A Master of Fortune: Being Further Adventures of Captain Kettle

  CHAPTER III.

  A QUICK WAY WITH REBELS.

  Another bullet came silently up out of the distance, and the niggersecond engineer of the launch gave a queer little whimper and fell down_flop_, and lay with his flat nose nuzzling the still warm boiler. Ahole, which showed up red and angry against the black wool justunderneath his grass cap, made the diagnosis of his injury aneasy matter.

  The noise of the shot came to them quite a long time afterward, when thelittle puff of smoke which had spirted up from the distant sandbank hadalready begun to thin under the sunshine; but it was that gun-crack, andnot the sight of the dead engineer, which gave the working negroes theirfinal scare. With loud children's cries, and queer dodgings of fear,they pitched down their working tools, and fled to where the other blacksoldiers and passengers were lying on the iron floor-plates of thelaunch, in security below her water-line.

  The Belgian Commandant, from his shelter at the other side of theboiler, swore volubly, and Clay, the English doctor, laughed and twangedout a music-hall tune on his banjo. Kettle, intent on getting his vesselonce more under command, was for driving the negro crew back to theirwork by the simple methods peculiar to the British merchant officer. Butthis Commandant Balliot forbade, and, as he was Kettle's superior inthe Congo Free State service, that small mariner had (very much againsthis grain) to obey.

  "We shall have these fellows rebelling next," said the Commandant, "ifyou push them too hard; and if they join the rest, where shall we be?"

  "There are a thousand of your troops in the mutiny already, according toyour tally," said Kettle stiffly, "and I don't see that if this hundredjoined them it would make much difference to us, one way or the other.Besides," he added, almost persuasively, "if I had the handling of themthey would not join the others. They would stay here and do as theywere told."

  "Captain Kettle," snapped the Commandant, "you have heard my orders. IfI have any more of this hectoring spirit from you, I shall report yourconduct when we get back to Stanley Pool."

  "You may report till you're black in the face," said Kettle truculently;"but if you don't put a bit more backbone into things, you'll do it as aghost and not as a live man. Look at your record up to date. You come uphere at the head of a fine expedition; you set your soldiers to squeezethe tribes for rubber and ivory; they don't bring in enough niggers'ears to show that they've used their cartridges successfully, and so youshoot them down in batches; and then you aren't man enough to keep yourgrip on them, but when they've had enough of your treatment, they juststart in and rebel."

  "One man can't fight a thousand."

  "You can't, anyway. If the Doc and I had turned up with this launch halfan hour later, your excellent troops would have knocked you on the headand chopped you afterward. But I'd like to remind you that we ranin-shore and took you away in spite of their teeth."

  "You are very brave," sneered the Commandant, "you and Monsieur leDocteur."

  "Well, you see," said Kettle with cheerful insult, "our grandfathersdidn't run away at Waterloo, and that gives us something to go upon."

  "I put you under arrest," screamed the Belgian. "I will havesatisfaction for this later. I----"

  "Steady on," said Clay, with a yawn. He put down his banjo, stretched,and stood up. Behind him the bullets pattered merrily against the ironplating. "Why on earth do you two keep on nagging? Look at me--I'm halfdrunk as usual, and I'm as happy as a lord. Take a peg, each of you, andsweeten your tempers."

  They glared at him from each side.

  "Now it's not the least use either of you two trying to quarrel with me.We might as well all be friends together for the little time we've got.We've a good deal in common: we're all bad eggs, and we're none of usfit for our billets. Monsieur le Commandant, you were a sous-officier inBelgium who made Brussels too hot to hold you; you come out here, andyou're sent to govern a district the size of Russia, which is a lotbeyond your weight.

  "Friend Kettle, you put a steamer on the ground in the lower Congo; youprobably had a bad record elsewhere, or you'd never have drifted to theCongo service at all; and now you're up here on the Haut Congoskippering a rubbishy fourpenny stern-wheel launch, which of course is alot beneath your precious dignity.

  "And I--well, I once had a practice at home; and got into a row over awoman; and when the row was through, well, where was the practice? Icame out here because no one will look at me in any other quarter of theglobe. I get wretched pay, and I do as little as I possibly can for it.I'm half-seas over every day of the week, and I'm liked because I canplay the banjo."

  "I don't see what good you're getting by abuse like this," said Kettle.

  "I'm trying to make you both forget your silly naggling. We may just aswell be cheerful for the bit of time we've got."

  "Bit of time!"

