But Kep followed, as if importunate, and when they were alone--

"One moment, sir," he said in a low voice, "I am not what I seem, but

interpreter to H.M.S. _Breezy_. I have most important news to give or

to send."

"Can you not come off with me then, and see our Captain?"

"No, sir, if I did so I should be suspected as a spy and my throat cut,

for I must remain in this town until the _Breezy_ returns. I will now

pretend to be guiding you to a hotel, and tell you all as I trot along

by your side."

"All right, boy. You seem to be trustworthy."

"I am true as steel."

Then he shouted as Arab guide boys do.

"Dis way den. Dis way, sah, to de best hotel in Zanzeebar."

And in this clever way he was able to tell the officer this whole story.

The ship lying in the offing, the officer told Kep, was the cruiser

gun-boat _Marten_, and she was on her way to the Cape with important

despatches to the Admiral of that station. But he must first see the

British Consul, and report to him what had already happened. The

_Marten_ was on her way, it appeared, from Bombay, and had received

orders to look out for and capture if possible a large three-masted ship

called the _Annabel Lee_. This capture the _Marten_ was only to effect

if she fell in with the ship (which was flying American colours), before

she, the gun-boat, reached Zanzibar. However, the _Marten_ had broke

down for a time, and while undergoing repairs a current had drifted her

nearer to the coast than she ought to have been, and her fore-foot got

on a bank. This was bad enough, certainly, but what made it all the

more provoking was the fact that it came on to blow to the extent of a

ten-knot breeze, and that during the night--it was one of the brightest

moonlight--a large ship, answering in every way to the description given

of the _Annabel Lee_, sailed past within a quarter of a mile of her.

The _Marten_ had fired a gun or two; but the vessel took not the

slightest notice, simply keeping on her course. She was seen, however,

to hoist more sail, and soon she disappeared. After a delay of a day,

the _Marten_ got off the bank with merely the loss of a portion of her

false keel, and made the best of her way to a town not far from

Zanzibar; but only to find that the American ship--if she was

American--had been there and had hurriedly bought and shipped stores;

after which she speedily hoisted sail and bore up for the south. It was

the opinion of every one, therefore, that the _Annabel Lee_ was a

slaver. So the _Marten_, hardly delaying an hour, set off in chase, but

in three days' time came here unsuccessful, to Zanzibar roadstead, and

anchored.

So Kep promised to meet this officer next day, meanwhile going as far

with him as the British Consulate, for everything bordering on suspicion

must be avoided. The Arabs even then might be watching.

Kep then returned to his home, and thinking that something terrible had

happened, for it was now long past eleven, the Arab had sat up for him

with little Zeena, who was on the ottoman weeping when the lad entered.

He had to tell all his story now with the girl on his knee.

Bungle sat thinking.

"He is one devil," he said at last.

"Who are you talking about, Bungle?"

"About de wicked Chief Abdularram."

"From what I heard him say that night in the jungle," returned Kep, "he

is not one devil, but a thousand devils rolled into one."

The _Marten_ was busy coaling next forenoon, but men were allowed on

shore after twelve o'clock, and when the liberty boat returned at six

o'clock from the shore two of them were missing. Very early next

morning a party of marines, under the charge of a sergeant, landed to

hunt these men up.

They found them at last, or rather they found their dead bodies. The

poor fellows had been inveigled into a compound, some little way off one

of the main streets, and then stabbed to the heart, and their faces

frightfully gashed and mutilated. They had not been robbed. Both men

possessed watches and had money also, but nothing had been abstracted.

It was a cases of revenge pure and simple. Not that the Arab

perpetrators had borne any personal grudge against these men. They were

Britishers, that was all.

Next day, with others, Kep went to the spot where the men were murdered.

Bungle was there also, but they pretended not to know each other.

Kep noticed that this clever little fellow picked up something with his

toes, and slipped it into his hand, and that same evening he came as

before to our young hero's quarters and showed him the something.

It was a beautiful large ring, set with sparkling stones, and evidently

of great value.

When Kep saw it he started.

"Good gracious!" he cried, "that very ring I saw on the chief's finger

as he squatted by the forest fire."

The _Marten_ started next morning. The despatches would not wait, but

the officer left letters at the Consulate for the _Breezy_, which was

now overdue, and left orders also with the Consul to investigate the

murder and punish, if possible, the perpetrators of this terrible crime.

Just three nights after this, and at the very time that Kep was thinking

of turning in, the boy Bungle again appeared. There was joy on his face

this time.

"One oder ship come," he cried. "'Tis you ship foh true dis time."

Kep bade the Arab and his little daughter a hurried adieu! He must get

on board at all risks immediately.

Poor little Zeena was inconsolable, and he only got away with a promise

to come back again some day.

"Ah!" he thought to himself, "that some day may never come!"

Yet he really meant to return to see his little Araby maid, as he called

her, if ever he got a chance.

Bungle met him on the beach, and together they walked fully a mile along

it, and here they found Bungle's dug-out, and quickly entering it shoved

off.

There was a strong current running, but they managed to stem it, and in

due time got near to the _Breezy_.

"Boat ahoy," shouted a sentry.

"No, no," was the answering hail, which meant that the occupants would

come on board at the port side.

Most of the officers had turned in. Only the doctor and Wynn sat

together, working out some sort of problem.

"I'll be shot," cried McTavish, "if that isn't young Bowser's voice."

He didn't need to be shot, for next moment Kep, still dressed as an

Arab, walked in and saluted.

You may be certain the welcome he received was a hearty one.

"May I bring Bungle in?"

"Certainly, lad," said the first lieutenant, "and meanwhile I'll report

your arrival to the Captain."

When Wynn returned the captain was with him. The assistant paymaster and

the young marine both crept in with only their pyjamas on.

Then the boy told his story, pausing here and there to permit Bungle to

work in a word or two.

