Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England The Black Bar, by George Manville Fenn. _______________________________________________________________________ HMS Nautilus is on patrol off the west coast of Africa, intercepting the American slave ships that were trying at that time to purchase cargoes of slaves from the dealers, and then to take them across the Atlantic in loathsome conditions. Slavery had been abolished in British territories in 1772, many years before, and the British were actively policing African waters in the hope of deterring the Americans and the Portuguese from retaining the slave trade. Nautilus has two midshipmen aboard, and one of these, Mark Vandean, is the hero of the story. The book is in the usual Manville Fenn style, with a succession of dreadful situations in which the hero finds himself. "How ever does he extricate himself from this?" the reader is continually asking. Of course he does, but it is often by means of something quite unexpected. A Black Bar is a device in heraldry, indicating that there is something shameful in the wearer's ancestry. NH ________________________________________________________________________ THE BLACK BAR, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. CHAPTER ONE. TWO MIDDIES AND A MONKEY. "We've done wrong, Van. There'll be a jolly row about it." "Get out! What's the good of talking now? You were as ready to have him as I was. Lie still, will you? or I'll pitch you overboard." Two middies talking in the stern-sheets of the cutter belonging to Her Majesty's fast little cruiser _Nautilus_, stationed on the west coast of Africa "blackberrying," so the men called their duty, Tom Fillot, one of their jokers, giving as the reason that the job was "black and berry nasty." The sun shone as it can shine in the neighbourhood of the equator, and the sea looked like so much glistening oil, as it slowly heaved up and sank with the long ground swell, the light flashing from the surface attacking the eyes with blinding power, bronzing the faces of some, peeling the noses of others. Setting aside the smart crew of the cutter in their white duck shirts and trousers and straw hats, with faces, necks, and hands of a mahogany brown, the two speakers may be taken as fair samples of what the sun could do with a fresh-coloured English lad of sixteen or seventeen. Mark Vandean, who leaned back and had wrenched himself round to sharply adjure something behind him in the bottom of the boat, was burned of a good warm Russian leather brown, while his companion, Bob Howlett, who held the rudder-lines, displayed in addition to ruddy brown cheeks a nose in a most disreputable state of rag. The boat went swiftly through the water, as the men bent with regular stroke, and made the tough ash blades of their oars curve ere they rose and scattered the flashing drops, which seemed to brighten the scene where all was flat and monotonous, and the view contracted by a dead silvery haze of heat. Behind them was the low flat shore with a few scattered white houses and factories behind a rough landing-stage. There were palms of different kinds in a straggling line, and on either side of the opening out of a muddy river, a bordering of dingy green mangroves--tree cripples, Mark Vandean called them, because they all looked as if standing up on crutches. A few boats lay in the mouth of the river, a dissolute-looking brig with its yards unsquared was at anchor higher up, and a sharp eye could detect a figure or two about the beach. On either side, as far as eye could reach, there was a line of surf. That was all shoreward, while out to sea, a couple of miles or so away, smart and business-like, with her tall spars and carefully squared yards and rigging, cobweb-like in texture at that distance, lay at anchor in the open road-stead HMS _Nautilus_ waiting to gather "blackberries" at the first opportunity, and toward which smart little vessel the cutter was being steadily propelled. The object ordered to lie still under pain of being pitched overboard did not lie, but crouched a little lower, and increased the wrinkles in its deeply lined forehead, above which was a thin fringe of hair, blinked its wondering eyes, and looked piteously at the speaker. It was the face of an old man with enormous mouth pinched together, and devoid of lips, but giving the idea that it was about to smile; nose there was none, save a little puckering in its place, but as if to make up for the want, the ears were largely developed, rounded, and stood out on either side in a pronounced fashion. For it was the most human of all the apes, being a chimpanzee about as big as a sturdy two-year-old boy. All at once the stroke oarsman ceased rowing, and began to wipe the perspiration from his open, good-humoured face. "Hullo!" shouted one of the middies, "what's that mean? Why are you not pulling?" "Beg pardon, sir; won't be none of me left to," said the man, "I'm trickling all away. Like to put the new hand in my place?" "New hand?" said the other middy; "what do you mean?" "Gent as you have behind you there." Mark Vandean frowned, and drew himself up, tried to look severe as an officer, but he was confronted by five grinning faces, and the mirth was contagious; he smiled at the idea, and the men roared. "There, pull away, my lads, and let's get on board. This is no time for skylarking." The men bent to their oars again, and the boat answered to its name, cutting swiftly through the water towards the little man-o'-war. "But there will be a row about it, old fellow," whispered Bob Howlett. "Oh, very well then, they must row," said Mark Vandean pettishly. "There's