With Wolseley to Kumasi Part 7

"That was an awkward position," interrupted his friend. "I understand that I was lying in the water. Covered, in fact?"

There was a queer little smile on his lips, and he looked swiftly into d.i.c.k's honest and open face.

"Yes. You had gone below the surface. I was stunned by the mishap. I thought it was all up with us."

"With me, you mean. You could have bolted. The boat was close at hand."

d.i.c.k flushed to the roots of his hair, and tore his hat from his head as if the weight troubled him. He stared at Mr Pepson in amazement, and then, seeing the smile, smiled back at him.

"You are chaffing me," he said. "Trying to humbug me. You know well enough that no decent fellow would do that. You wouldn't. I wasn't going to desert a comrade who was down and helpless, particularly when there were such ruffians about. So I set to work as quickly as possible."

"You made up your mind to see the business through?"

"Yes. I was staggered at first. Then I caught you up, not too gently, I fear, and dumped you into the boat. After that I pushed her out and shoved off into the shadow of the trees."

"Why? What was your reason?"

Mr Pepson was like an inquisitor. He still smiled the same little smile, and still treated his agent to an occasional flash of his brilliant eyes, as if he would probe him to the utmost depth.

"My reason? Oh, we were in the light, you see. The moon was up, and the beggars could pot us easily. They had guns, remember, else you would not have been hit. I reckoned--all of a sudden--I don't know how it was, quite--that we should be safer there, and so into the shadow I went. Then they occupied our position. I could see to shoot, while they were bothered. Still, they made a fine rush, and things began to look ugly when the launch came into view. Our friend showed his mettle, for he fired at once, and his shot practically ended the engagement.

Then we steamed off, and, and--"

"And here we are. And I owe you a life again, Master d.i.c.k. Very good.

No, I won't say a word more, save that you tackled the task well. It was an ugly position and you seem to have chosen the only way out. I'm glad, too, that Meinheer put a spoke in their wheel. Now do me the favour of dressing these wounds again, and then we will breakfast. Get the bandages and a looking-gla.s.s, for then I shall be able to see the hurts myself, and give an opinion. You see, I am a bit of a surgeon."

At this moment the blanket beneath which the ample figure of the Dutchman was shrouded stirred and was thrown back, and very soon, yawning and stretching his arms, Meinheer came along the deck. By then d.i.c.k had the bandages and fresh dressings, as well as a bowl of water, drawn from the river, and some clean linen to act as a sponge. How different, how lighthearted he looked, for, thanks to his chat with Mr Pepson, and to the other's common sense, all his worries were dispelled, and he saw things with an eye which was not jaundiced. He had, in fact, reached the stage at which others in a similar position had arrived before. He could see that killing was not a joyous trade, that no ordinary human being lightly undertook it, and only when circ.u.mstances made it imperative that he should act so as to protect his own life and that of his friend. Then there was no blame to be attached to the one who had shed the blood of his fellow, so long as he was not a wanton aggressor.

"Here we are," he called out as he came along. "Good day, Meinheer.

Hold the bowl, please, while I get the bandages undone. Ah, here's the pin. Now, sit up, sir. That's right. We'll have it done in a jiffy."

Very carefully and skilfully he unwrapped the bandages, and presently the dressing was removed from the shoulder. Mr Pepson lifted the gla.s.s, arranged it so that he could obtain a clear view, and then grunted.

"Humph!" he said, with one of his inscrutable smiles. "A mere scratch.

Take the probe, d.i.c.k. Now dip it into that other bowl which has the carbolic in it. That's the way. Gently put it into the wound. No.

Don't be nervous. I'll soon shout if it hurts. Press gently towards the other place where the bullet came out. Hah! A mere flesh wound, barely an inch deep. Not even that. I'm lucky! The shoulder is scarcely stiff, and a little rest in a sling will put it right in a week. A schoolboy would laugh at it. Put on fresh dressings and we'll inspect the head. Lucky that I'm such a surgeon!"

