But in spite of the initial success of the encounter the odds were greatly against the white men. With modern weapons the result would have been quickly decided, but the time taken up in reloading the flintlocks gave the blacks an advantage. They were closing again, and spears began to flash over the boat, or to sink deeply into her planking. Reeves realized that the time had come for desperate measures. Grasping his pistol, he fired seven shots in rapid succession into the crowd that manned the nearest canoe. The strange sight of a man literally pouring out a hail of bullets filled the negroes, with terror. Those who escaped the shots leapt overboard and swam for the nearest craft.
Again raising his weapon, the correspondent pointed it menacingly at the nearest "dug-out" on the other side. The effect was magical, for those who could swim jumped overboard, while those who could not cowered into the bottom of the canoe. The other canoes maintained a respectful distance, but had no intention of relinquishing the pursuit.
So far, good, Reeves thought; but what would happen when night fell?
"What's that?" exclaimed Gerald, as in a momentary lull in the shouts of the natives a distant pop, pop, pop, was borne to their ears.
Hugh and the correspondent listened intently for a few moments. The sound, whatever it might be, was coming nearer and nearer.
Suddenly Reeves raised a musket and fired into the air. Beyond a bend in the river the report of an answering shot reverberated between the tree-lined banks, while the rapid pulsation of an engine grew louder and louder.
The negroes heard the sounds too, and seized by panic they turned about and paddled upstream for dear life.
"We're safe, lads!" exclaimed Reeves, in a broken voice. "Look!"
Sweeping round the bend came a large white motor boat, covered from stem to stern with canvas awnings, while standing about a quick-firer in her bows were five or six blacks, dressed in a kind of zouave uniform—blue coats, red waistcoats, and baggy white trousers.
Almost before the three travellers could realize the turn things had taken, the launch was alongside, with the motor reversed to check her way. Under the canopy were two bronzed and bearded white men, dressed in soiled and creased white drill uniforms.