ADAIR BOARDS THE THIRD DHOW--HER CREW AND PASSENGERS--PANGO DISCOVERS
THAT THE LATTER ARE SLAVES--ADAIR RETURNS WITH THE DHOW TO THE ISLAND--
GREEN ABSENT ON AN EXPEDITION--ADAIR'S FEARS AS TO DESMOND AND ARCHIE--
GREEN RETURNS WITH THE DHOW LEFT IN CHARGE OF DESMOND, BUT WITHOUT THE
MIDSHIPMEN--ADAIR'S ANXIETY INCREASES--INTERROGATION OF THE ARAB CREW--A
SAIL IN SIGHT--SHE PROVES TO BE THE OPAL--ADAIR INFORMS MURRAY OF THE
LOSS OF THE MIDSHIPMEN--THE COMMANDER'S GRIEF--THE DHOW BLOWS UP WITH
ALL ON BOARD, AND SAVES THE HANGMAN A JOB--THE OPAL GOES IN SEARCH OF
THE MIDSHIPMEN.
Adair, after leaving the midshipmen on board the first dhow, eager to
capture the second, urged his crew not to spare their arms, or the tough
ash-sticks they handled. They, fully as eager as the lieutenant, were
not the men to do that, and the boat made rapid progress through the
calm water. They had every hope of catching her, unless a breeze should
suddenly spring up, when they well knew that she would slip away from
them at a speed which they had no chance of equalling. In case of such
an occurrence, the gun mounted on the bow was reloaded, ready to send a
shot after her.
The wind continued light, and at length, laying in their oars, they
ranged up alongside, taking good care to make the boat fast; when,
following their lieutenant, all hands leaped on board with cutlasses and
pistols, ready to make short work of any who might oppose them--though,
to their surprise, not the slightest resistance was offered. The deck
appeared crowded with passengers, their skins black as jet, but dressed
in every variety of Oriental costume. The numerous crew, a large
proportion of whom were black, were collected forward; while the negoda
stood aft, near the man at the helm. He advanced with a smiling
countenance, and made a profound salaam to Adair, who, sheathing his
sword, with his men at his back, stood ready to receive him; a couple
only, one of whom was Pango, remained in the boat to look after her.
He was a wiry, daring-looking fellow, with a bold, piratical swagger,
which gave an impression that he would not hesitate at the most
audacious acts of atrocity which he might suppose would forward the
object he happened to have in view. He put out his hand in the most
cool and impudent manner to shake Adair's, and then stood calmly eyeing
his uninvited visitors, as much as to say, "Now make the most of me you
can."
"Well, amigo, where are you come from?" asked Adair. The negoda, who
seemed to expect some such question, though he probably did not
understand the words, pointed to the south, and then uttered a long
string of sentences, in which Adair thought he could distinguish
Zanzibar.
"Well, my friend, and who are all these people you have got on board?"
continued Adair, pointing to the silent figures on deck.
The Arab poured forth a torrent of words, pointing in the same direction
as before, and next putting a piece of coin from one hand into the
other.
"Yes, I understand; they are travellers, going to see the world, and
have paid their passage-money, all right and proper. And when they get
to Zanzibar, what are they going to do?" asked Adair.
The last question the Arab evidently did not understand, and Adair saw
that it would be useless to press the point, knowing that whatever the
Arab might say, whether true or false, he should not be the wiser. "And
now, as to those fellows tumbling about there, and butting against each
other with their curly pates, and looking more like chimney-sweeps than
sailors," said Adair, "what have they got to do here?"
The Arab, who guessed by the direction of Adair's eyes that he was
asking questions about the men forward, made signs of pulling and
hauling.
"Oh, they form part of your crew, do they? Well, I should like to see
your papers, and how many hands you are licenced to carry," said Adair,
making the usual signal of pretending to write, which the negoda clearly
understanding, produced from his capacious pocket various documents
scrawled all over with Arabic characters.
