Part 19

Upon the floor the forms lay about--smashed, stunned, insensible. Then his fury abating, he stopped for a moment to gaze through the haze of blood and dust of conflict. He grinned hideously at the sight, his wound making him grotesquely horrible. Then he was suddenly taken with an idea.

He grasped the cue of a Chink and drew it across the room to that of another, making them fast with a bend. Then he dragged the rest, the whole six, and fastened them to Wah Lee's cue. It made a pile of Chinese aggregating about a thousand pounds in dead weight; and he scanned the mass to contemplate. As he stopped, he was aware of a sound in the partition. He listened for a moment, and thought he heard his name called in a low voice--a voice which sounded far away and indistinct. He roared out a reply, and listened again. Yes, it was the voice of Captain Smart.

The captain was begging him to hurry and get him out of somewhere, and the mate roared out in reply:

"Where is yo'? Where is yo'? How I get thar?" And he ran along the partition, trying to discover a door or other opening. Nothing showed, and, losing patience, he caught up an iron and began smashing the planks. In a few minutes he had broken through into a dark recess, into which he crawled without delay. Something smote him heavily upon the head, and he fell sprawling, lying helpless and half-insensible, while a shrill voice cried out in defiance.

* * * * *

Bahama Bill lay dazed and dizzy for a long time; probably ten minutes. Then he was aware of Smart's voice cursing furiously and calling for help. The huge mate slowly gathered himself, managed to rise to his knees, and, as he did so, the light which now shone through the gap in the partition showed him a slight girl standing over him with an axe. She had evidently struck him as he came through the bulkhead, and only her youth and frailness had prevented the blow from finishing him. He now saw she was about to repeat the operation, and he quickly snatched the weapon from her, and drew her to him.

"What fo' yo' hit me?" he asked, angrily.

"You velly bad mans--go away!" screamed the child.

Bill searched the surrounding gloom with a quick, comprehensive glance, and noticed a form lying in a bunk covered with a cloth. He made his way to it, and uncovered the prostrate form of Smart, securely bound, but not securely gagged. The sailor could only use his tongue, but he did use that member to its fullest extent, while he told quickly of the way he had run up against Wah Lee. Then the sight of Bahama Bill's head caught his gaze, and he made a wry face. The giant mate was like a black fury with his marks of combat upon him.

"This child is a wife of that rascal," said Smart, explaining the little girl's presence in such a place. "She's about twelve years old, and his property--his slave, I suppose you would call it. He keeps her in here, where no one can ever see her, and she thought you were some fellow going to harm her when she struck you with the axe. I tried to tell you as you came through, but couldn't make you hear--that's better, now cut loose my feet." And the mate passed his knife through the cords, setting him free.

"I sho' feel some ashamed toe think yo' dun up by dese Chinks," said Bill, as Smart rose from the filthy bunk. "Yo' ain't much hurt?"

"Not hurt at all--not like you," said Smart impatiently.

"Dat clip was jest accident--shuah, shuah. Dey ain't hurt me none toe speak of--only a little blood. But dat kid gal cum near killin' me wid dat axe. I ain't quite through yet. Come along into the room where dey lays."

They took the child with them, and crawled through the bulkhead. One of the wounded men upon the floor had recovered his senses, and was busily at work trying to loosen his cue as Bahama Bill stepped up. A jolt with his foot stopped operations for the time, and Smart stood contemplating the victory.

"What'll we do about it?" asked the yachtsman.

"Do? I jest reckon we'll take de whole bunch abo'd de ship. We'll need some extra hands toe make de passage quick. We got toe git a move on, fo' we got the git dat stuff up toe catch de steamer at Jacksonville. Dere's a cyart right in dat co'ner, sah. Help me pile 'em in."

Smart, still furious from the treatment he had received, lent a willing hand, and in a few minutes they had the whole bunch of Celestials dumped in the cart and made secure.

"What'll we do wif dat little gal?" asked Bill, eying the child. "She ain't all Chink, by de looks; reckon she's a half-breed."

"We'll have to take her with us," said Smart, and so they started out of the shop, pushing the cart with the Chinese before them; and they attracted no attention for some minutes, for the affrays had been little noticed, as there had been no gun-fire.

