Part 16 (2/2)

Then he edged the launch closer in till her nose dipped under the leaves, and he heard her grate against the side of the native craft.

”Got um fast front and back,” sang out the native. ”No move um, whateber happen. She fill wid water, and not sink. Tree hold um up nicely. Yes, and no one know um dere. Whole army pa.s.s, and neber guess. Golly, ma.s.sa, de berry place!”

”And one to find easily,” answered d.i.c.k. ”Now, hop along, and let us get off. We've plenty of steam, and I think we'll put her hard at it.

The tales of these warriors of King Koffee make me uneasy, and I'm anxious to get down to the coast.”

Very soon Johnnie appeared from amidst the leaves, and they pushed off into the stream till they reached the centre. And there they remained throughout the day, reeling the miles off rapidly, for they had the stream to help them.

”We'll keep on without a single halt right down to the sea,” said d.i.c.k, as he sat on the edge of the engine-well, eating a meal which the native had just cooked. ”We know there will be a moon, and now that the river is broader we shall be able to see easily. We'll chance sandbanks, and hope that none will come in our path. By to-morrow morning the natives should be left behind, and we should be within reach of friends. Good coffee, Johnnie. You are a capital hand at other thing besides making war!”

The native stoker grinned his delight as he turned to face his master.

”When me so high me learn to cook,” he said, with a merry laugh, holding his hand out some three feet from the deck. ”In my country de women and de children see to de food while de men smoke and sleep, and get strength for de fight.”

”A queer way of getting up one's muscle,” laughed our hero. ”Just fancy training for school sports, or a gymnastic compet.i.tion, in a similar manner! One would be rather soft, and hardly in the best condition.”

”Dere where Johnnie learn to fight,” went on the stoker. ”Me go out when me not yet a man, and in de first battle me kill an enemy. He rush so”--he clambered from the well, and demonstrated the method of attack with such energy that the launch rolled--”he make stroke at Johnnie's head, and miss um mark, golly! by de inch. Den me answer. Me hit wid all de strength wid um club, and he go whop! He fall dead on de ground.

Den me take um head, and shout de war cry.”

He made another attempt to bring the last in reality before his master, and set the forests ringing. d.i.c.k clapped a hand over his mouth, and pushed him into the well.

”Steady, my lad,” he said. ”There may be an Ashanti army within hearing of that call, and then what will happen? Spin your yarn if you wish, but do it quietly. How's steam?”

A little abashed, but yet glowing with the memory of his victory, the native stepped to the gauge and read off the pressure. Then he shovelled a heap of coal from the bunker.

”Come night, and not see so well,” he said. ”Hab plenty ready to run wid.”

About three hours after that, dusk began to fall, and for a little while the fugitives were compelled to lie in close to the bank of the river, for it was densely dark. But the time pa.s.sed pleasantly enough, for d.i.c.k had his pipe alight for the first time since the previous day and as he smoked it, watching the glow of the bowl, and looking across to a similar glow proceeding from the clay gripped between the white teeth of the native, his thoughts returned to the stockade. He went over all the scenes again, his nearness to James Langdon, and the luck he had had then. His successful attempt to reach the stockade, and the desperate fight he had had on the way. And, later, the retreat, with all its numerous incidents. He was still thinking of it when the moon came up in all her splendour, flooding the river till it was almost as light as day. And then, for the first time for many an hour, he looked at himself, and was horrified. His hands were cut and scratched in all directions, as doubtless was his face also. His clothes hung in ribbons about him, while, by the stains upon the breast of his coat and upon his s.h.i.+rt, one would have thought that he had been badly hit. But that he certainly was not; and now he remembered how the wretch who had first attacked him outside the stockade, had fallen under his own sword-- fallen against the one who struck the blow.

”Time to move,” he said, springing to his feet. ”Steady ahead. More.

Let her have it.”

