way through. You've made the ports down there on
the Congo just ring with the way you kept your end up with those beastly
Belgians. And now when any Englishman goes ashore at Boma or Matadi or
any place on the river, they're fit to eat him."

The compliment had its doubtful side, but Kettle bowed with pleasure.
"Mr. Mate," he said, "I should have been more polite to you. I forgot
you were a man who had just come through an anxious time."

"Anxious time! My holy grandmother! You should have just seen. It was my
watch below when she took the ground, and I give you my word for it,
there's deep water marked in the chart where she struck. Third mate had
the bridge, and he rang for engines hard astern. Nothing happened. From
the first moment she hit, the Krooboys got the notion she was their ship
by all the rules of the Coast, and they played up to that tune like men.
They bashed in the heads of the two engineers who tried to handle the
reversing gear, and fairly took the ship below; and when the old man
came out in his pyjamas and started his fancy shooting on deck, they
just ran in on him and pulled him into kybobs.

"The second mate pegged out a week ago with black-water fever. So there
was only me and Mr. Sheriff here, and the third left that were worth
counting." He wagged a stubby finger contemptuously at the rest of his
boat's crew. "Half this crowd don't know enough English to take a wheel,
and the rest of them come from happy Dutchland, where they don't make
soldiers, bless their silly eyes. I can tell you I'm not feeling sweet
about it myself. I left a bran new suit of clothes and an Accra
finger-ring on that blame' ship."

"Well, never mind the rest of the tale now," said Sheriff. "Here we are
kicked overboard, and glad enough to save our bare skins, I'll own. We
won't go into the question of manning British ships with foreigners just
now. What's interesting me is the fact that those Krooboys have got
hatches off already, and are standing by the cranes and winches. I've
seen them work cargo before all up and down the coast, and know the pace
they can put into it, and if we don't move quick they'll scoff that ship
clear down to the ceilings of her holds." A winch chain rattled, and a
sling load of cloth bales swung up to one of her derrick sheaves. "My
faith, look at that! They've begun to broach cargo by now, and there are
some of the beggars setting to lower the surf-boats to ferry it on to
the beach."

The M