Bravery or determination, whichever you please, say both, were displayed by Mark Vandean as he fought horror and disgust in his effort to do his duty and master self.
Stepping quickly down, he stood at the bottom of the ladder in utter darkness once more, listening to the strange whispering, thrilling noise about him, while first one and then the other black cautiously descended with the bucket of water he bore.
By the time they were in the hold his sight was beginning to grow accustomed to the change from the bright glare of sunshine on deck, and once more there were faint suggestions of glistening eyes watching him out of the cave-like darkness, as if so many savage beasts were about to spring.
But he had no time to think of his own feelings, for the two blacks now stood gazing at him inquiringly, and with some trace of their old suspicious aspect lingering still.
“Water—to drink,” said Mark: and he pointed away into the darkness.
They understood him, and dipping the pannikins full, they took each a step into the darkness, and held out the precious fluid toward those who must have been suffering agonies for its want. But no one stirred—not an advance was made, to Mark’s great surprise, for he had anticipated that the black faces of his ambassadors would have been sufficient to make the prisoners feel confidence that no harm was intended.
“Go closer,” said Mark; and the two blacks looked back at him inquiringly, but obeyed as soon as he laid his hand upon their shoulders and pressed them forward.
Then a voice broke the silence, the big black saying a few words in his own tongue, their effect being magical. A low murmur ran through the hold, and a harsh voice croaked out what was evidently a question, for the big black answered in a hesitating way, saying a few words, and then sharply one in a questioning tone, as if he had not understood.
The harsh, croaking voice was heard again, speaking angrily, and there were several interchanges of question and answer, as if between two men who did not quite understand each other’s dialect.
And now Mark’s eyes had become so accustomed to the darkness that he could dimly see that the place was full of a steamy mist, through which horrible-looking, ill-defined figures were moving, wild-eyed and strange. Some were tossing their arms about, others were stretching out their hands supplicatingly toward the water pannikins, which the two blacks kept dipping full and handing to those who pressed toward them; but there was no scuffling or fighting for the water, as might have been expected under the circumstances. The wretched prisoners seemed gentle and tolerant to each other, drinking and making way for companion sufferers.