“Don’t say ‘first mate,’ Peter,” corrected Stranleigh. “Clark Russell says there’s no such thing as a first mate. He is merely the mate, and then you have second and third mate, and I don’t know how many more. Well, doctor, let us get away, and meet them in the motor boat. We’re innocent lumbermen, searching for timber that has tumbled off the bank, remember.”
“You are surely not going down there,” protested Mackeller.
“Why, of course. We’ll fill them up with our story before they even begin to ask questions.”
“But you are unarmed.”
“Quite.”
“And they possess rifles.”
“So it seems.”
“Then it is a foolhardy thing to meet them without being accompanied by an equal body of armed men to protect you, at least. I should take all that the motor boat will hold.”
“I know you would, Peter, but then, as I have often said, you are a bloodthirsty person. We can drop behind the bulwarks flat on our faces, before any one of the three can shoot; then in that recumbent position I will explain to them as well as I can that the Thornycroft motor boat possesses a submarine prow as effective as that of a battle ship, and if they don’t want their steam launch rammed and sunk, they’d better drop their rifles to the deck. I shall insist that whoever speaks to me shall talk as one gentleman to another. I’ll tell them I’m a member of the Peace Conference at The Hague. Come along, doctor. We’ll invite those johnnies to lunch, and cheer them up with the best wine and cigars that’s to be had in Africa,” and with that Stranleigh and the doctor departed for the waiting motor boat.
The steersman of the little motor boat crouched over his wheel, which had some resemblance to that of an automobile, as the swift craft sped up the river until it came to the branch that led to the mine, then into this watery lane it turned at full speed. Stranleigh and the doctor were standing up, and on rounding a bend came in sight of the steam launch laboriously churning up toward them against the current.