_ CHAPTER FIFTY THREE. THE CAPTAIN'S LAST BLOW UP
Murray proved to be right, for the distant reports which came from somewhere on the far side of the island proved to be the last fired by the man-o'-war, which, shorthanded though she was, and desperately attacked by the powerful well-manned schooners, had kept up a continuous fight, so cleverly carried on that it had at last ended by the running ashore of one of the big slaving craft, and the pounding of the other till in desperation the skipper, who proved to be the cunning Yankee hero of the lugger trick,--the twin brother of the scoundrel Huggins who had met his fate in the explosion,--set his swift craft on fire before taking, with the remnants of the crew, to the woods.
It was not until a couple of days later that, after extinguishing the fire on board the second schooner and setting sail with her for the harbour, Captain Kingsberry commenced firing signal guns to recall his scattered crew, and communication was made by the help of Caesar.
"Yes, Massa Murray Frank," he said eagerly; "Caesar soon show um way to where big gun go off."
He, too, it was who gave signals which resulted in the collection of as many of the plantation slaves as were wanted to bear the wounded men in palanquins through the maze-like cane brakes and down to the shore, where a shady hospital was started in which Dr Reston could rule supreme, his patients chuckling to one another as they luxuriated in the plantation coffee, sugar, molasses, fruit and tobacco, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves--so they said--in the jolliest quarters that had ever fallen to their lot.
Caesar, too, in his actions was certainly one of the greatest of the Caesars, for in spite of a terribly scorched face, and burned and wounded arms and hands, he worked almost without ceasing. Scores of his fellow-slaves flocked to help, and under his guidance the captain and crew of the _Seafowl_ were perfectly astounded by the extent of the plantation buildings, and the arrangements that existed for carrying on the horrible trade and keeping up the supply from the far-off African coast.
It was a busy time for the _Seafowls_, as they called themselves, but they had the prisoners to deal with, for those left alive of the crews of the two schooners had managed to reach the familiar shelter of the dense shores, from which they did not wait to be hunted out, but utilised some of the light boats of whose existence they were well aware, and sickened by the terrible lesson they had received, made sail for one of the neighbouring bays.
It was, as has been said, a busy time for the _Seafowls_, for there were the two captured schooners to get afloat and the fired rigging to restore before they were fit to take to a destined port as prizes. There were vile barracks to burn, and plenty of other arrangements to make as to the destination of certain newly-arrived prisoners who had to be saved from their terrible fate.
Briefly, although the sailors called it a good holiday, it was a period of the hardest work, but what with prize money and tasks that paid mentally every lad and man who thought, it was a time of pleasure; and it was not till towards the end of the _Seafowl's_ stay that Caesar came on board the sloop of war one evening with his face flushing with excitement and showing all his teeth.
"Caesar find um at last, massa," he cried.
"Find? Find? Not Mr Allen?" said Murray.
"Yes, massa. Find good ole Massa Allen."
"Then he is not dead?"
"Yes, massa. No massa. Huggins no kill um. Shut um up. Tell um, massa, dat um poor crack looney."
"What! Lunatick!"
"Yes, massa, looney, mad. Shut um up."
"Where? And have you seen him?"
"Yes, massa. Tullus find um in niggah hut shut up, and take me dah."
"Then that Huggins has not killed him?"
"No, massa; shut um up. Say um mad man. Berry bad. Get more bad ebbery day till Tullus find um. Black slabe woman 'top wiv him. Massa Huggins say kill her if she let um go."
"Poor creature!" said Murray, wrinkling up his brow.
"Yes, sah; berry poor creature, sah. Caesar berry sorry. Massa Allen good massa, and Caesar lub um."
"But where is he now? Not dead?"
"Yes, massa been die berry much all um time. Couldn't quite go die till poor Caesar come, and den he shake hand. Say 'Good-bye, Caesar, lad. Tell Massa Murray Frank. Tell um t'ink de bes' ob a poor weak man.'"
"Mr Allen said that, Caesar?" said Murray.
"Yes, sah. Caesar cry bofe eyes. Tullus cry and slabe woman cry when we put um in de groun' fas' asleep. Everybody lub poor Massa Allen, sah. Gone dead. Say go to sleep happy now. No more slabe trade now. No more poor niggah leap overboard now Massa Murray Frank and Bri'sh sailor come."
"Well, Mr Murray," said the captain, about an hour later, "I hope you are ready to return to your duties."
"Yes, sir, certainly," said the lad, staring.
"I'm glad of it. And, by the way, this is a very favourable opportunity for saying a few words in season to you. Let me tell you that I am not at all satisfied with the way in which your duties have been carried out, any more, I may say, than I have been with the way in which I have been served by your brother officers. I look for something better in the future, sir, something decidedly better in the future, I may say;" and he stalked aft and went below.
"Did you hear what Captain Kingsberry said, sir?" said Murray to the chief officer, who just then came limping up with his spy-glass beneath his feeble arm.
"Yes, Murray, every word. My dear boy, it is a way he has. There, there, my lad, I think amongst us we've given the slave-trade its heaviest blow."
[THE END]
George Manville Fenn's Book: Hunting the Skipper: The Cruise of the "Seafowl" Sloop
_