He was as cheery as possible, and thanks to his lightheartedness his friends, who had been looking on and helping in the task with some misgivings, began to feel that their comrade was, after all, not so badly hurt.

"I tell you that it was only the crack on my skull that mattered,"

persisted Mr Pepson. "The bullet slipped through my shoulder, a mere wound of the cuticle, and then happened to glance against my scalp and skull. A man can't stand that. It knocks him stupid. That's why I fell, and that's why our young friend had to help me. But it doesn't explain why he--a mere youngster--pulled me through so well, and why he stuck to me when many another would have bolted to save his own skin.

Heh? What did you say, Meinheer?"

"Zat we hab a drasure. Zat Meinheer d.i.c.k will be a gread man one of zese days. When he is big like me, when he has grown fine and dall, and, and--ah, yes, sdoud, you call him; yes, when he is sdoud, then he will be one gread, fine man. And he is brave! Yes, I see zad with half one eye, for a brave man knows when he meeds one of ze same."

"Quite so, Meinheer," answered Mr Pepson, dryly. "Which reminds me.

d.i.c.k says that you fired in the nick of time, and turned the tide of the battle. It was a good shot. You did well, and Johnnie also, to bring up the launch just then. But stand aside a little and give me the gla.s.s. Hah! Looks nasty, doesn't it, d.i.c.k," he went on, as the wound on his scalp was exposed, and he noticed our hero wince and turn a little pale at the sight. "Come, come! Looks are the worst part of it.

Bathe the wound and cover it again. An Irishman would not give it a second thought. I haven't even a headache."

He rose to his feet when the dressing was completed, and walked up and down the deck, looking perhaps a little more sallow than usual. But his spirits were not in the least damped or downcast. Indeed, his two companions had yet to learn that their leader was, in his quiet way, a remarkable man. As hard as nails, as d.i.c.k had already observed, cool and courageous, and possessed of a dogged nature which defied the utmost fatigue, which laughed, or rather smiled only, at danger, and which made light of any wound. Meanwhile, d.i.c.k and Johnnie were engaged at the furnace door, and presently the aroma of coffee came to the nostrils of the leader and the Dutchman, causing the latter to turn an eager and expectant gaze in that direction.

"By Jobe!" he cried, "bud zad is a scend zad is goat, yes, ver goot.

Whad shall we ead zis day?"

His question was answered almost at once, for Johnnie came along the deck bearing a steaming dish, d.i.c.k following with the coffee and biscuit. The newspaper was again spread on the roof of the cabin, and all set to work with eagerness.

"And now for future movements. We are a day's journey from the mouth of the river, and three from the mine," said Mr Pepson. "The question is whether we should push on alone as we are, or whether we should return.

There is no doubt that all our Fanti men were in league with these robbers, and left us at the first opportunity."

"And would do the same again," d.i.c.k ventured. "If we returned for a second crew, who is to guarantee that they will not behave in a similar manner?"

"That is the very point. We should run that danger. What are your views about this attack during the night?"

He swung round on his elbow and looked keenly at our hero.

"You saw them," he said. "This precious rascal nearly shot you. How much has he had to do with the matter?"

"More than any one, I think," was d.i.c.k's answer. "I believe him to be a thorough rogue, and in league with the Ashantis. Inquiries which I made at Cape Coast Castle convinced me that he had been engaged on many occasions in running guns and ammunition to the coast, and sending them up-country. Well, we have heard that there is trouble brewing. The natives at Elmina are in almost open insurrection. Murders have been committed under the eyes of the garrison, and a few white men carried off. In addition, there are tidings that parties of Ashanti warriors are in the neighbourhood of the Pra. It is my opinion that this James Langdon is their spy, that he is watching for them and sending news of the doings at Elmina and Cape Coast Castle to King Koffee. That would have brought him tidings of our expedition, for all in Elmina and along the coast knew of our intentions--"

"While the king of the Ashantis had given us the concession, and had promised that we should be protected," interposed Mr Pepson. "Not that I will trust his sable majesty's word. The best protection that we can have will be our rifles. But I interrupted. You think--?"