no harm in having a monkey onboard--if we can get it there." "Don't you be uneasy about that, Mr Vandean, sir," said the stroke oarsman; "me and my mates'll smuggle the young nigger gent aboard somehow, even if I has to lend him my duds." "You leave off cutting jokes, Tom Fillot, and pull hard." "Ay, ay, sir," cried the man, chuckling, and he and his fellows made the boat skim through the glowing water. "Perhaps the letter is important," said the first middy, "and may mean business at last." "I hope not," said the other. "I'm sick of it. Nothing but wild-goose chases after phantom ships. I don't believe there are any slavers on the coast." "Oh, aren't there, Bob?" "Don't seem like it. Where are they, then; and why don't we catch 'em?" "I dunno." "Fancy going off again to-night sneaking down to another of these rivers all among the mosquitoes and fever mists. Ugh! If I'd known, you wouldn't have caught me coming to sea." "Oh, we shall catch one of 'em yet. A big Yankee schooner full of slaves; and then look at the prize-money." "No catchee, no havee, Van. Oh, I say, I am hot. Why, I believe you could fry eggs in the sun." "Dare say you might if you could get there, Bob." "Oh, my! aren't we witty this morning! I say, I wonder what old Staples will say to the monkey, Van." "So do I," said the first middy, uneasily. "I half wish we hadn't bought it. But it seemed such a chance." "Well, we're in for it now. Staples will give it us pretty sharply, and then forget all about it." "But then there's the skipper." "Ah," said the second middy, thoughtfully; "I forgot about him. Bother the monkey! Phew! I am hot. I say, they may well call this Oily Bight. The sea looks just as if it had been greased. Oh, don't I wish I were in a good wet fog in the Channel. This is a scorcher." The lads ceased speaking, and sat back watching the anchored vessel and relieving the tedium of the long row by scratching the monkey's head and pulling its ears, the animal complacently accepting both operations, and turning its head about so that every portion should receive its share of the scratching, till all at once the boat was run alongside, the coxswain took hold with his boathook, and while the falls were hooked on, an order was given above, and they were run up to the davits. Directly after, Mark Vandean stepped on deck, touched his cap to a severe-looking officer, and presented a letter. "Take it in to the captain," he said; and Mark marched off to the cabin, while the first lieutenant, who had turned toward the boat, out of which the men had sprung, suddenly raised one hand, and pointed at the boat's side, above which a head had been raised, and its owner was gazing round with wrinkled forehead as if wondering what was going to happen next. Bob Howlett saw the first lieutenant's fixed stare and pointing hand, and glancing round, he caught sight of the head with its chin on the gunwale. "Who's that?" cried the first lieutenant, sharply; and the men screwed up their faces and looked comically solemn on the instant, but no one spoke. "Mr Howlett," cried the officer again, "I asked you who that was in the boat!" "Beg pardon, sir; didn't know you were speaking to me. Which, sir?" The lieutenant's lips were compressed as he took a couple of strides and brought himself alongside of the middy. "If you are not careful, sir," he said severely, "trouble will follow this. You did know I spoke to you, sir. I said, `Who is that young black?' Why, it's an ape." "Yes, sir; chimpanzee, sir." "How dare you bring a monkey on board, sir?" "Only a natural history specimen, sir; and I thought--" "Oh, there you are, Staples," said the captain, coming up. "Look, I think this is right at last;" and he handed the letter to his second in command. "Looks correct, sir," said the lieutenant, after reading the letter. "Shall you act upon it?" "Act upon it, man! Of course." The monkey was forgotten. The boatswain's pipe rang out, the men came tumbling up, and as fast as it could be achieved, the anchor was raised, sail after sail hoisted, and an hour after, with every scrap of canvas that could be set, the _Nautilus_ was slowly gliding along right out to sea, with the palm and mangrove-lined shore slowly fading into the haze, while the men collected together in knots and discussed the possibility of catching a slaver that night. "What's it to be, Van," said Bob Howlett, "fun or flam?" "Tell you to-morrow morning," was the reply. "I say, I've fed the chim', and he's asleep." "Wish I was too," said Bob Howlett, "Oh, I say, ain't it hot?" CHAPTER TWO. BLACKBERRYING AT SEA. That night the _Nautilus_ was pretty close inshore, as soon as she could approach without being seen. Every light was out, the sail had been reduced, and they were gliding slowly along, watching the mouth of a river about twenty miles south of Port Goldby. They had been lying off here for days, waiting for the news the British agent had been trying hard to obtain for them, so as to enable the officer in command of her Majesty's cruiser to strike a severe blow at the horrible traffic being carried on by swift-sailing schooners and barques trading between the West Coast of Africa and the southern ports of the United States. The _Nautilus_ had been for weeks upon the station, and so far all her efforts had proved vain. But now very definite information of the sailing of a large schooner from Palm River had been obtained, and everyone on board was in a most profound state of excitement. The night-glasses were being used, and as the vessel cruised to and fro off the mouth of the river, it did not seem possible for a fishing-boat to get away, leave alone a