Adair took them, but of course did not understand a single one of the
curious-shaped letters and papers. "Very shipshape," he remarked,
pretending to scan the papers. "If you have no slaves on board, nor
fittings for slaves, we must let you proceed on your voyage," he added,
returning the papers with a polite bow, on which the skipper appeared
highly delighted. "You'll give me leave first, however, to search the
hold and take a look into your cabin." The negoda's countenance fell,
as Adair, followed by two of his men, made their way into the space
under the high poop. "Hallo! who are all these?" he exclaimed, as he
saw seated round the sides some thirty sable damsels, bundled up in
silks and cottons, with a variety of ornaments on their curly heads,
most of them with children in their arms, or seated by their side,
little and big.
The skipper looked somewhat nonplussed; but presently, pointing out
three of the best-looking, he tried to make his visitor understand that
they were his wives.
"Oh! very well," said Adair, who comprehended his meaning; "but to whom
do all those others belong?"
To this the negoda, without replying directly, shouted to his Arab crew,
who came aft, each man taking the hands of a couple of negresses, and
declaring that they were his better halves. Thus all the people who had
hitherto been seen were accounted for, and the hold alone remained to be
examined. Above the cargo, which was stowed in no very regular fashion,
was a bamboo deck; but that of course would be necessary for the
numerous male and female passengers and their offspring, and was not
sufficient in itself to condemn the vessel. Still Adair was not
altogether satisfied.
On returning on deck, he determined to interrogate some of the silent
negro passengers, who did not look as if they were accustomed to the
fine clothes they wore. Without an interpreter, this was a difficult
undertaking. When he addressed the blacks, men or women, they put on
the most stolid looks, showing him that it would be vain to hope to get
any information out of them; but it was a wonder that such
stupid-looking people should have any desire to see the world, or could
be travelling either on business or pleasure. At last he had to give it
up, and to turn to the black sailors. Going forward, he addressed one
after the other; but as he spoke, their countenances also changed, and
they stood before him with downcast looks, pictures of stolidity.
Suddenly he at last bethought him of calling up Pango from the pinnace,
to try if he could elicit any information from his sable countrymen.
Pango, on being summoned, immediately sprang on board. No sooner had he
done so than his eye fell on one of the blacks, from whom Adair was
vainly endeavouring to extract information. The two negroes stared at
each other for an instant. "Ki!" exclaimed Pango. "Ki!" answered the
other, scanning Pango's nautical costume. "Ki!" cried Pango, in a
higher key; and then, both making a spring, they seized each other's
hands and began shouting at the top of their voices, now laughing, now
crying, and again looking in each other's faces.
A rapid conversation then took place between them, the seeming Arab
seaman asking Pango all sorts of questions, which he as quickly
answered.
"What's it all about?" asked Adair, pointing to the former.
"Brudder! brudder!" answered Pango.
"Where does he come from?" inquired Adair.
Pango gave the incomprehensible name of a village in the interior,
adding, "Make slavey, make slavey."
"And who are all those others?" asked Adair.
"All slavey, all slavey," cried Pango eagerly.
"Ah! I thought so," exclaimed Adair. "Tell them that they shall be set
free, and that they need no longer sham being sailors, which one can
tell with half an eye that they are not."
Pango understood enough of what Adair said to make his fellow-countrymen
understand that they would be liberated very soon, as they had the
British flag hoisted over their heads. Although a few believed what
Pango told them, the rest did not appear altogether convinced of the
fact. Adair, however, had now sufficiently ascertained the character of
the vessel to warrant him in keeping possession of her.
The negoda, on discovering the resolution which the English officer had
formed, looked very much taken aback. In vain he stormed and swore in
the choicest Arabic, and cast vindictive glances at Pango, threatening
him with condign punishment should he ever catch him on shore. Pango,
caring very little for his threats, talked away eagerly with his
countrymen, and soon the greatest number went over to the side of the
English tars.
