Above the screams of the enemy, the hoarse bellows of those who had escaped the rifle bullets and the buckshot with which the gun had been loaded, for bags of these had been brought as likely to be the proper form of missile, the voice of Johnnie could be heard.
“Back um! Now, yo black debil in bow, hook um on. Throw de painter! Make up fast as wax. Now gib um steam. Go ’head. Gib um all she know!”
It might have been rehearsed. It was marvellous to think that all this had been arranged by a little fellow from Sierra Leone, employed as the stoker and driver of a steam launch. Dick was dumbfounded. But by now he was past expressing his feelings, and besides, he was so exhausted that he could hardly speak. He saw, however, that the chief command was in excellent hands for the moment, and, like a sensible fellow, he left Johnnie to conduct the flight till he had his strength again. And so he lay flat on the deck, listening to the shouts of the pursuers, getting now farther and farther away, to the husky voice of James Langdon, as he raced through the trees, and to the mutterings of the native at the engine of the launch. Then he smiled, a grim smile of amusement and of exultation, for he had conquered. He had won the fight, an unequal one, to say the least of it, and here he was, thanks to the splendid fellows who supported him, steaming away from the mine without the loss of a single worker, with little to mourn for, and with sufficient gold aboard to pay all wages, and leave a very handsome margin with which to reimburse his employers for the burning of their few spare stores and their stockade. In addition, there would be enough to give a fine profit, and such encouragement that when things had quieted down and James Langdon’s account had been settled, the mine would be worked again, and he, Dick Stapleton, would have certain employment.
“De beggar follow. Dey runnin’ down in de trees. Berry well! We stop dat. Yo boys, back dere. Get um guns ready.”
“Tell your men to load and fire into the trees when my comrade gives the command,” said Dick, in the Fanti tongue, which all the Ashantis understand. “Now, Johnnie, tell me what you want, and I’ll pass on the order. You will command till we reach the river.”
“Tank you, massa,” was the answer, as the little fellow swung round for a moment, showing a smiling mouth and two rows of gleaming teeth. “You watch, and see me gib dem pepper. Me gib dem fellows beans.”
He cut the steam off just a little till the launch slowed down, and till the Ashantis on the bank began to overhaul her. Meanwhile all aboard the launch maintained silence. Then again the native stoker shouted a command, and a hot musketry fire was poured into the forest. At the same instant the launch started forward as if she had been hit, and with the boat in tow went racing down the tributary. Nothing could stop her now. Bullets and slugs whizzed overhead, and a few struck the deck and the sides of the towing boat. But they could not arrest the flight, while the pursuers might shout and bawl as they liked. The launch sped on her way, causing the water to flood the muddy banks on either side, and disturbing more than one of the loathsome monsters reclining there. They came to a bend suddenly. She swung round it, dashed for an open reach, and shot out into the stream.
“Well done!” cried Dick, rising to his feet, and taking his post as leader again. “Very well done, Johnnie. You are a born commander. Now, put out into midstream and send her ahead. How’s steam, my lad?”
“’Nough to bust um, massa. Plenty steam and heap coal.”
“Then keep her going while I talk to the chief.”