large schooner. This would be sure not to leave the river till the turn of the tide, two hours after dark, when she was expected to drop down with her cargo of unfortunates, collected at a kind of stockade by a black chief, who was supposed to be working in collusion with a merchant, whose store up the river had been ostensibly started for dealing in palm oil, ivory and gold dust with the above chief, a gentleman rejoicing in the name of Quoshay Dooni. Captain Maitland's plan had been well carried out, for the haze had helped him; and after sailing right away, the vessel had crept close in at dark; and as night fell with all the suddenness of the tropics, she had reached the mouth of the river as aforesaid unseen. After listening impatiently for some time, orders were given, and a couple of boats were lowered, each furnished with lanterns for signalling, of course kept hidden; and the monkey episode being for the time forgotten, Mark Vandean obtained permission to go in the first cutter, Bob Howlett being sent in the second. "Whether we catch them or no," thought Mark, as the boat kissed the water, "it will be a bit of a change." Then, after a few whispered orders given to the second lieutenant, who was in charge, the two boats pushed off, the men dipping their muffled oars gently, and after separating for a couple of hundred yards, both cutters made their way silently through what appeared to be a wall of blackness, while each ear was alert to catch the slightest sound--the object being to make sure that the slaver did not slip down the river in the darkness, and pass the _Nautilus_ unseen. "Keep that sail well over the lanterns, Dance," whispered the lieutenant to the coxswain; "don't show a glimmer, but mind that they are kept burning." "Ah, ay, sir." "Shall I take them in charge, Mr Russell?" whispered Mark. "No, my lad; I want you for company. Keep your eyes well skinned, as the Yankees say. If you sight the vessel first I'll give you a ring." "Thankye, sir," said Mark, and then to himself, "No such luck!" The next moment he was peering over the heads of the men, and to right and left, straight into the black darkness, as the boat was steered, as nearly as they could guess, right up the river, the only guide they had being the steady rush of the muddy water which they had to stem. "Seems a Blindman's Buff sort of game, doesn't it, Mr Russell?" whispered Mark, at the end of a couple of hours. "Yes, my lad, it's all chance work. I only wish, though, that we could blunder on to the abominable craft. They'll be too sharp for us I'm afraid." Another hour passed, and they were still completely shut up in the darkness, with a thick haze overhead; and at last the lieutenant whispered,--"Lucky if we don't some of us catch fever to-night." "Look here, Vandean, if we don't soon see something I shall signal the ship for a recall. We shall do nothing to-night. Eh? what?" "I heard voices off to the left," Mark whispered. "Then it's the schooner," said the lieutenant, in a suppressed voice. "Give way, my lads! steady! I shall lay the boat alongside, and you must board her somehow. Coxswain only stay in the boat." The men received their orders in silence, but a suppressed sigh told of their eagerness and readiness to act. A minute later there was a sharp rattling sound, a savage growl, and a loud burst of laughter. The first cutter had come in contact with the second, and directly after there was a whirring, brushing sound of branches sweeping over the boats, one of which bumped against a root and nearly capsized. "Tut, tut, tut!" ejaculated the lieutenant; "back water, my lads! We are doing no good here. It is impossible to see where we are going." There was a slight splashing, and the boats began to descend the stream, swept along by the tide for a time, till they lay on their oars again. "What's that, Mr Russell?" whispered Mark, all at once. "What? I heard nothing but one of the oars badly muffled." "I didn't near anything. I meant what's that I can smell?" The lieutenant started, and just then there was a peculiarly offensive, sickening odour perceptible. "No mistaking that," whispered the lieutenant; and, giving orders, a lantern was taken from beneath the sail, and shown above the gunwale of the boat. Almost immediately a faint star-like light shone out at a distance on their left, and the lantern was hidden and the star disappeared. "Why's that?" whispered Mark. "Let the other boat know the slaver's dropping down," was whispered back. "But is she?" said Mark, excitedly. "No doubt about that, my lad. Pull steady." The men obeyed, and the boat was steered in a zigzag fashion down the river, but there was no sign of the slaver. If she was dropping down it was so silently that her presence was not detected, and at last a fresher feeling in the air warned the occupants of the first cutter that they must be nearing the mouth of the river. "Light," whispered Mark, pointing off to his right, where, faintly seen, there was a feeble ray. "Signal," whispered the lieutenant. The lantern was shown, and there was an answering light from behind them, proving that the one forward must be at sea. "It's a recall," said the lieutenant, with a sigh of relief; "give way, my lads." Then to Mark: "The captain must be uneasy about us, or he would never show that light. It's like letting the slaver know. Bah! what an idiot I am. That's not our light. Pull, my lads, pull! That must have been shown by the ship we are after." As he spoke the light disappeared, and a fresh one appeared from astern. They showed their own lantern, and their signal was answered, the second cutter running up close to