"Oh, you holy crowd of savages! Well, if we can't use the hose, you must hand buckets--and sharp, too. That fire's gaining. Now then, head-men, step out."

"I second head-man, sar."

"I head-man, sar."

"Get buckets, tubs, tins--anything that'll hold water, and look sharp.

If you boys work well now, I'll overlook a lot that's been done. If you don't, I'll give you fits. Try and get below, some of you, and pull away what's burning. Probably you'll find some of your dear relations down there, drunk on gin and smoking pipes. You may knock them on the head if you like, and want to do a bit more murder. They deserve it."

But though half a dozen of the Krooboys, who were now thoroughly tamed, tried to get down the hatch, the fire was too strong for them. Even the water when it came did little to check the burning, for though it sent up great billows of steam, the flames shot out fiercer and higher every moment. In that sweltering climate it does not take very much inducement to make a fire settle down thoroughly to work, once it gets anything like a tolerable start.

To add to the trouble, news of the wreck had been carried to the village behind the beach where Captain Kettle had sung for his lodging over-night, and the one-eyed head-man there and his friends were coming off to share in the spoil as fast as canoes could bring them. They, too, would have their theories as to the ownership of wrecked cargoes on the West African Coast, and as they were possessed of trade guns, they were not like to forego what they considered their just rights without further fighting.

But as it happened, a period was put to the scene on the steamer with considerable suddenness. Sheriff, who had been making sure that there were no Krooboys lurking forward who could take them from the rear, came up and looked upon the fire with a blanched face. "Excuse me, Skipper,"

he said, and turned and bawled for the lifeboat to come alongside.

"No hurry for that yet," said Kettle, angrily. "Don't scare the men, sir. And don't you give orders without my sanction. You made me Captain here, and, by James! Captain I'll be. We're handicapped for want of the hose, but we're going to try and get this fire under without. Anyway, there's no question of leaving the ship yet."

"Good G.o.d, man, don't niggle about that now. I know what I'm saying.

There's eight tons of powder in that hold."

"And we may be blown up against the sky as a thin kind of rain any minute? Well, sir, you're owner, and as you seem to have acted as purser on board, you ought to know. But hadn't we better ask the Mate for his cargo-book first, so as to make sure?"

He turned and looked, but Sheriff had gone, and was sliding down into the lifeboat which had come alongside. "Well, I don't like leaving the ship, and I suppose for that matter he wouldn't either, being owner, and being uninsured. But as Mr. Sheriff's gone in such a blazing hurry, it's probably time for me to go too, if I'm to land home any time in South Shields again." He hailed the lower deck with a sharp order. "You boys, there, knock off. Knock off work, I say, and throw down your buckets.

There's powder stowed down below, and it'll be going off directly.

Gunpowder, you savvy, shoot-powder, go _fizz--boosh--bang_!"

There was a sharp clatter of understanding and explanation, but no movement. The African is not great at making deductions. Captain Kettle had to give a definite order. "Now, overboard with you, all hands, and lib for beach. No time for lower boats. You all fit for swim."

They took the hint, and began leaping the bulwark rail like a swarm of black frogs. "Good-by, boys," he said, in valediction. "You'll find it cheaper to be good and virtuous next time. You haven't stay enough in you for a real good fight." And then he went to where the davits dangled over the water, and slid down to the boat, while the frightened crew cursed him aloud for keeping them waiting.

Not much was said as they rowed away. The all-nation rowers were openly terrified; the Mate had all his attention used up in steering to a hair; and Sheriff sat with his shoulders humped beside his ears in the position of a man who expects a blow. Captain Kettle held his peace. He knew that mere words could not urge the sweating crew to heavier effort, and he puffed at his treasured cigar as any smoker would who had been divorced from tobacco for so many a month, and does not know when he will meet with his next indulgence.

And in due time the powder was fired, and the steamer was turned into a vast volcano of steam and smoke and flame, which vomited iron and human limbs, and which sent forth an air blast which drove the boat before it like the hurricane of a tornado. And then the _debris_ from the sky foamed down into the water, and then there was a long, long silence.

Save for some inconsiderable flotsam, the steamer and all that was in her had vanished eternally. The canoes from the village were paddling for the beach again. They were alone on a lonely sea. No man seemed to have a thought he wished to share.

The Mate was the first to speak. He patted a bundle whose outer housing was a pillow-case, which lay on the thwart beside him. "Well," he said, "it's been a close thing. I darn nearly lost those new clothes of mine."

"It might have been worse," said Sheriff; "we might well all have been killed. But as it is," he added with a sigh, "we've merely got to start fresh from the bottom again. Anyway, Kettle, I'm obliged to you for what you have done."

The little sailor frowned. "It's kind of you, sir, to say that. But I hate being beaten. And it's no excuse to say I did my best. I hadn't figured on that fire and the powder, and that's a fact."

"I wonder," said the Mate thoughtfully, "which of those beggars scoffed that gold zodiac ring of mine. That steward's boy, Tins, I expect. Took the ring and left the new blue suit. Well, by gum, they're a funny lot, those boys."

CHAPTER VI

THE WIRE-MILKERS

"Look here," said Sheriff, "you compel me to be brutal, but the fact is, they've had enough of you here in Lagos. So far as I can see, you've only got the choice of two things. You can have a free pa.s.sage home to England as a Distressed Seaman by the next steamer, and you know what that means. The steamer gets paid a shilling a day, and grubs and berths you accordingly, and you earn your 'bacca money by b.u.mming around the galley and helping the cook peel spuds. Or else, if you don't like that, you can do the sensible thing, and step into the billet I offer you."

