The Black Bar - Part 42
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Part 42

Leaving the American in charge of the big black, Mark set to at once to make his arrangements, after the poor creatures had been let out of the hold, where they had been nearly suffocated, and now huddled together on deck, trembling and wondering what was to be their fate.

"I don't like parting with you, Tom Fillot," said Mark, "but I must.

You will take charge here with Billings, Dance, Potatoes, and three of the blacks Soup drilled as his guard. It's a poor crew for you."

"Best we can do, sir," said Tom Fillot, cheerily.

"I'll have half the Americans on board with me."

"Beg pardon, sir, don't."

"But they are too many for you to have with your weak force."

"Well, sir, quite enough, but you keep the skipper on one schooner, and the men on the other. They're best apart, sir."

"But you cannot manage."

"Lookye here, sir, I'm going to have a talk to old Taters, and I shall give him a capstan bar to use, instead of the cutlash. I don't understand his lingo, but him and me can get on, and I can make him see what I want; and after that it won't be safe for any man o' the Yankee crew to put his head above the combings of that hatch. You trust me, sir, to manage. d.i.c.k Bannock'll be quite as good as me if you appynt him mate. Get back aboard, and make sail, and we'll follow steady like in your wake."

"But the blacks we have set free?"

"Taters and me'll manage them, sir, and 'fore many hours are up, we'll have two or three on 'em good at pulling a rope. You won't make much sail, sir, of course, now?"

"As little as I can, Tom; just as much as we can manage. Then now I'll get back, and the sooner we can set eyes on the _Nautilus_ the better."

"So say I, sir. But you keep a good heart, sir, and above all things don't you trust Mr Yankee Skipper, sir."

Mark gave the sailor a meaning look.

"That's right, sir, and above all things mind he don't get hold o' no pistols."

Mark laughed, and after a few instructions he ordered the American into the boat; his men followed, and he was about to step down too, when there was a yell forward, and the sound of a heavy blow or chop.

Mark faced round in time to see that Taters had struck at one of the American sailors, but missed him, his cutla.s.s coming in contact with the edge of the hatch, and the next moment there was a desperate struggle going on. The second schooner's crew were forcing their way up on deck, and as Mark called up the men from the boat to help quell the attempt, the American skipper took advantage of his being for the moment unwatched, and climbed on deck once more to make a rush to help his men.

But quick as he was, Tom Fillot was quicker; and turning sharply round, he struck out with his double fist, catching the American right in the centre of his forehead, with the result mathematical that two moving bodies meeting fly off at a tangent.

The American skipper's head flew off at a tangent, and then he rolled heavily on the deck, while in less than five minutes, with the help of Soup and Taters, who fought fiercely, the American crew were beaten back, and driven or tumbled down into the forecastle one after the other.

"Hi! yew, don't shut down that there hatch," cried one of the men; "yew'll smother us."

"And a good job too," panted Tom Fillot, as he banged down the square covering. "Here, you Taters, sit down on this, will you?"

The black understood his sign, and squatted upon it, sitting upon his heels with a grin of satisfaction.

While this struggle was going on, the freed slaves huddled together helplessly, seeming more bent on getting out of the way of the combatants than on joining in, though some of the men, warriors perhaps in their own country before they had been crushed down by conquest, imprisonment, and starvation, did once or twice evince a disposition to seek some weapon and strike a blow. But they soon subsided into an apathetic state, and watched.

"Hurt much, Tom Fillot?" said Mark, as soon as excitement would let him speak.

"Well, sir, tidy--tidy. I was just thinking about some of our chaps aboard the _Naughtyla.s.s_, growling and grumbling at her for being an unlucky ship, and no fighting to be had. They wouldn't find fault if they was out here, sir, eh?"

"No, Tom; we're getting our share of it. I wouldn't mind if Mr Howlett was here to have his taste."

"My! how you can crow over him, sir, when we get back, eh?"

"Let's get back first, Tom."

"Oh, we'll do that, sir, never you fear. That ain't what I'm scared about."

"Then what is?"

"Well, sir, I want to get back without killing anybody if I can, but when they come these games with us and hit hard as they do, it's 'most more than flesh and blood can bear to have a cutlash and not use it. I know I shall make someone bleed with a cut finger 'fore I've done."

There was so much meaning in the sailor's words, and at the same time so droll a look in his eyes, that Mark could not forbear a smile.

"If it's only a cut finger, Tom, I shan't mind," he said.

"That's right, sir. Well, I think you might start back now, and we'll get sail on. Sooner we've got these two into port the better I shall like it. I think I can manage, sir."

"But I've altered my plans," said Mark, thoughtfully.

"Yes, sir? What do you mean to do now?"

"I'll tell you. It seems to me madness, after this lesson in the American's intentions, to divide my little crew. I want them altogether, and we're weak enough then."

"Don't say you mean to give up the prize, sir," cried Tom Fillot, appealingly.

"Not while I can lift a hand, Tom. We'll try another plan. I'll get the skipper on board the other schooner. Then we'll have the crew down in our forecastle."

"And leave me to navigate this one, sir? No, that won't do, sir. What isn't safe for me, isn't safe for you."

"No, I felt that. My plan's a different one. We'll have a hawser from our schooner to this one, after you've made all snug aloft, and tow her while the weather keeps fair."

"Well, sir, I don't see why not," said Tom, thoughtfully.

"We can leave the blacks on board; and then we shall have plenty of force to meet the Yankees if they try to master us again."

"That's right, sir; and as long as the weather holds good, we may do, though I think we shall have our hands full. But look here, sir; why not--"

"Why not what?"

"There's lots o' irons below, such as they used for the poor n.i.g.g.e.rs.

Why shouldn't we couple a lot of the prisoners together, and make 'em safe?"

"Put them in irons, Tom? No, I don't like to do that--only as a last resource."

"Very well, sir," said Tom, rubbing his head where he had received a heavy blow, "only if you wouldn't mind telling on me, sir, I should like to know what you calls a last resource."

"I will, Tom, when I know," said Mark, smiling. "Hail our schooner, and tell them to come aboard in the other boat."