them a few minutes later, while the lieutenant was boiling over with impatience, for he had been compelled to check his own boat's way. "What is it?" he said to his second in command. "See that light ashore, sir?" "No; I saw one out at sea; it's the slaver. Follow us at once." "But that light was ashore, sir." "Mr Ramsay, do you think I'm blind? Mr Howlett, are you there?" "Yes, sir." "Didn't you see a light off to sea?" "No, sir; ashore." "I tell you it was at sea, and it is the craft we are after. Now, my lads, give way." _Crash_. "Why, we're among the trees again." "Yes, sir; shore's this way," said the coxswain. "Then where in the name of wonder is the sea?" said the lieutenant, in an angry whisper, as the tide bore them along, with the men's oars rattling among the mangrove stems. "I think we've got into a side channel," said Mark. "Rubbish! How could we?" "Beg pardon, Mr Russell, sir," came from the boat astern; "we've got into a sort of canal place with the tide running like a mill stream. Hadn't we better lie to till daybreak?" "Better sink ourselves," growled the lieutenant. "Here are we regularly caught in a maze, and that schooner getting comfortably away to sea." "'Fraid so, sir," said the boatswain. "That there was a light showed ashore to warn 'em that we were in the river; some of 'em must have heard." The lieutenant made no answer, but ordered the men to back water, and for the next four hours they were fighting the swift river, trying to extricate themselves from the muddy system of branches into which they had been carried in the darkness, but in vain; and at last, in despair, they made fast to the mangroves, and waited for day. Light came at last, piercing the white fog in which they lay; and in a short time they were back in the wide river, close to the sea, dejected, weary, and wondering that they could have been so confused in the darkness. "Nice wigging we shall have, Vandean," said the lieutenant; "the skipper will sarcastically tell me he had better have sent one of the ship's boys in command. But there, I did my best. Ugh! how chilly it feels!" An hour later they were alongside the _Nautilus_, which lay at the edge of a bank of mist which covered the sea, while shoreward all was now growing clear from a gentle breeze springing up. The lieutenant was a true prophet, for the captain almost used his officer's words. "Then you haven't seen a sign of the schooner?" "No, sir; but we smelt it." "What!" cried the captain. "Sail ho!" shouted the man at the look-out, and in a moment all was excitement, for, about a mile away, down what looked like a clear lane through the white fog, was a two-masted vessel, crowded with sail; and as rapidly as possible the boats were hoisted up, and the _Nautilus_ was in pursuit. But hardly had she careened over under the press of sail than the fog shut the vessel from their sight, and for the next two hours she was invisible, while the captain of the _Nautilus_ had to lie to, for fear of some slippery trick on the part of what was undoubtedly the slaver, since she was more likely to make for the shelter of a creek than to risk safety in flight. But the wind was not favourable for this manoeuvre, and toward mid-day the sea grew clear, and there was the slaver plainly visible miles away, sailing out west, while the _Nautilus_ crowded on every stitch of canvas in pursuit. A stern chase is a long one, says the proverb, and night came with the craft still miles away, but the sky was brilliantly clear, and the moon shone forth, showing the white-sailed schooner in a strangely weird fashion far across the flashing sea. "We're gaining on her," said Bob Howlett, who was as full of excitement as the men, while Mark felt a strange suffocating sensation at the chest as he strained his eyes and watched the swift schooner, whose captain tried every manoeuvre to escape the dogged pursuit of the Queen's cruiser. "Hang it all! he's a plucky one," said Bob, as the chase went on. "He must be taken, but he won't own to it." "Thought a ship was a she," said Mark. "Well, I was talking about the skipper, wasn't I?" "A man doesn't want to lose his ship, of course." "Nor his cargo," cried Bob. "There, give it up, old fellow; we're overhauling you fast." It was a fact: the _Nautilus_, with all her studding sails set, was creeping nearer and nearer, till at last, amid no little excitement on the part of the two midshipmen, a gun was shotted, run out, and a turn or two given to the wheel. Then, as the _Nautilus_ swerved a little from her course, the word was given, and a shot went skipping across the moonlit sea, splashing up the water in a thousand scintillations, and taking its final plunge far ahead of the schooner. Every eye and every glass was fixed upon the slaver, for such she was without a doubt, since she kept on, paying no heed to the shot and its summons to heave to; and after a second had been sent in chase, the captain gave the word, and a steady fire was kept up at the spars and rigging. "I can't fire at her hull, Staples," the captain said. "No, it would be slaughtering the poor wretches down below; never mind, sir, we'll capture her directly. She's ours, safe." "Then the sooner the better," said Bob to his companion. The firing continued, and the crews of the two guns which sent their shot in chase vied with each other in their efforts to hit a spar and bring down the sails of the schooner; but they tried in vain. Sails were pierced, but no other harm was done, and the slaver kept gallantly on. But all her efforts were in vain. The _Nautilus_ crept on and on, nearer and nearer, till she was only about a quarter of a mile away, and