"Oh, was it?" said Mr Russell. "Well, never mind; they seem to trust you. Go on and see what you can do."

"It's so difficult, because they cannot understand, sir," replied Mark; "but I think I can show them what we want. Shall I try?"

"Yes, of course," said the lieutenant, to whom Mark had already given his message. "The schooner is too fast on the bank here for us to get her off, so the blacks must be taken to the _Nautilus_, and then we'll fire her at once. Pity too--such a fine boat. There, try and get the poor wretches on deck, and let's see how many there are. I'm afraid that some are dead."

Mark shuddered and turned to the blacks, who were watching him eagerly.

Signing to them to pick up a couple of buckets, he led them to the fresh-water tub, made them fill them, and then, taking up a couple of pannikins, he led the way to the mouth of the noisome hold, from which low moans were now issuing.

They followed him, and he pointed down, but they shrank away wildly, their eyes rolling, and the fear of treachery still in their b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"Very well, then," said Mark, quietly, while the officers and boat's crew looked on. "We are going to give those poor creatures some water;"

and he stepped through the hatch to the ladder, and once more began to descend.

That was enough. The two blacks carefully raised their buckets of water and followed him down, to the satisfaction of every one save Bob Howlett, who felt horribly aggrieved.

"Hadn't I better go too, Mr Russell?" he said. "I understand those two blacks."

"Perhaps you had," said the lieutenant, drily. "By all means go."

"Thankye, sir," cried Bob; and he stepped toward the hatch, where, as Mr Russell turned away, he found Tom Fillot looking at him with his face puckering up into a broad grin.

Meanwhile Bob had reached the hatch and bent over it prior to stepping down, but instead of raising his foot for that step, he started back, his hand to his face, and a look of the most intense horror and disgust overspreading his merry countenance.

"Oh!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed; and then again, "Oh!"

"What is the matter, Mr Howlett?" said the lieutenant, quietly.

"Oh, just you go there, sir. 'Pon my word! it's just awful."

"Ah, yes, I know," said the lieutenant, quietly. "The hold is bad with the poor creatures being shut up there. That is why I want to get them on deck;" and he walked to the hatch.

"You beggars! I'll serve some of you out for this," said Bob to himself, as he saw several of the men grinning hugely at his discomfort.

He turned away and found himself face to face with Tom Fillot, who looked at him with a preternaturally solemn aspect.

"Find it a bit strong, sir?"

"What?" cried Bob, haughtily.

"I said find it a bit strong, sir? I did at first when I went down; but, bless your 'art, sir, after the first few sniffs you don't mind it a bit, you rather likes it."

"Then you'd better go down, sir," said Bob, sharply.

"Yes, sir, soon as I'm wanted, sir. I did go down before with Mr Vandean."

"Did he go down, then?"

"Oh yes, sir. We was there ever so long. Just you go down and see, sir; it's very interesting. Never was in the hold of a slave ship, sir, I s'pose? It's something to talk about, I can tell you. Wonderful dark, and all you can see is the n.i.g.g.e.rs' eyes. You see, them being black, they fits in with the darkness, and as they never laughs you don't see their teeth. I'd go if I was you."

Bob hesitated. It would never do for him to show the white feather before the man, and if he did not go Mark Vandean was taking all the credit. Tom Fillot was right, it would be something to talk about, and after another moment's hesitation, he turned to the sailor.

"I say, Tom Fillot," he whispered, "is it very bad?"

"What, down there, sir?"

"Yes; I mean can a fellow bear it?"

"Bear it, sir? Oh yes, if it comes to that; you see, Mr Vandean and me bore it ever so long. You'd stand it, I should say. Oh yes, you've got so much pluck in you, sir, you'd stand it right enough. There, sir, if I was you I'd go. You could but come up again."

"Yes, of course," said Bob, cavalierly. "I could come up again."

"Of course, sir, if you could stand it, and didn't faint right away."

Bob turned upon him sharply, with the fact dawning upon him that Tom Fillot, the most impudent joker on board the _Nautilus_, was laughing in his sleeve at his expense; but before he could make quite sure, a thrill ran through all on deck, and a rush was made for the hatchway.

The moment before, Mr Russell was peering down uneasily, and his conscience was smiting him for allowing so young an officer to undertake the onerous task of descending into that loathsome den. For strange noises--low mutterings, and harsh whisperings--were going on; and directly after, to his horror, Mark's voice rang out in wildly excited tones, just as there were the sounds of a struggle going on.

"Here, men--Mr Russell! Help--quick!" shouted Mark; and in response thereto the lieutenant shouted to the boat's crew to come on, took a step downward to lead the way, and then stepped back as the lesser of the two black sailors suddenly appeared at the hatchway with his face wild with excitement, and his white duck frock and trousers horribly stained with blood.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

INTERPRETING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.

"Come _on_!"

Bravery or determination, whichever you please, say both, were displayed by Mark Vandean as he fought horror and disgust in his effort to do his duty and master self.

Stepping quickly down, he stood at the bottom of the ladder in utter darkness once more, listening to the strange whispering, thrilling noise about him, while first one and then the other black cautiously descended with the bucket of water he bore.

By the time they were in the hold his sight was beginning to grow accustomed to the change from the bright glare of sunshine on deck, and once more there were faint suggestions of glistening eyes watching him out of the cave-like darkness, as if so many savage beasts were about to spring.

But he had no time to think of his own feelings, for the two blacks now stood gazing at him inquiringly, and with some trace of their old suspicious aspect lingering still.

"Water--to drink," said Mark: and he pointed away into the darkness.

They understood him, and dipping the pannikins full, they took each a step into the darkness, and held out the precious fluid toward those who must have been suffering agonies for its want. But no one stirred--not an advance was made, to Mark's great surprise, for he had antic.i.p.ated that the black faces of his amba.s.sadors would have been sufficient to make the prisoners feel confidence that no harm was intended.

"Go closer," said Mark; and the two blacks looked back at him inquiringly, but obeyed as soon as he laid his hand upon their shoulders and pressed them forward.

Then a voice broke the silence, the big black saying a few words in his own tongue, their effect being magical. A low murmur ran through the hold, and a harsh voice croaked out what was evidently a question, for the big black answered in a hesitating way, saying a few words, and then sharply one in a questioning tone, as if he had not understood.

The harsh, croaking voice was heard again, speaking angrily, and there were several interchanges of question and answer, as if between two men who did not quite understand each other's dialect.

And now Mark's eyes had become so accustomed to the darkness that he could dimly see that the place was full of a steamy mist, through which horrible-looking, ill-defined figures were moving, wild-eyed and strange. Some were tossing their arms about, others were stretching out their hands supplicatingly toward the water pannikins, which the two blacks kept dipping full and handing to those who pressed toward them; but there was no scuffling or fighting for the water, as might have been expected under the circ.u.mstances. The wretched prisoners seemed gentle and tolerant to each other, drinking and making way for companion sufferers.

As this went on, and Mark was able to search the horrible gloom more and more, he shuddered; and, suffering as he was from the effects of the deadly mephitic air, the whole scene preyed upon his mind until he could hardly believe that he was gazing at reality, the whole tragedy before him resembling the dream accompanying some fever, and it was only by an effort that he could master the intense desire to struggle up the ladder and escape into the light and the free fresh air.