The Black Bar Part 8

"Rocket? Well, yes, she may, but I doubt whether we could see it at this distance."

"Then she is very far-away?"

"Very, my lad. You see that she is out of sight."

"And suppose we have lost sight of her altogether, sir--what then?"

"What then? Oh, don't let's calculate upon things that are barely possible. Captains in Her Majesty's service are too particular about their juniors and s.h.i.+p's company to leave a boat's crew in the lurch."

"Yes, but Captain Maitland might not be able to find us again, sir."

"Come, come, my lad, don't croak like a raven. At your age you ought to be hopeful, and set me an example of high spirits. Don't begin imagining the worst."

"Who's going to be hopeful," muttered Tom Fillot to the man behind him, "with the body o' that poor n.i.g.g.e.r aboard? Strikes me that we're in for a spell o' bad luck, mates."

"What's that?" cried the lieutenant.

"Only having a bit of a grumble, your honour, about our luck," said the man, respectfully. "We're all feeling as if it was time our watch ended, and as though we'd like a bit o' something to eat and drink.

That's all, sir."

The man's oar dipped steadily as he spoke, and after that there was a dead silence on board. The last drop of water had been swabbed up and squeezed overboard, and the exercise had helped to dry the men's saturated garments. A steady progress was kept up, and after fighting back a heavy, drowsy feeling, Mark sat watching the setting stars away straight before him in the direction in which the _Nautilus_ had disappeared. Twenty times over it had seemed to him as if the night would never end, and in spite of his officer's cheering utterances, his spirits sank very low, as he wondered whether it would not have been better if the boat's head had been turned, so that they might have rowed due east, to make the land from which they had sailed.

Then the moon began to sink lower, and the sky to grow of a darker slaty colour, while the regular beat of the men's oars sounded distant--then very softly--and then ceased altogether, or so it appeared to Mark Vandean, who suddenly opened his eyes with a start, and gazed wonderingly about him at the sunlit sea, now all orange and gold.

"Have I been to sleep, sir?" he cried apologetically.

"Yes, my lad; sound asleep for hours."

"And the s.h.i.+p, sir--can you see the _Nautilus_?"

"No, my lad," said the lieutenant, in a voice which he tried to make cheerful, but whose tones spoke of the deep despondency in his breast.

"She is not in sight yet."

The mids.h.i.+pman glanced sharply at the heavy, saddened countenances of the men, and read there a reflection of his own thoughts, that they were far-away on the wide ocean in an open boat without food or water, exhausted by a long night's rowing, and in an hour the torrid sun would be beating down upon their heads.

Hunger--thirst--heat--all three to fight; but there was a worse enemy still--despair, as a torrent of recollections flashed through the lad's brain, and he felt that unless the _Nautilus_ hove in sight, their position was less to be envied than that of the poor negro lying dead beneath the flat which hid his face from their sight.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

A TERRIBLE TASK.

Hunger at first--a sharp, grinding sensation of hunger attacked Mark Vandean; but as the sun rose higher this was forgotten in the intense thirst. For the heat rapidly grew scorching, and then, as Mark thought, burning, and saving the flag in the stern-sheets there was not a sc.r.a.p of anything that could be used for an awning.

Every eye was strained westward in search of the returning _Nautilus_, but in the clear morning light there was no sign of her; and as the sun rose higher, the distance became obscured by a hot haze, which grew more dense as the hours went on, till it was impossible to see a mile in any direction, while this thickening of the atmosphere had the effect of heightening the power of the rays of the sun.

"We shall never be able to see the s.h.i.+p, Mr Russell," said Mark towards mid-day, as they lay there parched beyond endurance, rising slowly and falling upon the smooth Atlantic swell. "Do you think they will fire again?"

"Sure to, my lad," was the reply. "There, I'm glad you have spoken.

This silence was getting unbearable."

"I couldn't talk before," replied Mark; "it all seemed to be so horrible lying here in this scorching heat, and I was so thirsty and faint I felt as if I couldn't keep up."

"We all felt the same, my lad, but we must bear it till help comes.