"Hold on, let's get the clothes," said Smart, running back into the doorway and grabbing what bundles he could reach handily, and which had still been left intact from the whirlwind passage of the giant mate. He tossed them into the cart, and they went rapidly down to the dock.

Some small boys and one or two loafers followed, wishing to see the fun, but no one molested them or inquired their purpose. They reached the water-side without mishap. Fighting Jule was sitting there waiting for her lord to show up, and she was in anything but a sweet humour. The sight of the little Chinese girl made her alter her purpose to assault her huge partner, and she inquired briskly into details.

"Yo' take de kid an' keep her till we git de crew abo'd," said Bill, with the first approach at gentleness in his voice.

Jule took the child. She was motherly, matronly, and affectionate, though a fighter. Her own progeny were safe at Key West, and this little yellow girl, this Chinese, appealed to her curiosity and motherhood alike. She gathered her in her arms and looked her over in wonder, while the men lowered their victims into the small boat.

"Huccum yo' toe be wif dem Chinks--is yo' de little pickaninny ob dat Wah Lee man?" she asked.

"Me Wah Lee's wife," said the child, crying.

"Yo' stop tellin' me lies, lil' gal; yo' ain't nothin' but a baby."

"Me Wah Lee's wife. He bought me last moon. Velly bad mans takee Wah Lee away; velly bad mans takee me." The child spoke remarkably well for a Chinese.

A crowd of loafers had now been attracted by the unusual proceedings, and, in spite of the apathy of the Florida cracker, they managed to excite some wonder as to what the men of the _Sea-Horse_ were about. In less time than it takes to tell it, Bahama Bill and Smart had the Mongolians aboard, where Sam and Heldron were instructed to look after them, and see that they went to work as soon as they were recovered sufficiently to do duty.

"Ef yo' boys don't want toe work dis trip, yo' kin make de Chinks work fo' yo'. Dey owes us a bit ob work. Break out dat hook an' git dat jib on her."

In less than five minutes the _Sea-Horse_ was standing down the channel out to sea, Sam and Heldron lost in amazement at the turn of affairs. Some of the loafers on the dock shouted out something, but they made no reply, and in a few minutes were beyond hailing.

"De boat leaves fo' home at six--I reckon you'll hab toe cum wif me," said Jule, leading the little girl away and gazing angrily after the _Sea-Horse_. "Ef I wasn't a lady I'd shuah knock dat coon in de haid," she added. "I dun paid er dollar an' a half fo' toe git heah, an' now I got toe go home--cum."

* * * * *

"I reckon I'll change mah clothes en clean up er bit," said the mate, after they rounded the point and stood away northward.

"So will I," said Smart. "Better open up the clothes I brought and get some clean ones."

Several of the shanghaied men were now able to get about, and Sam took them in charge. Wah Lee gazed about him dizzily, but made no comment. Heldron had passed his knife through his cue, cutting it off close to his head, in order to loose him from the bunch. He looked angrily at the sailor, and felt his strange-looking pate with a rueful hand.

"You heap sabbee work," said Sam. "Git busy, you dam' Chink." And he helped the truculent Tong leader to his feet with the toe of his sea-boot.

The fight was pretty well worked out of Wah Lee, for he obeyed as best he could, glancing with narrowing, wicked eyes at the sailor. Lines were coiled up at the direction of the two men, and in less than half an hour Sam and Heldron were lying at ease, hurling directions at the bunch of Celestials, who endeavoured to obey orders.

Bahama Bill washed his wounded head, which ached sorely. Then he sought clean clothes from the bundles brought from the laundry. By some chance Smart had gotten hold of nothing save female apparel, but one bundle happened to contain several pairs of pajamas; and, as the weather was quite warm, he donned a suit and came on deck. Bahama Bill had no recourse but to do likewise. He jammed his huge limbs into a pair of the loose trousers, which came to his knees. This appeared not so bad, for he was used to going barefooted. The loose coat covered him, the sleeves reaching to his elbows; and thus attired he, also, came on deck to take a look around.

The recalcitrant Wah Lee looked lugubriously at the black mate.

"Where you takee me?" he asked. "Where you go?"