Their first care was to disarm the Arabs, and to throw their weapons
overboard, while the dhow was searched fore and aft for any others which
might be concealed. The negoda, finding he was discovered, very quickly
stripped the blacks of their fine garments, and reduced them to the
primitive appearance of veritable slaves, giving Adair to understand
that the dresses were his private property, and that he expected to be
allowed to carry them off. The poor women seemed very loth to part with
their borrowed plumes; but the negoda treated them without ceremony,
and, as evening approached, sent them and the children all down into the
hold. The men were then made to follow them.
Adair had the satisfaction of feeling that he had caught a second
slaver, but he saw that it would require all his vigilance to prevent
the Arabs from playing him any trick. Looking out astern, he saw the
first captured dhow following in his wake. "All right with the
youngsters," he thought; "they and Bird have their wits about them, and
will keep the slaver's crew under."
As the dhow appeared to be coming up with him, he saw no necessity for
shortening sail, as he hoped that she would close with him before
nightfall. By the time the sun went down she had got considerably
nearer, and, satisfied that all was right, he stood on. The night came
on much darker than usual, but he made out the peak of her triangular
sail rising against the sky, and therefore still felt perfectly at ease
about her. With so many doubtful characters on board, he would not lie
down even for a moment, or allow any of his crew to do so, but kept them
together, ready to defeat any attempt the Arabs might make to regain
their vessel. As they hoped to reach the island the next day, they
might then take a long snooze to make up for their want of sleep.
Several times he looked astern, when he saw the other prize still about
the same distance as before. Suddenly there came a squall and a
downpour of rain, but the wind being right aft, the dhow flew on before
it. He, however, thought it prudent to send his men to the halyards, so
as to be ready, should the wind increase, to lower the sail, the Arabs
showing no inclination to assist in working the vessel.
The darkness was greater than ever. The rain indeed, even by itself,
was thick enough to hide any objects except close to. In about an hour
it cleared off again, when, on looking out for number one prize, he
could nowhere distinguish her. "I suppose Gordon and Desmond judged it
prudent to lower their sail; they will be hoisting it again presently,"
he said to himself. Soon afterwards he thought he made her out, rather
more over the port quarter than she had been before. Yes, he was
certain of it, though she seemed to him farther off than she had
hitherto been; still, if the midshipmen had lowered their sail that was
to be expected.
Adair, still believing that all was right, continued his course, eager
to reach the island, and to arrange for despatching the two dhows to the
port of adjudication; though he had no doubt that they both would prove
lawful prizes. When morning at length broke, dhow number two was
nowhere in sight. This made him somewhat anxious, and he regretted that
he had not shortened sail at first to allow her to come up. Still the
midshipmen had their wits so completely about them, and Bird was so
trustworthy a fellow, and fully alive to the importance of keeping an
eye on the Arabs, that he had no very serious apprehensions about their
safety.
A clump of trees rising in the centre of the island at length, to his
infinite satisfaction, came in sight. He dropped his anchor in the
small harbour formed by the coral reef which circled round the southern
portion. He was seen coming in, and one of the boats pulled off to
welcome him. He was informed that a vast number of dhows had been
boarded, but none as yet captured, all being, as far as could be
ascertained, lawful traders; though several had, like his prize, no
small number of black passengers on board.
"Depend upon it, then, you have been deceived," said Adair, "as I
should, had I not the fortunate chance, by means of Pango, to discover
the trick the rascally Arabs are playing us. All those black passengers
were really slaves, dressed up by their masters. However, we'll take
care in future that their trick doesn't avail them, and they must take
to some other dodge if they wish to escape us."
Jos Green, he found, had gone over towards the mainland, to watch for
any vessels running in or out of Angoxa, or slipping by up the coast,
and as he had been away for several days, it was expected that he would
soon be back. Several times before going on shore Adair swept the
horizon with his glass in search of the missing dhow, expecting every
instant to see her sail, like the dark fin of a shark, rising above the
waters. He looked, however, in vain. The other officers climbed, one
after the other, to the look-out place, but came back with the report
that no sail was in sight.
He at once, therefore, made up his mind to send the pinnace, with a
fresh crew, in search of the dhow. The wind, though contrary, was
slight, and she might reach the spot where the dhow had last been seen
before nightfall, and, if any accident had happened to her, render
assistance. His only dread was that she might have been leaky, as he
knew to be the case with many such craft, and perhaps have gone down.
