Chapter 47 - Ran Away to Sea by Mayne Reid
You desire an explanation? You wish to know how the Pandora was destroyed?
In the closing passages of the preceding chapter, I ran ahead of my narrative. I shall now return to it.
The night came down still, but not silent; at least not silent on board the slave-ship. The cries of the ill-fated beings below still loaded the air—their voices growing hoarser and hoarser. The ruffians might cage their bodies, but they could not confine their tongues; and ever and anon rose that awful din, pealing along the decks, and echoing far out over the still bosom of the waters.
It seemed at length to grow unendurable, even to the men; and those, who had before advocated throwing the slaves overboard, once more proposed adopting this course. The unexpected obstruction from the calm now added force to their arguments. They alleged that there was no chance of the niggers holding out. They would all be dead in a couple of days—by suffocation as well as thirst—and why not settle the business at once? They had now to look out sharply for their own lives, and better they should not be bothered any longer with these squalling brutes. (This was literally the language of one of those who advocated the drowning of them.) It was enough to drive a man mad to hear them, and it would be only mercy to them (much the ruffian cared for mercy) to make short work of it, and then the poor devils would have it over at once. This was the compassionate speech of one.
Another followed in a like strain, and said, interrogatively, “After all what did it amount to? The cargo was not such a great matter so long as the ship was safe? What signified all the niggers had cost? What they might fetch was another matter; but a man could not call that a loss which he had never had; and, therefore, all the loss the skipper should sustain would be the original outlay. It wasn’t a million. He would soon repair the damage. Once they got the casks filled, they could return to Africa, and King Dingo was the man to find them a fresh cargo. Perhaps he would let them have it on credit, if they couldn’t do better (at this improbability several laughed); but the skipper need not go a begging for credit. He was not so easily broken up as that came to. If he himself was short, he had friends in Brazil—ay, and in Portsmouth, too—who would soon find him the rhino.”
The speech of this able logician turned the scale and settled the question; and, despite the protestations and entreaties of the slave-captain and one or two others, it was decided that the negroes should be thrown overboard!
A few minutes were now given to a discussion as to the mode of effecting this purpose; and it was finally agreed that the best way would be to remove a single bar from the grating—so that only one of the victims could come up at a time—and then, taking each aft out of sight of the hatchway—so that they might not be seen by the others—to seize one after another and cast them into the sea, whence there would be no fear of their returning. Doubtless many of them could not swim a stroke, and those that could would not swim long, amidst that multitude of voracious sharks that were beating around the barque!
The ruse of thus successively destroying the wretched victims, without making known to their companions below, originated in no ideas of mercy—it was a thought that sprang from simple convenience. The monsters knew that if those below were to get wind of the fate that awaited them above, they would no longer come on deck; and to have gone down amongst them to bring them up would have given trouble, and might have been attended with danger.
It was heartbreaking to listen to the details of their plan, and know that I could neither obstruct nor prevent it. Had I put in my voice, either to appeal or protect the unfortunates, it is likely enough I should have been myself the first morsel given to the sharks. I could do nought but suffer in silence.
Indeed, I am not sure, had it been in my power at that moment to prevent them from carrying out their design, whether it would have been right to interfere. Clearly it would not have served the cause of humanity. A death of some kind was certainly in store for these ill-starred beings—either a slow, lingering death by the torture of thirst, or one more rapid and far less cruel, such as that they were about to undergo. It might have been humanity to leave the ruffians to carry out their intent, and shorten the sufferings of their black victims by the easier death of drowning.
I had such a reflection at the moment, but I had no time to dwell upon it, for just then a rush of men towards the slave-hatchway told me that the monsters were actually on the way to carry out their diabolical purpose!
They were on their way, and would have proceeded in their intent. The carpenter was there with his axe to strike off one of the bars of the grating—he had already given a blow on the batten, another would have been enough—and then the horrid scene would have begun; but at that moment a cry came from the after-part of the vessel that caused the carpenter to suspend his work, and look up in dismay. Those who surrounded him were startled as well as he, and all looked aft with terror painted in their faces. One and all were terrified by that cry, and no wonder they were—it was the cry, of “fire!” The ship was on fire!