"Toe China, toe de land ob Chinks," said Bahama Bill lugubriously, scowling at his former adversary. "Git out de shears, Sam; an' yo', Heldron, git out de line toe make de Chinks fast."

"What for you do?" asked Wah Lee.

"Me showee you, me showee you," snarled Bahama Bill. "Is yo' good barber, cap'n?"

"I reckon I can cut the hair fairly well," assented Smart.

"De razzer ob mine is in de locker, toe de right," suggested Bill.

Wah Lee was quickly tied fast and his hair cut close. Then a lather was made, and before many minutes his head was shaved as clean as a fairly good razor could shave it.

"Next!" called Bahama Bill, in the tone of a barber.

All went through the same operation, two of the pigtails being kept as souvenirs of the occasion. The débris was thrown overboard.

"Now yo' Chinks git out de soap an' de water--show 'em where dey is kept, Heldron--an' I wants toe see dishear ship washed fo' an' aft--see? Heap sabbee? I wants toe see dishear ship come inter Jacksonville lookin' like a yacht; lookin' like she was something toe be proud ob. Git toe work."

The wind held fair, and for two days the _Sea-Horse_ ran up the coast, making six or seven knots, raising the jetty off the bar the third day out. The sloop had been scrubbed alow and aloft, her decks rubbed white, her spare sails even scrubbed clean, and she looked good to a nautical eye as she rounded the sea-buoy and stood up the St. John's River for town.

The inhabitants of Mayport and Pilotown were treated to the novel sight of a heavily built sloop manned by a crew large enough for a four-master, the officers uniformed in bright-coloured pajamas, which fitted not at all, and the larger part of the hands distinctly Mongolian. The customs officer stopped her and boarded her without delay.

"Where do you come from--China?" asked the official, in amazement.

"Yo' surely ain't forgot de ole _Sea-Horse_, Marse Hennery," said Bahama Bill, coming on deck and recognizing an old acquaintance in the boarding officer. "We got a consignment ob ca'tridges--American ammunition--here's de papers, an' de crew we shipped in a hurry, without gittin' time toe sign 'em on in regular shape; but dey is all right; dey belongs right in dishear State."

As it is not necessary to sign on hands in small vessels coasting unless there is especial reason for it, the officer left without further remark, and the _Sea-Horse_ proceeded on her way.

The steamer for New York was at the dock, and would not sail until after dark. There was plenty of time to make the consignment and get the bill of sale through. The unruly crew were kept at work hoisting out cases of ammunition until all was aboard the steamer. Then the ship was washed down and gear put in place, and the _Sea-Horse_ looked almost like a pleasure craft.

"I will give you a thousand dollars for her," said a shipper who had been attracted by the strange uniforms and crew.

"Make it fifteen hundred," said Bahama Bill.

"She will never be in better condition to sell," cautioned Smart, who felt as though losing an old friend.

They finally compromised on twelve hundred, and, as Captain Sanders showed up before dark, dead broke and very thirsty, he was more than willing to get cash for his share. The deal was made, the money paid, and the Celestial crew were at last allowed to go ashore.

Wah Lee made for the depot with his followers. He had no thought for seeking redress by the aid of the authorities, for, with the Tong men, the foreign pigs are always dealt with personally. There were plenty of Chinese who ran laundries in Jacksonville who could be levied upon to produce the railroad fare to get him and his gang back to their place of business.

With new clothes and rigged out splendidly, all hands left the dock long before darkness set in. Smart had a receipt for his share of the salvaged ammunition, and the feeling that he had several thousand dollars was not distasteful to him. His cruise on the wrecking-sloop had been successful, and it was with a somewhat mixed feeling he said good-bye to the big black mate.

"Good-bye, cap," said Bahama Bill. "I shuah like yo', an' yo' shuah done well wif me--good-bye. Mebbe we kin make a new deal some day. Dere's plenty ob money wracking, ef yo' know how toe wrack right. Mebbe Sanders an' us kin go inter de business right, and git a bigger ship. Let me heah from yo'."

"I certainly will," said Smart. "Good-bye." And the giant fingers of the mate of the _Sea-Horse_ closed upon his own with their firm, solid grip.

Late that night a sheriff came rapidly down the dock to where the steamer was just pulling out.

