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Nic Revel; A White Slave's Adventures in Alligator Land, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 19. "What'll Massa Say?" |
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_ CHAPTER NINETEEN. "WHAT'LL MASSA SAY?" The scene taking place before him acted strangely upon Nic. It seemed to rouse him from his dreamy state, and awakened him to a wild pitch of excitement. He sprang to his feet, and was on the point of springing overboard to the man's help; but a touch from Pete upon the shoulder was enough: he sank down beneath its pressure, weak and helpless as a child. "What are you going to do?" whispered Pete. "Are you mad?" "Help! Save him! Can you stand like that and see the man drown before your eyes?" "What can I do, lad?" growled Pete angrily. "If I go over after him, it's to drown myself. These irons'll stop a man from zwimming, and take one to the bottom like a stone." "Ay, ay; ye can't do 'un," growled one of the other prisoners, in whom the desire for escaping died out on the instant. "Sit still, lad; sit still." But Pete stood with staring eyes, gazing wildly at the place where his enemy had disappeared; the veins in his forehead swelled, his lips parted, and he panted as he drew his breath, looking ready at any moment to leap overboard and make an effort to save his old companion's life. Meanwhile the overseer was shouting orders to his blacks ashore as well as to those in the boat, which was gliding faster up the stream, and the men laid down their guns and picked up and put out a couple of oars, the dogs barking frantically the while. "Pete Burge," whispered one of the men, "we must make friends now. Here's our chance; shall we take it?" "No, no," cried Pete furiously, but without taking his eyes from where Humpy had disappeared. "I cannot bear it," panted Nic to himself, as he once more sprang up; and before he could be stayed he dived out of the boat, rose, and struck out for the landing-stage. Pete shouted at him in his agony, and jumped overboard to save him, forgetting what was bound to happen, and going down like a stone, feet foremost, but rising to the surface again, to fight gallantly in spite of the weight of his irons, and strive to overtake Nic, who, unencumbered, was some yards away. But it proved to be as Pete had foreseen; there was the gallant will and the strength to obey it, but it was merely a spasmodic force which only endured a minute or two. Then the brave young swimmer's arms turned, as it were, to lead, the power to breast the strong current ceased, and he remained stationary for a moment or two, before being gradually borne backward, his efforts ceasing; while the men in the boat watched him and Pete, who, with the water quite to his nostrils, was swimming with all his strength, but only just able to keep the heavy fetters from dragging him to the bottom. "Two more on us going," said one of the men. "Here, Bob; come and help. You stop and grab 'em as soon as they're near." The man and the comrade he had addressed scrambled over the thwarts towards where the two blacks were rowing hard, but hardly holding the heavy boat against the powerful tide; and as soon as the fetters clanked, the dogs barked savagely and leaped up to meet them; but as the intelligent beasts saw the men seize a couple of oars and thrust them over the sides, they stopped short, panting. "All the better for you," growled one of the men to the dog glaring at him, "for I'd ha' choked you if you'd come at me.--Pull away, blackies." The additional oars had the right effect, for as the four men pulled with all their might the boat began to stem the current and shorten the distance between it and the two drowning men. But, in spite of his great strength, Pete was being mastered by the heavy weight of the irons, and was getting lower and lower in the water; while Nic's arms had ceased to move, and he was drifting with the tide. "Keep up; strike out, lads," cried the man in the bows, in agony. "We're coming fast now." It was not the truth, for the heavy boat was moving very slowly against the swift tide, and the swimmers' fate seemed to be sealed, as the man reached back, got hold of another oar, and thrust it out over the bows, ready for Pete to grasp as soon as he came within reach. "We shall be too late," groaned the man, with all his enmity against Pete forgotten in those wild moments of suspense. "Here, look out for the oar. Pete, lad, swim back. Oh! poor lad, he can't hear me. He's drownin'--he's drownin'." Pete could not hear, and if he had heard during his frantic efforts to reach Nic, he would not have heeded, for there was no room in the man's brain in those wild moments for more than that one thought--that he must save that poor, weak fellow's life. It takes long to describe, but in the real action all was condensed into less than a minute. Pete, who fought wildly, frantically, to keep his head above water, fought in vain, for his fettered legs were fast losing their power, and he was being drawn gradually lower and lower, till, after throwing his head back to gasp for a fresh breath, he straightened his neck again, with the water at his eyes, and saw that what he could not achieve the current had done for him. He made a wild, last effort, and caught with one hand at the arm just within reach; his fingers closed upon it with a grip of iron, and another hand caught desperately at his hair. Then the water closed over the pair, joined together in a death-grip, and the tide rolled them unresistingly up the stream. "Pull, pull!" yelled the man in the bows, as he reached out with his oar; but he could not touch the place where he saw the figures disappear. Quick as thought, though, and with the clever method of one accustomed to the management of a fishing-boat, the man changed his tactics. He laid the oar over the prow, treating the iron stem as a rowlock, and gave a couple of strokes with all his might, pulling the boat's head round, and bringing it well within reach of the spot where Nic's back rose and showed just beneath the surface. Then, leaving the oar, the man reached over, and was just in time to get a good hold, as the oar dropped from the bow into the river, and he was almost jerked out of the boat himself. "Hold hard, lads, and come and help," he yelled. The help came; and, with the dogs barking furiously and getting in every one's way, Nic and Pete, tightly embraced, were dragged over into the bottom of the boat, the blacks, as soon as this was done, standing shivering, and with a peculiar grey look about the lips. At that moment there was a distant hail from the landing-stage, and the big smith pulled himself together and hailed in reply. "Ah, look!" he cried; "you white fellow lose one oar. Quick, sharp! come and pull. Massa Saunders make trebble bobbery if we lose dat." The oars were seized, and with two of the prisoners helping to row, the oar was recovered from where it was floating away with the tide, the others trying what they could do to restore the couple, who lay apparently lifeless; while the dog which had behaved so strangely earlier in the day stood snuffing about Nic, ending by planting his great paws upon the poor fellow's chest, licking his face two or three times, and then throwing up his muzzle to utter a deep-toned, dismal howl, in which the others joined. "Say, um bofe dead," groaned the big smith. "Pull, boy; all pull you bess, and get back to the massa. Oh, lorimee! lorimee! what massa will say along wi' dat whip, all acause we drown two good men, and couldn't help it a bit. Oh, pull, pull, pull! Shub de boat along. What will massa say?" _ |
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