  "Well, it won't be much anyway. Here's the launch with a hole shot inher boiler, and no steam, drifted hard and fast on to a sandbank. Onanother bank, eight hundred yards away, are half a regiment of rebeltroops with plenty of good rifles and plenty of cartridges, browning usfor all they're worth. Their friends are off up stream to collect canoesfrom those villages which have been raided, and canoes they'llget--likewise help from the recently raided. When dark comes, awaythey'll attack us, and personally, I mean to see it out fighting, andthey'll probably chop me afterward, and the odds are I give some of thembad dyspepsia. About that I don't care two pins. But I don't intend tobe caught alive. That means torture, and no error about it." Heshivered. "I've seen their subjects after they've played their torturegames on them. My aunt, but they were a beastly sight."

  The Commandant shivered also. He, too, knew what torture from the handsof those savage Central African blacks meant.

  "I should blow up the launch with every soul on board of her," he said,"if I thought there was any chance of their boarding with canoes."

  "Well, you can bet your life they'll try it," said Kettle, "if we stayhere."

  "But how can we move? We can't make steam. And if we do push off thisbank, we shall drift on to the next bank down stream."

  "That's your idea," said Kettle. "Haven't you got a better?"

  "You must not speak to me like that," said Balliot, with another littlesnap of dignity and passion. "I'm your senior officer."

  "At the present rate you'll continue to be that till about nightfall,"said Kettle unpleasantly, "after which time we shall be killed, one wayor another, and our ranks sorted out afresh."

  "Now, you two," said Clay, "don't start wrangling again." He took abottle out of a square green case, and passed it. "Here, have some gin."

  "For God's sake, Doc, dry up," said Kettle, "and pull yourself together,and remember you're a blooming Englishman."

  Clay's thin yellow cheeks flushed. "What's the use?" he said with aforced laugh. "'Tisn't as if anybody wanted to see any of ushome again."

  "I'm wanted," said Kettle, sharply, "by my wife and kids. I've got themto provide for, and I'm not going to shirk doing it. Let me have my ownway, and I can get out of this mess; yes, and out of a dozen worsemesses on beyond it. The thing's nothing if only it's tackled theright way."

  "How shall you set about it," asked the Commandant.

  "By giving orders, and taking mighty big care that everybody on thisship carries them out."

  Commandant Balliot rubbed at his close, scrubby beard, and bared histeeth viciously. Behind him, from the distant sandbank, the rebelbullets rapped unceasingly at the launch's iron plating. "But I am thesenior in rank," he repeated again. "Officially I could not resign thecommand in your favor."

  "Yes, I know. But here's the situation packed small: if you climb up,and do the large, and perch on your blessed rank, we shall probably seethis day out, but we certainly sha'n't see another in. You're at the endof your string, and you can't deny it."

  "But if you've a suggestion to make which will save us, make it, and Iwill act."

  "No," snapped Kettle. "I'll either be boss and carry out my schemes myown way; or else, if we stay on as
we are, I hold my tongue, and you cango on and arrange the funeral."

  "If you can get us out of this mess--"

  "I've said I can."

  "Then I will let you take the command."

  "Well and good. In the first place--"

  "Wait a minute. I resign to you temporarily; but, understand, even if Iwished to, I could not do this officially. When we get down toLeopoldville--when we get down to the next post even--"

  "Oh, you can collar the blooming credit," said Kettle contemptuously,"when we do get clear away to any of your own headquarters. I'm notlooking for gratitude either from a Belgian or from the Congo FreeState. They don't like Englishmen."

  "You are not a lovable nation," said Commandant Balliot spitefully.

  "Now," said Kettle, thrusting his fierce little face close up to theother, "understand once and for all that I will not have England abused,neither do I take any more of your lip for myself. I'm Captain of thewhole of this show now, by your making, and I intend to be respected assuch, and hold a full captain's ticket. You'll call me 'sir' when youspeak, and you'll take orders civilly and carry them out quick, or, byJames! you'll find your teeth rammed down your throat in two twinkles ofa handspike. Savvy that?"

  The man of the weaker nation subsided. There was no law and order hereto fall back upon. There was nothing but unnerving savagery andvastness. The sandbar where their wrecked launch lay was out in themiddle of the Congo, perhaps eight miles from the park-like lands whichstretched indefinitely beyond either bank. The great river astern of herglared like a mirror under the intolerable sunshine; came up and swirledaround her flanks in yellow, marigold-smelling waves; and then joined upinto mirror shape again till the eye ached in regarding it. The bakingsky above was desolate even of clouds; there was no help anywhere; andon another distant sandbank, where here and there little bushes ofpowder smoke sprouted up like a gauzy foliage, a horde of barbarousblacks lusted to tear out his life.

  In Commandant Balliot's own heart hope was dead. But it seemed that thisdetestable Englishman had schemes in his head by which their lives mightyet be saved.

  He had been given a sample of the Englishmen's brazen daring already.After his troops mutinied, and pandemonium reigned in the village wherehe was quartered, the Englishman had steamed up with his paltrystem-wheel launch, and by sheer dash and recklessness had carried himand his last parcel of faithful men away in spite of themutineers' teeth.