He and his men were pretty well worn--out from want of sleep and hard
work. Having seen the slaves landed, and fresh hands placed in charge
of the dhow and the Arab crew, he therefore lay down in his tent to
obtain the rest he so much required. Completely exhausted, he slept on
till morning.
His first inquiry on awaking was for the pinnace. She had not returned,
nor had Green made his appearance. He naturally became more anxious
than ever; something serious, he feared, must have happened to the
midshipmen, or they would not have failed to have reached the island by
that time.
He was on the point of despatching another boat, when the look-out man
from the signal-station reported that a dhow was in sight coming across
from the mainland. Her arrival was eagerly looked for. There could be
no doubt that she was a prize made by Green. This was ascertained
positively to be the case, and in about an hour she came to an anchor
off the island, having Green's boat astern. The two remaining boats at
once put off, Adair going in one of them, accompanied by Pango (Bango
had gone with Green to act as his interpreter).
"Why," exclaimed Adair, as he drew near the dhow, "she's the very vessel
we captured! and has, I hope, the midshipmen and the rest of the boat's
crew on board."
Green hailed them from the deck as they approached. "Glad of your
assistance," he said, "for I've got a pretty shipload of scoundrels, who
gave us a tough job to take them."
These words made Adair feel more anxious than ever. He recognised the
Arab skipper and Mustapha Longchops on deck, but neither of the
midshipmen nor any of the men. He was quickly on deck and shaking hands
with Green, though the dreadful feeling which oppressed him prevented
him for some moments from speaking.
"Where are the midshipmen, Desmond and Gordon," he asked, "and the men I
left on board this vessel?"
"You left?" exclaimed Green; "why, I only captured her last night, and
had no notion that she had ever been in our hands before, except, by the
bye, that Bango has tried to make me understand something which he had
heard, though I confess I couldn't exactly comprehend his meaning."
"The night before last I left the midshipmen safe and sound, with four
hands and a canoe towing astern," said Adair; "the canoe, I see, is
gone, but they would certainly not have deserted the vessel. We must
seize these scoundrels, the skipper and that black fellow, with the rest
of the Arabs, at once, for I very much fear they have been guilty of
some foul play."
Calling more of his men on board, Adair ordered them to handcuff the
whole of the party. The Arabs looked somewhat alarmed, their skipper
very much so. "What have you done with my officers and men?" asked
Adair. The negoda, recovering himself, with the coolest effrontery made
the action of shaking hands, then pointed astern, as if to signify that
those whom Adair was asking after had parted good friends and gone off
in the canoe.
"A very likely tale," said Adair sadly; "let's try what Pango and his
brother can make out of the old black chief." On this Green told them
to hear what the old man had to say. They evidently spoke the same
language. At last Pango, turning round to Adair, tried hard to give the
information he had obtained. What with the numerous signs, and the few
words of English uttered by the black, Adair understood that the old
chief grieved for what had happened, but that he himself had nothing to
do with it; that the Arabs had set upon the Englishmen, two of whom were
below, had blindfolded them and thrown them overboard.
Adair and Green both interrogated their black friends, and each time
came to the same sad conclusion. There could be no doubt that the two
lads, Jerry Bird, and the other men had been foully murdered. Adair
felt very much inclined to hang all the fellows at once, but of course
this could not be thought of; they must first be tried, and there could
be no doubt that they would be convicted. What satisfaction would it be
to hang the scoundrels? Putting them to death would not probably
prevent others from committing similar deeds, nor would it bring those
who were lost to life.
It was necessary, however, to land the slaves at once, for the sake of
preserving their health; for even during the last few hours several of
the grown-up people had died, and nearly a dozen of the children; and
others, it was clear, would not survive unless carried on shore, and
supplied with better food and fresh water. Superintending this work
occupied Adair, and prevented him from mourning over the loss of his
young nephew and Archie. The party on shore had been occupied for some
time in putting up huts for housing any slaves who might be brought to
the island. These were soon filled with the women and children and the
sick men. The others not so greatly requiring immediate shelter were
set to work to put up some huts for themselves, an operation most of
them seemed to understand very well.
