“Yes,” said Carey, quietly. “Where is Cookie?”
“Cookie?” repeated the black, half-wonderingly, and he turned to one of the party who had stopped on board.
“Baal. Cookie he.”
The man made some reply, and ran towards the forecastle to squat upon the deck and thump upon the hatch with his fists, saying something with great rapidity of speech, the only words Carey could grasp being Dan and mumkull.
Black Jackum turned to the boy as soon as his companion had finished.
“Cookie,” cried Jackum, pointing down at the closed and fastened hatch. “Big Dan mumkull everybody open dat.”
“Big Dan says he’ll kill everyone who opens that hatch?” cried Carey.
“Issum,” said the black, nodding a good deal, looking sharply from Carey towards the cabin entry and back.
“Mumkull ebberbody. Shoot, bang.”
“Let him shoot me then if he dares,” cried Carey, in a fit of desperation, and the two blacks looked at him with horror and admiration as the boy bent down over the hatch, pulled out an iron bolt thrust through the staple, and threw open the heavy lid of wood; but all was still below.