  It was an insane thing to do, and when he had (as senior officer)complimented Kettle on the achievement, the little sailor had coldlyreplied that he was only carrying out his duty and earning his pay. Andhe had further mentioned that it was lucky for Commandant Balliot thathe was a common, low-down Britisher, and not a fancy Belgian, or hewould have thought of his own skin first, and steamed on comfortablydown river and just contented himself with making a report. The whiteengineer of the launch--a drunken Scot--had, it seemed, been killed inthe sortie, which, of course, was regretable; but Balliot (who dislikedthe Scot personally) had omitted to make the proper condolences; and itwas at this that Kettle had taken umbrage and turned the nasty edge ofhis tongue outward.

  "Now," said Captain Kettle, "enough time's been wasted. We will startbusiness at once, please. That boiler's got to be mended, first."

  "But," said Balliot, "it's under fire all the time."

  "I can see that for myself," said the little sailor, "without beingreminded by a subordinate who wasn't asked to speak. We take things aswe find them, and so it's got to be mended under fire. Moreover, as thechief engineer of this vessel was killed ashore, and the second engineerwas shot overboard, there's others that will have to take rating asengine-room officers. Commandant Balliot, have you any mechanics amongstyour lot?"

  "I have one man who acted as armorer-sergeant. He is very inefficient."

  "He must do his best. Can you handle a drill or a monkey wrench,yourself?"

  "No."

  "Then I shall find you a laborer's job. Doc, are you handy with tools?"

  "Only with those of my own trade," said Clay. "I'm pretty inefficientall round," he added, with a shrug, "or else I shouldn't be here."

  "Very well," said Kettle, "then I'll rate myself chief engineer." He gotup, and walked round to where the black second engineer, the last manshot, still nuzzled the boiler plates exactly in the same position wherehe had first fallen. He lifted one of the man's arms, and let it go. Itjerked back again like a spring.

  "Well, Daddy," he said, "you didn't take long to get stiff. They shotyou nice and clean, anyway. I guess we'll let the river and thecrocodiles bury you." With a sharp heave, he jerked the rigid body on tothe rail, and even for the short second it poised there the poor deadclay managed to stop another of those bullets which flew up in suchdeadly silence from that distant sandbank.

  "Good-by," said Kettle, as he toppled the corpse over, and it fell witha splash, stiff-limbed into the yellow water. He watched the body as itbobbed up again to the surface, and floated with the stream out into thesilvery sunshine. "Good-by, cocky," said he. "You've been a good nigger,and, as you were shot doing your duty, they'll set you on at the placewhere you've gone to, one of the lightest jobs they've got suitable fora black pagan. That's a theological fact. You'll probable turn to andstoke; I'll be sending you down presently another batch of heathen toshovel on the fire. I've got a biggish bill against those beggars onthat sandbank yonder for the mischief they've done."

  But it was no place there to waste much time on sentiment. The woodworkof the shabby little steamer was riddled with splintered holes; therusted iron plating was starred with gray lead-splashes; and everyminute more bullets ploughed furrows in the yellow waters of the river,or whisped through the air overhead, or hit the vessel herself withperemptory knocks. It is all very well to affect a contempt for astraggling ill-aimed fire such as this; but, given a long enoughexposure to it, one is bound to be hit; and so, if the work was to beattempted, the quicker it was set about the more chance there was ofgetting it finished.

  They use wood fuel on these small, ungainly steamers which do theirbusiness up in the savage heart of Africa on the waters of the HautCongo, and because every man with a gun for many reasons feels himselfto be an enemy of the Free State, the steamers carry their firing logsstacked in ramparts round their boilers and other vital parts. But wood,as compared with coal, is bulky stuff to carry, and as the stowagecapacity of these stern-wheelers is small, they have to make frequentcalls to rebunker.

  Indeed, it was for this purpose that Kettle had originally put in at thevillage where Commandant Balliot had his headquarters; and, as otherevents happened there which he had not calculated upon, he had steamedout into the broad river again without a chance of taking any logs onboard, and, in fact, with his stock of fuel down very near to thevanishing-point.

  On this account, therefore, after the fatal shot into the boiler, andthe subsequent disablement and drifting on to the sandbank, allrepairing work had to be done under full exposure to the fire of themutineers. The Central African negro is a fairly stolid person, and asthe sight of a little slaughter does not in the least upset his nerves,he can stand bullet hail for a good long time without emotion,especially if there is no noise and bustle attached to it. But once leta scare get rubbed home into his stupid brain, and let him get startedoff on the run, and he is an awkward person to stop.

