Some four hours later, just as the day began to draw in, they pulled up their lines and headed for Elmina. It was dark when they arrived off the fort, and they steamed into the river at once, passing beneath the bridge erected by the Dutch. Not a sound was heard aboard. The engines were working dead slow, while a screen of sacks surrounded the funnel, hiding any sparks which might have betrayed the presence of the launch. In the bows stood two of the bluejackets, with long poles in their hands, and presently, as the launch passed beyond the town into the river, they stretched these ahead as far as possible, letting the tips trail in the water.
“Take her along dead slow,” whispered Dick in Johnnie’s ear. “There are plenty of sand and mud banks, and we don’t want to get stranded. Ah! that must be one.”
Without the slightest warning, the launch came sweetly to a stop, burying her nose in a bank of mud which cropped up in the middle of the river. Even the men who held the poles had not been able to detect the obstruction in time, for their rods simply pierced the soft material. And now, when they attempted to push the launch off, the same thing happened.
“All walk aft,” said Dick. “Now, Johnnie, reverse the engines, and give her more steam. When I whistle let every man give a jump into the air.”
His orders were given in the lowest tones, and were carried out without confusion, for the British sailor hates fuss and flurry, and can be relied on to act well and discreetly in an emergency. All gathered aft, and as Dick whistled they jumped into the air, shaking the launch as they came to the deck again. But still she clung to her cradle of mud.
“Then some of us must get overboard. What is the depth?” asked Dick.
In the silence he could hear the two bluejackets grope for their poles, and plunge them into the water. Then one of them came to his side.
“About two feet of water, and three of mud,” he said. “If we was to go over the side, we couldn’t swim, and the mud would hold us. What about putting something at the end of the poles, sir? Something that wouldn’t sink so easily. How’d a couple of kegs do?”
Dick thought for a moment. Then he went to the tiny cabin, and unmasking a lamp, peered closely at the stores. Thanks to the generosity of those in charge of the commissariat, a liberal supply of provisions of a mixed character had been handed over to the expedition, and amongst these stores were some kegs of biscuits. Our hero gave vent to a whistle.
“Bring the two poles down here,” he said, as a head was thrust into the cabin. “And let all stand round, so as to hide the light should it show. Now, my lad, rip off the top of this keg.”