"Seen anything of the sloop _Sea-Horse_?" he asked several bystanders.

"Thar she lays--right at the dock," said the watchman of the wharf.

"Ah!" He smiled grimly.

"You want the crew?" asked the watchman.

"I certainly do that," said the sheriff. "There's a bit of a charge of kidnapping against the mate and captain. Ran off with a whole lot of Chinks from below. They are aboard, I suppose?"

"That sloop was sold out hours ago, the crew gone, and the whole thing settled before five o'clock. It ain't likely you'll come up with the men you're after in this town. No, sir, they don't belong here--good night." And the watchman grinned as the sheriff, after gazing down at the deserted vessel, sadly went his way.

At the station Bahama Bill looked up to the window where Smart sat in the train. He felt the parting with the keenness often developed in the African character, and he was loath to leave until the train pulled out.

"Good-bye ag'in, cap; good-bye," he called up to him as the train gathered headway slowly.

Sanders stood near, and, not knowing the friendship between the two, was a little disconcerted at the mate's warmth.

"Come on, we take the train going the other way, Bill," he said, as the mate waved his hand.

"Shuah, shuah. Good-bye, cap----He was all right, Sanders; dat yacht feller was all toe de good. I ain't got but one t'ing agin' him."

"What's that?" asked Captain Sanders.

"Well--er--er, well, I cayn't hab de highest regyard fo' his--well, sah, I don't know jest how toe say it, but he sho' never ought toe been dun up by dem Chinks--dat's all."

He put his hand into his pocket and drew forth two handsomely braided queues.

"Yo' see dese heah? Well, I'se gwine toe make a nice dog-whip ob dem fo' mah little boy Will toe play wif." And he stroked their satin length approvingly as he boarded the cars for home.

XIV

The Edge of the Roncador

"The Canal needs men to dig," said Booker, the head of the firm of shippers at Kingston, "it's up to us to get 'em and it's up to you to take 'em to Colon--"

"But I'm not running a slaver, I'm a merchantman, by George, an' you can go to--"

"Hold on, Captain James," broke in the man of affairs, "if you can't run the _Enos_, a little five hundred ton steamer the way she should be run, it'll be about time for me to look for another skipper."

"But, Mr. Booker, she's as rotten as punk--there ain't a plate in her thicker'n a sheet of blotting paper, an' blame little stronger. She really ain't fit to run passengers even if you bribe the inspectors to let us. I ain't kickin' about the way you've treated me, it ain't that at all, but to ram that ship full o' niggers and send her out is mighty nigh murder, an', that's a fact."

Captain James was a shifty, fat and altogether sodden specimen of the tropical white islander. He had lost a fine vessel, and being unable to get another had drifted about the West Indies handling whatever he could command. Booker, Benson & Co. had found use for him in one of their old ships which had seen her best days running bananas to New Orleans. She had made money, paid for herself ten times over, and now she was just able to stagger along with leaky boilers and scaled plates to the tune of seven knots, heading, as James always thought, for the port of missing ships. Each voyage seemed to be her last, but she somehow drifted in to her port of destination with pumps working and crew mutinous, to discharge and stagger home again. James could not afford to give her up. To do so would have meant ruin for him, and as long as her owners paid him his seventy-five dollars per month--enough to pay for his rum and clothes--he stuck to her with the sullenness of a hungry bulldog gripping a dry bone. How he hated her. He cursed her daily, he swore at her free and fluently whenever she dipped her dull gray sides into the beautiful blue water of the Caribbean at each roll, and when he brought her to her dock, which he did with much care and concern, his exclamations at her perverseness to minding the helm were marvels of linguistic art. His mate, a tall, thin, saturnine Scotchman with bleary eyes from rum and cola, would sometimes deign to look at him with a languid interest during these moments of loud speech, and once--only once--he had allowed himself to be so absorbed in contemplating his master, that he forgot to cast the bowline from the drum of the donkey engine which was winding it in, and by so doing pulled and tore out an iron cleat upon the dock end. Then pandemonium had reigned and the silent mate soon retired to the privacy of his room to still his quaking conscience and steady his shaking nerves with potations of his favourite beverage, rum and cola.