Then Kep, during the brief spell of silence that followed, handed the

ring to Captain Breezy.

"What is this?"

"That is the chief murderer's ring."

The chief murderer, however, had sailed days ago, probably to join his

brother. Indeed, from further evidence brought next day by an old

interpreter, there was little doubt left that Abdularram was in hiding

somewhere about the line or farther north, with a fleet of northern or

fighting dhows, and also that his brother was marching upon the coast

with his slaves, if indeed he had not already reached his barracoon.

Their object, therefore, was to strike a blow both on shore and at sea

that the Arabs would feel the effects of for many and many a day to

come.

Fore and aft, on this very account, the officers and bluejackets were

the merriest of the merry; swords and cutlasses were being sharpened;

guns received an extra polish; revolvers were cleaned and cartridges

were served out; while, though they were all busy attending to the

duties that devolved upon them, laughing and joking were heard all day

long.

A row was coming, and they would be in it, and from the fight they felt

certain they would come out victorious.

*CHAPTER XIV*

*WITHIN A YARD OF THEM LAY POOR FISHER'S HEAD*

Admittedly the best warrant officer on board the _Breezy_ was the chief

boatswain, Fisher. He had been on the coast years and years ago, and

knew the Arabs well, and all their tricks and manners too. He hated them

with a fiery kind of hatred that nothing could have quenched.

Nothing ever did, he once told McTavish, except blood, and that blood

had to be Arab blood.

"If you had seen what I have seen in the old days," he added, "but now

I'm wearin' on, sir, and soon will get my pension, or my last shot."

"You've been wounded before, then?"

"Good lord, yes! You see this slash across my brow, doctor?"

"A blind man could see that, Fisher."

He drew up his right trouser leg and disclosed an ugly hole below the

knee.

"A bullet, sir. No, it didn't splinter. It went clean through. I have

another in the right wrist. Another skirmish, sir. And I had a

spear-wound right through me. I stuck to my man that day though, and

pretty nigh cut him to the chin. Oh yes, I've knocked about a piece.

Most of the swell Arabs know me and would pot me anywhere if sure of

getting away with whole skins or an unstretched neck."

In the coming affray this man had command of a boat.

Well, the _Breezy_ stole away in the evening, and those that watched her

from cocoa-nut trees saw her heading south and went to bed contented.

But after darkness, the _Breezy_ put all lights out and passed Zanzibar

once again.

There was another cruiser on this coast not far off, and to her Captain

Breezy sent a wireless message to follow on after and assist.

Instead of landing his forces south of the Lamoo river at Durva, and

proceeding thence to the interior to attack the brother of Abdularram

with his wild hordes of Arabs and Somalis, the Commander of the _Breezy_

ought to have awaited the arrival of the other cruiser, which had been

hourly expected at Zanzibar, and gone north in her company.

McTavish had even proposed this to him, but he only laughed.

"No, Doctor, no," he said. "I won't wait. Do or die is my motto. You

don't catch me sharing prize-money or honour and glory and hopes of

promotion with any one. Not if I can help it."

They landed at night, and a dark and starless night it was, although

towards morning the moon would sail silently up from the sea. But they

did not wish for her light to guide them up the tree-shaded creek, for

the presence of the moon might but serve to reveal their position to the

eyes of a watchful foe.

They were all armed to the teeth; even Bungle had been entrusted with a

cutlass and a revolver. They rowed silently and with muffled oars

towards the shore, and no one spoke a word above his breath.

Their whole force consisted of but sixty blue-jackets and ten marines.

Captain Breezy, their commander, being himself in charge, with Guilford

and Fisher under him.

Bungle was their guide, and right faithfully and well he did his duty.

It certainly was no fault of his that the expedition, which from the

very beginning was one of great peril and danger, came to so disastrous

an end. Nor was it from any lack of courage and daring on the part of

the brave sailors and marines and those who led them.

The boats were hidden under the trees, five men being left in charge of

them. But these five men were probably the best in the ship, and they

left them with their Maxim gun, which they found it would be

inconvenient to take with them inland.

Then began the long silent march through the woods towards the

barracoon, which was full fifteen miles from the shore.

It was a forced march, and one that only men in the very best form could

have accomplished in the comparatively short space of five hours.

When within about three miles of the barracoon a halt was called, or

rather whispered, and sentries being set, the men lay down to rest,

after partaking of food.

They had dressed Bungle, while on board the _Breezy_, in a tailor-made

coat and trousers, which latter he afterwards abandoned, and now, when

of his own accord he proposed to go forward and reconnoitre, he divested

himself even of his coat.

The moon had by this time risen, so that the men had to lie close among

the long rank grass and stunted bushes, for they were now in a kind of

open country. But more than once that night, before the sun rose up over

the woods, Kep thought he could perceive dark figures skulking in the

bush or stealing through the grass. Was their presence in the forest

already discovered? This, was a question it was impossible as yet to

answer. Alas! it was answered all too soon for their comfort.

What a long, long time Bungle seemed to be absent. One hour, two hours

glided by, and still there was no sign of his return. Meanwhile, and

just as day-dawn was beginning to reveal itself in the east, like the

reflection of some far-off city, Jones, a sturdy marine, crept up

towards the Captain and whispered--"Bungle is amissing, sir!"

Meanwhile the sun had risen, and with it a babel of sounds from the

woods, which was very far indeed from being musical, for they were not

far from the river, and birds of all kinds abounded, and inquisitive

chattering apes as well.

The men now made a hurried meal, and prepared to advance.

"Bowser," Captain Breezy said to Kep, "do you know what I begin to

think?"

"Perfectly well," Kep replied. "You think my boy Bungle has led us

astray, and probably into an ambuscade. But, sir, I will stake my life

on his honesty and faithfulness."

Hardly had he finished speaking when a shout was heard from the bush

ahead, and every man immediately fell into order prepared for an attack.

