Hunting the Skipper is a Webnovel created by George Manville Fenn.
This lightnovel is currently completed.
“Yes, sir,” said Roberts, and he sheltered himself behind one of the curtains of the well-furnished English-looking bedroom where he and the officer had been watching. And then, as the latter walked quickly out, followed by the sailor who had made his report, a terrible sense of loneliness fell upon the youth, accompanied by a shortness of breath, as his heart began to beat with a heavy dull throb that sounded loud and strange.
He was gazing out at a scene of tropical beauty, the wild and the cultivated blending so that at another time he could have stood in the perfect silence dwelling upon the loveliness of the place. But now there was a feeling of awe that seemed to over-master everything, while the very fact that where he had plainly made out the movement of figures as they evidently sought concealment, all was now motionless, and not a leaf waved or was pressed aside, added to the weirdness of his position, and made him draw farther back in the full expectation that the next moment the vivid green of the surroundings would be cut by a flash of light and then turn dim as it was deadened by the rising smoke of a shot.
“I wish I wasn’t such a coward,” he muttered. “I do try hard to stand it all, and get on beautifully when the firing and spear-throwing are going on, but now, when the enemy may be going to throw a spear or fire a shot at one, it does seem so hard to bear. No worse for me than for other fellows,” he muttered bitterly, “but I am myself and they are other fellows. Ugh! I suppose it’s a very beautiful place, but it seems very horrible, and it makes a fellow wish that if he is to be wounded it would come off at once so that one could get it over.
There’s some one creeping along there now,” he muttered. “I’ll shout a warning to Mr Anderson. No, whoever it is doesn’t seem to be coming on, and it looks so stupid to shout for help when there’s no need.”
For all was perfectly motionless amongst the vivid green leaves, save where from time to time there was a flash of light–red light–topaz light–and that changing to a vivid green that looked as if it were blazing in the burning sun, and he grasped the fact that he was gazing at some lovely humming bird that darted here and there and then poised itself, apparently motionless, till he made out that there was a faint haze visible which must be caused by the rapid vibration of the tiny creature’s wings.
“Yes,” he said to himself, “it’s as beautiful as can be–that is, it would be if everything wasn’t so silent and still and one didn’t know that people were ready at any moment to take aim at one with rifle or musket. He said that they used rifles–the wretch! It’s a nasty sensation, when you don’t want to shoot any one, to feel that they want to shoot you.”
“Oh, what a while Mr Anderson is!” muttered the lad again. “He might make haste back to a fellow. He can’t be obliged to stop away watching, and he ought to visit his posts regularly so as to give each of us a bit of company.”
Roberts gazed from his sheltering curtain as far as his eyes could sweep to left and round to right, going over and over again the arc of the circle formed by his vision where he had plainly seen movement going on and people creeping amidst the rich growth of the huge saccharine gra.s.s; but all was motionless and still, and the silence seemed to grow more and more awful as he watched.
“Oh,” he groaned to himself, “why didn’t I make a dash for it and follow old Murray without saying a word? It wouldn’t have been half so bad as this, and even if it had been a more risky task–no, it couldn’t have been more risky than this–I could have borne it better. Wonder where he is, and whether he would have felt as bad as I do now if he had had my job. Ugh! It’s horribly still, and if old Anderson doesn’t come soon I shall make some excuse and go to him.”
“Yes,” he continued, “Franky would have felt just as bad as I do. He must have done. No one could help it. No man could stand this terrible silence and the sensation that a shot was coming at him. No man could bear it–no man. Oh, I say, doesn’t it seem b.u.mptious for one to think of himself as a man? Well, why shouldn’t I be? It’s man’s work, at all events. Oh, I can’t stand it. I must make some excuse. I’ll ask Mr Anderson to come and see if he doesn’t think there is some one crawling along there to the right. No, I won’t–I can’t–I must master it. It’s sheer cowardice! And if it is,” he added, after a few moments’ pause, “it’s Nature’s fault for making a fellow like this. I don’t want to be a coward; I want to be as brave as brave–well, as brave as Murray is.
I wouldn’t care if I was just as full of pluck as he is. Anyhow I won’t be a sham and go and pretend that some one is coming. I could never look him in the eyes again for fancying that he was reading me through and through. And he would–I’m sure he would.”
“Oh!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the lad excitedly, for just then one of the floor-boards gave out a sharp crack.
“Hallo!” said the familiar voice of the lieutenant. “Did I startle you, Roberts?”
“Something of the kind, sir,” said the lad, breathing hard. “I didn’t hear you come.”
“No, I suppose not. Seen anything?”
“No, sir. All is as still as if there wasn’t a soul for miles, and I felt at times as if I must come and ask you if you could hear anything.”
“Ah, this silence is very trying, Roberts, my lad,” said the lieutenant.
“The men are all suffering from it and feeling as if they would give anything to be watching together.”
“They feel like that, sir?” cried the lad eagerly.
“Yes, of course they do, sir. So do I: the utter stillness of the place, and the expectation of a shot coming at any moment, is most trying to a man. Here, how long do you think Mr Murray has been gone?”
“Can’t say, sir. It feels to me like hours; but it can’t be.”
“I don’t know, my lad. It certainly does, as you say, feel like hours.
But he ought to be back by now, with at least a dozen men. Let’s see, twelve men with Mr Munday and Mr Murray and his two will make sixteen.
Sixteen picked men; and they will bring plenty of ammunition. Well, I should like the reinforcement before friend Huggins makes his attack. I don’t care then how many he brings with him. I wonder, though, whether he will use any of his slaves to help him.”
“He said they won’t fight, sir,” said Roberts.
