Mark thought of his previous experience in an open boat, as he looked at their position, lying there with a crew suffering from the effects of their encounter--two men seriously injured, and neither provisions nor water. As to weapons, some of the men had preserved theirs, but others were unarmed.

Tom Fillot watched his officer as he looked round, and then ventured an observation.

"Looks lively, sir, don't it?"

"It's horrible, Tom; but we must act, and at once."

"Right, sir, and we're ready. Four on us can take an oar well enough, if you'll give the word."

"We must row in sh.o.r.e and coast along till we come to a stream."

"Not row out after the ship, sir?"

"Without food or water? Have you forgotten our last trip?" cried Mark.

"No, sir, and never shall forget it," said the man, with a shiver.

"You're right, sir, of course. Water we must have, victuals if we can get any. Nothing like having an officer with you, clever as you may think yourself."

Five minutes later the men were rowing steadily toward the land, while Mark rejoiced at the only piece of good fortune he had encountered since the previous night when he lay down, and that was in the fact that to get rid of the party who had captured the schooner, the slaver captain had not scrupled to send them adrift in his own boat, one which proved to be light, swift, strong, and admirably adapted for facing the heavy swell that deluged the sh.o.r.e.

Mark's time was pretty well divided between steering, watching his patients, and keeping a look-out for an inlet into which the boat could be run. So as not to weary the men, he made them row with the tide until they had gone south some miles, and he was hesitating as to whether he ought not to turn back, when there were signs ahead of the mouth of a river whose banks were heavily timbered. These signs proved to be correct, and in half an hour the boat was steered into a narrow ca.n.a.l-like channel among the mangrove growth, made fast to a stem, and the men, feverish--hot and suffering, drank eagerly of the swiftly rushing water, forgetting its muddiness in the delicious coolness it imparted to their burning throats; while Fillot and his young officer busied themselves, as they lay in the shade of the overhanging trees, in bathing the heads of the two sufferers, in each case winning for reward sighs of satisfaction and content.

"Hah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Tom Fillot, when, after holding down his face close to the water, and drinking for some time like a horse, he sat up with a tin baler in his hands, sipping from the full vessel, enjoying himself, and making comments for his comrades to hear.

He had tried to smile, but the effort consequent upon the state of his swollen face was too painful, and he gave that up.

"Yer health, messmets," he said, raising the baler, "and wishing us all out of our difficulties."

He took another sip of the muddy fluid, and nodded as he pa.s.sed the tin to the next man.

"Drink hearty, messmet," he said, "and pa.s.s it on. This is something like water. Reg'lar strong slab stuff as has got plenty o' victuals in it as well as drink. Reg'lar meaty water, like soup."

"Why, it's on'y mud, mate," said the man who held the tin; "hadn't we better let it settle?"

"What for? Drink, my hearty. What's mud but dust o' the earth made wet? Well, we're all made o' the dust o' the earth, ain't we, and consequently wet dust's just the stuff to make yer grow strong again.

Deal better than salt junk and pickled pig and biscuit, I can tell yer.

There, tip it up. It's wonderful filling at the price."

The man laughed, and emptied the baler.

"'Tarn't bad, mate," he said, as he leaned over the side to refill the tin.

"Bad? I should think not. I feel like a noo man."

"And you looks it, too, matey," said the other grinning. "I shouldn't ha' knowed you with that boiled duff fizz-mahogany o' yourn. How much bigger's it going to get?"

"Well, of all the pot calling kettle black as ever I knowed on," said Tom Fillot, "that's about the rummest. Why, your head's all o' one side like an ugly turmut, and your eyes is on'y two slits."

"We ain't none on us got much to boast on, 'cept our orficer," said d.i.c.k Bannock. "Pa.s.s that there tin."

"To be sure," said Tom Fillot, "and handsome is as handsome does. Might be a deal worse off, mates. Drink away; the mud won't hurt us. We're in the shade and got plenty o' water. Different to being right out at sea in a calm, eh, Mr Vandean, sir?"

"Don't talk about it, my lad," said Mark. "But look, Joe Dance is getting up. Pray don't let him break loose again."

For the c.o.xswain suddenly sat up and stared about him wildly. Then calming down, he cried,--

"Got a drink o' water, messmets?"

"Plenty, my lad," said Tom Fillot, pa.s.sing the tin. "How's your head this morning?"

"Bit achey," said the c.o.xswain, who took the tin and drained it.

"Hah!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, as he drew a long, deep breath, "that's good, but you forgot to send it through the skipper's pilfer."

"Warn't time, matey," said Tom watching him curiously. "'Sides, pilfered water ain't good for you."

"Feel better this morning, Dance?" said Mark.

"Yes, sir, thankye sir. Head aches a deal and feels muzzy like, and I didn't sleep quite as I should like. Too much bad dream to please me."

"No wonder, mate," struck in Tom Fillot. "Having your head rubbed so hard with a big bat ain't good for no one."

Mark sat by his brother officer in the comparative coolness trying to think out some plan to adopt, for though they were resting in the shade, and the agonies of thirst were a.s.suaged, he knew that it would not be long before they were all suffering from hunger, and he shuddered as he thought of the tales he had heard respecting the straits men had been driven to when perishing for want of food in an open boat.

But though he thought long and patiently, no idea came to him better than for them to coast along till they came abreast of some village, though he felt very little hope of meeting with such good fortune upon that spa.r.s.ely inhabited sh.o.r.e. Further north there were towns and villages, but these were hundreds of miles away.

There was a possibility of their finding a native village, the home of some black chief, if they proceeded up the river; but it was chance work, and, unless compelled, Mark shrank from leaving the coast and cutting himself off from the chance of being seen by the _Nautilus_ if she came back in search of them. So he decided to keep along the sh.o.r.e.

And now he blamed himself bitterly for his ignorance. For if he had devoted a little time to studying the charts, he might have had a fair knowledge of the coast, and the chance of finding some trading settlement north or south; while now, as he told himself, here he was in command of a boat, and, boy as he was, answerable to his superior officer for the lives of the men. Accident had placed him in his present position, but then officers had, as he knew, to be prepared for such emergencies, and he was not ready in the slightest degree.

He made a vow to make up for lost time if the opportunity occurred again, and began once more to examine Mr Russell's state.

The insensibility continued still, and the faint hope he had nursed of the lieutenant recovering sufficiently to relieve him of his responsibility died away, so he landed with Fillot and began to look about him.

The place he had selected at the river's mouth, for the sake of the shade and water, was hidden from any vessel pa.s.sing, but it was so suited for their purpose that he felt it would be unwise to change it, as they could row out if a vessel hove in sight, and a good watch would be kept. Anything was better than exposing the men to the broiling sun, weak as they were with their injuries, and he felt that such a course would be fatal to Mr Russell, so he determined to stay, at all events till the heat of the day had pa.s.sed, and then make the men row steadily north.

He had just come to this conclusion, when he caught sight of Tom Fillot's occupation, which was the unravelling of the boat's painter.

"What's that for, Fillot?" he asked, sharply.

"Well, sir, I couldn't see no fruit trees nor no fields o' corn ash.o.r.e, so I thought the best thing to do would be to have a try at ketching a fish."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

WHAT MARK SAID TO THE CREW.