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Fitz the Filibuster, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 22. In The Dark |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. IN THE DARK "Silence there!" came in a stern, deep voice. "Sound travels in a night like this." It was the speaker's ultra caution spoken in a moment of intense excitement in which he hardly realised how far they had left the gunboat behind. But his orders were obeyed, utter stillness ruling on board the schooner till they had visual proof that there was no necessity for such care. "What's that? Look!" whispered Fitz, as there was a faint lambent glare far astern, one which gradually increased, and Poole whispered back-- "They are burning a blue light." "Yes," said the skipper, who was still close at hand. "Know what that means, my boy?" "Well, I suppose it's to try if they can see us, father." "Not it," said the skipper sharply. "You know, Mr Burnett?" "I should say it's a signal, sir, to recall their boats." "Right, my lad; that's it; and that will take some little time, for I dare say they are spread all over the bay. She's not likely to have a consort; eh, Burgess?" "I should think not," was the reply. "No, I don't think we need trouble ourselves about that." "Right, then. Get well out into the offing, and then sail for south-east by south." The mate grunted, gave an order or two, with the result that a gaff-topsail was run up, and the schooner heeled over more and more, while now the dim light that had been thrown down on the binnacle was increased a little, and the skipper took his place beside the steersman. "That means that he is not afraid of our being seen," said Poole quietly. "I say, what an escape we had! Don't you call this exciting?" "Yes," said Fitz; "rather more so than I like. Let's go right forward again to where the look-out men are." "To help them keep a sharp look-out for rocks? There are none out here, or we shouldn't be going at this rate." "Think that they will come after us?" "Sure to," said Poole. "Full steam ahead." "Then they'll see us again at daylight." "Think so? Why, we have got all the night before us, and the gunboat's captain isn't likely to follow in our wake." "I suppose not. It would be a great chance if he did. How beautiful the water is to-night!" "Yes! One had no chance to admire it before. 'Tis fine. Just as if two rockets were going off from our bows, so that we seem to be leaving a trail of sparks behind." "Yes, where the water's disturbed," said Fitz. "It's just as if the sea was covered with golden oil ready to flash out into light as soon as it was touched." "Why, you seem quite cheery," said Poole. "Of course. Isn't it natural after such a narrow escape?" "Yes, for me," replied Poole banteringly; "but I should have thought that you would have been in horribly low spirits because you were not captured and taken on board the gunboat." "No, you wouldn't," said Fitz shortly. "I know better than that. I say, you will stop on deck all night, won't you?" "Of course. Shan't you?" "Oh yes. I couldn't go to sleep after this. Besides, who can tell what's to come?" "To be sure," said Poole quietly. "Who can tell what's to come? In spite of what old Burgess says, the gunboat may have a consort, and perhaps we are running out of one danger straight into another." Perhaps due to the reaction after the excitement, the lads ceased to chat together, and leaned over the bows, alternately watching the phosphorescent sea and the horizon above which the stars appeared dim and few. Fitz looked more thoughtful as the time went on, his own words seeming to repeat themselves in the question--Who knows what might happen? Once they turned aft, to look right astern at where they caught sight once or twice of the gunboat's light. Then it faded out and they went forward again, the schooner gliding swiftly on, till at last the mate's harsh, deep voice was heard giving his orders for an alteration of their course. It was very dark inboard, and it was not until afterwards that the two lads knew exactly what had taken place. It was all in a moment, and how it happened even the sufferer hardly knew, but it was all due to a man having stepped in the darkness where he had no business to be; for just after the giving of the order, and while the spokes were swinging through the steersman's hands, one of the booms swung round, there was a dull thud, a half-uttered shout, and then a yell from one of the foremost men. "Man overboard!" was roared, and as the skipper ran forward, after shouting to the steersman to throw the schooner up into the wind, another man answered his eager question with-- "It's Bob Jackson, sir. I saw him go." The captain's excited voice rang out mingled with the shrill whistle of the boatswain's pipe, and then to be half-drowned by his hoarse roar as the men's feet pattered over the deck, now rapidly growing level as the pressure was taken off the sails. "Now then, half-a-dozen of you!" came hoarsely. "Don't stand staring there! Are you going to be all night lowering down that boat? Sharp's the word! I am going to show you the way." As he spoke, Fitz had a dim vision of the big bluff fellow's action, as, pulling out his knife, he opened it with his teeth. "Sharks below there!" he roared. "'Ware my knife!" and running right astern he sprang on to the rail, looked round for a moment, fixed his eyes upon a luminous splash of light that had just taken Fitz's attention, and then sprang overboard into the black water, which splashed up like a fountain of fire, and the bluff sailor's figure, looking as if clad in garments of lambent gold, could be seen gliding diagonally down, forming a curve as it gradually rose to the