Before he could come to the conch’s assistance, a speckled form sprang upon him and bore him back again into the street, and I saw Tim change from a fugitive into a veritable leopard, striking fiercely and tearing at the blouse of the sailor until it had parted and come away in halves. Just then I had business with the giant conch that needed attention, and I saw nothing more of that fracas.
The black man was a powerful fellow, but he lacked skill. The blow in the stomach had winded him temporarily, and, before he had recovered, I was cutting him up scientifically with his own whip, while the crowd hooted and cheered in derision. When I desisted, he could hardly stand, much less walk, and then Big Jones, who was enjoying the spectacle, offered me his jumper. This I put on by running my legs through the sleeves, after splitting them, and buttoning it behind. Tim had by this time divested Martin of his spare raiment, and, dressed somewhat alike, we strode side by side with much dignity to the boat, followed by Big Jones, the Welshman, and an admiring throng of natives who cheered us lustily.
Martin and the well-thrashed overseer were left behind to compare notes, while, with the blue eagle upon my breast fairly red with mortification, we stepped aboard and shoved off.
CHAPTER XIII.
A SURPRISING SALUTE
As we drew up alongside The Gentle Hand, our peculiar attire attracted more or less attention. Hawkson called vociferously for Hicks, Renshaw, and the rest to observe us. Captain Howard threw back his head and cackled away like an old hen, his bald poll turning red with exertion.
“Sink me!” he cried, “but you two men shall lay aft here.”
The Yankee trader shook with emotion, and insisted that Mr. Gull fetch us aft to parade the quarter-deck. This I had no intention of doing, so, springing quickly into the channels, I made a rush for the forecastle, and got below before we were captured. But Tim was not so lucky. He was intercepted by Mr. Gull, and escaped below only after a vigorous chase, in which all hands joined, pelting him with rope’s-ends and whatever they could lay hands to. As the uproar of laughter on deck subsided, we changed our jumpers for clothes, both mad and disgusted thoroughly at the humiliating performance we had undergone. But, tired as we were, Mr. Gull turned us to with the men who had stayed aboard and were sent below into the ’tween deck, where the noise of hammering now became apparent. Richards took no notice of us while he was at work overhauling a pile of lumber brought from the shore. Evidently he was disgusted at our behaviour and took this way of showing it.
Jorg, the Finn, was working away with a gang of men, building a platform around the sides of the empty hold, and driving heavy staples into the barque’s ceiling. He gave me a sour look as I passed him, and then Mr. Gull led the way aft to where Henry was at work cutting up planks.
“Better measure ’em off accurate, Heywood,” he said, motioning to the pile of lumber that lay near. “Allow six feet six inches fer them long niggers, or they’ll be lame from hanging their heavy feet over the edge.”
Then he passed on, leaving me alone with the ferret-faced officer, who was sawing up a length of plank. The long lines of staples with chains attached began to have some meaning to me now, for the effects of the run had done much to clear my head. Henry saw my gaze following the line forward, and stopped to mop the perspiration from his dripping face.