“Yes,” replied the officer, “they are just letting out some, and chaining up others. It is disagreeable work having slaves on board, but there ought not to be all this noise; something must be wrong.”
This last remark had scarcely been made than from the hatchway leading to where the slaves were confined four of the sailors rushed up on deck, two of them bleeding from wounds in the face, whilst the other two were helping them along. They shouted, “The slaves have mutinied, sir,” “Look out, sir,” “They have freed themselves,” and ran towards the officer and Hans. Closely following these sailors nearly a score of the negroes rushed on deck, yelling like maniacs, and flourishing portions of planking and benches, with which they had armed themselves. From the shouts which arose from below, it was evident that the negroes had possessed themselves of the means of unfastening their chains and handcuffs; and thus the situation of the prize crew was rather critical. The trained sailor, however, saw that instant action was the only chance. Calling to the two sailors to follow him, he drew his sword, and rushed at the nearest negro, whom he cut down at one blow. Drawing a pistol from his belt, he shot another, and was looking round for another victim, when the negroes, panic-stricken by the sudden exhibition of power, rushed to the hatchway, and tumbled one after the other down amongst their companions, leaving only their two slain comrades on deck. “On with the hatch,” shouted the lieutenant; and the two sailors, who were now joined by the man who had stood by the wheel, and by the two wounded sailors and Hans, placed the hatch over the hatchway, and immediately secured it so that no man could come up.
“Who’s below?” inquired the lieutenant of one of his men.
“Steel and Roberts, yer honour. They’re torn to bits by this time.”
“How did this occur, men?”
“Just the devil in these fellows, sir. We was taking them quietly down, after giving ’em a look at the sea, when one of ’em whistles, and at once the whole lot turns upon us, snatches my cutlass afore I could get hold of it, knocks down Steel and Roberts, slices those two across the face, and so begins it. I knocked two of ’em over with my fist, but them niggers’ heads is tarnal hard, and fists is no account against a hundred of them fellows, when they have your cutlass, too; so I comes up to you to tell you, sir.”
“Are all the men on deck?” asked the lieutenant. “Yes, sir, all.”
“Get the arms out of the chest, Jones. Let each man have fifty rounds of ammunition. Four men keep watch over this hatch, and shoot any slave who attempts to force it up. Blake, you take two men, and see that the slaver’s crew are quiet. Give them a hint that we are not to be trifled with, and then wait for orders.”
These directions having been given by the lieutenant, he reloaded his pistol, and turning to Hans, said, “The two hundred slaves, if on this deck, would murder us, and throw us into the sea, in spite of our weapons; but if we can keep them under hatches, they can do nothing, though they all get free of their chains. If a breeze does spring up, we shall be in Simon’s Bay in twenty-four hours, and we can then obtain force enough to defy all these savages. Two of my men are murdered, I fear, and I can give them no aid even if they are not. These savages are like infuriated wild beasts when they have once tasted blood, and to open that hatch now would risk all our lives. You have no weapons,” he remarked, seeing that Hans had neither sword nor pistol. “Go into my cabin; you will find a double-barrelled pistol above the cot in which I sleep. We may all want to use our weapons.”
Hans entered the cabin, and found the pistol, with which he returned on deck, when he immediately joined the lieutenant, who was directing his men how to oppose the efforts of the slaves to force the hatchway; one or two thrusts with a cutlass, and the exhibition of a pistol, being found effective to check these attempts on the part of the slaves.