then the slaver altered her course, and gained a little by her quick handling. But the _Nautilus_ was after again, and after two or three of these manoeuvres Captain Maitland was able to anticipate her next attempt to escape, and all seemed over. "I wonder how many poor wretches she has on board?" tried Mark, excitedly, as the word was passed for one of the boat's crews to be ready for boarding as soon as the slaver captain struck the flag he had run up in defiance. "Hundreds perhaps," said Bob, coolly; "but we haven't got her yet." "No; but they're going to give in now. I can see the captain quite plainly," said Mark, who was using a glass. "What are they doing? Oh, Bob, look!" For through the glass he saw what seemed to be a struggle on the moonlit deck, and directly after there was a splash. "Great heavens!" cried Captain Maitland. "Staples! Look! They're throwing the poor fellows overboard." "No," said the first lieutenant, with his glass to his eye; "only one." A mist came for a moment over Mark Vandean's sight, but it passed away; and, with the feeling of suffocation at his throat increasing now, he kept his glass upon the black head in the midst of the quivering water, where a man was swimming hard for life. Brought almost close to him by his powerful glass, Mark could nearly make out the agonised look upon the swimmer's face, as, at every stroke, he made the water shimmer in the moonlight; and every moment as his forehead grew wet and his hands clammy, the midship, man expected to see the waves close over the poor wretch's head. Just then his attention was taken up by the voices of the Captain and lieutenant. "The scoundrel! the fiend!" cried the former, with a stamp of rage upon the deck; "if it were not for those on board I'd sink him." "I wish we could, sir," replied the first lieutenant; "we shall lose him." "No," cried the captain. "He has thrown that poor wretch overboard, believing that we shall heave to and pick him up sooner than let him drown." "While he gets a mile away," said the first lieutenant; "and as soon as we overhaul him again, he'll throw over another--that is, sir, if we stop to pick the poor creatures up." "Help! boat! help!" cried Mark, unable to contain his feelings longer; and lowering his glass, he turned to the captain. "Look, sir, look!" he cried, pointing in the direction of the drowning black; "the poor fellow's going down." CHAPTER THREE. SAVING A BROTHER'S LIFE. There was a moment's dead silence after Mark had, in his excitement, cried for help. Then the word "Fire!" was uttered sharply, and there was the deafening report of a gun, whose shot again passed between the schooner's masts, but without doing the slightest harm. Then, almost mingled with the bass roar of the cannon, the captain's orders rang out; the boatswain's pipe sounded shrilly, and as the _Nautilus_ was thrown up into the wind, and her sails began to shiver, down went the boat with its crew, Mark, at a sign from the captain, who gave him a friendly smile, having sprung in. Then there was a quick thrust off by the coxswain, the oars fell on either side with a splash, and the young midshipman stood up, balancing himself on the thwart in the stern-sheets, directing the officer who held the rudder-lines how to steer, for far-away on the moonlit water, when the swell rose high, he could still see the dark head and the rippling made by the swimmer struggling for his life. "Starboard!" shouted Mark. "Pull, my lads, pull. Starboard a little more." "Starboard it is," cried the officer. "See him still?" "Yes," cried Mark. "Oh, pull, my lads, pull, or he'll go down before we get to him. Now port a little: they're pulling stronger on one side than on the other--not too much. That's right. Yes, I can--no, he is down in the hollow. There he is again. Pull your hardest," he cried, excitedly; and the men jerked at their oars as they cheered. "Hold on; we're coming," cried Mark to the drowning man, thoughtless of the fact that the negro would not understand his words, even if he heard them, which was doubtful in the wild agony of his struggle, as with breath growing short, weak as he was from confinement, he struck out more quickly, and fought hard with the waves for his unhappy life. "See him still?" cried Mark's companion, as the boat made the water foam. "Yes--no--no," said Mark, hoarsely; "he's down in the hollow again. Straight on. We're going right for him, and--" "Don't say he has gone down," cried the officer. "No; I shall see him directly. We must be close to him now. Ready there with the boathook." "Ay, ay, sir," cried the man in the bows, as he stood up ready to make a snatch at the drowning man. "See him, sir?" Mark was silent as he strained his eyes over the surface of the sea, looking vainly for the struggling figure which had been making so brave a fight for life. There was a terrible feeling of dread oppressing him, as for the first time he was face to face with death; and in those awful moments he was unconscious of the regular reports of the guns as the _Nautilus_ kept up her fire at the flying schooner. He heard nothing, saw nothing but the sea shimmering in the moonbeams. For after a long and desperate fight, with the water rising higher about his lips, the unfortunate black had grown weaker and weaker, and at last had given one tremendous plunge, which raised him high, so that he could glare wildly round for help; then he had ceased his struggle and gone slowly down, the water closing over his staring eyes and glistening teeth; there were a few bubbles, and the sea heaved and fell gently over the spot where he sank. "I have been close here, sir," cried