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Updated: June 28, 2025
A minute or two later Jackum was seated with a big damper cake and a basin of treacle between his legs, smiling all over his face wherever it was not coated with molasses, and that was naturally about the mouth.
"Car-ee come 'long too." "No," said Carey; "I'll stop here." "Car-ee come. Doc-tor farss 'sleep. Big Dan brokum. Sit alonga long time. Baal fetch um too much drinking grog. Old man no good." "Go along with Bob." "Go alonga Cookie now?" "Yes, and he'll give you plenty." "Plenty eat. Jackum come back soon."
"Nay, sir, oughtn't you to order me on guard to shoot down the enemy if he comes on deck?" Carey nodded. "Yes, keep watch," he said. "I'll go down." The way was easy enough now, and the next minute Carey was on the saloon table, from which he leaped to the floor, to face Jackum, who cried, eagerly: "Doctor. Jackum know."
The old sailor knelt down before the bucket and began to bathe his forehead and the tremendous swelling, while Black Jackum looked on anxiously. The next minute Bostock raised his head, saw that the second black was looking at him solemnly, and he made a hideous grimace at him an extremely hideous grimace, for his swollen and disfigured forehead helped to make it so.
"No; I aren't going to send him down; but I tell you what I will do if you don't hand up that revolver I'll pitch a lanthorn down alight so as to get a good aim at you, and then I'll give you two barrels o' this." There was a few minutes' silence, and then the beachcomber began again. "Send that Black Jackum down to me. Where's he been all this time?"
The man made some reply, and ran towards the forecastle to squat upon the deck and thump upon the hatch with his fists, saying something with great rapidity of speech, the only words Carey could grasp being Dan and mumkull. Black Jackum turned to the boy as soon as his companion had finished. "Cookie," cried Jackum, pointing down at the closed and fastened hatch.
Carey Cranford saw the great treasures in pearls, pearl shell, and valuables collected from wrecked vessels in the course of some twenty years, during which Dan Mallam had reigned paramount in a lonely island off the north-west coast of Australia, for Jackum piloted the steamer there in triumph, and looked proud of his achievement, while he pointed out everything he thought of value to Carey, and could not understand the lad's hanging back from helping himself to articles he did not want.
There was a savage roar from the beachcomber, and as Bostock hurried along the quarter-deck and descended to the cabin entrance two shots were fired in rapid succession. "Big Dan go mumkull kill a feller," whispered Jackum, as the exchange of words came to where they stood listening. "Drop that! D'yer hear?" roared Bostock. "Drop it, before I come and finish you off." "Yes; come!" snarled Mallam.
The black's fingers were applied with delicate touch to the old sailor's head. "Gently, old soot-box," said Bostock, quietly submitting; "it feels as if it was red-hot." "No brokum," said Jackum, turning sharply to Carey and catching at the boy's wrist. "Feelum."
It must have been close upon two hours before that silence was broken by the sound of voices, the grating of a boat against the steamer's side, and the trampling of feet on deck. "Jackum backum," cried the black, as he dropped down, with his face shining with excitement. "Ahoy there!" cried Bostock. "How goes it, my lad? Here we are.
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