"You will proceed to Boddertown, and then to Georgetown in the Great Cayman, and after seeing Jones there, who will see to clearing you all right, you will run the crowd to Colon, do you understand," said Mr. Booker to his ship-master.

"How many will there be?" asked James sullenly, after finding that his argument was of no avail.

"As many as she will carry--how many do you say, five hundred?"

"Good Lord, Mr. Booker--what? Five hundred niggers in that bit of a ship? Man, think a little."

"She has her ventilators--has both holds well-ventilated, a fruiter is as comfortable below as on deck, has as much ventilation with her blowers as a liner--"

"Make it three hundred at the limit," said James with more decision than his employer had ever given him credit for.

"Er--er, well, let it go at that, then. You'll attend to stowing 'em, give 'em plenty of grub--it's only a couple of days with good weather, and they can stand on deck for that time."

"All right, then," said the sailor with a sigh. He was not a bad man, only weakened by misfortune. Had he lived a little differently, had better luck and governed his thirst, he would have compared favourably with many of the best skippers in the West India trade. He arose, clapped on his grass hat and mopped his red face, squared his fat shoulders under his dirty white linen coat, and strode forth into the glaring sunshine. He went down the street, stopped at a saloon, took several drinks, and after that went aboard, rousing the chief engineer and ordering steam for five o'clock that afternoon.

"We will get to sea before dark," said he to the mate Mr. McDuff. "Don't get too drunk, we've got a big job--I'll tell you later."

A week later the _Enos_ was steaming over the calm and beautiful Caribbean. The sky was a tropical blue dotted with the lumpy trade clouds, and the sea was that beautiful tint only seen during perfect weather. She was running along smoothly down past the Quita-suena Bank, between it and the Serrano Cays, and so far all had gone well. Jones had proved an agent worthy of Mr. Booker's best expectations. He had managed to get together three hundred and ten strapping fellows who were destined to dig for the good of maritime commerce, and he had held out inducements which, while models of veracity, were also works of art. He had made even the most sordid details of life upon the Isthmus appear in the garb of most attractive romance, and money--why, money was the thing the Canal cared less for than anything in the world. Three hundred and ten men were destined to be rich in this world's goods. He had convinced even the most skeptical of this, and the only thing that kept the rest of the population upon the Cayman was the size of the _Enos_. He wished to ship five hundred, but James was sturdy enough to stop him. Under the influence of six copious drinks of rum and cola, he had managed to put up a determined opposition. He finally threatened to go ashore and get very drunk if another man was sent him, and Jones knowing him to be quite capable of keeping his word in this respect, desisted at three hundred and ten.

"You fat sea-scutt, I'd fry the grease out o' you if I could get another man to take the ship," said Jones in a fury. "I get a dollar a head for those niggers, an' you've done me to the tune of two hundred--but you can bet I won't forget you, you lobster, you blamed fat lobster--"

Captain James contented himself with calling the agent every name he could remember that carried disgrace or disrespect along with it, and after that stood upon the bridge storming and fuming, every now and then bursting forth when some new and especially choice adjective happened to reach his memory.

By the time the _Enos_ reached the vicinity of Quita-suena Bank, the skipper had cooled both mentally and physically, the evaporation of the rum with which he supplied himself producing a revivifying effect only to be appreciated by one who is addicted to rum and cola. His wrath had subsided until he scarcely mumbled his disdain for the energetic Jones, and his face, always red and swollen from both the fierce sunshine and his diet, now took on a more natural hue.

"Let her go well to the westward of the Roncador," said he to McDuff as the mate came on the bridge that evening. "The current is very strong, and I ain't quite certain of the rate of our chronometer. Got a jolt last voyage and seems to be going wrong ever since. Get your lights burning brightly to-night--there'll be some ships passing and there's no use saving five cents' worth of oil for that buzzard, Booker--and tell the chief to hustle her along, toss in the coals, and if the second is drunk, turn the hose on him, for we'll have to drive her through. The niggers will have to go below at eight bells; can't have 'em lying about the deck all night getting in the way. It's cool enough with the blowers on--keep 'em turned to the wind, that's your business. South five east by Standard, and that'll be about south two by the binnacle--keep your eye peeled. That's all."