I DECIDE TO LEAVE THE BARQUE
I was allowed to go forward, followed by Tim, who gave me a queer look
as he passed.
“What did you do it for?” I asked, when we were out of hearing.
But Tim only looked sullen and said nothing.
“I have half a notion to report you,” I said, angrily.
“Call away the shore boat!” came Hawkson’s hail, and, before we had a
chance to say anything more, we were hustled into her by Mr. Gull, while
the negro crew in Mr. Curtis’s gig dropped to the gangway.
Henry came in our boat, with orders to collect his men and bring them
aboard, and we had just time to see the trader and his daughter embark
with Mr. Curtis, followed by the jests of the gentlemen aboard who
handed the young lady down the ladder. I felt very grateful to Miss
Allen, and, as her laughter fell upon our ears, Henry turned and gazed
astern.
“If I know the governor, there’ll be trouble yet,” said he. “That Yankee
ain’t too well liked.”
As we drew near the landing, we noticed a crowd gathering, and an
official-looking person in a peculiar uniform or livery came to meet us.
“I have a message for your captain,” said he.
“Is it official?” asked Henry.
“It is, and both imperative and immediate,” said the man.
“I suppose, then, you want to deliver it?” asked Henry.
“Your discernment does you great credit,” said the man.
“Why! Wh-o-o-a! Say not so,” said Henry, with impressive gravity. “In a
hurry, eh?”
“I am, and it’ll be the worse for you if you delay me any longer.”
“Now hark at that man!” cried Henry, as his little eyes glittered.
“Delay him! Here I am a-goin’ right along about my business, an’ here
this chap comes up sayin’ I delay him. I’ll see the gove’nor about this.
Come along, bullies,” and he sprang ashore, ordering us to follow.
“It’s the governor who will see you, you fellow,” said the man.
“An’ him a-callin’ me names,” cried Henry. Then in a lower tone, as we
drew away: “Hi reckon ’is ’ighness’ll get along without us. We’ll want
to hustle that crew aboard ’fore there’s trouble.”
This seemed harder to me than it did to the third mate, and I smiled as
I thought of Jones, Martin, and the fighting Doctor. We quickly left the
vicinity of the landing, and hurried through the darkening streets in
the direction of the den kept by the truculent Thunderbore.
They were not there, and we hurried on in the direction the big conch
told us they had taken, Henry apparently confident that we would have
them in hand shortly.
As the darkness fell, and objects could not be distinguished, the desire
to desert the barque took strong hold of me. Her mission was apparent
now, and I determined to make a dash for liberty at the first
opportunity. Tim’s peculiar behaviour troubled me, and I was somewhat
backward in taking him into my confidence. However, when we struck into
an extremely dark street, I thought his knowledge of the town would be
of use, and I whispered my intention of clearing. The next instant we
were plunging into the darkness, while Henry’s voice bawled forth, dying
away in the distance:
“Come back, ye blazin’ fools! Come back!”
We ran wildly up the street until it ended in a thick thorn hedge, into
which I foolishly plunged, getting badly scratched for my pains. The
impetus of the run sent me through and into a ditch beyond, followed by
Tim, who plunged through the opening my body had made. He landed heavily
upon me, knocking the breath out of my body, and for awhile I lay there
unable to rise. Then Mr. Henry’s voice, cursing a couple of fools,
sounded unpleasantly near, and I started up, resolved to make a fight if
necessary.
The little mate, however, refused to seize us, even though he could
easily have done so, as he reached the bank of the ditch before we could
get clear. He tried to argue the question, preferring words to blows in
the darkness, doubtless fearing the knife in such an encounter.
“What’s the meanin’ of it, anyways?” he asked. “What yer runnin’ fer?”
“Go on, Henry,” said I. “Go get the men, but don’t try to get me back
aboard the slaver, or there’ll be trouble.”
“Well, where ye a-goin’? What’s the sense o’ playin’ the fool when you
have to be a man, anyways. I ain’t goin’ to te’ch you, but I’ll say
right here you’ll probably get irons for tryin’ this fool trick.”
“When I’m aboard, we’ll discuss the irons. Now stand clear, or there’ll
be trouble.”
Tim and I started across the clearing, heading for a light we saw in the
distance. Henry declined to follow, and we left him swearing at our
stupidity. Going on, we came to a pathway which led toward the house,
and we had hardly struck into it when there was a rush of feet on the
coral, followed by a deep growling.
“Keep clear of the houses. Cut for the cover back of the town,” said
Tim, hoarsely.
As I sheered off, a huge animal sprang upon me and knocked me down,
fastening its teeth in my neck and shoulder. I heard Tim cry out,
“Bloodhound,” and then he flung himself upon the beast, while I tried my
best to pull out my knife and get the animal in front of me.
The dog let out a deep, baying cry as Tim struck, and this was answered
by several animals near the house. I soon had my knife at work, and, in
spite of a lacerated shoulder, plunged it again and again into the
ferocious brute. Then he relaxed his hold, and I stood up. A lantern
flashed in the path, and, before we could run, forms of men showed close
to us.
“Who is it? What’s the matter?” said a strong voice I recognized as
Yankee Dan’s. Behind him were Mr. Curtis, Miss Allen, and the two
stalwart conchs who accompanied them from the landing.
It was now or never. The dog was evidently done for, and we must run for
it.
“Come on,” I said to Tim, and away we went.
“Halt!” came the deep voice of the trader. “Halt, or I’ll fire!”
“It’s the sailors; don’t!” cried Miss Allen.