"That this James Langdon is a spy, and that while engaged in that work he has time to see to other matters. The cargo we carry is valuable.

If he could have taken the boats the expedition would have been ruined, and we should have had to return. Then, too, we do not know how much more ambitious the scheme of last night's attack may have been. They may have arranged to steal the boats and make sure of their prize, then to return and cut our throats. There were sufficient of them, and I fancy that what James Langdon would willingly do, the others would also carry out."

"Precisely. They would hack us all to pieces. Never you hesitate again to shoot, my lad. Where such rascals have to be dealt with it is as well to press a trigger without delay, remembering that the man who hesitates very often is killed before he has another chance. And you think that this ruffian has been on the lookout for us, and that we are not only fortunate in having our goods secure, but also in having our lives? I believe it. I think the fellow would willingly have had a little private revenge with his booty. He has his knife in you, d.i.c.k, because you were the first to discover him, and he will not be more friendly disposed to us, for we are whites, and he is an outcast. To return to the subject of Elmina. I heard about the natives. Perhaps Meinheer can tell us more."

"Zey are pigs, I dell you. Mein word! Bud do you know zis, mine ver good friend? Zese blacks were once servands. Zey would run, and quick, when ze order was give. Now--now zere is no ordering zem. Zed do nod move. Zey glare ad me, ad me, Meinheer Van Somering. Zey used to sdand and shake, so"--the burly Dutchman let his knees knock together, while he trembled till his fat cheeks quivered--"ver good, now zey laugh, yes zey laugh and run away."

"All of which points to disaffection and probable mutiny," said Mr Pepson. "Then it is clear that a second crew from Elmina would be worse than useless. We shall have dangers to face. We can well do that alone."

"While I am sure that we can manage the launch and the boats, particularly if we tie up before it is dark, and then change our position once the night has fallen."

"A brilliant idea, d.i.c.k, and we will carry it out. Once at the stockade I shall have no fear, for the men are Ashanti gold-diggers, who are not much given to fighting. There are a dozen of them, and I think their loyalty can be controlled by the prospect of gold. You see, they are paid a percentage of what they recover from the soil. Yes, we will push on up-stream and avoid another attack. If there is a moon again we will keep on during the night. Now about those fellows over there. We must go across and see how many are killed, and if any are still living.

Meinheer, what do you say?"

The Dutchman did not reply hastily, for he was considering the danger of such an expedition. However, in his heart of hearts, Meinheer was a humane man when his fears were quieted, and he argued that here there could be no danger.

"Good. We will go, Meinheer," he said. "Ze sooner ze bedder."

"And as I am the lightest and perhaps the most active, I will land,"

added d.i.c.k. "Then, in case of an attack, you two can cover me with your rifles. There is no trusting these rascals, particularly when James Langdon commands them."

A few minutes later the remains of the breakfast had been cleared away, and while the trio smoked their pipes and chatted, Johnnie stoked the furnace, throwing coal upon it till a column of smoke issued from the funnel. Soon the hiss of steam from the escape told that the launch was ready for a move, and at once Mr Pepson stepped to the tiller.

"We'll leave our boats anch.o.r.ed over here," he said, "for it would never do to have them over on the far sh.o.r.e and run the risk of attack. In the confusion, if there were need to escape, they would hamper us, and would perhaps be lost. Make them fast together, d.i.c.k, and we'll leave Johnnie in charge."

Another two minutes saw the launch steaming away from beneath the trees on the eastern side of the Pra, and presently her nose was pushing its way through the reeds and osiers which cropped up here and there on the far side.

Mr Pepson still held the tiller, a rifle beside him, and a cigar between his lips. The bulky form of the Dutchman was stretched out on the deck behind the tiny cabin. His rifle was at his shoulder, and he surveyed the jungle eagerly, treating every dark patch and shadow to a fierce scowl which boded ill for the man who might be lurking there.