  But Kettle did not start to hustle his black laborers back to work atonce. He knew that there would be heavy mortality amongst them once theywere exposed to fire, and he wanted to lose as few of them as possible.He had got use for them afterward. So for long enough he worked alone,and the bullets spattered around him gayly. He hammered out a leadtemplet to cover the wound in the boiler, which, of course, as bad luckwould have it, was situated at a place where three plates met; and thenwhilst Balliot's armorer with fire and hammer beat out a plate of ironthe exact counterpart of this, he rigged a ratchet drill and bored holesthrough the boiler's skin to carry the necessary bolts.

  Clay volunt
eered assistance once, but as he was told he would be askedfor help when it was needed, he squatted down under the sheltered sideof the boiler again, and smoked, and played more music-hall ditties onthe banjo. Commandant Balliot held to a sullen silence. He was growingto have a poisonous hatred for this contemptuous little Englishman whoby sheer superiority had made him give up his treasured dictatorship,and he formed schemes for the Englishman's discomfiture in thenear future.

  But for the present he hoped very much that the man would not be killed;he recognized, with fresh spasms of anger every time he thought aboutit, that without Captain Kettle there would be no future--at any rate onthis earth--for any of them.

  And meanwhile Captain Owen Kettle, stripped to shoes and trousers,sweated over his work in the baking heat. Twice had a bullet grazed him,once on the neck, and once on the round of a shoulder, and red stainsgrew over the white satin of his skin. The work was strange to himcertainly, but he set about it with more than an amateur's skill. Allsailors have been handy with their fingers from time immemorial, but themodern steamer-sailor, during his apprenticeship as mate, has to turnhis hand to a vast variety of trades. He is painter, carpenter,stevedore, crew-driver, all in one day; and on the next he is doctor,navigator, clerk, tailor, and engineer. And especially he is engineer.He must be able to drive winch, windlass, or crane, like an artist; hemust have a good aptitude for using hand tools; and if he can workmachine tools also, it is so much the better for him.

  Yes, Captain Kettle put the patch on that boiler like a workman. Hefitted his bolts, and made his joints; then luted the manhole and boltedthat back in place; and then stepped down while a couple of negroessluiced him with water from gourds, and rubbed him clean and dry withhandfuls of wild cotton waste. So far, although the incessant hail ofbullets had pitted the boiler's skin in a hundred places, no second shothad found a spot sufficiently soft to make a puncture. The range of thebombardment was long, perhaps, and though a bullet at seven hundredyards may, with convenience, kill a man, it will not pierceseven-eighths boiler plate. And so, theoretically, the boiler was safefor the time being.

  But practically it was otherwise. The boiler was by no means new. It wascorroded with years, and incapacity, and neglect, as is the custom withall parts of boats and machinery on the Haut Congo. But it had beenbrought up to that waterway by carriers at vast expense from Matadi, thehighest steamer port on the Lower Congo, probably costing three monthsand a dozen lives in transit, so that it was debited in the books of theFree State as being worth its weight in silver, and destined to be usedon without replacement till it saw fit to burst.

  So Kettle knew that in places it would be not much thicker than stoutbrown paper, and was quite aware that if any of the pattering bulletsinvestigated one of these patches, he would have to do his work overagain. He had a strong--and, I think, natural--disinclination for this.He had come through terrific risks during the last four hours, and couldnot expect to do so a second time with equal immunity; his two woundssmarted; and (although it sounds ludicrous that such a thing should haveweight) the dirt inseparable from such employment jarred against hisneat and cleanly habits, and filled him with unutterable disgust.

  The moment, he conceived, was one for hurry. He told off four of thenegroes as trimmers and stokers, and set Commandant Balliot over them tosee that they pressed on with their work; he sent Clay with a huge gangof helpers overboard on the lee side to risk the crocodiles, and digaway the sand; and he himself, with a dozen paddlers, got into thedug-out canoe, which was his only boat, and set to carrying out a kedgeand line astern. All of these occupations took time, and when at laststeam had mounted to a working pressure in the battered gauge, and theygot on board again, two of his canoe-men had been shot, and one ofClay's party had been dragged away into deep water by a prowlingcrocodile.

  As no one else was competent, Kettle himself took charge of the engines,and roared his commands with one hand on the throttle, and the other onthe reversing gear; Clay, for the moment, was quartermaster, and stoodto the wheel on the upper deck; and Balliot, under the tuition of cursesand revilings, drove the winch, which heaved and slacked on the linemade fast to the kedge.

  The little steamer rolled and squeaked and coughed, and the paddle-wheelat her stern kicked up a compost of sand and mud and yellow water thatalmost choked them with its crushed marigold scent. The helm swung overalternately from hard-a-starboard to hard-a-port; the stern-wheel groundsavagely into the sand, first one way and then the other; and thegutter, which she had delved for herself in the bank, grew graduallywider and more deep. Then slowly she began to make real progress astern.