the coxswain. "Easy, my lads," cried the young lieutenant in command. "Can't you see him, Van? Oh, hang it, lad, look! We mustn't let the poor beggar drown, even if he is a nigger." Mark uttered a groan. He had come to save a human being--a fellow-creature cast to destruction by the brutal captain of the slaver--and he had failed. "Got him?" came faintly from the distant ship. "No, sir," shouted the second lieutenant, through his hands. "Oh, look! look!" cried Mark, wildly. "Pull, my lads. Starboard men, back water. He must be somewhere here. He is sure to come up again." The men obeyed, and in those terrible moments the silence was appalling. Then came the deafening roar of a gun--the last fired then at the now distant schooner--and Mark sank down from the thwart and was turning away from the men to hide his drawn face, when he uttered a wild cry, flung himself half over the side of the boat, and made a desperate clutch at something which just rose above the water. Then hand grasped hand, the white holding the black in a desperate clutch, as the lieutenant dropped the rudder-lines, and saved Mark from going overboard by seizing him round the waist. Then came a little hauling, followed by a cheer, as the nude figure of a stalwart black was dragged in, to sink helpless, perfectly insensible, in the bottom of the boat. "Now pull, my lads!" shouted the lieutenant; "pull all you know, and let's get aboard. We've got to take that schooner before we've done." The men cheered, and pulled for the ship, from which came an answering cheer; but as Mark knelt down by the black he felt they had been a little too late, for the man lay there, in the moonlight, apparently quite dead. He had not stirred, neither did there seem to be the slightest pulsation as the boat was pulled alongside the _Nautilus_ and run up to the davits, the graceful vessel beginning to glide once more rapidly in pursuit of the schooner, which had by the cruel manoeuvre placed a considerable distance between her and her pursuer. "The black-hearted scoundrel!" cried the captain, as he stood looking down at the slave. "I'll follow him to America but what I'll have him. Well, doctor, all over with the poor fellow?" "Oh no," said the gentleman addressed; "he's coming round." Almost as he spoke there was a faint quiver of the black's eyelid, and a few minutes after he was staring wildly round at the white faces about him. The men set up a cheer, while a feeling of exultation such as he had never before experienced caused a strange thrill in the midshipman's breast. "He may thank you for his life, Vandean," said the second lieutenant, "for we should never have seen him. Now I wonder whether that scoundrel will try the same game over again." "Safe to, Russell," said the first lieutenant, gruffly. "Here, my lads, get the black below; give him a place to lie down. He'll be all right in the morning, and a free man at any rate." "I say, Van," said Bob Howlett, "aren't we all making a precious lot of fuss about a nigger? Wonder whether you'd all make as much about me." "Go overboard and try," said Mark. "Eh? Thankye. Well, not to-night. I say, can't that schooner sail?" "So can we--and faster. What a rate we're going at. Shan't capsize, shall we?" "Hope not, because if we did that schooner would escape. Why don't they fire?" "Waste of powder and shot, my boy," said a voice behind them; and, looking sharply round, there stood the first lieutenant with his glass to his eyes, watching the flying boat. "Ha! we're moving now. Better get on a lifebelt, Mr Vandean, if you feel afraid." He walked away, leaving the lad flushed and indignant. "Needn't catch a fellow up like that," he muttered. "Who said anything about being afraid?" Bob Howlett laughed, and then turned his eyes in the direction of the schooner. CHAPTER FOUR. IN GREAT JEOPARDY. Meanwhile everything possible was being tried to get another half knot of speed out of the _Nautilus_, which glided along under her cloud of sail, sending the water foaming in an ever-widening double line of sparkling water on either side. The hose was got to work, and the sails wetted, sheets were hauled more tightly home, and the captain and officers walked the decks burning with impatience as they scanned the distant schooner. "If I was the skipper I'd be ready for him this time," said Mark to his companion. "How? What would you do?" "Have the boat's crew ready to drop down the moment the slaver captain pitched another poor fellow overboard. No, no," he added, quickly; "he'll never be such a wretch as to do that again." "Oh, won't he just?" cried Bob, nodding his head, a great many times; "he'll go on chucking the whole cargo out one by one, just like the man did his gloves and things to the bear, for it to stop and smell them while he escaped. Here, I mean to go and save the next black chap, and then perhaps I shall look as cocky as you do. Oh, what a wonderful chap you are, Van!" Mark made a quick gesture, as if to hit out at his messmate, and then looked on in wonder as the captain ordered the cutter's crew back into the boat, and the men to the falls, ready in case the slaver captain should repeat his manoeuvre, while the guns were double-shotted and laid for the moment when the schooner would be once more within range. "I say," whispered Bob, "don't the skipper look savage? I believe he'd send a broadside into the schooner if it wasn't for the slaves on board." "Of course he would; he said so," replied Mark, and he went forward and then down below to where, by the dim light of a swinging lantern, he could see the wild eyes of the black as he lay in a bunk, ready to start up in dread