"By James!" said Kettle, "who's going to turn me out of Lagos; tell me that, sir?"

"Don't get wrathful with me. I'm only telling you what you'll find out to be the square truth if you stay on long enough. The authorities here will be equal to handling you if you try to buck against them."

"But, sir, they have no right to touch me. This isn't French territory, or German, or any of those clamped-down places. The town's as English as Liverpool, and I'm a respectable man."

"The trouble of it is," said Sheriff drily, "they say you are not. There are a limited number of white men here in Lagos--perhaps two hundred all told--and their businesses and sources of income are all more or less visible to the naked eye. Yours aren't. In the language of the--er--well--the police court, you've no visible means of subsistence, and yet you always turn out neat, and spruce, and tidy; you've always got tobacco; and apparently you must have meals now and again, though I can't say you've got particularly fat on them."

"I've never been a rich man, sir. I've never earned high wages--only once as much as fifteen pounds a month--and there's the missis and the family to provide for; and, as a consequence, I've never had much to spend on myself. It would surprise a gentleman who's been wealthy like you, Mr. Sheriff, to see the way I can make half-a-crown spin out."

"It surprises me to see how you've made nothing at all spin out," said Sheriff; "and as for the Lagos authorities I was speaking about, it's done more; it's made them suspicious. Hang it, man, be reasonable; you must see they are bound to be suspicious."

Captain Kettle's brown face grew darker in tint, and he spoke with visible shame. "I've come by a living, sir, honest, but I couldn't bear it to be told aloud here to all the world how it was done. I may be down, Mr. Sheriff, but I have my pride still."

Sheriff spread his hands helplessly. "That's no kind of answer," he said. "They won't let you continue to stay here in Lagos on an explanation like that. Come now, Kettle, be sensible: put yourself in the authorities' place. They've got a town to administer--a big town--that not thirty years ago was the most murderous, fanatical, rowdy dwelling of slave-traders on the West Coast of Africa. To-day, by dint of careful shepherding, they've reduced it to a city of quiet respectability, with a smaller crime rate than Birmingham; and in fact made it into a model town suitable for a story-book. You don't see the Government much, but you bet it's there, and you bet it isn't asleep.

You can bet also that the n.i.g.g.e.r people here haven't quite forgotten the old days, and would like to be up to a bit of mischief every now and again, just for old a.s.sociation's sake, which of course the Government is quite aware of.

"Now there's nothing that can stir up n.i.g.g.e.rs into ructions against a white man's government better than a white man, as has been proved tons of times already, and here are you already on the carpet quite equal to the job. I don't say you are up to mischief, nor does the Government, but you must see for yourself that they'd be fools if they didn't play for safety and ship you off out of harm's way."

"I must admit," said Kettle ruefully, "that there's sense in what you say, sir."

"Are you going to give a free and open explanation of your means of employment here in Lagos, and earn the right to stay on openly, or are you going to still stick to the mysterious?"

The little sailor frowned. "No, sir," he said; "as I told you before, I have my pride."

"Very-well, then. Now, are you going to be the Distressed Seaman, and be jeered at all the run home as you cadge round for your 'baccy money, or are you going to do the sensible thing, and step into this billet I've put in your way?"

"You corner me."

"I'm glad to hear it, and let me tell you it hasn't been for want of trying. Man, if I hadn't liked you, I would not have taken all this trouble to put a soft thing ready to your hand."

"I believe you want service out of me in return, sir," said Kettle stiffly.

Sheriff laughed. "You aren't the handiest man in the world to get on with, and if I hadn't been an easy-tempered chap I should have bidden you go to the deuce long enough ago. Of course, I want something out of you. A man who has just lost a fortune, and who is down on his luck like I am, can't afford to go in for pure philanthropy without any possible return. But, at the same time, I'm finding you a job at fifty pound a month with a fortnight's wages paid in advance, and I think you might be decently grateful. By your own telling, you never earned so much as four sovereigns a week before."

"The wages were quite to my taste from the beginning, sir; don't think me ungrateful there. But what I didn't like was going to sea without knowing beforehand what I was expected to do. I didn't like it at first, and I refused the job then; and if I take it now, being, as you say, cornered, you're not to understand that it's grown any the tastier to me."

"We shouldn't pay a skipper a big figure like that," said Sheriff drily, "if we didn't want something a bit more than, the ordinary out of him.

You may take it you are getting fifteen pounds a month as standard pay, and the extra thirty-five for condescending to sail with sealed orders.

But what I told you at first I repeat now: I've got a partner standing in with me over this business, and as he insists on the whole thing being kept absolutely dark till we're away at sea, I've no choice but to observe the conditions of partnership."

Some thirty minutes later than this, Mr. Sheriff got out of his 'rickshaw on the Marina and went into an office and inquired for Mr.

White. One of the colored clerks (who, to do credit to his English education, affected to be utterly prostrated by the heat) replied with languor that Mr. White was upstairs; upon which Sheriff, mopping himself with a handkerchief, went up briskly.

White, a gorgeously handsome young Hebrew, read success from his face at once. "I can see you've hooked your man," said he. "That's good business; we couldn't have got another as good anywhere. Have a c.o.c.ktail?"