But next minute Bungle himself, wounded, and limping along, entered the

little camp.

"No timee talk, no time," he cried excitedly, half rising from the

ground on which he had thrown himself, "in two tree minute, plaps, de

wild Arab man come fightee. He two tree tousand strong!"

Here was news with a vengeance!

Although the boy had lost much blood, the wound was not serious.

Kep stayed behind to attend to him, and his companions went on.

Just before they started, Fisher came running up. He pulled out his

flask.

"Here, Bungle," he cried, "have a drop of my rum."

Whether it was the rum or not I cannot say, but in twenty minutes' time

Bungle was able to bring up the rear guard with Kep. That is, Bungle

and Kep formed the rear guard; their friends were far ahead.

They had not proceeded a mile when they heard firing in front of them.

The gallant fellows were at it, hammer and tongs, and the boys redoubled

their speed.

But Bungle stopped short.

"No good go dat way, sah! Def lie in dat dilection, foh true."

Thinking it was wise to be guided by the boy, Kep followed him, and they

made a wide _detour_. If he had been obstinate the probability is that

both would have been killed. They reached the barracoon at last, just

in time to enter with the bluejackets.

And these were victorious; but, alas! victory had cost them dear.

For more than three hours the men had fought with clouds of Arabs and

spear-armed Somali Indians. They had at last cut their way right through

them; and, scaling palisade after palisade, captured the barracoon,

driving the defenders into the woods at the point of the bayonet.

All throughout that long, hot day, McTavish laboured hard among his

wounded men, of whom no less than twenty had been brought in, and at

least fifteen lay dead in the forest. Among these last was poor Fisher.

Nor had it been possible to recover his body.

The enemy had drawn off, although we knew it would be but for a time.

The doctor had so much to do that it was within an hour of sunset before

he could find time to look about him. But at last he finished making

the poor men as comfortable as circumstances would permit, and then went

in search of the Captain.

He was busy enough, so were the men under the charge of Guilford, the

gunner, and the officer of marines.

But the palisades, both the inner and the outer, had been already

repaired, and the whole place put into position to stand a siege of

days--so they hoped, at least.

Guilford came up to him, smiling. "Why, Doctor," he said, "how pale you

look!"

"Tired," McTavish answered brightly.

"Have a drop of my rum."

Next minute the flask was popped into his hand.

"We've got a thrashing, haven't we?"

"Rayther," he replied. "Out-numbered, you see. Only five-and-thirty men

left in whole skins. And poor Fisher, he--he----"

He turned away to hide a tear.

"Come," he said, fronting McTavish again. "Let us take a turn round the

camp before it gets dark. Can you spare me, sir?"

"Certainly," said the commander.

Then away they went.

They had captured 720 slaves in all. And so quickly had the

bluejackets, after cutting their way through the Arab horde, scaled the

palisades, and driven the barracoon-keepers out, that these had had no

time to scatter the rice and waste the water, which otherwise they

certainly would have done. The water was bad enough in all conscience,

but it was better than none.

"Come in here," said Guilford.

McTavish entered a compound with him, and there to his astonishment

found a grass tent, furnished not only with luxury, but with some degree

of elegance also. And there, too, was a supply of excellent water, with

plenty of fruit and even wine, so that his wounded men would be in

clover.

This tent doubtless belonged to the general himself.

Once more the sun went down, and almost immediately afterwards it was

night.

Soon the Captain himself entered the tent, and all hands had dinner.

"Doctor," said the Captain, "I have sent the boy Bungle back to report

to the ship the fix we are in. If the Arabs attack us to-night, or even

to-morrow, nothing I fear will save us. But if a few more bluejackets

can reach us, and the Maxim gun, we can defy these Arab fiends, and give

a good account of them."

After dinner, Guilford and the surgeon went towards the spot where,

under a canopy of green boughs, the latter had placed his wounded men.

They found Kep wandering about busy enough in his own way, soothing and

sympathising with the patients, administering a drop of water or wine to

one, and an orange or lime to another; but shedding comfort in every

place where the light from the hurricane lamp he carried fell.

However small this boy's capabilities as a surgeon or physician might

be, he made a very excellent nurse.

Guilford kindly took the first watch with the wounded men, so that the

doctor might have a few hours' sleep, and Kep as well.

McTavish awoke quite refreshed about four o'clock, and took watch

himself.

"I have a mind to sit with you a short time," said Guilford, and down

they both sat, after the doctor had taken a turn or two among the men.

Meanwhile the moon had risen and was shedding her silvery light all over

camp and barracoon, beautifying and spiritualising everything.

They had hidden the hurricane lamp behind a bush, and were talking low

to each other, as they sat beneath a banana tree.

Suddenly McTavish clutched Guilford by the shoulder.

"Hush!" he whispered. "Did you not hear a sound as of advancing

footsteps?"

They had both drawn their revolvers and sat waiting, fearfully, hardly

daring to draw breath.

A moment after something fell with a dull thud almost at their feet.

"What was that?" said Guilford.

"A cocoa-nut, I think."

McTavish lit a match and held it above his head.

Judge of the feeling of horror that took possession of them now.

There, within a yard of them, lay poor Fisher's head.

*CHAPTER XV*

*THE ATTACK UPON THE BARRACOON*

More accustomed to seeing fearsome sights than his friend Guilford, the

doctor called to him to make all speed and alarm the sentries, to cut

off if possible the retreating enemy. Then he took up the head.

Superstitious themselves to a degree, it is no uncommon thing for an

Arab foe to endeavour to strike a strange terror into the hearts of

their enemies by such ghoulish tricks as this. But it had certainly

failed in its object for once.

McTavish stroked the cold, hard brow and pressed down the lids on the

half-open eyes; and then laid it aside, covering it with a cloth and

bushes, so that it might receive Christian burial when they should

succeed in finding the body.