as the lad approached. "All right; be still," said the midshipman, laying his hand upon the man's shoulder, and pressing him back; "how are you?" The man glared at him in silence, but made no sound. "It's of no use to talk to you, I s'pose," continued Mark. "There, go to sleep. Perhaps we shall have some companions for you in the morning. Hullo! begun again!" For at that moment there was a dull roar and the jarring sensation of a gun being fired overhead, making the black start and look wonderingly about him. "I say, that startled him," said Bob Howlett, who had stolen down behind his messmate, and had stood in the semi-darkness laughing at the black's astonishment. "What do you think of that, old chap? That's some of our private thunder. Large supply kept on the premises. There goes another! Here, Van, we mustn't stop below." For a second report shook the deck, and the black tried to rise, but sank back from sheer weakness. "Tell him it's all right, Van, and that he'd better go to sleep." "How?" replied Mark. "Ah, 'tis how! I say, what a shame for us to be sent on the west coast in such a state of ignorance. Here, all right, Massa Sambo. Go to sleep. I say, do come on, Van, or there'll be a row." The next minute the two lads were on deck, to find that they were rapidly overhauling the schooner, and they were just in time to hear the orders given as the boat was ready to be lowered. "Come, Mr Howlett, where have you been?" This from the first lieutenant. Bob murmured some excuse, and sprang into the boat, which dropped out of sight directly, and then darted in again as the men bent to their stout ashen oars, and sent her rapidly in the schooner's wake, where Mark made out by the troubled water seen through his glass that another poor fellow had been tossed overboard by the slaver captain, for he rightly judged that no English officer would leave the black to drown. He was quite correct in his judgment, for though Captain Maitland had fumed and declared that he would not give up the chance of capture for the sake of a black, when he felt that he might seize the schooner and put an end to the mischief she was doing probably year after year, he had his vessel's course stayed, and waited patiently for the return of the boat he had lowered. The mission of this cutter was almost an exact repetition of the one in which Mark took part, Bob Howlett having the luck to seize the second drowning man, over whose body the boathook had slipped. "And no wonder," growled the coxswain afterwards. "He'd got on no duds, and I didn't want to stick the hook into his flesh." While this was going on, the captain stamped above on one side of the quarter-deck, the first lieutenant on the other. For they kept as far apart as they could, and it was an understood thing amongst the junior officers that it would be to come in for the full force of an explosion to speak to either of them now. "Pull, men, pull!" roared the first lieutenant through his speaking trumpet. "Mr Russell, do you want to keep us here all night?" "Ay, ay, sir," came back from the boat. "What?" "No, no, sir; I beg your pardon. We've got the man." "Got the man!" cried the captain, angrily; "do you think we have no glasses on board? Make haste, sir." "Oh!" "What's that?" cried the captain, sharply, for there had been the sound of a sharp crack, and Mark had uttered the cry. "What's that, sir?" cried the lieutenant in a rage; "why it's Mr Vandean, sir, getting under my feet like a spaniel dog, and the moment I move he yelps out, sir." "It wasn't your foot, sir," cried Mark sharply, for his head was stinging with pain. "You swung round your speaking trumpet, sir, and hit me." "Silence, sir! how dare you, sir? You should get out of the way, sir," roared the first lieutenant. "That will do, Staples," said the captain, calming down now. "Now, men, up with that boat." The cutter was already swinging from the davits, while at a turn of the wheel the _Nautilus_ began to forge through the water again, and the men stood ready for another shot at the flying schooner. Just then the cutter's crew lifted out the black they had rescued, and he too sank down helpless on the deck, half dead from exhaustion. "That's one to me, Van," whispered Bob. "I saved that chap." "Then you only half did it, Mr Howlett," said the doctor, who overheard him. "Let me finish." "I say," whispered Bob, "what a nuisance it's getting, you can't say a word on board without somebody hearing. Hullo! what's the matter with your head?" "Old Staples was in a passion because you were so long, and hit me over the head with his speaking trumpet." "Get out--and we weren't so long as you were first time. Russell said so. What was it? He wouldn't dare to hit you." "But he did; swung round just when I was behind him." "Serve you right for being behind him." "What?" cried Mark, furiously. "No, no, I mean serve him right for being before you." "Less talking, young gentlemen," cried the officer of whom they were speaking, and he looked round at them so sternly that they separated, each hurrying to his post, and, glass in hand, watching the distant schooner. "Look here, Mr Russell," said the captain, walking up to that officer, as, once more, they began to near the white-sailed vessel gliding along in the brilliant moonlight. "If that scoundrel tries his cowardly scheme again, I shall drop you to pick up the poor wretch, and keep on as hard as we can, or we shall lose her. Save the poor fellow, and then pull steadily after us. I think I can overhaul her in less than half-an-hour, and then I shall heave to, and wait for you to come aboard." The second lieutenant saluted, and the