The sun had just risen above the horizon and through the haze could be
seen a low lying shore which gleamed yellow in the distance. On the
quarter-deck of the _Esmeralda_ stood a group of men, and each held a
pair of marine glasses to his eyes.
“Yes—that is Banana,” Captain Armstrong announced decisively.
The voyage had passed without untoward incident, but no one on board
the cruiser had had an idle moment. The men above deck had been
drilled, and some practise had been made with the guns. The leaders of
the expedition had discussed every eventuality, and the next few days
would prove whether they were to meet with success or failure.
The ship was slowed down to twelve knots, and the men were rapidly
putting her into battle trim. Gaunt and Edward Drake watched them in
silence, for now they had nothing to do save to realize that they were
responsible for what might end in disaster.
At last they caught a glimpse of the mouth of the Congo, and the
_Esmeralda_ was turned directly towards the entrance of the river.
Captain Armstrong joined them, and it was evident that he was in the
highest spirits.
“There is only one thing that I wish; that we were flying the White
Ensign,” he remarked.
“I think that of the Church is more appropriate,” Edward Drake
answered, and glanced at the flag which flew at the stern.
“Hallo! That looks like a ship in the distance,” Armstrong cried, and
hastened to the bridge.
The _Esmeralda_ spurted ahead and entered the river on the far side
from the town of Banana.
“I hate being only a spectator. I wish I had something to do,” Gaunt
said irritably.
A few miles up the river towards Boma could be seen a large steamer,
which Gaunt at once recognized with the aid of his glasses.
“It is either the _Albertville_ or the _Leopoldville_,” he remarked.
“Are they British ships?”
“They belong to an English firm, although they fly the Belgian flag.
There is a regular line of steamers running from here to Antwerp, and
I’ll bet that this ship is carrying a million francs’ worth of rubber,
and a like value of ivory.”
“Tainted with blood,” Drake said in a low voice. “Please God this
tyranny will soon come to an end.”
“Now we are in for it. It’s sink or swim. See, Armstrong is signaling
them to stop,” Gaunt cried eagerly.
They watched the vessel approaching, and soon answering flags appeared.
“Watch for Armstrong’s reply. There it goes. ‘Heave to or we fire.’”
The next few minutes were breathless with excitement, for the
_Leopoldville_, for that was the name of the ship, continued to
advance; but she had slowed down perceptibly.
She came nearly abreast of them but much nearer the shore and still
continued on her course.
Again flags fluttered from the _Esmeralda_.
Suddenly there was a sharp report and a shot was fired from the
cruiser. But still the _Leopoldville_ did not stop.
“Now comes the critical moment,” Gaunt said beneath his breath.
Again the sound of a gun, and the most skillful gunner was the firer of
the shot.
Gaunt’s eyes were eagerly fixed on the liner.
“Splendid,” he cried. “It hit her right astern. Her rudder has gone,
and probably her propellers.”
“Will she sink?” Drake asked anxiously.
“I should think not. The water-tight compartments ought to keep her
afloat. Even if she does go down, there won’t be any loss of life.”
The _Leopoldville_ gradually ceased to move, and she lay there rolling
gently with the swell. But in a few moments they could see that a
boat was being lowered, and was rapidly rowed in the direction of the
_Esmeralda_.
The red-faced, indignant, and greatly perplexed captain of the
_Leopoldville_ ran up the companionway where he was received by Captain
Armstrong and John Gaunt. Behind them stood Edward Drake and his
brother.
“What is the meaning of this outrage? Who are you?” he cried hotly.
“One question at a time, please, captain. This is a war-ship engaged
for a particular purpose, namely, the stopping and, if necessary,
sinking of all ships which carry rubber and ivory from the Congo to
Europe.”
“You are dastardly pirates,” was the angry answer.
“Not so, captain; for I believe pirates generally go after spoil. Our
motive is solely to help the natives of the Congo,” Captain Armstrong
answered suavely.
“Isn’t that a parson standing there? Will you kindly explain what it
means?” the captain asked of Edward Drake.
“I can tell you no more than you have already heard,” the latter
answered.
“Do you mean to tell me that you have disabled my ship merely with the
idea of helping the natives?”
“Yes, captain.”
“Then, sir, let me tell you that it is a damnably absurd action. My
ship is helpless, and it is impossible to repair her without docking.
What am I to do with my passengers?”
“Take them back to Boma,” Gaunt broke in drily.
The captain of the _Leopoldville_ turned round quickly.
“I know you. You’re Gaunt,” he cried.
“You are right. Come below and I will give you a full explanation. You
are an Englishman and we’ve no ill feeling against you personally. It
is only right that you should know why we’ve taken such a liberty with
your ship,” Gaunt said pleasantly.