When daylight returned there were no signs of an attempt to renew the

fight. Indeed, from the outlook station, which was the top of a tall

cocoa-nut palm, there was nothing to be seen of the enemy.

Not a sound came from bush or forest except that made by birds or

beasts, nor was there any smoke curling up into the now clear air.

Being accustomed from his boyhood to climbing trees, Kep got up into the

feathery crown of the palm. The exercise revived him, the fresh air,

breathed at this elevated situation, calmed the nerves and brain. The

scene all around as far as eye could reach was very impressive, very

beautiful; but nearer at hand, near to the palisades and here and there

in the bush close beneath, was many a dark spot, that it needed not

lorgnettes to tell were the bodies of the slain. He would not let his

eyes rest on these. They saddened him, and one should never seek for

the sorrow it is possible to avoid.

But was the forest and bush as deserted as it seemed? Well, all knew it

was not. Every bush concealed a foe. They were thirsting for blood,

and their object in lying hidden was but to entice the British out.

These felt thankful, however, in their very souls, that the attack which

they knew would be made was delayed.

Meanwhile, there was plenty to do in the camp. The doctor had his

wounded to attend to, and those poor slaves were in charge of all.

It was difficult at first to make them understand that they were really

free. But they had knocked those galling chains off, and they fed them

and talked to them kindly. True, they might not understand the words,

but the actions and the tone of the men's voices were unmistakable.

There were several dead among those poor, unhappy wretches, and these

their companions buried. Luckily they found Arab spades and other tools

in the barracoon, and hours were spent by the male liberated slaves in

attending to the sanitary condition of the whole camp. And much,

indeed, it had needed such attention.

The day wore slowly by. Before eventide, despite every attention,

despite even the nursing of Kep, no less than five of the wounded men

had crossed the bourne whence travellers ne'er return. But the others

bade fair to do well.

Meanwhile, they counted the hours that must elapse before poor wounded

Bungle could possibly return with relief. At the very shortest another

night must pass before he could come--if come he ever would.

Towards sunset it was determined to make a sally, and to bring in the

dead for burial. The graves were already dug. They took with them a

very large carrying party, consisting of the sturdiest of the freed

slaves, under command of a gunner, an old coast hand who could talk a

little of nearly all the native languages.

Would the Arabs attack? that was the question. Luckily they did not; and

not only was poor Fisher's body found, but the bodies of every one of

the brave fellows.

It was not difficult to understand why the Arabs had refrained from

attacking. Their object was to lead to the belief that they had gone.

Could they but succeed in enticing the _Breezy's_ people from the

barracoon, then, hampered as they would be with the wounded and the

slaves, their victory would be an easy one indeed. It would be nothing

less than a massacre.

And sad was the burial scene. The dead were laid out in rows, and

before a prayer was said the men were allowed to walk round, to speak

to, to apostrophise and bid farewell to their dead chums and messmates.

Many of the severely wounded were assisted to the spot where the bodies

lay, just that they might say "Good-bye" to "poor Jack" or "poor Bill,"

or whatever might be the name of a dead comrade.

Captain Breezy himself read the burial service from memory. He got no

further than "We give their dead bodies to the dust," before stopping

suddenly, with choking voice.

Nor was there a dry eye amongst the crew.

But the last sod is laid over the dead. No one will ever disturb them

in this lonesome spot, so the burial party come sadly and silently away,

and leave them to sleep.

Then fell night and darkness over the forest land.

Would the Arabs now attack?

Extra ammunition was given out, and those of the brave fellows not on

watch or doing sentry-go slept beside their loaded rifles, their

bayonets fixed and loaded revolvers in their belts.

But all the men that could be shared to watch were hardly sufficient to

guard against attack, so the freed men were requisitioned.

And indeed all of these that were strong enough to fight were armed with

weapons of some kind; empty rifles to use as clubs, tools of various

kinds, and the spare cutlasses that had belonged to those now dead or to

the wounded.

Slowly and wearily the night wore away, and I do not think that anyone

really slept.

Guilford and McTavish were watching among the wounded, and towards

morning the latter had fallen into an uneasy kind of doze, when he was

suddenly awakened by Kep himself.

"A negro wants to speak to you, sir."

Beside the boy Kep, and full in the light of the newly risen moon, stood

one of the freed slaves, wildly but silently gesticulating and pointing

to a far-off corner of the barracoon.

Something must have happened; in a few minutes the camp was astir, and

the men had fallen in, prepared for anything.

The quick ear of the savage had detected the advance of armed men. But

whether friends or foes as yet they could not tell. Birds, however,

were flying over the camp in dozens, and it was this fact that had told

the clever savage that people were approaching.

The British sentries would have taken but little, if any, heed of a sign

like this, and the probability therefore would have been that an attack

in force would have been made before the men were half awake.

They now lay concealed in the bush, rifles pointed towards the still

coming flights of birds.

Nearly a whole hour passed. The moon was high and the night very clear.

Now and then a wild and uncanny scream was heard far away in the forest

depths; but whether it proceeded from man or beast no one could tell.

A whole hour! Yes, and what an interminable time it seemed to be.

But list! Beyond the palisade there are sounds now. Ay, and shouts

too; and next moment, between them and the moonlight, they could see the

whole top of the barricade covered with yelling Arabs.

But the men had their orders, and not a shot was fired on these.

They were allowed to leap inside.

Mercy on us, what an end was theirs! The freed men caught them almost

before they had alighted, and the wild screams and demon shouts told of

the fearful tragedy that was being enacted.

But another row of devil Arabs lines the palisades, and now rifles speak

out. Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop. It is one continuous rattle, and

as fast as the Arabs scale the height, just as fast do they fall; while

those who succeed in leaping down are quickly seized upon and butchered

by the very men to whom they had dealt out such fearful treatment in

their far-off peaceful land.