captain went forward to watch the schooner. "Are you coming with me this time, Vandean?" said the lieutenant. "Yes, I hope so, sir," said the lad. "Hope, eh? Humph. You don't know what you are talking about, my lad." "Please don't speak," said Mark, excitedly. "I've got it just right now. Look sir, look, there's a regular fight going on aboard. They're getting ready to pitch another man overboard." The lieutenant raised the glass to his eyes, and immediately gave orders to the crew to stand ready. Then, following the midshipman's example, he fixed his glass upon the schooner, and watched her moonlit deck with its busy dark figures, in the full expectation of seeing another heavy splash. But nothing more disturbed the surface of the water but the rush of the swift schooner, in whose wake lay what looked like an arrow-head of foam, as the lines diverged from each side of her sharp prow; and as they neared her the captain grew excited. "She's going to heave to," he cried. Just then a shot went skipping along the water, making the sea flash into silver at every dip, and sped right on in front of the schooner's bows, a messenger sufficiently faithful to warn the Yankee skipper of what would be the fate of his vessel if he did not strike his colours, for the man who aimed that shot could as easily have hulled the swift craft. At the captain's words every eye was directed to the American flag which the skipper was disgracing, but it remained in its place as both vessels sped on, and a couple more shots were fired and sent through the main and foresails, which showed, with the aid of the glasses, a couple of black spots. That was all. "He's laughing at us," growled Mr Staples. "Oh, if we could send a few shots through his wretched craft!" "And I dare not," cried the captain. Just then Mark again caught sight of something which was taking place on the schooner's deck, not five hundred yards from where they pressed on in pursuit. It was hard to see at that distance, but he made out that a sturdy black was evidently renewing the struggle which had taken place before; but in spite of his efforts, he was being dragged to the side; then, to Mark's horror, a hand was raised and a blow struck, followed by a splash in the water, which was scattered far and wide, as the young midshipman closed his glass with his wet hands, feeling as if it had revealed horrors which he could not bear. "First cutters!" rang out, and the lad ran to the boat; the captain repeated his orders to the second lieutenant as the _Nautilus_ was run on, so as to get as near as possible to the drowning slave before her speed was checked and her boat lowered. There, all ready in their seats, the boat's crew waited. The expected moment came as the sails shivered, the boat kissed the water, the falls were unhooked, and in an extremely short space of time the _Nautilus_ was gliding on in full chase, and the cutter's oars were dipping in a quick, regular stroke which took them wide of the vessel's course, as she literally darted away. And now, as he stood up once more on the thwart, to try and make out the head of the black cast overboard, it struck Mark for the first time that they were alone upon the wide sea, and that the _Nautilus_ was very rapidly increasing her distance, while the schooner, to his excited fancy, already began to look small. But he had very little time for thinking. "Be ready with that boathook," shouted the second lieutenant. "Ay, ay, sir. Mustn't miss this one," muttered the speaker to himself. "See him, Mr Vandean?" "No, not yet, sir." "You ought to, by now. Watch for the rippled water where he is swimming." "That's what I am doing, sir," replied Mark, "but I can't see anything." "He's floating, perhaps. Pull away, my lads. Steady; we don't want to pass him." There was a few minutes' silence. "See him now, Mr Vandean?" said the lieutenant again, and Mark was silent for a few moments, as he scanned the surface round from beneath his hand. "No, sir, no sign of him." "Oh, don't say that, my lad. Look, look. We mustn't miss the poor fellow. Strikes me that we're going to pick up the whole cargo this way. Now then, wasn't that a splash yonder?" "No, sir, I can't see anything," said Mark sadly; and as he still eagerly scanned the surface amidst a breathless silence, only broken by the flapping of the water against the bows of the boat, it again struck Mark with a chill of awe that they were being left alone there; and he asked himself what would happen if the _Nautilus_ could not find them again. This was momentary, for his attention was taken up by his search, and the officer said again, in angry impatience now,--"Come, Mr Vandean, where's this poor fellow? Here, lie to, my lads." The men ceased rowing, and sat with their oars balanced, looking out on either side for some sign of the man overboard but there was none, and Mark heaved a deep sigh. "Yes," said the lieutenant, as if that sigh were in words; "it's a bad case, my lad. I am afraid he's gone, poor fellow." "Someone struck him before he went overboard," said Mark. "You saw that?" "Yes, sir." "Then he has gone. We never saw him swimming. I'm afraid we must begin to row for the ship if we do not see him in a few minutes. She's leaving us a long way behind." "I see him, sir," cried the coxswain. "Here he is!" He made a dash with his boathook, but the object he sought to reach was so far out, that he overbalanced himself and went in with a heavy plunge. "You clumsy dog!" roared the lieutenant. "Back water port, pull starboard. That's it. Now
{'title': 'The Black Bar by George Manville Fenn', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}