We were going pretty fast, and must have been out of sight in a few
minutes. Perhaps the trader did not wish to hit us. At all events, his
shot whistled past, and we were soon out of range. Had he known the loss
of his dog, he might have taken better aim.
We were soon in the thick tropical jungle, and, as it was almost
impenetrable, we were forced to halt. We waited a few minutes to try and
get our bearings, and then worked out into the open again, keeping away
from all lights. In this way we blundered along for an hour or two, Tim
swearing noisily at the darkness and obstacles that came in our path.
“It’s all foolishness, anyhow, for you to clear here,” said he. “They’ve
hounds that’ll catch us in half an hour, and there’s no way to leave
this island, without going to sea, before they hunt for us.”
“Well, show me a boat,” said I, angrily. “Anything that’ll carry a sail
across the Florida channel will do, and, if you think I’ll mind stealing
it, you know mighty little how I want to clear. I’ll face the savages of
the Florida peninsula before going with that gang of nigger hunters.”
We skirted the town, and finally came out on the shore near the harbour
entrance. Here we could find some kind of craft, for there were numerous
spongers and fishermen in the town.
Tim finally brought up on the beach and tried to get his bearings. There
was nothing in sight that looked like a sailing craft, except a dim
shadow out in the harbour which gave promise of being an able sloop, for
the tapering line that went skyward seemed to describe a tall mast. We
cast about to find some means of getting aboard without swimming, for
the water looked black and forbidding, and the phosphorus flared weirdly
in places, and gave rise to a belief in the presence of that ugly fish,
the shark of the Bahama bank.
While we skirted the fringe of rippling waves, which flamed and sparkled
as they rolled upon the beach, we heard the deep-mouthed baying of
hounds.
“My God! I told you so,” said Tim.
“They’re a long way off yet,” I answered, surlily.
“A sailor ain’t much at running, ye know, an’ we haven’t all night to
clear,” he answered.
“Well, you’ve forgotten your gait mighty sudden, then,” said I. “How
about this morning?”
But Tim had struck into a quick trot, and I followed, for the deep,
musical cry of those dogs was anything but nerve-steadying, sounding as
it did through the darkness, when not a tree or house showed us a place
of refuge. It was take to either a tree or water, and, as there were no
trees, I made ready for a swim, willing to trust the hidden monsters
below the surface rather than those of dry land.
After running for a few minutes toward the town, the cry of the hounds
sounded louder. They were evidently upon our trail, and it would be but
a few minutes before they would close with us, and then capture would be
certain. It might be well if we were captured before the brutes seized
us, for, judging from the size of the one we had killed, they would make
things pretty hot if it came to a fight.
“Into the water!” panted Tim.
We struck into the edge of the surf, splashing through the water where
it was but a few inches deep, hoping thus to put the dogs off the scent.
In a little while, however, we found this failed to check them, for,
while they stopped a few minutes at the spot we struck the water, they
soon showed sagacity enough to burst into full cry and come tearing up
the beach in our wake.
We were now nearing houses again, and in a moment bright lights shone
ahead. A large building on the edge of the town showed lights in many
windows, and the sound of music and hoarse voices came forth. It was
evidently a place for fishermen and traders to carouse, and we headed
straight for it as the baying drew close to our heels. The door was
open, and in we dashed, flinging it to in the faces of as ugly a pair of
brutes as I ever saw.
The hounds were evidently well trained to hunt slaves, for they flung
themselves against the panels until the lock burst and the door flew
open, letting them into the room in full cry.
Our entrance into the company collected in that place naturally caused
some commotion. The big Welshman, Jones, was in the act of footing a
hornpipe with a tall, yellow girl for a partner; Martin sat with a mug
of ale on one hand and a stout blond woman on the other, and he fiercely
squeezed and pulled an old accordion, while the black Doctor howled and
patted time with his bare feet upon the prostrate form of Ernest, the
German. The rest of the company were ranged about, looking at the big
Welshman, roaring or screaming as the case happened to be.
For an instant the crowd stopped spellbound at our headlong entrance.
Martin was in the act of hurling the accordion at us in his anger at
being interrupted. The door crashed in, and the two black shapes leaped
among them.
The hounds, with their flaming eyes and lolling tongues, presented a
hideous spectacle, and the effect of their headlong plunge was too much
for the nerves of the drunken crew. There was a wild howl of terror and
a general scramble. I knocked over one lamp, and Tim adroitly dowsed the
other, causing total darkness, and then above the wild din I could hear
Martin’s voice, roaring:
“’Tis th’ dev’l, man! Tis th’ dev’l! Gawd save us, ’tis th’ dev’l
himsel’! Coom out an’ fight like a man, ye coward! Coom in th’ light,
an’ I’ll whollop ye like a babe, ye sneakin’ traitor! Coom out an’ stan’
to a true Christian sailor--ho-oo-t!”
The screams of the women and bawling of the men, coupled with the deep
baying howls in the darkness, caused a disorder hard to describe.
There were several windows in the large room, but in the wild scramble
these were overlooked by some, and, before the hounds could disengage
themselves from the struggling crowd, Tim and I had leaped out and were
running wildly into the streets of Nassau.
Windows were thrown open and heads peered out, looking in the direction
of the uproar, and I distinctly heard several doubtful encomiums
pronounced upon the habits of sailors by some of the more respectable
residents of that not very pious town. Then we fell into a walk,
somewhat amused at our sudden deliverance, and soon mingled with the
loungers upon the broad street, which at this early hour was still full
of people.