Worsted for a time, the Arabs withdrew, after making several attempts to

carry the barracoon by storm.

But that they would return ere long right well those Breezies knew.

Although the Arabs had fired volley after volley, yet, strange to say,

they had not in this attack a single man wounded, so well did they keep

to the bush and so steady was their fire.

All the Arabs that fell into the hands of the blacks were slain; indeed,

they were almost rent limb from limb, and it was with the greatest

difficulty Captain _Breezy_ succeeded at last in preventing the freed

men from expending their fury on the mutilated corpses, which they even

bit and tore with their teeth, till, dancing there in the moonlight,

they looked more like devils incarnate than human beings.

There was but little chance that the enemy would attack again at the

same place, so a little black slave was sent up the tree, instructed to

signal whenever the foe was approaching, and point out his position.

They found they had still about seventy rounds of ammunition left per

man, but, as this would not stand a long siege, orders were given not to

throw way a single shot.

The next attack was made about half an hour before sunrise, and a sudden

determined and terrible one it was.

The first the Breezies knew of its commencement was from a fusillade

delivered from the bush. Although such splendid swordsmen, the Arabs are

not good marksmen, and their rifles are usually bad. In this case it

appeared they had determined to make sure. Not fewer than twenty rifles

must have been aimed at the cocoa-nut palm, hidden in which was our

little black sentry.

Next moment his body fell at their feet with a dull and awful splashing

thud, the sound of which could never be forgotten.

The Arabs attacked about five minutes after, and from a side of the

barracoon--so wily were they--that the white men fancied they would

never attempt to scale.

Before they had fired two volleys they were over the palisade, not in

scores but in hundreds apparently. One more rifle volley was filed, then

the Breezies advanced at the double to meet the foe.

I cannot describe that terrible _melee_. The charge of those

sword-armed Arabs seemed like "the shock of Hell" that Scott speaks of

in Marmion.

Sword in hand, McTavish was in it. He was stunned very early in the

engagement by a blow from something, he knew not what, and fell between

two dead men, namely, an Arab whom Kep's sword had gone clean through,

and a freed slave that the Arab had cloven to the chin.

When the surgeon recovered consciousness and looked up, the tide of

battle had rolled away from him. Strangely enough, as he gazed for a few

moments, still confused and bewildered, at the fearful fight that was

raging, a passage from Scott kept running in his mind and memory--

They close in clouds of smoke and dust,

With sword-sway and with lance's thrust,

And such a yell was there,

Of sudden and portentous birth,

As if men fought upon this earth,

And fiends in upper air.

While he was staggering to his feet, a sound fell upon his ears that

told him they were saved. It was the rolling, rattling sound of a maxim

gun.

The Arabs heard it too. Next minute the great gate of the barracoon was

burst open, and not twenty bluejackets, but fully a hundred came pouring

in. That brave British cheer, as the bluejackets came rushing onwards,

cutlass in hand, was the signal for the enemy's flight.

Seeing the gate open, they made a slight _detour_, which was but a

feint; then rushed madly for the opening.

Outside was the maxim gun!

Does not that one little sentence tell a tale. That maxim gun! How

awful its voice. How deathlike its rattle!

Well, the battle was won.

Did they extend mercy to the retreating Arabs? Not _very_ much, I fear.

In fact, the freed slaves took up the chase, and in the bush completed

the deadly work the maxim gun had begun.

Right faithfully and well had poor Bungle done his duty. But, poor

fellow, it was noticed at once he was not among the new comers, who

consisted chiefly of men from the other cruiser under the command of the

first lieutenant, a larger vessel than the _Breezy_.

Kep hastened to inquire about his little friend.

"He arrived at the place where you left your gun and boats," was the

reply, "almost dead. He had only time to tell your fellows that

assistance was sorely needed and that they must take the gun and follow

your trail, when he fainted. Your men came off to our ship, and here we

are."

"But the boy is not dead?" Kep asked anxiously.

"I fear that by this time he is."

"Why, Guilford, who is this?" said McTavish next minute, for as they

walked slowly towards the tent they came across the corpse of a

richly-dressed Arab, who, the doctor felt certain at first, was

Abdularram himself.

Guilford only laughed. "That's the general." he said. "And I guess

he's only waiting patiently to be buried."

"Who killed him? Guilford, _you_ did!"

Guilford only laughed again, but said nothing.

* * * * *

It took them two whole days to reach the coast with the wounded and

slaves, and very anxious Kep was to know the fate of Bungle.

They arrived at the creek safely at last, and here a temporary camp was

formed and fortified, in which to house these freed slaves until an

opportunity came to ship them off to Zanzibar.

*CHAPTER XVI*

*POOR BUNGLE! JUST LET HIM SLEEP*

Sail in sight!

It was a shout from a man on the outlook on the fore-topmast

cross-trees.

"Where away?" sang Guilford, who was on duty.

"On the starboard bow, sir. Well in towards the land. Just coming

round the wooded point yonder."

"Why, sir," he hailed a few minutes afterwards, "it ain't one, but

three, four o' them there is."

Guilford went scrambling up into the maintop with his glasses slung over

his shoulder. He was too tall to make a very graceful sailor, but he

got there all the same.

It was in the forenoon watch, just two days after they had left the

slave camp in the creek. The other cruiser had gone on before with a

large cargo of the freed slaves, and would be in Zanzibar ere now.

At the very first hail from aloft everyone had hurried on deck, to get

if possible a peep at the enemy, for no one doubted for a moment that

these great dhows, now slowly rounding the point, were the fighting

fleet of the daring Arab Viking, Abdularram.

They were prettily manoeuvred, and at first it was hoped that they would

bear down upon the _Breezy_ and attack.

