hat the blacks of her complement
were giving the whites more than they cared about.

Kettle knew enough of the custom of the Coast to be able to sum the
situation. "Her Krooboys have broken out of hand," he commented. "That's
what's the trouble. You come down here from England with just enough
white men to handle your vessel to Sierra Leone, and then you ship
Krooboys to work cargo and surf-boats, and do everything except steer,
and as long as nothing happens, your Krooboy is a first-class hand. Two
cupfuls of rice and a bit offish is all the grub he wants; he'll work
sixteen hours a day without a grunt; and he'll handle a winch or a steam
crane with any Geordie donkey-man that has been grounded in the shops.
But just put your steamboat on the ground where he thinks she can't get
off, and there's a different tune to play. He's got a notion that the
ship's his, and the cargo's his, to loot as he likes, and if he doesn't
get 'em both, he's equal to making trouble. Seems to me he's making bad
trouble now."

By this time it was plain that the black men had got entire possession
of the lower parts of the ship. The small handful of whites were on the
top of the fiddley, and while most were fighting to keep the Africans
back, a couple were frenziedly working to get a pair of davits swung
outboard, and a lifeboat which hung from them lowered into the water. It
was clear they had given up all hope of standing by the ship; and
presently they got the boat afloat, and slid down to her in hurried
clusters by the davit falls, and then unhooked and rowed away from the
steamer's side in a skelter of haste. Coals and any other missile that
came handy were showered upon them by the Krooboys who manned the rail,
to which they replied with a few vicious revolver shots; and then the
boat drew out of range.

Captain Kettle, in his clumsy canoe, paddled up close to her and nodded,
and gave the boat's people a "good-morning." The greeting was quaintly
enough out of place, but nobody seemed to notice that. Each party was
too occupied in staring at the other. Those in the lifeboat saw a little
lean European, naked to the waist, clad only in a turban and native
cloth, and evidently (from the color of his skin) long inured to that
state. Kettle saw a huddle of fugitives, all of them scared, and many of
them bloody with wounds.

The man who was steering the white boat, the steamer's mate he was,
according to the gold lace on his cuff, spoke fir