surface, which began to emit little plashes of luminosity as the man commenced to swim. "Well done! Bravo!" panted Fitz, and then he rushed to the spot where the men were lowering down, sprang on to the bulwark, caught at the falls, and slipped down into the boat just as it kissed the water. "You here!" cried a familiar voice. "Yes," panted Fitz, "and you too!" "Why, of course! Pull away, my lads. I'll stand up and tell you which way to go." The falls were already unhooked and the oars over the side, the men pulling with all their might in the direction where the regular splashes made by the motion of the boatswain's arm could be seen as he scooped away at the water with a powerful side stroke. "Pull, lads--pull!" roared the skipper's son, while in his excitement Fitz scrambled over the oars to get right in the bows, where he strained his eyes to try and make out the man who had gone over first, and a terrible catching of the breath assailed him as he realised the distance he had been left behind by the swiftly-gliding schooner. Even the boatswain was far away, swimming hard and giving out a heavy puff like some grampus just rising to breathe. "This way, boys!" he shouted. "Come along! Cheer up, my hearty! I am coming fast." He ceased speaking now, as the boat followed in his track, and Fitz as he knelt in the bows reached behind him to begin fumbling for the boat-hook, finding it and thrusting it out like a little bowsprit, ready to make a snatch when the time should come. But his effort seemed as if it would be vain, for after what seemed in the excitement to be a terribly long row, the boat was brought abreast of the swimming boatswain. "Can't you see him, Butters?" shouted Poole, who had now joined Fitz. "No, my lad," came in a hoarse gasping tone. "Can't you?" "No. I saw the water splash not a minute ago. It was just beyond where you were swimming." "No; more to the left," cried Fitz. "Ah, there! There! There!" and he pointed out in the direction he had described. "Yes, that's it," roared the boatswain, who seemed suddenly to have recovered his breath, and throwing himself away from the boat, whose side he had grasped, he splashed through the water for a few yards towards where a ring of gold seemed to have been formed, and as the boat followed, and nearly touched his back, he seemed to be wallowing in an agitated pool of pale greenish fire, which went down and down for quite a couple of fathoms, the boat passing right above it with the men backing water at a shout from Poole, so that they passed the disappearing swimmer again. "Now," shouted Fitz, as the golden light began to rise, and thrusting down the boat-hook he felt it catch against the swimmer's side. The next moment the boatswain was up with a rush, to throw one arm over the bows. "Got him!" he gasped. There was a quick scramble, the water almost lapped over the side as the starboard-bow went down, and then, partly with the hauling of the boys, partly by the big sturdy boatswain's own efforts, the unfortunate Bob Jackson was dragged aboard, the boatswain rolling in after him with his messmates' help, and subsiding between two of the thwarts with a hoarse, half-strangled groan. "Hooroar!" came from the men, the boys' voices dominating the shout with a better pronunciation of the word. "Hooroar it is!" gasped the boatswain. "Bravo, Butters! Well done! Well done!" cried Poole. "Well done? I am done, you mean. I thought I'd let him go. Keep back, some on you--give a fellow room to breathe. That's better," came with more freedom. "Now then, give your orders, Mr Poole," panted the man; "I've lost my wind. Get him on his back and pump his into him. That's your sort!" he continued, as in obedience to the young skipper's commands two men began to row while the others set to work upon the first aid necessary in the case of a half-drowned man. "Ah!" sighed the boatswain, now sitting up in the bottom of the boat and shuffling himself aft a little so as to give more room. "I am as weak as a babby. Well done! Pump away, my lads. That's your sort! Pore chap, he's all water and no wind now! I dunno what he'd been about. Had he been soaping his feet?--Think he's coming round, Mr Poole?" "I hope so," was the reply. "I am afraid, poor fellow, he must have been half-stunned. Come and look, Butters; I want you to feel his chest." The boatswain came and leaned over. "Keep it up, my lads. It will be all right soon. Oh yes, his own pump's going on inside. His kit won't be for sale. But I don't believe he'd have taken his trick at the wheel again if I hadn't gone down and fetched him up." "No; you saved his life, Mr Butters," cried Fitz excitedly. "I never saw anything so brave before. Would you mind--" "Eh!--What, sir?--Shake hands?--Certainly, sir, hearty, and same to you!" "Oh!" ejaculated Fitz involuntarily. "I am very sorry, sir. Did I squeege too hard?" "Why, it was a scrunch," said the boy petulantly. "But it's all right now. Your fingers, though, are as hard as wood." "Well, they arn't soft, sir. But hallo! I never shut up my knife." He closed the keen blade with a sharp snap. "There! Now you see the vally of a lanyard," he continued, as he thrust the great clasp-knife into the waist-band of his trousers.