Chapter XXV: The Second Mate's Story

The face at the window was that of Jacob Duff, the second mate. He shook his head in a melancholy way and beckoned with his hand.

"Come a little closer. The blacks are drunk and have exhausted their ammunition. The magazine is in the lower hold, double locked and they haven't found it yet."

Ralph slowly pulled under the stern where he would be protected from missiles. Over his head was a screaming crowd of savages who, however, confined themselves to unintelligible threats.

The other boat was gone. Duff, leaning out, motioned with his hand.

"There is no time for explanations now," said he. "Let us get away from here while those demons are too drunk to know how to hinder us. Heavens, but what a time we've had!"

While speaking he handed out a pair of oars, a bag of ship's biscuit, and a breaker of water.

Meantime the negroes evidently discovered that the boy was communicating with some one on board. The cries and uproar redoubled. The noise of a crowd surging down the companionway and into the main cabin could be heard. Then came a tremendous crash against the door of the stateroom.

"Hurry up!" exclaimed Duff coolly, handing out the things all in a heap and scrambling to get through the small aperture himself. "I braced the door, but they are battering it down. Quick, Ralph, pull me through by the arms."

The boy was none too swift. Tugging with might and main, he dragged the mate through and both fell heavily to the bottom of the yawl, nearly capsizing the craft, just as the stateroom door gave way.

A stream of frantic blacks swarmed into the little apartment, one of whom, thrusting his hideous face out at the window, was unceremoniously pushed through by his comrades. He fell across the gunwale of the boat and was shoved overboard by Duff, while Ralph, seizing an oar, placed an end against the schooner's stern-post and threw all his waning strength upon it, sending the yawl out from under the shelter of the ship.

When the negroes saw two whites instead of one they appeared beside themselves with rage. A few missiles were thrown; among other articles a Winchester, which the boy strove in vain to reach as it rebounded from the boat's bow into the sea. Duff was struck with a marlin-spike, but he still clung to the oar he was trying to use. Another black plunged through the window into the water, while several threw themselves from the deck and began swimming towards the boat.

Ralph noticed that Duff could not stand. He took both oars, and, notwithstanding his weak condition, soon placed the boat beyond the reach of pursuit.

The blacks, realizing this, turned and were swimming back to the schooner, when one of them rose half his length from the water, sending forth a piercing cry of agony. Then he was suddenly jerked beneath the waves, as if by some powerful though unseen agency.

"What did that?" exclaimed Ralph, horror stricken.

"Sharks," returned Duff sententiously, pointing to several dark pointed fins that now appeared, all making for the schooner. "The rascals are never far away from a ship in these latitudes."

"This is horrible!" exclaimed the lad, pulling on one oar to turn the boat round.

"What are you doing?" demanded Duff.

"I am going to try and save some of those niggers. I know they are bad; but we made them so. I can't stand it, I tell you, to see them eaten up in that way. Look!"

There came another shriek, and a second trail of blood rose to the surface of the sea as another victim was dragged beneath.

"I know," replied Duff. "But--self preservation first. Lock there, will you!"

Regardless of their screaming comrades who were trying to reach the ship, the blacks on board were striving to turn the big Long Tom amidships so as to bring it to bear upon the yawl.

"That cannon is loaded--with slugs and scrap iron. Captain had it done in order to sweep the decks, if necessary. But they gave us no chance and the load is in it yet. Give me an oar. Pull now--for your life! Lucky it is they don't know much about sighting a gun."

Suiting his action to his words the mate literally forced the lad to obey. Other cries sounded, and Ralph caught a glimpse of two or three scrambling on board again by the aid of a rope that happened to hang over the side.

His strength was nearly gone, and only an intense resolution kept him to his task at the oar. Duff, behind Ralph, also pulled away, though the strain caused him to groan now and then.

"Are you hurt?" asked the boy as they drew rapidly away from the now dreaded ship.

"Leg broke. Shot below the knee. Hist! They are going to try it now."

A large negro was hastening from the cook's galley with a flaming brand. The instant of suspense that followed was awful. A bright flash followed, and as the accompanying roar met their ears a harsh spattering and hissing beyond relieved their anxiety immensely.

Not a thing touched the boat or its occupants.

"Overshot--by thunder!" cried Duff with an exulting whoop, that ended in a groan of pain. "We are all right now; the beggars can never reload. They don't know how, and be hanged to 'em!"

After that, while resting, Ralph briefly related his own adventures, though touching lightly upon his suffering for food and the pain of his wound.

"You've had a time of it, sure," replied Duff. "Yet it was lucky for you and me both that you parted company with us as you did. Ah! 'twas a very trying day yesterday and a fearful time last night. Eat a bite, lad. I can't till I've tried to do something for my leg."

