Just as this was occurring I heard Silas on deck shouting out, “Come down out o’ that, you young rascal. What in thunder are you doing there?”
I kneeled down on the cap and commenced to descend, giving a last wave of my hand as I did so, and getting on the peak halyards was sliding down as fast as I could, when a bullet whizzed past my head and struck the mast about a foot above me. I did not look round to see to whom I was indebted for this compliment, but almost let go the rope, and reached the deck quicker than I had thought possible, and rolled on my back at the foot of the foremast.
When I got on my feet I was seized by Silas, who administered to me a sound rope’s-ending, during the administration of which I saw the mulatto steward standing aft with a smoking musket in his hand, so that to him evidently I owed my thanks for the attempt on my life which had been so nearly successful. He now came forward and said something to Silas, of which I could not understand the meaning; but its purport was soon explained to me when a set of slave-irons was brought up and I was fastened to a ring-bolt in the deck.
Silas put them on me himself, and took the occasion to whisper in my ear, “Ye doddered young fool, you’ll spile all. Jest keep quiet now. The irons ain’t locked; and to-night at three bells in the first watch there’ll be a canoe under the starboard fore-chains. You’ll hear me and Rube having a bit of a fight over our cards, and then you fly at once.” And giving me a smack on the side of the head, and saying, “Yer won’t be in a hurry to go to the mast-head again, I reckon, you young skunk,” left me to my meditations.
Though I was sore and bruised I had hopes of escape, and I also felt sure that my friends on board the brig knew where I was; and I was happier than I had been for many a long day, and looked forward eagerly for the time when I might make my dash for liberty.
The mulatto brought me some biscuit and a gourd of water. As I was about to put the latter to my lips I caught sight of Silas frowning at me, and dropped it on the deck; and Silas sung out, “If the young whelp is careless, let him go thirsty.”
The day dragged slowly and wearily away, and when at last sunset came I began to count the hours with feverish anxiety. After a little, when it was pitch-dark, and a tornado was evidently threatening, I felt a hand laid on my mouth, and heard Silas say, “Hush, the mulatto’s below. Well you didn’t drink that water; it was poisoned. I can tell you what to do. The tide’s ebbing still; the moment the rain comes, slip into the canoe, and let her drift out of the creek, and then paddle up-stream. After you get aboard, say Simon and Okopa mean to take the brig. Tell your father to clear out, and say nothing about our being here. Here’s some rum and a piece of beef;” and before I could say a word or thank him this strange friend left me.