But Abdularram--who had not been killed after all--was too good an

admiral to do anything of the kind. His tactics were those of naval

guerilla warfare, and now he filled sail and stood out to sea, bearing

up for the south and east. The reason was simply because the wind blew

in this direction, and before a breeze a well-rigged dhow is as fleet as

a drifting cloud.

"Prepare for action!"

Right merrily now the bugle rang out over the clear, blue rippling

water. The very sea-birds seemed to rejoice at the sound, and came

sweeping nearer and nearer, apparently trying to repeat the call.

In a few minutes' time all was ready as far as arms were concerned.

Full speed was now the order on board the _Breezy_, and steam was got

up, for the fires had only been banked.

Meanwhile, it is needless to say that the doctor was not idle, nor his

able assistant, Kep, either. The wounded men, with the exception of a

few of the worst cases that had been sent on in the other ship, had been

placed under a canvas screen, forward near the bows on the upper deck,

and these had to be carefully moved below.

Your British tar makes a most kindly and gentle nurse, and it was a

pleasure to note how tenderly the seamen McTavish had called to his

assistance bore their shipmates down below, and laid them on the deck.

Meanwhile the chase went on. The dhows had a long start; but by

afternoon the wind had gone down somewhat, and the _Breezy_ was soon

coming up hand over hand. At three o'clock she succeeded in disabling

two with shot and shell. A third had escaped. Seeing boats lower to

board the crippled dhows, No. 4 bore down upon them and prepared to

render assistance, but a shell from the _Breezy_ went screaming through

her rigging; then she filled and fled, leaving her comrades to their

fate. They made a gallant resistance; but their defenders were finally

beaten off their own blood-slippery decks and battened down below.

Prize crews were put on board with orders to bear up for Zanzibar; and

then the _Breezy_ went on after the largest dhow, the flagship of

Abdularram himself.

[Illustration: "A shell from the _Breezy_ went screaming through her

rigging."]

Abdularram in his great dhow escaped entirely when the darkness fell

like a pall over sea and land, for to-night there was never a star, the

glass was going down, and there was every likelihood of a storm. And it

soon began to blow.

This made it hard for every one.

"Bad luck," said Guilford, "not to catch that scoundrel."

"Bad luck for the wounded also," said McTavish; and so it turned out,

for several of these died before morning, the pitching and rolling of

the _Breezy_ being very great.

"How is your boy Bungle?" asked one of the middies as Kep, looking

somewhat crest-fallen, entered the gun-room.

"He is very low indeed," replied Kep, "and the doctor thinks he cannot

live."

"Going to slip his moorings, is he? Poor little devil! Is he

sensible?"

"Oh, yes, and bears his sufferings like a small hero, as indeed he is."

"Ah, well!" said the middy, "that's the tack we'll all be on--some day.

Mellor, give that decanter of wine you seem to stick to, a fair wind

this way."

"I'm holding on to it," said Mellor, "because it has a ball-bottom and

won't stand on the table."

"Of course it won't. It was made like that on purpose, you untamed

idiot, so that dolts like you should pass it round."

* * * * *

The _Breezy_ arrived at Zanzibar all right in two days' time, in spite

of the storm.

War-worn and weary, that same night the good surgeon had sunk to sleep

among his wounded men on deck, and some kind-hearted sailor had drawn a

tarpaulin over him. It was broad daylight when he awoke him.

"I let you sleep, sir. I thought you needed it. Another man dead, sir,

and poor boy Bungle going fast, I fear. Insensible now."

"Just let him sleep," said McTavish.

But when Kep went back to the brave little lad's hammock Bungle opened

his eyes, and smiled faintly.

"Is there anything you would like, Bungle?"

"In dis world, no," was the faint reply. "But you speakee my ole

mudder. Tell she, dat Bungle nevah fo'got."

Then his left hand was half raised to his brow as if to touch his

forelock. Next moment it fell heavily on the coverlet.

Bungle was gone.

Only a little black boy? True, but may we all do our duty as bravely

and well in the world as Bungle did his.

The wounded were all sent to hospital. They would be conveyed to the

Cape by the very next steamer.

But something was in the wind surely, for the fleet on this station now

received orders by cable to return to Symon's Bay with all speed after

taking in sufficient coal.

Kep had time to go on shore. He went in mufti, not his Arab dress. In

mufti and after dark. He could do nothing to find out the whereabouts

of little boy Bungle's "ole mudder," and so she would never know what

had been the fate of her little son.

Perhaps it was better so. For she would do now as most mothers do--just

live on in hope of one day seeing him back again.

Taking great care not to be seen, Kep now went to pay a visit to his

friend the Arab and to wee Zeena.

I need not waste a sentence in telling of the reception he had nor of

the happy evening he spent, or the farewells said. Zeena was Kep's

little romance, and it would be very long indeed before he could forget

the child.

* * * * *

Why had the ships been ordered down to the Cape? It is a question I

cannot really answer. It was now the year 1908, and notwithstanding the

great advances in every kind of science, there will still be a few blind

men at the Admiralty and in the Government generally. The consequence

was that there was far too much wire-pulling. Much was lost by our

fleets on the various stations having to wait for orders from home.

The scare on this particular occasion was brought about by what was

called an unpremeditated attack by a supposed German cruiser on some

British merchant steamers.

In fact some of the latter had been looted and sunk, and their crews and

passengers landed almost starving on the nearest land. But as the

Germans disclaimed all knowledge of the cruiser, which they advanced in

their arguments must be a sort of pirate or _Alabama_, then the British

bull-dog began to growl, and the peace-at-any-price tried to appease

him, and said he must not fly at poor Germany, for that heavenly land

and all in it were most friendly to the bull-dog. Negotiation,

negotiation, that, they said, would settle all disputes.

Well, it eventually did in this case at all events. But there were

wheels within wheels, political mining and counter-mining, and intrigues

deep and shallow.