“But he may force them to fight, my lad. Ah! Look out! Here they come with a rush. There’s no mistake about this.”
And the officer ran to the door to shout a warning to the watchers at the other windows, for not only away in front were the giant green gra.s.s-like leaves of the Indian corn in full motion, but the rustle and crush of feet reached the listeners’ ears, while _click, click_, from within, the c.o.c.king of the men’s muskets was heard.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
“SEAFOWLS AHOY!”
Murray lost no time in making for the spot where the two men were in charge of the boat; but simple as the task appeared on the surface, it proved to be far otherwise.
He had told himself that he had only to follow in reverse the faintly-marked track taken by the black who had been their guide; and that he set himself to do, until he felt that he must be close to the stream that they had ascended; but if close by, it was by no means visible, and after making a cast or two in different directions without result, he pulled up short, the men following his example and looking at him wonderingly.
“It was just here that we left the boat-keepers, wasn’t it, Tom?” he said.
“Don’t seem like it, sir,” replied the man, “’cause if it was just here, where is it?”
“But it must have been here,” cried Murray, growing irritable and confused.
“That’s what I thought, sir,” said the man, “but it don’t seem to be nowhere near. What do you say, messmate?”
“I warn’t a-looking out, lad,” replied t.i.tely. “You see, I didn’t take no bearings ’cause I says to mysen, ‘Mr Murray ‘ll see to that,’ and what I does was to foller with my eyes screwed back’ards over my shoulders like a she hare at the dogs.”
“Same here, messmate,” says Tom May. “‘Mr Murray took the bearings to begin with,’ I says to myself, ‘and I’ll keep a sharp lookout for the enemy, who maybe ‘ll try to run us down.'”
“Then you neither of you feel that you can remember the black fellow’s trail?” said Murray, speaking excitedly, and looking hard at the big sailor the while.
“Well, I can’t answer for t.i.tely, sir,” said the man.–“Why don’t you speak up like a man, messmate, and say what you know?”
“‘Cause I can’t, lad,” replied the man addressed. “It warn’t my watch, and I telled you I was too busy looking out for squalls. I dunno which way we ought to go, messmate. Don’t you, Mr Murray, sir?”
“No, my lad; I’ve lost our bearings for a bit, but you two try off to right and left while I go straight on, and the first that comes upon the river holloa gently. Not loud, because it may bring the enemy down upon us. Now then, off with you, and when you shout, stand fast so that we may come and join you.”
“Stand fast it is, sir,” said Tom May, and without further hesitation the three separated and began to thread the dense cane brake, each fully expecting to come upon the windings of the overshadowed river at once.
But somehow every step seemed to lead the seekers into greater difficulties. It was plain enough that the river must be near, for their steps were in and out among the dense patches of cane and over soft spongy soil into which their feet sank slightly, the earth being springy and elastic; but though Murray expected to see the dense foliage open out and the brake look lighter from the presence of the river, he was disappointed again and again, and to all intents and purposes the stream had ceased to exist.
For some minutes, as Murray strode on, the steps of his companions were audible in two directions, and making up his mind to proceed in that being taken by May, he struck off so as to cross the man’s track.
This seemed practicable enough for a while, and he went on till the brake began to grow more dense and he had to force his way through the thicket. Then to his disgust he found himself entangled in a little wilderness of th.o.r.n.y palms, out of which he had a hard struggle to free himself, and he stood at last, panting and exhausted, rubbing the bleeding spots beneath the rents in his garments which a.s.serted themselves plainly.
Murray rubbed himself and listened, and then listened and rubbed, but he could not hear a sound.
“Let me see,” he thought. “Oh, how vexatious, just when we ought to be close to the boat and sending her down stream! Must be this way where I heard Tom May–if it was Tom May. Well, it doesn’t matter if it was t.i.tely. Let’s get to either of them, and then we’ll hail the other.”
The lad hesitated for a few minutes longer, listening hard the while, and then more in pa.s.sion than in despair he started off in a bee line through the thick canes, hopefully now, for the earth felt softer than before.
“Must be right here; and as soon as I reach the river I have only to see which way the stream runs and follow it down to where the boat lies.
Oh, look sharp, old fellow,” he muttered, “for this is horrible.”
He increased his pace, with the earth certainly growing softer, and then he pulled up short, turned and darted back, for as he stepped forward the soft spongy earth seemed suddenly to have grown h.o.r.n.y and hard and to heave up beneath his feet, convincing him that he had stepped upon one of the horrible alligators of the Western swamps. There was a violent splashing, the reptile struck to right and left, mowing down the canes, and the midshipman, suffering from a sensation of horror and creepiness, stopped at last, panting.
“Why, that must be the direction of the little river,” he thought; “and instead of following the horrible brute here have I run away; and now how am I to find the way that it pointed out? That’s soon done,” he said, as he thought of the broken and crushed-down canes which must mark the alligator’s track; and he began at once to search for what proved to be absent. There were bruised and trampled growths which he sprang at directly, but his reason soon pointed to the fact that they had not been made by the huge lizard he had started from its lurking place where it had crawled ash.o.r.e to watch for the approach of prey, but by himself in his flight, and though he tried over the swampy ground again and again, it was only to grow more confused, and at last he stopped short, baffled and enraged against himself.
“Oh!” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, as he raised one foot to stamp it down heavily upon the earth, with the result that he drove it through a soft crust of tangled growth and sent up a gush of muddy, evil-smelling water, and then had to drag his shoe out with a loud sucking sound, while the foot he had not stamped was beginning to sink. “It’s enough to drive any one mad,” he muttered. “Just as I am entrusted with something important I go and muddle it all, and the more I try the worse the hobble grows.”