The native grinned. He wiped his hands with a piece of waste extracted from his pocket, and then opened the throttle. And once he had the launch moving at full speed he leaned back in contentment, watching his master with one eye, while with the other he looked at the smoke curling up from his pipe.

An hour later, as they swung round a bend in the river, and came into a long, straight stretch, a cry of amazement escaped them. The water on the left bank was black with native craft, while the hubbub of some thousands of voices came to their ears. But that was as nothing to the shouts which greeted the appearance of the launch when she came into the straight. There was a deafening burst of shouting. Tom-toms and drums were beaten in all directions, while the deep note of many a native war-horn was heard. For crossing the stream was one division of King Koffee's army, _en route_ for the Fanti country. And of this division, amounting to some ten thousand men, not more than a tenth were on the water, for there were insufficient boats within a radius of many miles to carry more. The pa.s.sage was being made by detachments, and the first crossing had just commenced. That there were more of the warriors ash.o.r.e d.i.c.k quickly learned, for if there had been shouting from the men on the water, the noise from the jungle was vastly more p.r.o.nounced. And then the firing commenced, though the launch was beyond the range of the cheap, Birmingham-made guns owned by the natives. Still, the loud reports issuing from the bush were sufficient to show what was happening, while any doubt that there could possibly have been was set at rest by the manner in which the surface of the river was struck and thrashed by the bullets. They splashed in all directions, bullets ricocheting and screaming, slugs and buck-shot of native manufacture dropping heavily into the water, while the numerous pebbles which were fired sank out of sight at once.

d.i.c.k smiled grimly, once he had overcome his first feelings of consternation and astonishment. He stretched out from his position at the tiller and caught up a rifle. Another movement and he had three of the weapons at hand, for there was a good supply on board. And while he held the tiller between his knees, he jerked cartridges into the breeches. As for Johnnie, his mouth had opened in one vast expression of astonishment as the natives came into view, and for an instant he had changed colour under the dark pigment of his skin. Then, glancing at his leader, and seeing how he was engaged, the little fellow gripped his pipe the tighter and threw himself upon his shovel. The door of the furnace swung open with a clatter, and d.i.c.k heard the grating of the shovel on the narrow iron floor of the engine-well. A flash lit up the stoker's figure, and d.i.c.k caught sight of a roaring fire, quenched a second later with a ma.s.s of coal. Then a dense volume of black smoke swept out of the low funnel and went trailing overhead till it merged with the clouds and the trees. He glanced at the pressure gauge, and by the help of the moon saw that it stood at sixty. Johnnie turned to it also and pointed.

”Hab plenty more soon, ma.s.sa,” he said. ”Make water bubble and fizz.

Boiler go bur-r-r-r-r wid de pressure. Chimney velly hot. Golly! Look at um!”

”Time to think about a shot or two,” answered d.i.c.k, quietly. ”Get a couple of rifles and some cartridges, and load. Keep them handy to the engine. Then go on stoking. By the way, have we a fender aboard?”

”Big one forard, sar. Where hab him?”

”Right on the bows, rather low down. Slippy, my lad.”

They had little time for chatter, and both knew it. The native crawled on his hands and knees along the deck, and swung a large rope fender over the bows, securing it on the very stem of the launch. Then he ran back, and the furnace door swung open again. By now the steam pressure had risen to sixty-four, and the needle was slowly jerking up. The funnel vomited even more inky-black smoke, while flames and small particles of coal flew into the air, the latter raining down on the deck. Meanwhile the natives had not been idle, for after the first shouts of surprise, and the salvo of bullets and slugs, the whole ma.s.s of canoes had set off across the river to intercept the launch. The consequent confusion can be well imagined. There were then screams and shouts of anger. Boats became locked together, and d.i.c.k saw some of the crews striking at one another in their rage and in their anxiety to get clear of their neighbours, and have a share in the capture.

”That gives us a chance,” he said. ”If they had started from the outside line there would have been no doubt about the issue. Now it's touch and go. They may be lined across our way, or they may not.

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