"He, he, he! him come out of the vinegar bottle," he giggled. "Him one velly fine cork, Mass Jim. But yo gib him back when yo finished? Eh? Velly fine cork dat."
Jim snatched it from his hand without ceremony, in fact with a brusqueness altogether foreign to him. Then he leaned over the side of the launch and gave a shout of triumph when he discovered that Ching had supplied him with an article which fitted nicely. He rammed it home forcibly, driving his fist through the water against the cork. Then he bounded to the engine, jerked the starting handle into position, and sent the motor whirling. Bizz! She was off. The engine went away with an encouraging roar, while but a few ounces of water escaped from the rent in her jacket.
"Wipe it up," he commanded Ching. "And guess you'd better keep clear of the magneto and plugs and suchlike. If you touched them you'd get a shock that would knock you endways. Gee! Ain't she buzzing! Hooray! we'll best them."
Sam was already at the steering wheel of the launch, watching his master out of the corner of his big eyes, and paying some attention to the enemy. Indeed he would not have been human had he failed to cast more than one anxious look in their direction. Sam was not the same stolid, supernaturally unemotional individual as the Chinaman. He had nerves; excitement told on the little fellow.
"Dey almighty near, sah," he sang out. "Dat motor goin'? den, fo' goodness sake, put de gear in, push on, get away from dem demon."
"Dodge 'em; swing her about. Put out their aim," Jim called to him, and at once pushed his gear lever home. Then, like the practical young man he was, he reached over to his lubricators and sent them dripping at a pace which, while they would not flood the engine and overlubricate her, would still supply a more abundant amount than usual, and so in a measure serve to counteract the want of water cooling.
"She's bound to run hotter," Jim told himself, "and as a permanent arrangement the thing wouldn't do; but for the time being it's got to. Round with her, Sam."
The launch meanwhile had floated quietly on the surface of the river, and, owing to the fact that her propeller was stationary, being thrown out of gear by the failure of the engine, she had lost steerage way, and had drifted completely round. She was heading upstream when Jim set her propeller thrashing the water again, and for a while she raced away from the other vessel, the manœuvre drawing shrill yells of rage from the natives. But Sam had her in hand. The fine little fellow had not been with Jim and his father all this time without learning how to steer a launch, and at once, with a glance over his shoulder, he sent his wheel round, causing the boat to flop over and heel till her rail was almost under the surface. Round she spun on her keel, and within the half-minute was heading direct for the enemy. A growl broke from Tomkins as he laid his cheek once more down on the butt of his rifle.
"This time guess we'll make hay with 'em," he shouted. "Don't you be in too much of a hurry, sir. You can make rings all round 'em and still keep out of range. Dare say their bullets'll reach right enough, but they won't strike hard enough to hurt more'n a fly. It's the spears I'm frightened of."
And everyone else, too; for the natives aboard the oncoming launch had again discarded their firearms, and were now standing, spear in hand ready poised, waiting for the moment when they might cast them. Sam gave every dusky warrior a start when he headed the launch direct for them. It looked as if he were bent on a collision; but a minute later, when effective range for the spear throwers had almost been reached, he put his wheel over again, and shot the launch away at a right angle. Then a figure aboard the enemy was seen to rise erect beside her steering gear, and within the space of a few seconds she paid off in the same direction as Jim's craft had taken—on a course, in fact, which would bring the two boats alongside very shortly. Either that or they must run hard into the bank.