Half an hour later the captain again appeared on deck, and his face
bore a very perplexed look; but all his indignation had vanished.
“Well, I _am_ damned,” he muttered to himself as he stepped into his
gig. “But I’m not at all sure that I don’t wish that they come out of
it all right. I never did like these Belgian Congo brutes.”
For the rest of the day the _Esmeralda_ cruised about the entrance of
the river but no other ship appeared until the following morning when a
Woermann liner steamed from the north; she was treated in a similar way
to the _Leopoldville_ greatly to the indignation of her German captain,
who came on board the cruiser and threatened them with the vengeance of
the “mailed fist.”
Captain Armstrong was enjoying himself thoroughly, and each passing day
claimed one or more victims, until the mouth of the Congo was dotted
with helpless steamers.
It was on the third day that a steam launch came down the river and
approached the cruiser.
“A visit from his Excellency, the Governor-General,” Gaunt announced,
and they gathered round the companionway to receive the ruler of the
Congo.
“Who is in command of this war-ship?” he demanded harshly.
Captain Armstrong stepped forward.
“I am responsible for its presence here,” Gaunt intervened.
The Count de Chambord gave him a keen look.
“Yes. It is as I thought. You are John Gaunt. I should like to speak
with you,” he said quickly.
“If your Excellency will come to my cabin,” Gaunt said politely.
“I received a cable from Brussels in answer to my report upon the
attack upon the _Leopoldville_ in which they suggested that you might
be responsible for this outrage. Mr. Gaunt, may I ask what you hope to
gain? Is it money?”
“No, Count. I stand to lose money.”
“And perhaps your life, for Europe will intervene,” the Count said
significantly.
“I sincerely hope so,” Gaunt answered cheerfully. “I don’t think we
shall do any good by this talk, for it can lead to nothing. We have
come here with a deliberate purpose which we shall carry out to the
best of our ability. Hello! The turbines have started. Don’t you think
that we had better go on deck and see what is happening?”
And the governor-general was compelled to witness the welcome which the
incoming liner, the _Albertville_, received, for she was treated in a
similar way to her sister ship.
“It is a pity, for we are running rather short of provisions at Boma,”
the governor-general remarked ruefully.
In his way the Count was something of a philosopher.
“I shall be glad to put our stores at your service,” Gaunt
said politely; but the offer was as politely refused, and the
governor-general departed in his launch.
At dinner that night they were all very serious, for they realized that
in a very few hours the crisis would come.
“I think that we have been too successful; nothing has gone wrong. No
lives lost, and the Congo is at our mercy,” Gaunt remarked.
“Yes, until a cruiser turns up,” Captain Armstrong answered drily.
Edward Drake left the mess-room and went on deck. It was insufferably
hot, and he wished to be alone. As he strolled slowly along the deck,
his lips moved in prayer, for he understood only too well that the
issue lay in the balance. At times he had been afraid of what he had
done, for the responsibility was so great; but when he remembered what
was at stake, his courage returned.
“We shall win,” he told himself confidently.
Their cause was just, for they were fighting for freedom and justice.
Every peaceable method had been tried, and only force had remained.
The smell of the land reached his nostrils, and in his imagination
he pictured the scenes that were taking place in the hinterland—the
maimings, the torturings, and the doing to death of thousands of
helpless fellow creatures. Yes, this land which stretched from the
mouth of the Congo for miles was laid desolate; what had been once a
densely populated country was deserted—the work of the white men.
And when he thought of Gaunt, a glad light came to his eyes, for he
had grown to love the millionaire as a brother. And then like a fair
picture Lady Ethel came to his mind, and he wondered if she ever
thought of him.
“It is stifling,” Gaunt called from behind. “Dreaming, eh?”
“I was thinking of England.”
“Don’t, my friend. We have enough here to occupy our minds. I thought
that I had passed the days of tense excitement; but now I am like a mad
boy enjoying his first gamble. Drake, I am glad I came here. And I will
tell you something—I will confess that now I have an honest desire to
help the natives,” Gaunt said quietly.
The next morning they steamed up the river, further than they had
hitherto been. Gaunt and Captain Drake were on the deck, while
Armstrong was standing on the bridge with glasses in hand.
Suddenly there was a sharp report—a puff of smoke could be seen
on the shore—and a shell whistled over their heads. Another
report—and—crash—the shell pitched on the quarter-deck and a violent
explosion followed.
Edward Drake came rushing from below, and there was horror in his eyes
when he saw two figures lying on the deck. They were John Gaunt and his
brother Lindsay.
Captain Armstrong gave sharp orders, and the bell of the indicator
clanged. The cruiser turned round and raced at full speed towards the
mouth of the river.