  "Now, heave on that kedge," Kettle yelled, and the winch bucked andclattered under a greater head of steam, and the warp sung to thestrain; and presently the little vessel slid off the bank, picked up heranchor, and was free to go where she pleased.

  "Hurrah," cried Balliot, "we are saved. You are a brave man, Captain."

  "I didn't ask you to speak," retorted Kettle. "We aren't out of the woodby a long chalk yet."

  "But we are out of their fire now. We shall be disturbed no further."

  "No, my lad, but we've got a precious heap of disturbing to do on ourown account before we've squared up for this tea party. I'm going todrop down stream to somewhere quiet where we can fill up with wood, andthen I'm coming back again to give your late Tommies bad fits."

  "But I don't authorize this. I didn't foresee--"

  "Very likely not. But a fat lot I care for that. Fact remains that I'mskipper here, and I'm going to do as I think best. I've got it in mindthat my two engineers and a lot of good niggers have been shot by thosedisgusting savages over yonder, and I don't permit that sort of thingwithout making somebody pay a pretty steep bill for the amusement. SoI'm going down stream to wood up, and then we'll come back and make thempay for the tea party."

  "You are exceeding your powers. I warn you."

  "If any of my inferiors on board ship don't keep their heads shut whenthey aren't spoken to," said Kettle unpleasantly, "I always disarrangetheir front teeth. If I have any more palaver from you, you'll get toknow what it feels like." He shouted up the companion way--"On topthere, quartermaster?"

  "Hullo?" said Clay.

  "Keep her down river to M'barri-m'barri. That's a twelve-mile run fromhere. There are two big cotton woods in a line which will bring you tothe landing. You know the channel?"

  "I ought to. I've been up and down it times enough. But I guess Idon't--at least, not now."

  "Fuddled again, are you? Then I'll con you from here. You see threetrees growing on that island bang ahead? Keep her on those." He turnedto a couple of stalwart niggers at his side--"Say, you boys, you lib fortop, one-time. You take dem Doctor's gin-bottle, and you throw himoverboard, one-time. If dem Doctor he make palaver, you throw himoverboard too. Away with you now. By James! we got to get discipline inthis ship somehow, and I'm a man that can teach it. Here, you blackswine at that furnace, go slow with those logs, or we won't be able tosteam her half-way."

  He bustled about the little vessel, turning every soul on board to someemployment or other; and those of the newcomers who did not know hiswishes, and were not quick enough for his taste, received instruction ina manner which is understood by men all the world over, be their skinsblack, or white, or yellow.

  The process might not be very pleasant for those who came in contactwith it, but it was very effective for the purpose aimed at. In seaparlance Kettle had to "break up" some half-dozen of them before allhands acquiesced to his dictatorship; but they were quick to see therewas a Man over them this time, and involuntarily they admired hisvirility even while they rubbed ruefully at their bumps; and during thetimes of stress that came afterward, none of these Africans were sosmart to obey as those on whom their taskmaster's hand had originallycome heaviest.

  The period of instruction was short. It began when the littlestern-wheeler slipped off the bank and got under weigh. It was completedsatisfactorily during the twelve miles run down the riv
er. The boat wassteered into M'barri-m'barri creek, made hastily fast to trees on thebank, and exuded her people in an armed rush. They had possession of theplace almost before the villagers knew of their arrival, and proceededto the object of their call. There was no especial show of violence.

  The women and the children were imprisoned in the huts; the men weregiven axes, and sent off into the forest to cut and gather fuel; and,meanwhile, the landing party set themselves to eat what they fancied andto carry off any store of ivory and rubber that they might chance upon.There was nothing remarkable in the manoeuvre. It is the authorizedcourse of proceedings when a Free State launch goes into the bank forwood and supplies.

  The villagers brought down the logs smartly enough, and waxed quitefriendly on finding that none of the hostage women and children had beenkilled or maltreated during their absence. They duly gave up the Germanaxes which had been loaned to them, and carried the wood aboard. Kettlearranged its disposition. He had solid defences built up all round thevulnerable boiler and engines. He had a stout breastwork built all roundinside the rail of the lower deck, quite stout enough to absorb a bulleteven if fired at point-blank range. And he had another breastwork builton the third deck, above the cabins, so that he turned the flimsy littlesteamer into a very staunch, if somewhat ungainly, floating fort.

  He got on board the rubber and ivory he had collected, and had itstruck down below--the dividends of the State have to be rememberedfirst, even at moments of trouble like these--and then he gave orders,and the vessel set off again up stream. On the lower deck he stayedhimself during the journey back, and gave instructions to CommanderBalliot in the art of engine-driving.