In the meantime, the Arab crew were kept on board, under charge of an
officer and a party of seamen. Towards evening the boat was seen
returning, and Adair had some faint hopes that she might have obtained
some information of the midshipmen, in case the skipper's version of the
affair was true. Adair hurried down to meet her.
"We bring you no news of the missing ones," said the officer in charge;
"we went as far as you directed, and then swept round inshore, but no
dhow could we see."
Adair, more out of spirits than he had ever been in his life before, got
back to the camp. One of the men came running in with the information
that a ship was in sight to the northward. Adair and several others
hurried to the nearest point from which they could see her, and he and
Green were both of opinion that she was the _Opal_. This was confirmed
when she got near enough to make her number. Hopes were entertained
that she was coming to take them off; for, though not exactly tired of
the life they had been leading, they would gladly have gone to some
other locality, where they would be likely to meet with better success
than they could boast of hitherto. Adair, however, found himself
wishing that Murray had not come back. How could he face him with the
account of the loss of the two midshipmen? Murray might blame him, and
not unjustly, for want of judgment in leaving them in charge of a vessel
manned by desperate ruffians, who would, of course, be glad of the
opportunity to revenge themselves on their enemies. "Why did not I
think of that before?" exclaimed poor Terence more than once.
However, he ordered the gig to be manned, and as soon as the corvette
approached the anchorage, he pulled away for her. She had just brought
up, and the hands were aloft furling sails, when his boat got alongside.
Murray was, of course, well pleased to see him, though struck by his
grave looks.
"All hands are well, I hope? and the youngsters, have they managed to
keep themselves out of mischief?" asked Murray.
Adair, a very unwonted thing, felt inclined to hang down his head, as,
with a faltering voice, he told the story of their loss.
"You don't mean to say you left those two lads, with only four careless
men, to manage a set of cut-throats!" exclaimed Murray.
"I am sorry to say I did, not supposing that the said cut-throats would
venture to turn upon them," answered Adair.
"That's it, Adair, that's it," exclaimed Murray, more testily than he
was accustomed to speak; "you are too apt not to consider the
consequences of what you do, and, from want of judgment, the lives of
those boys have been thrown away."
"Really, you are hard upon me," cried Adair. "I acted as well as the
circumstances would allow, and it was my duty to try and get hold of the
other dhow."
"You should have left a stronger force to keep in check a set of
ruffians, with whom only a few minutes before you had been engaged in a
struggle for life and death," said Murray; "they acted according to
their instincts, and murdered the poor boys."
"I had no time to think of that or anything else," said Adair, about to
turn away; "it was my duty to take the other dhow, and I succeeded in
doing so."
Murray, observing how much Adair was moved, felt that he was speaking
too harshly. "Well, well, I am sure you did as you considered best,"
said he. "It is a very sad affair, but I don't know that we ought to
give them up as lost. You may have misunderstood the two blacks, though
circumstances are strongly against the Arab captain. However, I will
examine him and his crew and the old black chief, with the aid of Hamed,
whom he can understand; and perhaps we may elicit something which will
give us ground for hoping that they after all escaped."
"I wish I could think so," said Adair; "I shall blame myself as long as
I live for their loss. I am certain they would not willingly have
deserted their charge."
Murray, having ordered Hamed to accompany him, pulled off in his gig
with Adair. He found the rest of the officers standing on the beach
ready to receive him, and he at once issued orders to have the slave
captain and his companions brought on shore. Two boats were on the
point of putting off to bring them, when a loud report was heard, and
thick wreaths of smoke were seen issuing from the dhow, followed almost
directly by flames bursting out from all parts. The boats dashed on to
rescue those on board; as they did so, they saw a number of men, whom
they recognised as their shipmates, swimming towards them, but not the
dark face of an Arab among them.