Be all this as it may, Zanzibar was for the present left unprotected

save by its own fleet. Now this fleet was a very good one, as I have

before hinted, and if manned by British seamen it could really have done

some splendid execution when it came to be wanted. At present it lay in

the open roadstead, and was even anchored without much system.

The new Sultan was very easy-minded. The ships made a fine show. That

was delightful, and especially did he love to look upon them on gala

days. In fact, he made gala days and kept birthdays and high days, just

for the pleasure of seeing his war-ships dressed all over with bunting.

And such a blaze of colour had really a fine back-ground by day in the

blue bright Indian Ocean.

Then when darkness came the Sultan spent a deal of his pocket money

precisely as boys do in the first week in November. He went in heavily

for fireworks, and the ships were all lit up with blue or crimson fire.

The Sultan of Lamoo was not a fool, and he had some heavy men (of other

nations be it whispered) who backed him. He had, moreover, a splendid

admiral in Abdularram. Perhaps he knew more about dhow-fleets than

gun-boats or cruisers, but he had men on board the spit-fire shiplets of

Lamoo that knew far more about the newest class of torpedoes than they

did about the Koran.

There is a tradition (as in a former book of mine I mentioned) that one

time--date forgotten--when Zanzibar was not so valuable a possession,

but a city nevertheless of some 300,000 inhabitants, an enormous fleet

of armed dhows suddenly appeared like a cloud of locusts on the distant

horizon. And like the locust-cloud, it bore right down upon the city,

and an army of strange men was thrown upon the beach and at once

attacked the Sultan's forces. These had soon been made an end of, and

the palace was robbed.

The whole town was looted--women carried off, and all who resisted

slain.

But, so says the tradition, the army at last re-embarked, carrying with

them their dead and wounded, then this Armada put to sea again. They

disappeared beyond the horizon and were never seen nor heard tell of in

this world again.

They were foreign men, they were foreign dhows, foreign devils all, but

who they were or whence they came may never be known.

However, history was now going in some measure to repeat itself, without

so much of the mysterious.

Down the beautiful river, therefore, which after gliding through a quiet

landscape of green and charming forest, rolls over a sandy bar and

empties itself into the Indian Ocean, there dropped one day the midget

fleet of Lamoo, and one by one braved the danger of the only opening in

the reef, and got clear and safely out.

They were small vessels, very, but every one of them carried death on

her decks, and death between decks, in the shape of guns and torpedoes.

They numbered only ten and were all of the same class.

If they were lacking in anything it was speed, and although they had

good gunnery men on board their engineers had none too much skill. In

addition to sailors proper their decks were crowded with dare-devil

fighting Arabs, many of the chiefs of whom had old scores to settle with

the inhabitants of Zanzibar.

They had orders from the Sultan of Lamoo to bring back with them the

Sultan of Zanzibar--alive. He must be alive, Lamoo said, for in the

fierce heat of the tropics, "if dead he would not keep a day."

The Sultan of Lamoo found great pleasure in preparing quarters for his

coming sovereign guest. The palace, which looks a very noble one and

quite imposing from the broad river front, was specially refurnished,

and all that the art of the twentieth century could suggest was lavished

thereon. He had even ordered new dresses for himself all ablaze with

the most precious stones, and the ladies of his harem were also, much to

their delight, refitted as it were. For this wicked Sultan was to lead

his august prisoner all through the palace--securely manacled of

course--in order to dazzle his eyes with its gorgeousness.

He had bought the best new gramophones and pianolas for this especial

purpose, with pictures galore, and carpets as soft as feather beds.

Indeed he had not regarded expense in any way, and determined even to

permit his majesty to have a peep inside his beautiful harem, the ladies

of which he had specially trained to close on his entry in every form of

gracefulness imaginable, and on these as they posed colour flash lights

were to be turned.

This was all very delightful, especially for Lamoo himself, but his

guest's bedroom had also to be refitted and replenished, for here he was

to remain for a week, or as much longer as he chose to live without

food, unless he chose to devour the awful rats and reptiles with which

this slimy dungeon was purposely stored.

When the fleet was once fairly at sea, the three happiest men anywhere

on the coast of Africa were Admiral Abdularram, who gloated on the

thoughts of the coming bombardment, the Sultan of Zanzibar because he

was in blissful ignorance of what was to happen, and Lamoo himself, as

he mused all day and dreamt all night about the treat he had in store

for his kingly guest.

*CHAPTER XVII*

*THE MIDGET FLEET. BOMBARDMENT. FEARFUL SCENES*

When nations or peoples go to war, they invest the Supreme Being with a

new title, which is, in my opinion, blasphemous in the extreme. They

speak of Him, address Him, pray to Him, as the God of War, or God of

Battles.

And, indeed, the priests of both sides do a large amount of praying.

Each thinks his own cause the most just, and endeavours to invoke from

Heaven strength for armies and navies, and blessings on every shot, so

to speak, that shall be fired. And yet, every bursting shell may send

hundreds into eternity and seal their doom for ever.

The Prince of Lamoo certainly did his share of praying. He prayed so

much on that holy carpet of his, that he narrowly escaped having

housemaid's knee.

But--and it is just here where the absurdity of the situation comes

in--between the hours of prayer he went to have another look through his

splendid palace, or gave orders for a few more loathsome reptiles to be

introduced into the coming king's bedroom.

And as his fleet sailed south and away, Abdularram prayed also many

times and often, never failing between whiles to note whether or not the

scimitars and swords of his men, and his own pet dagger, which had so

often wept blood, possessed sufficient keenness of edge to please him.

In four or five days' time the midget fleet were within an easy distance

of Zanzibar, but stopped dead now till the darkness should fall.

About six o'clock, as usual in those regions, the sun sank behind the

horizon, casting a red gleam of light across the waves, crimson as the

blood that would flow ere he once more appeared in the golden east.

Wireless telegraphy had reached its highest pitch of perfection by this

time. Indeed, it was possible then to wire wirelessly round the world,

as an Irishman expressed it.