  Balliot was sullen at first, and showed little inclination to acquire sowarm and grimy a craft, and fenced himself behind his dignity. ButKettle put forth his persuasive powers; he did not hit the man, hemerely talked; and under the merciless lash of that vinegary littletongue, Balliot repented him of his stubbornness, and set himself toacquire the elementary knack of engine nursing and feeding and driving.

  "And now," said Kettle, cheerfully, when the pupil had mastered thevague outlines of his business, "you see what can be done by kindness. Ihaven't hit you once, and you know enough already not to blow her up ifonly you're careful. Don't you even sham stupid again; and, see here,don't you grit your teeth at me when you think I'm not looking, or I'llbeat you into butcher's meat when I've hammered these rebels, and have abit of spare time. You want to learn a lot of manners yet, Mr.Commandant Balliot, and where I come from we teach these to foreignersfree of charge. Just you remember that I'm your better, my man, and giveme proper respect, or I'll lead you a life a nigger's yellow dogwouldn't fancy."

  Now the revolted troops, when they saw the launch wriggle off the bankwhere she was stuck, and steam away down stream, were filled withexasperation, because they had confidently anticipated making abarbecue out of Commandant Balliot in return for many crueltiesreceived, and doing the same by any other Europeans whom they mightcatch on the steamer, because, being white, they would be presumablyrelatives of Balliot. It never occurred to their simple minds that thelaunch would return, much less that she would offer them battle; so whenindeed she did appear again, they were in the midst of a bigconsultation about their future movements.

  However, the African who owns a gun, be he revolted soldier or merepeaceful farmer, never lets that weapon go far away from his hand, forfear that his neighbor should send him away into the land of shadows inorder to possess it. And so a fusillade was soon commenced. But thelaunch, armed with her fine rampart of logs, bore it unflinchingly, andsteamed up within a hundred yards of the thick of them, and just heldthere in her place, with her wheel gently flapping against the stream,and opened a vicious fire from fifty muzzles.

  Of modern rifles Kettle had only twenty on board, but he had anabundance of those beautiful instruments known as "trade guns," and atshot-range a man can be killed just as definitely by a dose of pot-legout of a gas-pipe barrel as he can by a dum-dum bullet sent throughscientific rifling. Indeed, for close-quarter righting pot-leg is farmore comprehensive, and far less likely to miss than the lonely modernbullet. Moroever, his crew had quite as much dread for him as they hadfor the enemy, and as a consequence they fought with a briskness whichmade even their grim little chief approve.

  The crowd of mutineers did not, however, offer themselves to be brownedlike a pack of helpless sheep for long. They were Africans who had beenborn in an atmosphere of scuffle and skirmish, and death had no especialterrors for them. Moreover, they had learnt certain elements of themodern art of war from white officers; and now, in the moment of trial,their dull brains worked, and the crafty knowledge came back to them.They were a thousand strong; they had friends all round--cannibalfriends--who would come to help in the fight and share in the loot; and,moreover, they had canoes. Other well-manned canoes also were fastcoming to their help down stream.

  In the canoes then they put off, and Kettle smiled grimly as he saw themove. He had thought of this before, but it was greater luck than he haddared hope for. But now the enemy had given himself over into his hand.The one strong position of the stern-wheel launch was her forward part.The Congo is full of snags and floating logs which cannot always beavoided, and so all steamers are strengthened to stand contact withthem; and he could give them the stem now without risk to himself.

  He pretended flight when the canoes first came out, standing acrosstoward the further bank of the river, which was some dozen miles away.The rebels fell into the lure, and paddled frantically after him. Canoeafter canoe put out, as fast as they could be manned. The white men onthe steamer were running away; they were frightened; there was spoil andrevenge to be got for the taking. And from unseen villages on theislands and on the bank other canoes shot out to get their share.

  In the mean while Kettle consolidated his defences. Frantically heworked, and like Trojans Clay and the negroes labored under him. Allthat drunken doctor's limp _laissez faire_ was gone now. The blood ofsome fighting ancestor had warmed up inside him. He might be physicallyweak and unhandy, but the lust of battle filled him up like new drink,and he forgot his disgraceful past, and lived only for the thrill of thepresent moment.

  The log barricades had to be lashed and strutted so that no collisioncould unship them, and all hands sweated and strained in that tropicalheat, till the job could not be bettered. And at the after part of thelower deck, Commandant Balliot, driven on also by the strong-willed manwhom nobody on board could resist, tended the engines with all his brainand nerve, and did his best to make the fighting machine perfect.

