Part 27 (1/2)

”I want no one, thank you,” came the answer. ”I will accompany this native, and I shall hope to be back here two nights from this. 'Bout s.h.i.+p, Jack. We must make these beggars think that we are turning tail.

Now, I'll ask this fellow a question. Come here, my man. Will you direct me to the white chief to-night, and return here with him?”

A smile broke out on the wan face of the native, and he showed his teeth.

”I will go gladly,” he said. ”To the white chief my life is due, and I will repay the debt. Let there be no fear for our safety. These enemies will not expect us, and during the night we shall easily pull up to the creek. In two days, perhaps, we shall return.”

All was now bustle and movement aboard the launch, for many preparations for the coming attempt had to be made. Meanwhile, seeing that he could not persuade his comrade not to make the journey, Jack Emmett went to the helm and sent the launch back to her course, down the centre of the river. And there he held her, sitting motionless and thoughtful at the tiller, while d.i.c.k and his men prepared the native boat. Two rifles and an abundant store of ammunition were placed in her, and to these were added a cooking-pot, some tinned provisions, and a keg of water. That done, and some miles having been covered since they turned towards the sea, the launch was run in toward the bank and anch.o.r.ed, while all threw themselves down beneath the awning to sleep. As evening came, they partook of a meal, and once the night had fallen, they pulled in their anchor and stood up the centre of the river again, their course guided by the faint streak which intervened between the two black lines of forest on either side. A s.h.i.+eld of sacking surrounded the top of the funnel, while precautions were taken to hide all trace of light from the fire. In fact, the launch might have been a ghost, so silent and invisible was she.

”Stop her. Bring that boat forward, please.”

It was d.i.c.k's voice, cool and collected as before.

”Now hold her while we embark. Good-bye, Jack. Good-bye, men. Keep a watch for us to-morrow night. Shove her off.”

A dozen hands stretched out to grip his in the darkness, and a dozen voices, gruff and deep, and sunk to a whisper, bade him good luck and good-bye. A push then sent the boat clear of the launch, and within a few seconds she was under way, the dip of the paddles being just distinguishable. That sound soon ceased, and as the crew of the launch stared disconsolately after their leader, they could neither hear nor see a trace of the boat.

”Good luck to the lad,” growled one of the sailors. ”Blest if he ain't the pluckiest gentleman as ever I see.”

”And if them fellers gets 'im and does for our young orfficer, I tell yer they'll 'ave ter pay, do yer 'ear?” growled another. ”Strike me!

but we'll give 'em something for interferin'!”

”Silence there, for'ard. 'Bout launch! Steady there with the tiller, and hold your tongues, my lads.”

This time it was Jack Emmett's voice, strangely altered. At once there was silence. But the men could think and mutter to themselves, and as they slowly steamed down the dark river that black night, each and all, from their new commander downward, registered a vow that if d.i.c.k Stapleton did not soon return, they would find the cause and probe the mystery to the bottom.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

A WELL-LAID SCHEME.

”Not a sound. Nothing to disturb us. We have been lucky.”

”And the creek lies within an hour's paddling from here, chief. Soon we shall reach the white man who befriended me.”

It was still quite dark, though the partial view which the curling river Prahsu allowed of the east showed that there the sky was already streaked with dull grey clouds, and that the day would not be long in coming. It was hours since the native boat had put off from the launch, and the paddles of the two occupants had dipped regularly and monotonously all the while, with an occasional spell of rest. And never once had a sound or suspicion of the proximity of the enemy alarmed them.

”We had better paddle over to the bank and be ready to take cover beneath the trees,” said d.i.c.k, at last. ”I remember that they overhang, and that we can run in beneath them and still paddle. Let us get close to them, and stay outside till the light is brighter.”

”Or it may be that we shall be within the creek by then,” came the answer. ”Then there will be no danger. We have seen no sign of the enemy near the mine for some days past.”

Turning the nose of the native boat towards the bank, they ran her in till she was only a few yards from the long and continuous line of overhanging boughs which clothed the side of the river. And in that position they paddled on till the growing light warned them that longer stay in the open would be dangerous. Then they plunged in beneath the boughs, and continued their pa.s.sage up the river. Presently a cry from the native attracted d.i.c.k's attention.

”The creek, chief,” he called out. ”We will push on.”

He was strangely excited, and now that the goal was in sight plunged his paddle into the water with greater energy, and set the pace so that his white companion had difficulty in keeping time. They surged along through the shallows, dodging the boughs which dropped to the water, and ducking their heads to avoid others which came dangerously near to the boat. It was still hardly light when they shot the boat into the narrow mouth of the creek, though as they rested on their paddles and looked back, the gloom surrounding this narrow and foetid strip of water was deeper when compared with the prospect offered by the river.

”At last,” said d.i.c.k. ”We are here in safety, and still there is no sign of the enemy. Where is Meinheer? Shall we have trouble in finding him?”

”Perhaps a little,” was the answer. ”He wanders here and there in search of food, and to keep watch lest these Ashanti men should come to the neighbourhood.”

”Halt!” whispered d.i.c.k, suddenly, for he thought he saw a dark object on the bank. ”Look there! Is that some one watching us? There! He has moved away.”