--"Keep it up, my lads. I'll take a turn as soon as I've got my own wind again. Ah, there's nothing like a lanyard. If it hadn't been for that my snickersee would have gone zigger-zagging down through the dark black water disturbing the little jellyfish and lighting the way for a snip, snap, swallow, all's fish that comes to their net style, to go inside some shark. But I've got it safe. It's a fine bit of Sheffield stuff, and I'll be bound to say it would have disagreed with him as had swallowed it. Here, somebody--who's got a match? Mine'll be all wet. Strike a light, will you; I want to see if he's beginning to wink yet." A match was struck, and as it burned steadily in the still air a faint light was shown from the schooner far, far away. "See there, my lads? He's winking his eyes like fun; but go on pumping slow and steady to keep him breathing--mustn't let him slip through your fingers now. Pull away there, my lads; put your backs into it. My word, there's a stiff current running here!" "Yes," said Poole; "we are much farther away than I thought." "But what an escape!" cried Fitz. "Eh? What do you mean?" "Look yonder; that streak of light gliding along and making the water flash. You can just make out now and then something dark cutting through it." "Ah, that's plain enough," said the boatswain; "a jack shark's back fin, and a big un too." "Lucky for you both," said Poole, "that you are safe on board." "Lucky for him, you mean," said the boatswain. "That knife of mine's as sharp as hands can make it. If I had let him have it he'd have shown white at daylight, floating wrong side up." "If you had hit him," said Fitz. "If I'd hit him, sir! A man couldn't miss a thing like that. But of course there wouldn't have been time to pick my spot." "Oh!" ejaculated Fitz, in a long-drawn sigh. "Seems to turn me quite over! That's about the most horrible cry I know--Man overboard! It's bad enough in the daylight, but on a night like this--" "Ah, it would make you feel a bit unked, my lad," said the boatswain, "if you had time to think; but it was a fine night for the job. I have been out in a boat after one of these silly chaps as didn't mind where he was going, when you couldn't make out his bearings at all. To-night the sea brimed so that you could tell where he was at every move. Splendid night for the job!" "And it was a very brave act, Butters," said Poole warmly. "What was, sir?" "Why, to jump overboard on a dark night, not knowing whether you would ever reach the schooner again." "Tchah! Nonsense, sir! You shouldn't talk stuff like that to a wet man! It was all charnsh, of course; but a sailor's life is all charnsh from the moment he steps aboard. We are charnshing now whether they'll pick us up again, for they can't see us, and we don't seem to be making no headway at all in this current. Here, you, Sam Boulter, get right in the stem and stand by there with that there box of matches. Keep on lighting one and holding it up to let it shine out. Be careful and don't burn your ringers." A low chuckle rose from the oarsmen, followed the next moment by a deep groan and a low muttering from the reviving man. "Hah!" said the boatswain. "He's coming round now, and no mistake." Just then there was a sharp scratch, a pale light of the splint of wood stood out in the darkness, and mingled with a spluttering husky cough came the voice of the half-drowned foremast-man. "Here, easy there! What are you doing? Hah! Boat! Boat! Help!" This was consequent on the gleaming match shining out before the poor fellow's eyes. "Steady there!" roared out the boatswain. "What are you singing out like that for? Can't you see you are safe aboard?" "Eh? Eh? Oh, thank goodness! I thought it was the schooner's lights. That you, Mr Butters?" "Me it is, my lad! All right now, aren't you?" "Yes, yes; all right. But I thought it was all over with me that time." "So it ought to have been! Why, what were you about? Did you walk overboard in your sleep?" "I--no--I--I dunno how it was. I suppose I slipped." "Not much suppose about it," said the boatswain, as the man sat up. "Here, I'll give you a dose that'll do you good. Take one of them oars and pull." "Oh no!" cried Poole. "The poor fellow's weak." "'Course he is, sir, and that'll warm him up and put life into him. Tit for tat. We've saved him from what the old folks at home calls a watery grave, and now it's his turn to do a bit of something to save us." "To save us, Mr Butters?" whispered Fitz, laying his hand on the boatswain's arm. "Why, you don't think--" "Yes, I do, sir. I'm thinking all the time, as hard as a man can. Here, you'd better not handle me; I'm as wet as wet." "But we shall soon get alongside the schooner, shan't we?" "Well, it don't seem like it, sir. Wish we could! I should just like a good old jorum of something warm, if it was only a basin of old Andy's broth as he makes so slimy with them little round wet barley knobs. I'm all of a shiver. Here, you number one, get up and I'll take your oar. I don't like catching cold when I'm at sea." "But surely they'll tack round, or something, so as to pick us up." "Here, hi! You look alive there with another of those matches. You don't half keep them going, so that they can see where we are." "Aren't any more," said the man in the stem. "I held that one till it did burn my fingers, and it was the last." "Humph!" grunted the boatswain. "Well, they can't see us, of course, and the sea's a bit big and wide out here; let's try if we can't make them hear." He had scarcely spoken when there was a soft bellowing roar; but the sound took form and they made out--"Ahoy-y-y-y! Where away there?" breathed, it almost seemed, so distant and strange was the hail, through a speaking-trumpet. "Cease pulling!" shouted the boatswain. "Now then, all together. Take your time from me. One, two, three--Ahoy-y-y-y!" Every lusty throat on board the boat sent forth the cry at once, and a strange chill ran through Fitz's breast as he noted not only how feeble the cry sounded in the immensity of space, but how it seemed thrown back upon them from something it could not penetrate--something soft and impervious which shut them in all round. _ |
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