“All dat remain,” he said, with a laugh. “De bow hit right into boat, and brake um. Dis stick to de fender. Noding hurt. Launch same as before, only bullet mark eberywhere, I ’spect.”
“Then we’ll look to ourselves. What damages, Johnnie?”
“Golly! I forget um. Tink soon be killed by dem debils and den no matter. But feel um now. Look dar! Johnnie kill dat man if he catch um! What he want to fire so to spoil de beauty? Johnnie’s wife not like dat ’tall!”
Here was a genuine grievance, and the native made the most of it as he showed Dick his wound. For a slug had struck him on the cheek, just below the orbit, and had lacerated the flesh, so that there was every prospect of much scarring; while the bleeding, as in all face wounds, had been excessive, and his coat and breast were covered with blood.
“An honourable wound,” said Dick, with a chuckle, for this little native amused him vastly, and considering his want of good looks, it was rather amazing to hear him talking of lost beauty. “Honourable scars, Johnnie. You will be able to point to that wound and say to your wife and friends, ‘Johnnie get that when he fight whole Ashanti army. Yes, he hab one man only wid him. He fight army alone and kill plenty. Den he wave de hand and leab.’ How’s that, Johnnie?”
They sat opposite one another now, the enemy almost forgotten, and they laughed till Dick had to hold his sides. For the expression on the stoker’s face as Dick took note of his grievance was ludicrous. He looked surprised and grieved at first, and then utterly indignant. Then, as our hero proceeded with the tale, he saw his point, and commenced to smile.
“Yo make um ache, massa,” he cried. “Yes, Johnnie say all dat. He forget. Dis wound show him to be brave man. He fight whole army, alone. He kill heap. He glad dat man hit um here. Dat man friend of him for life!”
It was natural that the two should make the most of the matter and enjoy it to their heart’s content, for the reader must recollect that a few minutes before death stared them in the face, that for a quarter of an hour the odds against their escape had been desperate, and that during all that time they had been working with hand and brain and fighting at full pressure. And as if the danger had been a stone hung about their necks by a cord, it had dropped now that the cord was cut. They had burst their way through the band swung across the river, and they had killed the most dangerous of their enemies. The relief was immense, and they showed it by giddy laughter, by gripping hands, and by shouting and gesticulating.
“You stuck to me like a good ’un,” said Dick, in grateful tones. “Had you funked we should have been taken. I will report to Mr Pepson.”
“And massa save Johnnie. Look at man me jest throw to de fishes. He kill me sure as egg if massa not fire. Fine shot. Big sportman, massa; and Johnnie say so to all de town when him back. But what part you hit? Look! Blood here and dere, and dere. Eberywhere!”