  "Now," said Kettle at last, "as we have got those fool Tommies nicelytailed out about the river, we'll quit this running-away game, and getto business. Mr. Chief Engineer, open that throttle all it'll go, andlet her rip, and mind you're standing by for my next order. Doc, youkeep your musketry class well in hand. Don't waste shots. But when yousee me going to run down a canoe, stand by to give them eternal gingerwhen they're ten yards from the stern. I'll whistle when you'reto fire."

  Captain Kettle went on to the upper deck and took over the wheel, andscrewed it over hard-a-port. The little top-heavy steamer swung round ina quick circle, lurching over dangerously to the outside edge. She ranfor half a mile up stream, and then turned again and came back at thetop of her gait. She was aiming at one particular canoe, which for awhile came on pluckily enough to meet her.

  But African nerve has its limits, and the sight of this strange uncouthsteamer, which followed so unflinchingly their every movement, was toomuch for the sweating paddlers. They turned their ponderous dug-out'shead, and tried to escape.

  Kettle watched them like a cat. He had the whistle string in his teeth,so as to leave him both hands free for the steering wheel, and when themoment came he threw back his head, and drew the string. The scream ofthe steam whistle was swamped instantly in the roar of a blastingvolley. Not many of the shots hit--for the African is not amarksman--but the right effect was gained. The blacks in t
he canoeducked and flinched; they were for the moment quite demoralized; andbefore they could man their paddles again, the stern-wheeler's stem hadcrushed into their vessel, had cut a great gash from one side, hadrolled it over, and then mounted the wreck, and drove down stream acrossthe top of it.

  A few more angry shots snapped out at the black bodies swimming in theyellow water. "Hold up, there," Kettle ordered, "and let them swim ifthey can, and chance the crocodiles. They've got their gruel. Load upnow, and get ready for the next."

  He turned the launch again, and stood across the stream down thestrung-out line of canoes, occasionally making feints at them, butramming no more for the present. They all fired at him as he passedthem; indeed, a wild, scattered fire was general from all the fleet; buthis log armor protected him from this, and he steamed grimly on, withoutreturning a shot.

  At the furthermost end of the line he turned sharply again, and ran downthe last canoe, just as he had run down the other; and then hedeliberately started to drive the whole fleet together into one solidflock. He had the speed of them, and with rifle fire they could notdamage him, but for all that it was not easy work. They expected theworst, and made desperate efforts to scatter and escape; finally, hedrove them altogether in one hopeless huddle--cowed, scared, and tiredout; and then he brought the stern-wheeler to a sudden stop just abovethem, and made Clay shout out terms in the native tongue.

  They were to throw all their weapons overboard into the river. They didit without question.

  They were to throw their paddles overboard. They did that also.

  They were to tie all their canoes together into one big raft. Theyobeyed him there, too, with frenzied quickness.

  He took the raft in tow and steamed off down river to the headquartersFree State post of the Upper River. He was feeling almost complacent atthe time. He had shown Commandant Balliot what he was pleased to term aquick way with rebels.

  But Commandant Balliot, whose life had been saved, and army disarmed andbrought back from rebellion in spite of himself, was not the man to letany vague feeling of gratitude overweigh his own deep sense of injury.He was incompetent, and he knew it, but Kettle had been tactless enoughto tell him so; and, moreover, Kettle had thrown out the national gibeabout Waterloo, which no Belgian can ever forgive. Commandant Balliotgritted his teeth, and rubbed at his scrubby beard, and melodramaticallyvowed revenge.

  He said nothing about it then; he even sat at meat with the twoEnglishmen, and shared the ship duties with them without so much as amurmur. He could not but notice, too, that Kettle said nothing more nowabout being supreme chief, and had, in fact, tacitly dropped back to hisold position as skipper of the launch. But Balliot brooded over theinjuries he had received at the hands of this truculent little sailor,and they grew none the smaller from being held in memory.

  Kettle's own method of reporting his doings, too, was not calculated toendear him to the authorities. He steamed down to headquarters atLeopoldville, went ashore, and swung into the Commandant's house witheasy contempt and assurance. He gave an arid account of the launch'svoyage up the great river to the centre of Africa and back, and then inten words described Balliot's disaster, his rescue, and its cost. "Andso," he wound up, "as the contract was outside Mr. Balliot's size, Itook it in my own hands and carried it through. I've brought back yourblooming army down here. It's quite tame now."

  The Commandant at Leopoldville nodded stiffly, and said he would conferwith Captain Kettle's senior officer, Commandant Balliot, after whichKettle would probably hear something further.

  "All right," said the little man. "I should tell you, too, that Mr.Balliot's not without his uses. With a bit of teaching I got him tohandle my engines quite decent for an amateur." He turned to go, butstopped again in the glare of the doorway. "Oh, there's one other thing.I want to recommend to you Doctor Clay. He's a good man, Clay. He stoodby me well in the trouble we had, after he got roused up. I'd like torecommend him for promotion."