The boats quickly picked them up one after the other, none, happily, of
the party left on board being missing. Neither the officer nor any of
the men could account for the accident. They were all on deck, the
sentry near the hold in which the prisoners were confined; suddenly an
explosion occurred which lifted up a portion of the deck, and sent the
sentry and two other men standing near him overboard. Flames instantly
afterwards burst out both fore and aft, and the natural impulse of the
rest was to leap into the water to save their lives. The master's
assistant, who commanded the party, seeing that any attempt to rescue
the prisoners would be utterly hopeless, to save his own life was
compelled to follow his men.
Just as the last English seaman was picked up, the dhow's stern, already
a mass of flames, lifted, and she glided down, bow foremost, beneath the
surface; a few pieces of charred wood and bamboo marking the spot where
she had lately floated.
"Serve the fellows right," observed several of the men who were watching
the occurrence; "the hangman has been saved a job, and stout rope left
for a better purpose."
Murray and Adair, although acknowledging that the murderers, as they
deemed them, had met with a just fate, could not help regretting that
all means of obtaining information as to what had become of the
midshipmen and their companions had thus been lost.
"All I can now do," said Murray, "is to cruise over the ground the dhow
must have traversed after you left her, and look out for the canoe, in
case any of the party may have succeeded in getting into her. It is
possible that some of them may have done so, although in this long
interval they must have suffered fearfully for want of food."
As no time was to be lost, Murray returned on board, leaving Adair with
his party still on the island. The corvette, immediately weighing
anchor, stood away close--hauled to the eastward, that she might on
another tack fetch the spot where her search was to begin. Murray's
remarks had slightly raised Adair's hopes that one if not both of the
midshipmen might have been saved, had they been hove overboard alive;
but it was too probable that the Arabs would have knocked them on the
head first, and then thrown them into the water. He expressed his
thoughts to Green.
"I don't altogether give them up," answered Jos. "Midshipmen have a
wonderful way of keeping in existence, and by some means or other they
may have escaped, though I can't say how it may have happened."
Adair's anxiety prevented him from sitting quiet in his tent, and, in
spite of the hot sun, he continued walking about, now visiting the
look-out man, now seeing how the unfortunate slaves were getting on.
Pango and Bango were of great assistance in communicating with them and
dissipating their fears, though their captors had taken good care to
instil into their minds the belief that the Englishmen wished only to
catch them for the sake of salting them down for food, or disposing of
them in some other horrible manner. Poor creatures! what their future
lot was to be no one could tell. One thing was certain: they had been
torn from their homes and families, many of those dearest to them had
been killed by the savage men-hunters, and they themselves had been
treated with horrible cruelty.
The boats, as usual, were kept in readiness to start off at a moment's
notice, while the look-out men had their eyes about them in search of
any dhows running up the coast. "A sail in sight to the southward,"
shouted the man up the tree.
"What is she like?" asked Adair.
"Square-rigged vessel, sir, with a broad spread of white canvas."
Here was likely to be work. She might prove a Spanish or American
vessel, or carrying the flag of one of the other powers which still
permitted the slave-trade. If a slaver, she was not likely to yield
tamely if she had a chance of escape. Many such vessels were known to
be strongly armed, and to be commanded by daring fellows, who would be
perfectly ready to fight if they saw a chance of success. All the
boats, therefore, were manned, to be ready to attack her should she
stand near the island; which, from the course she was steering, there
was every probability she would do. Everyone looked forward to the work
with satisfaction. The only fear was that she might be empty, and might
simply be coming north to take in her slaves at Angoxa, or some other
place farther north. Cutlasses were buckled on, pistols freshly capped,
and other usual preparations made when fighting was in hand.
The wind was somewhat light, but at length the stranger's courses rose
above the horizon, when Jos Green, who had mounted to the
signal-station, shouted out, "She's an English brig-of-war, and is
making her number." Adair sent for the signal-book, and, inquiring the
flag seen, quickly made her out as the _Romp_.
"Why, she's been on the East India station," he observed. "We shall
soon know all about her, for she's evidently steering for the island,
and the breeze seems to be freshening. She'll come to an anchor before
long."