Chapter Twenty Three.
The proximity of the evil-smelling serpent to Carey’s legs doubtless had something to do with the speed of his movements in quitting the canoe and climbing the side; and on reaching the gangway he looked round in vain for the doctor and Bostock, for they were not visible, neither was Mallam on the deck.
“Where’s the doctor?” he said to one of the blacks, but the man merely stared at him blankly. “Cookie?” cried Carey, and the man grinned and pointed towards the galley.
But Carey did not go in that direction, turning aft towards the saloon entrance, where on reaching the top of the brass-bound stairs he stopped in alarm, for a hoarse groan ascended to his ears.
A shiver of dread ran through the lad, for it was evident that something terrible had happened during his absence, and for a few moments he stood listening.
Then, mastering the coward dread, he took a few steps down.
“What’s the matter?” he cried, excitedly, but there was only another groan, and he leaped down the remaining stairs to the saloon door, but only to find that it was shut and fastened, and that the startling sounds had not come from there, but from the lower cabin.
The boy did not stop to question, but began to descend. He had not taken two steps, however, before there was the sharp report of a pistol, and a bullet whistled by his ear. Then there was another shot, which was better aimed, striking him in the chest, and he fell back against the bulkhead, to slide down in a half-sitting, half-lying position upon the stairs, struggling to get his breath, while a deathly feeling of sickness made his head swim and everything seemed to be turning black.