Chapter 56 - Ran Away to Sea by Mayne Reid
Up to that instant I had not looked back towards the burning barque. I would rather not have done so. I dreaded to look back; moreover, I was so eagerly employed in helping to propel our floating plank that I had scarce time for looking around.
Now, however, I was constrained to raise my head and glance back upon that terrific spectacle. It explained at once why the crew of the Pandora were so eager to be gone from the spot.
The fire had burned forward to the stump of the main-mast, and, fed by the large quantities of black pitchy ropes—the shrouds, stays, and ratlines—was sending up strong bursts of smoky flame. Red tongues were shooting out forward, as if to grasp the rigging of the fore-mast that still stood untouched. But the most singular, or rather the most awful, part of the scene was that presented on the foredeck and the whole forward part of the ship. Upon the windlass, the bulwarks, the fore-mast shrouds, around the head, and out to the bowsprit-end, was a continuous swarm of human forms, so thickly clustered that scarce any part of the vessel could be seen, except the fore-mast, with its spars and rigging towering high above. Five hundred there were—perhaps not so many—as some of them, happily for themselves, had gone out of the world before that dread hour. But nearly five hundred there were, and of course they covered every part of the forward deck, and even the sides and bulwarks, from the selvage of the approaching flames to the bowsprit-end. Some had gone out even farther, and could be seen swarming like bees and balancing their bodies on the jib-boom. In fact, but for its awful character, the scene suggested the hiving of bees that had crowded every leaf and twig upon the branch of a tree.
Both males and females were there—for both had succeeded in making their way on deck—but amid that thick swarm their sex could not be distinguished. Strange to say, they were no longer black! Not one of them looked black—on the contrary, they appeared red! Their faces, the skin of their naked bodies, even the woolly coverture of their crowns, showed blood-red under the glaring light of the blazing pitch; and this singular transformation added not a little to rendering the scene more terrific—for there was something supernatural in this altered complexion.
The whole scene might have been compared to the final of some grand theatrical spectacle—it had all the grandeur, the red light, and the scenic embellishment—but in two circumstances it widely differed from the fictitious imitation. There was not that variety of forms and colours in the tableaux, and, moreover, the characters were not as upon the stage—in poses and attitudes that betokened rest. On the contrary, all were in motion. Their arms were tossing wildly above their heads, while they themselves were leaping upward or dancing to and fro wherever they could find footing. They were shouting in tones of despair, screaming in agonised accents; while some, who had evidently gone mad, were gibbering and laughing in voices that bore a striking resemblance to that of the hyena!
The strong light enabled me to trace everything minutely—alas, too minutely! I could see the white gleaming teeth, the frothing lips, the eyes glaring in madness or terror. We were still scarce a cable’s length from them. I could note every movement as if I had been in their midst, or within ten feet of them. They all stood fronting in the direction of the raft; and for this reason I could note their gestures, and even distinguish the expression upon their features.
Among other things I saw women—I knew they were women only from their being smaller than those around—I saw women lift up little dark forms as high as they could raise them, and hold them out in the direction of the raft. They were their children, their infant piccaninnies, and this was intended as a supplication to the white runaways to come back and save them. Others stretched forth their arms and stood in attitudes of entreaty; while men—the stronger and fiercer ones—shook their clenched fists in the air and hurled after us loud cries of menace.
Awe-inspiring as was the spectacle, it was neither the threats of the men nor the supplications of the women that was causing all commotion among the crew on the raft.
Part of the blaspheming and loud talk that could be heard there arose from anger that the blacks had been let out; and we could hear several voices inquiring, in harsh angry tones. “Who has done it? Who has done it?”
These questions were not asked simply thus, but with the embellishments of horrid oaths and exclamations that cannot be repeated.
It was just as my companion and I were parting from the bows, that we heard these questions asked, and so earnest was the tone of the inquirers, that I at once saw that I had placed myself in a position of danger.
It appeared that I had committed an imprudence. My humanity had hurried me to an act that could be of no service in saving the lives of those I intended to benefit, but was likely to bring destruction upon all—myself among the rest.
I can scarce say that I repented of what I had done. I should have done the same deed again. I could have not restrained myself. I had followed the promptings of mercy. How could I have acted otherwise?
I had such reflections at the moment, or something like them. I cannot exactly describe my thoughts, for a tumult of strange emotions was passing through my mind.
I now perceived the danger which threatened the two rafts: I perceived it on looking back toward burning the vessel: the blacks were threatening to swim after, and seek refuge upon the rafts. Large numbers of them showed that they had formed this intention. It was apparent from their movements and attitudes. They were swarming over the bulwarks and down the sides. They had gathered along the beam-ends and seemed every moment on the eve of launching their bodies into the water!