Jefferson came out of his limp unconsciousness into a raving delirium that night, and they rolled him in two blankets, while Bill, being left on watch, wisely threw away the draught his comrade had concocted. Jefferson was also very little more sensible during the next few days, and, though the work went on, before the week was over the two lonely Englishmen found they had another difficulty to grapple with. The sun was almost overhead, and the iron deck, insufferably hot, when the surfboat negroes, who had just finished their meal, came forward together, eight or nine big, naked men, with animal faces and splendid muscles. Nobody knew where they came from, but when two or three of them appeared in a canoe, Jefferson had managed to make them understand that he was willing to pay them for their services, and they forthwith went away, and came back with several comrades and a man of shorter stature who had apparently worked on a steamboat or at a white man's factory. They had worked tolerably well while Jefferson was about to watch them, but they had now apparently decided on another mode of behaviour, for the attitude of their leader was unmistakably truculent. The man called Bill, sitting on the fore hatch, turned at the patter of naked feet, and looked at him.
"Well," he said sharply, "what the —— are you wanting?"
"Two bokus them green gin," said the negro. "Two lil' piece of cloff every boy."
Tom laughed ironically. "There isn't any green gin bokus in the ship, for one thing. You'll get your cloth-piece when the work is done. That's all I've got to say to you. Get out of this!"
The negro made a little forceful gesture. "You no cappy."
"Well," said Bill, drily, "he figures he's a bloomin' admiral in the meanwhile, and that's good enough for you. Go home again, and don't worry me."
"Two cloff-piece," said the negro. "Two cloff-piece every boy. You no lib for get them, we come down too much boy an' take them 'teamboat from you."
The white men looked at one another, and it was evident that they were uncertain how far the negro might be able to make good his threat. There was, as it happened, very little to prevent him doing it, and stockaded factories, as well as stranded steamboats, have been looted in Western Africa. Still, they remembered that they had the prestige of their colour to maintain.
"Oh, get out one time!" said Tom.
The negro turned upon him. "You no cappy. You low, white 'teamboat bushman. Too much boy he lib for come down one night an' cut you big fat t'roat."