“Beg pardon, sir,” he said, as he saluted, “but there’s a boat full of niggers a-coming down-stream, and they’re armed.”
Dick was up in a moment, and taking care to move with the utmost caution he pushed the leaves aside and looked out. The report was accurate, for coming down-stream was a large native boat, with some ten men aboard, on whose shoulders muskets were slung. A glance showed him that some at least were Ashantis, while the others he was not sure about.
“They must be captured,” he said with decision. “We will wait till they are quite close, and will rush out at them. If they fire, four of you give them a volley. That will be sufficient, for we want to make a capture.”
It was an exciting moment for the men of the expedition. Not that they had anything to fear from the men aboard the native boat. But they were now well above Elmina, and who could say whether the enemy were not all round them? In any case they must be near at hand, so that the attack might very well be followed by a general onslaught on the part of the Ashantis.
Dick busied himself with telling off the men to their stations, while he bade Jack Emmett take the tiller and steer the launch. Presently the native boat drew opposite their hiding-place, and at once the boughs were parted and the launch shot out into the river. There was a shout from the enemy, and half a dozen dropped their paddles and opened a hot fire, their slugs whistling over the launch.
“That proves that they are enemies,” said Dick, in tones of satisfaction. “Give them a volley, my lads.”
It was high time to return the fire, for as he spoke another burst of flame had come from the boat, and three of the sailors were struck by the slugs. Not that that made much difference, for the hardy fellows did little more than grunt. There was a quick answering flash, and instantly four of the natives threw up their arms and toppled overboard.
“Put us at her hard!” shouted Dick, waving to Jack. “Now swing her round and bring us alongside. Keep under cover if you can, my lads, and give them a volley over their heads.”
The whole manoeuvre scarcely took five minutes. In less time than it takes to tell, the launch had swung out into the stream, had headed for the enemy, and finally had run alongside, a second volley from the rifles of the seamen ripping the air over the heads of the natives. And that was sufficient. Within a second they had thrown down their arms and had grovelled on the floor of the boat.
“Get them all aboard here and lash their arms and legs,” sang out Dick. “That’s the way. Smartly does it. Now dash a hole in their boat and let her sink. Turn the launch’s head to the sea, Jack, and let us be going. Ah, there come the bullets.”