So Ralph fell to on the bag of biscuit and the keg of water, while Duff bathed and bound up his leg as best he could. The bone had been fractured just above the ankle by a bullet.

Fortunately it was an easy though painful matter to straighten the limb, as nothing had been unjointed. A spare shirt and some of the canvas sufficed to keep the bone in place after a fashion. As Duff said grimly:

"It will do until we're picked up; and if we ain't picked up, it will do anyhow."

Ralph, after eating, dressed his own wound, and the two made themselves as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. The mate's account of what happened after Ralph's drifting away was in substance as follows.

Things remained tolerably quiet for several hours after the defeat of the attempt on the part of the blacks to gain the deck by way of the forecastle. It was concluded that the negroes were sleeping off the effect of the rum they must have taken. As most of the water was below, they probably quenched their thirst without stint.

Meanwhile, on deck things looked more blue than ever. The whites were without provisions, nearly everything in that line being in the store rooms below. A large breaker of water was on tap in the waist, which, with some ship's biscuits, formed their only diet that morning.

No sail was sighted all that day. Ralph's absence was detected only when it was found that one of the boats was gone. Gary swore some at the loss of the last, but seemed relieved rather than otherwise over the fate of the boy.

"He's gone and a good riddance," said he. "We're short of help, but we can stand the loss of the cub better than that of the boat."

During the day the blacks below threw overboard the bodies of the slain, having no fire wherewith to indulge their cannibalistic tastes. One of the wounded seamen died and was consigned to the deep by his desperate comrades.

The hours wore on until the strain of anxiety lest the blacks should fire the ship, or renew their assaults, grew unendurable. Some proposed a desperate charge down the gangway with cutlasses and loaded rifles. Could they once force the blacks into the main hold, the howitzer might again be trained on them. One fatal discharge, said these bolder ones, would cow the negroes into submission.

But Gary, who was no coward, would not allow any such rashness. What could seven men do against a hundred? The negroes now had a few weapons; they had all the ammunition but what was in the magazines of the Winchesters.

"We must wait, keep cool, and watch for a sail," said the captain. "In rescue and in keeping these beggars below decks lies our hope."

"What will we do when our grub gives out?" asked some one.

"Die like men when the time comes, I hope," replied Gary, with grim determination.

He was as game as he was heartless and cruel. But later on one of the men found a demijohn of liquor in the cook's pantry. Neb, thoroughly cowed by his uncivilized brethren below, had deserted his post and was in hiding somewhere. The liquor was secretly hidden away, and the men began drinking.

By the time Gary found out what was up, every one but himself and Duff was recklessly intoxicated. He made a search for the stuff, but was recalled by another effort of the blacks to force open one of the hatches.

The attempt was foiled, but night had fallen before Gary found where the liquor was hidden. He promptly broke the demijohn, and was knocked down thereupon by one of the drunken sailors. This led to a general melee on the quarter deck, where the row began.

The forecastle was entirely deserted by the men, who were maddened by the destruction of their liquor. Duff used his efforts to part them, but growing uneasy over the unguarded state of the ship, he started to go forward.

He had hardly reached the main deck when he saw a black form leaping out of the forecastle. The blacks, taking advantage of the fight overhead, and the absence of a guard, had battered down the bulkhead between the main hold and the sailors' sleeping quarters with the very howitzer which had been mounted below for their subjection.

Duff raised the alarm, but it was too late. Scores of negroes poured upon the decks, now dimly lighted by ship's lanterns, and fell upon their oppressors with a fury intensified by rum and a sense of cruelties that had been inflicted upon them when bound and helpless.

They had armed themselves with knives, pieces of furniture converted into clubs--anything that could be had. Those who had Winchesters opened a wild though almost useless fire on the whites, then clubbed their guns.

One ball did indeed strike the second mate, and another put out the two lanterns, leaving the after part of the ship in darkness. But the terrible conflict was over soon.

The last Duff saw of Gary he was backed against the main mast defending himself. One arm hung useless, as he faced a circle of savage, merciless faces. Then one of the negroes felled the captain from behind, and a shower of blows was rained upon his prostrate figure.

Duff, who had done his part during the fighting, managed to make his way to the quarter deck by striking down a negro or two who opposed him. It was then that he was shot.

Realizing that all was over, and determined to sell his life as dearly as possible, he limped to the stern, and awaited his fate. As if by an inspiration, he thought of his stateroom which, as far as he knew, might have remained locked after he had abandoned it upon the first breaking forth of the blacks.

For the moment he was unobserved in the darkness that now reigned aft. The negroes had just brought forth Neb's body, and were manifesting their disapproval of his association with the whites by beating and kicking the inanimate clay.

Duff, despite the pain of his fractured limb, lowered himself by a rope to the still open window, and managed to pull himself through into his stateroom, and drag his body to his berth. Here the agony of his wound overcame him, and he fell into a deep swoon.