to the door once more, and then up through the
hatchway, to find the schooner on her beam ends rushing through the
water, which was foaming around them. Then a wave once more struck her,
deluging the deck, and making her shiver as she rose again upon an even
keel.
"Where are you, Tom Fillot?" shouted the midshipman.
"Here, sir. Wheel," came back; and the next minute he was beside Tom
Fillot and Joe Dance, who were trying to steady the vessel as she rode
on through the surf.
"Where are we?" shouted Mark, his voice sounding pitifully small amidst
the roar of the waves.
"Ashore, 'mong the breakers," cried Tom with a groan. "But I think
we're 'most through 'em, sir."
Just then, dimly-seen by its white crest, a huge billow rose up before
them, as if to crush the little vessel into matchwood, but she lifted
and passed right over it, and then over another and another, for there
was a brisk breeze from off the shore; and after a few minutes of
terrible peril the beautifully built vessel glided into smooth water,
rapidly leaving the roaring surf behind, though the rollers extended far
enough out, and the schooner rose and fell as she sailed away north-west
at a rapid rate.
Not another word had been spoken, though all the men were on deck
clinging to the bulwarks, and in the full expectation that the vessel
would go to pieces next time she struck; but, now that the peril was
past, Dick Bannock was sent below to report on the water, while the rest
rapidly rigged the pump ready for use.
To their great relief, though, the young sailor came on deck to declare
the schooner dry as a bone; and now to hide his own self-reproach, Mark
turned to the men for an explanation.
"I had no business to go below," he said to himself; land then aloud,
"How was this, Fillot? Who was at the wheel?"
"Me, sir," said the cutter's coxswain. "Me it were, and I don't want no
one else to be blamed. Tom Fillot was forrard seeing to the watch, and
that them blacks was--them blacks was--them blacks was--"
"Well, what?" cried Mark, angrily. "What do you mean, man?"
"Dunno, sir--dunno, I'm sure," said the coxswain, humbly. "It's my head
won't go proper, sir. I was standing there by the wheel one minute,
sending her along right enough, and the next minute was--was--was--was
ashore with the breakers all around."
"Why, you went to sleep!" roared Mark. "_You_! in charge of the wheel,
went to sleep!"
"Nay, sir. I never went to sleep. I was steering, and them blacks
was--them blacks was--them blacks was--say, Tom Fillot, what was that
along o' them blacks?"
"Oh, they're all right, messmate," growled Tom Fillot. "Fact is, sir,
he ain't quite right about his main truck yet, and I oughtn't to ha' let
him take his trick at the wheel."
"I ought not, you mean, Tom," said Mark, bitterly. "I had no business
to go below."
"Nay, don't say that, sir, 'cause it was your dooty to. Fact is, sir,
we was all so knocked about in the upper works that there ain't a man on
us good for much; and you see poor old Joe Dance's got it bad next to
Mr Russell, sir, only we thought him so much better."
"Yes, I'm better," said the coxswain. "All right again, mate, but I
can't get over it about them blacks. What was it as--"
"Here, what are you doing with that there wheel?" cried Tom Fillot,
rushing at the man, and thrusting him aside. For Dance had suddenly
grown excited, and was turning the spokes first in one direction and
then in another in a most reckless way, while as he was thrust off, he
staggered for a few steps, and then sat down on the wet deck to hold his
head with both hands and rock it to and fro.
"Want to send us ashore among the breakers again?" growled Fillot.
"Nay, my lad, nay. There's something wrong in my head, and it wants
fishing or splicing, sir. It won't go. Them blacks has got in it
somehow, and I can't get 'em out."
"Go below and lie down, Dance," said Mark, gently. "You'll be better
after a good long sleep."
"Sleep, sir? No, I can't sleep. Who's to take my trick at the wheel?
Point or two more, sir; and, Tom Fillot lad, what was it about them
blacks?"
"Help him down below," said Mark, and two of the men lifted the poor
fellow to his feet and then helped him down to the place prepared for
the crew close to the skipper's cabin.
"He'll come round again, sir," said Tom from the wheel. "Spoke or two
loose in his steering gear, that's all. Lucky I got to him in time, or
we should have been ashore hard and fast."
"Was that on a sandbank we struck?" said Mark.