There, you are my lieutenant now, and we must have a consultation as to what is best to be done."

For they had lain there all the fore part of the day watching the west for the return of their vessel. It was madness to order the men to go on rowing, weary and suffering as they were under that burning sun, farther away into the vast ocean in search of the _Nautilus_; and on the other hand, Lieutenant Russell was unwilling to give up the chance of being picked up by turning their backs on help and making for the coast.

But now the time had come for action. The men sat about in the boat looking wild-eyed with thirst and heat, and the chances of being seen by the returning s.h.i.+p were now growing small on account of the haze. So feeling that Captain Maitland would give him the credit of making for Port Goldby or one of the factories on the coast, Lieutenant Russell announced his determination of making for the east.

"But will the men be able to row as far?" said Mark.

"They must be able, with our help, Vandean. To be plain, my lad, it is our only chance."

"But through this heat?"

"They will suffer less rowing than sitting still;" and giving his orders, the men, accustomed to move smartly at the slightest word, sprang into their places, but directly after there was a low whispering and muttering among them, and they appeared to be making a communication to Dance the c.o.xswain.

"What's the matter, my lads?" cried the lieutenant sharply; and he forgot his own sufferings now that there was a sudden call made upon his energy.

"Tell the lufftenant, Joe Dance," said Fillot, who was nearest to where his officers sat, but who preferred to pa.s.s task on to the c.o.xswain, who was farthest off.

"Why couldn't yer tell him yersen?" growled the c.o.xswain.

"Speak out, Dance. No nonsense, my lad. We are in difficulties, and we have to behave like British seamen till we get out of them."

The c.o.xswain took off his well-dried straw hat and saluted. Then coughed, hesitated, and at last blurted out--"Well, sir, you see it's like this. The lads says they're willing enough, and they'll pull till they drop, but they want to know if you don't think it's time something was done about him as we come to pick up."

"Leave that to me, my lads," said the lieutenant, gravely. "I shall do my duty by you all, so please to do yours by me. Wait till nightfall and see."

"Ay, ay, sir," came huskily, the oars dropped into the water, and to Mark there was quite a feeling of relief in the motion of the boat, and also in the knowledge that they were moving--slowly enough, but surely-- toward help. Whether they would live to reach that aid was another thing.

"Shall we take an oar each, Mr Russell?" said Mark after a time, during which he had sat watching the dispirited, weary looks of the men as they dragged more and more slowly at their rowing.

"No, my lad; we can do nothing in this heat. The poor fellows can do very little good themselves; I am only letting them pull because it keeps them from sinking into a state of despair. They can leave off when they like, and row when they like."

The men heard his words and ceased pulling for a few minutes to gaze blankly round in search of help, but the s.h.i.+ning, sunny haze shut them in, and Tom Fillot settled himself in his seat again.

"Better pull, mates," he said, in a harsh, strange voice; "the orficer's right. We're worse off doing nothing." The oars dipped again, and the boat went on slowly eastward toward the distant coast, as the terrible sense of depression and exhaustion increased with Mark, mingled with a strange desire to scoop up some of the clear, glittering, tantalising water, and drink what he knew would be so horribly salt and bitter that his sufferings would be increased.

Now and then a curious sensation of vertigo attacked him, which seemed as if by some means the s.h.i.+ning haze had floated right into his brain, dimming his eyesight so that for a time he could not see. Then it lightened up, and he could see s.h.i.+ps, and clear bubbling waters, and green trees.

Then there were low, harsh voices speaking, and he was back again, wondering at the curious day-dream he had had, and listening to some remark made by Lieutenant Russell, who, in spite of his own sufferings, strove hard to cheer his companions in the boat.

Now and then a man would start out of a half-drowsy state, and hold up his hand. Dance the c.o.xswain was the first affected in that way, but after a few moments Mark felt that the poor fellow had been suffering in a similar way to himself.

For the man suddenly exclaimed--"There! Did you hear that? A gun, lads. The _Naughtyla.s.s_ is coming down on us with every st.i.tch o'