A Native Fleet.
“Yo’s no need for to worry, massa,” sang out Johnnie, severely, as Dick raised his head from his hands and looked along the deck anxiously. For the fact that it was empty, save for the chief and himself and three others, caused him sudden anxiety. “Yo’s get de wind again, and Johnnie see um all right. Wait dar! Back um! Yo black boy ober dar, swing um round so!”
He was in the well where the engine lay, and as he gave the orders Dick saw by the light of the furnace that he had shut off steam. Then he waved to the man at the helm, and the launch gently fell across the stream. And there she lay, shrouded in darkness, and hidden from the sight of the pursuers by the bank round the angle of which they were congregated. But whether they could see her or not, the enemy answered James Langdon’s shout with a volley from their muzzle-loaders.
“That’s um. Fire away, you debils. See some fun soon. See what Johnnie and his broders do. Listen to um cussin’.”
He roared with delight, for, as the reports of the scattered volley subsided the voice of James Langdon again came to the ear.
“Wade in!” he called out in the Ashanti tongue. “It is only a stream, my brothers, and in that way we shall have them. They must not escape. They have all the gold with them.”
“Yo watch!” said Johnnie, suddenly, as a series of loud splashes told that the enemy were attempting to carry out the movement. “You see fun now, massa. Hi, yo black boys! Fire de rifle.”
It was laughable, ridiculous, but very wonderful after all, to see Johnnie there, giving commands in his quaint English, commands which could not be understood by a single one of the miners. And yet this little stoker had a head on his shoulders, and had shown that he was deserving of much trust. For if he did not know the Ashanti tongue, by means of many jerkings of his arms and a huge amount of energy he could explain his plans, and get the men to fall in with them. And now Dick could see that he had made good use of the short time given him at the launch.
He had had a clear half-hour, or a little more, perhaps, and in that small space of time he had lit the fire, had stacked the bags of gold, for they could be seen in the cabin, lying snugly under the light of the furnace, and had made his arrangements for defence. He had posted his men a little distance away, under the trees, just where they could cover the enemy with their rifles. They were lying in the boat selected for their transport, and in the bows one of their number cowered over the small brass cannon. He had seen a gun before, that was evident, and his eyes gleamed with excitement. He put an arm out, clutched a bough, and moved the position of the boat ever so little. Then came Johnnie’s excited shout, a spout of flame burst from nine or ten rifles, and then there was a short pause, followed by a flash, by the splutter of powder at the vent, and then by an appalling crash as the gun went off.
“Put um helm ober, boy! Now give um little steam. Gently! Backum!”