  "I will see if Commandant Balliot--as senior officer--adds hisrecommendation to yours," said the other drily. "Good-morning to you forthe present."

  Captain Kettle went down to the beach, and stepped along the gangway onto the stern-wheel launch. The working negroes on the lower deck stoppedtheir chatter for the moment as he passed, and looked up at him with aqueer mixture of awe and admiration. From above came the tinkle of abanjo and the roar of an English song. The doctor was free, and wasamusing himself according to his fashion.

  Kettle got his accordion and went up on the hurricane deck and joinedhim, and till near on sundown the pair of them sat there giving forthmusic alternately. There was a fine contrast between them. Thedisreputable doctor deliberately forgot everything of the past, andlived only for the reckless present; the shipmaster had got his wife andchildren always filling half his memory, and was in a constant agonylest he should fail to properly provide for them. And as a consequenceClay's music was always of the lighter sort, and was often more thanimpolite; while Kettle's was, for the most part, devotional, and all ofit sober, staid, and thoughtful. They were a strong contrast, these two,but they pulled together with one another wonderfully. Kettle usedsometimes to wonder why it was, and came to the conclusion that it wasthe tie of music which did it. But Clay never worried about the matterat all. He was not the man to fill his head with useless problems.

  But on this afternoon their concert was cut short before its finish.Commandant Balliot came back to the launch with satisfaction on hisstreaming face, and two armed black soldiers plodding at his heels.

  "Well," said Kettle, "have they made you a colonel yet, or are theyonly going to give you the Congo medal?"

  "You sacred pig," said Balliot, "you talked to M. le Commandant here ofrebels. What are you but a rebel? I have told him all, and he has sentme to arrest you."

  "Good old Waterloo," said Kettle cheerfully. "I bet you lied, andbecause you are both Belgians, I suppose he believed you."

  The fat man gritted his teeth. "You talked of having a short way withrebels yourself. You will find that we have a short way here, too. Youare under arrest."

  "So you've said."

  Balliot said a couple of words in the native to one of his followers,and the man produced a pair of rusty handcuffs and held them outalluringly.

  Kettle's pale cheeks flushed darkly. "No," he said, "by James! No,that's not the way for a thing like you to set about it." He jumped tohis feet, and thrust his savage little face close to the black soldier'seyes. "Give me dem handcuffs." The man surrendered them limply, andKettle flung them overboard. Balliot was trying to get a revolver fromthe leather holster at his waist, but Kettle, who had his weapon in ahip pocket, was ready first, and covered him.

  "Throw up your hands!"

  Commandant Balliot did so. He knew enough about Captain Kettle tounderstand that he meant business.

  "Tell your soldiers to drop their guns, or I'll spread their brains onthe deck."

  Balliot obeyed that order also.

  "Now, Doc," said Kettle in a different tone, "pack your traps and goashore."

  "What for?" asked Clay.

  "Because I'm going to take this steamer for a cruise up river. I don'tmind getting the sack; I'd reckoned on that. But, by James! I'm notgoing to be arrested by these Belgian brutes, and that's final."

  "Well, I suppose they would string you up, or shoot you, to soothe theirprecious dignity, from what His Whiskers here says."

  "They're not going to get the chance," snapped Kettle. "Handcuffs, byJames! Here, clear out, Doc, and let me get the ship under way."

  "No," said Clay. "I fancy I've had about enough of the Congo Free Stateservice, too. I'll come, too."

  "Don't be an idiot."

  Dr. Clay gave a whimsical laugh. "Have I ever been anything else all mylife?"--He went across and took the revolver out of Balliot'sholster--there, I've burnt my boats. I've disarmed His Whiskers here,and defied authority, and that gives them a _casus belli_ against me.You'll have to take me along now out of sheer pity
."

  "Very well," said Kettle; "help me to shove the three of them into oneof the empty rooms below, and then mount guard on them to see they don'tmake a row. We mustn't have them giving the alarm of this new game tillwe've got a start on us. You're a good soul, Doc. I'll never forgetthis of you."

  And so Captain Owen Kettle finally severed his connection with the CongoFree State service, and set off at once again as his own master. He hadno trouble with the black crew of the launch. The men half adored, halfdreaded him; and, anyway, were prepared to take his orders before anyothers. They got the little vessel under weigh again, and just beforethe gang-plank was pulled in, Commandant Balliot and his disarmed escortwere driven on to the beach.

  The Belgian was half wild with mortification and anger. "You have wonnow," he screamed. "But you will be fetched back, and I myself will seethat you are disgracefully hanged."

  "If you come after me and worry me," said Kettle, coolly, "I'll give youmy men to chop. Just you remember that, Mr. Waterloo. I think you knowalready that I am a fellow that never lies."