"Yes, sir, twice over; and if the masts had gone it would have been all
over with us. But plenty of sail on and a nice breeze helped us to
scrape off, though my heart was in my mouth all the time."
"The schooner must be wonderfully well-built, Tom."
"Well-built and ill built, sir. First as to timbers, second as to use,
sir. Why, some of our merchant craft would have been shook to pieces
like one o' them card houses as we used to build when we was little
ones."
That morning, as they were sailing on over the calm waters, rising and
falling slowly to the gentle Atlantic swell, it seemed hard to believe
that they had been so near wreck only a few hours before. But Mark had
only to turn his eyes eastward to where the great billows broke upon the
shore, making a chaos of foaming, tumbling waters, to be convinced of
the danger they had escaped.
The blacks soon forgot the scare, and lay basking about on deck
perfectly happy, and ready to smile at the crew; and, saving a few cuts
and bruises, which did not show, apparently very little the worse for
their encounters. The swellings, too, on board the prize crew, to use
Tom Fillot's way of expressing it, had diminished rapidly. A little too
rapidly, Tom said.
"You see if we've got no marks to show the officers and men, they won't
believe we've been in so much trouble, sir. My heye! wouldn't the
skipper have given it to you, Mr Vandean, if you'd took us back without
this craft."
Mark had plenty of anxieties to cope with. So long as the weather kept
fine, he had no great difficulty about the navigation. There was the
low-lying shore, two or three miles on their starboard bow, and as far
as was possible this distance was kept to. Provision on board was
ample; the water-casks had been well filled, and even if the store of
this prime necessity had failed there would have been no great
difficulty in running up one or other of the rivers for a fresh supply.
As to the blacks, the hours glided on, and there was very little to
disturb Mark's confidence. The two sailors--Soup and Taters--paraded
the deck forward with a great show of authority, to which their
unclothed fellow-countrymen submitted with a very excellent grace; and
it was evident that there was nothing to fear from them.
"They're rum sort of beggars, sir," Tom said.
"Why, Tom?"
"Well, sir, I ain't good at explaining what I mean, but it seems to me
like this:--Give them enough to eat and drink, and plenty of sunshine to
lie about in, that's about all they want."
"Yes, Tom, they're soon satisfied."
"That's so, sir, and they don't seem to have no memories. You'd think
they'd all be fretting to get away ashore, and back home; but look at
'em: they don't, and it seems to me that they're not troubling
themselves much about to-morrow or next day neither."
The young sailor appeared to be quite right, for hour by hour as the
horrors of the slaver's hold grew more remote, the little crowd of
blacks forward appeared to be more cheerful.
Mark's great trouble was the state of Mr Russell, who still lay calmly
enough either below in the Yankee skipper's cot, or under an awning the
sailors had rigged up on the deck. He ate and drank mechanically, but
made not the slightest sign when spoken to, and for his sake Mark kept
every stitch of sail on that the schooner could bear, so as to reach
medical assistance as soon as possible.
Dance was decidedly better, but subject to fits of absence; and on these
occasions Tom Fillot said he was mad as a hatter.
But in spite of the anxieties and the terrible feeling of
responsibility, Mark found something very delightful in being the
captain for the time being of the smart schooner which sailed swiftly
along at the slightest breath of wind. There was the hot, hazy shore on
his right, and the glistening sea on his left, an ample crew which he
could recruit if he liked from the blacks, and all ready to obey his
slightest order with the greatest alacrity. He felt at times as if he
would be glad to sight the _Nautilus_, and so be relieved of all his
cares; but, on the other hand, he could not help feeling that he would
be sorry to give up and return to the midshipman's berth.
"I wish, though, that Bob Howlett was here," he said to himself, as he
longed for a companion of his own age and position.
"I don't know, though," he said, directly after. "If Bob were here, he
would not like to knuckle under and play second fiddle. Well, I
shouldn't either. Perhaps it's best is it is, I'm captain, and can do
as I like, only it isn't always nice to do as one likes, and I often
feel as if it would be much nicer to have some one to order me."
But there was no one to order him, and with the whole responsibility
upon his shoulders, he for the first time in his life began to realise
what it meant to be the captain of a ship, answerable for everything
thereon.