“No,” said Mark, stoutly. “I have only half done my work. Come along, Tom Fillot.”
Before he could be stayed, he stepped down once more into the terrible hold, where, his eyes growing now more accustomed to the darkness, he began to make out eyes everywhere—glistening, starting eyes—all apparently staring fiercely, and in a threatening way.
The whole scene was horrible, every surrounding was sickening. The poor creatures had been herded together down in the foul place, with less care for their health than if they had been cattle, while in the emergency of the slave captain’s escape, they had been left to die. But, horrible as the place was, Mark made a brave effort to master his dread and compunction. Risking attack from some one or other of the men who might very well have been infuriated by his wrongs, the young midshipman once more made an effort to seize one of the blacks and get him on deck. Watching his opportunity, he stepped boldly forward to where the crowd had shrunk back together, and again caught a man by the arm.
“Now, Tom Fillot,” he cried, “help me.”
The sailor seconded him well, but the poor wretch, in an agony of fear, made a desperate plunge, got free again; and at that moment, in alarm about his young officer’s safety, Mr Russell sternly ordered him to come back on deck.
It was with a mingling of satisfaction and disinclination that the lad obeyed; and as they stood about the open hatch, Mr Russell said,—“We must give them time to find out that we are friends. This is my first experience, in spite of all our chasing, Vandean, and it is worse than I could have believed.”
“Signal from the Naughtylass, sir,” said Tom Fillot. “Yes; the captain is getting anxious. Here, Vandean, go back in the boat, and tell them the state of affairs.”
“And leave you alone with these people? There must be fifty or a hundred down below.”
“I shall have four defenders with me,” said the lieutenant, quietly, “and you will be back soon with a reinforcement. We must get the poor wretches on deck, out of that loathsome den, or they will half of them be dead of fever in four and twenty hours.”
“You wish me to go?” said Mark, hesitating.