And long before the arrival of the little Armada, a passenger steamer,

which had it seen it, came tearing into Zanzibar, and made her report to

the British Consul.

There was not a moment to spare. A rumour of something terrible on the

wing had already reached his ears, and he lost no time in dispatching

messages in every direction.

He warned the Sultan also, and his fleet. Then he warned different

consulates.

The Sultan had the utmost confidence in his fleet. The fleet hardly

scarcely troubled to prepare.

The insolent Armada could be sunk very easily when it came--to-morrow.

The torpedo nets and booms were all in beautiful confusion, but, of

course, they could be easily put into order and lowered if

necessary--to-morrow.

It was observed, however, that the German and Portuguese consulates had

already retired into their forest homes, and as for the Americans, well,

they took the hint so kindly given.

The U.S.A. Consul, in a polite note to the British, thanked him for the

tip, which would be taken forthwith. The consulate, luckily, he said,

was well insured against burglars and fire, in five or six offices.

Meanwhile, would the British Consul be good enough to give _his_, the

American Consul's compliments to the ladies, and say, under the

circumstances, it would be impossible to play that game of poker next

evening, but that he hoped, etc., etc., etc.

But before either battle or bombardment began, needles began to waggle

and prattle on no less than three British cruisers that were on their

way from India, also in the wireless telegraphic office at the Cape, and

from that messages flew over the sea to send back the _Breezy_, and on

towards Zanzibar with all speed. If the midget fleet had done any

mischief, they were to capture, burn, or in other ways destroy it,

wherever it could be found.

Nor were the Americans behind hand. The signalling station might be

knocked down, or fired, so they must make good use of it before such an

accident befel it. As good luck would have it, two Yankee battle-ships

of tremendous strength were well within hail. The consul wired them at

once, well, he wirelessly wired them, and the message ran somewhat as

follows:

"If this Marconi reaches the American battle-ships, _Niagara_ and

_Delaware_, alias _Blue Blazes_, and the _Plunger_, will they please

make all speed hither to save us, and other American citizens, from the

wrath to come to-morrow. Come with your thunders and defend the flag.

A fleet of pirates is now on its way to bombard us, and in Zanzibar

to-morrow the devil himself will be let loose, and the whole show

painted red."

Nothing more could be done. For shortly after dark, cleared for action,

the midget fleet was once more on the wing. A darker nor more dismal

night had never been seen in the roadstead before. Nor a wilder, for as

if to aid the Armada, a breeze had sprung up, which rapidly increased to

half a gale, with the usual accompaniments in these latitudes, of loud

thunder and rain, that at one time more resembled the bursting of a

waterspout than anything else.

The Sultan's ships twitched and tugged at their anchors, which some of

them even dragged.

On so fearful a night surely the Armada would dare to do nothing, could

do nothing. Like the Spanish Armada of the brave days of old, Lamoo's

midget fleet would be scattered or sunk.

The _Breezy_ was making good way southward, when old Marconi began to

speak.

Sometime after, little Sneyd ran into the ward-room with a bit of flimsy

in his hand. The officers were discussing nips of sherry and bitters,

or curacoa and brandy, or anything good and handy, that would encourage

the appetite. Very wrong this was indeed, but dinner would soon be

laid, and there was a sad want of excitement among all hands, the

depression that always follows a fight, whether victorious or the

reverse.

"Honolulu!" cried Sneyd, "I'd give a day's pay to know who on earth does

hold the ribbons in the British Navy."

"If you did," said Guilford quietly, "you would make things hum,

wouldn't you, my dear little jumping Moses?"

"But look here. Here's a pretty go. Here is a blooming muddle! First,

we were ordered to fly to the Cape, now we are called back, ordered

back, kicked back, confound 'em, I say,

"Confound their politics,

Frustrate their Navy tricks."

"Hurrah! Hear, hear; but what is it all about?"

"They're going to board and burn Zanzibar, as far as I can see of it--a

fleet from Lamoo is going to bring down the sleepy Sultan by the run."

The Captain at this moment sent for the first lieutenant, and in two

minutes' time, if not less, the _Breezy_ had turned almost on her own

length, and was rushing through the waves at full speed, on her way back

to the city of the Arab Sultan.

At this time it was quite the fashionable thing for the foreign resident

gentry of this place to have lodges in the sylvan interior, to which

they could retreat for real quiet, and real hygiene, for as regards

matters sanitary, there was still in the city itself much to be desired.

There were good roads thereto, so men mounted their motors, and hurried

their families into what they looked upon as places of safety.

But for the most part, they themselves returned to see the fun, as they

phrased it. Then came on the terrible storm. Whatever might happen

now, they must bear the brunt of it.

* * * * *

Abdularram was as fierce in his wrath as any Viking of old, for his

hatred of his foes, the British, no amount of blood could ever quench.

He had felt highly honoured when he was appointed Arab Admiral of the

midget fleet. His Sultan told him that he admired his courage, his

wisdom, and fighting qualities. But, there was one proviso that, brave

as he was, Abdularram did not quite care about. He, this mighty

chieftain, would remain Admiral of the fleet as long as he lived, on one

condition only, namely, that he returned to the palace with his enemy

alive, if he did not, he should be deposed, and cast into the dungeon,

so well prepared, there to die and rot. He even permitted Abdularram to

take a lantern, and enter the dreadful place, and have one look around.

This, he felt certain, would impress his Admiral. Abdularram did as he

was bid, had one peep round, and rushed out again, apparently in all the

terrors of some ghastly nightmare. The dungeon had certainly impressed

him, so much so, that he made a vow never to enter there again.

On such a night as this no officer of the Sultan's fleet dreamt of an

attack. If the enemy were really approaching, they would wait for

sunrise, then the Sultan's fleet would be under weigh to meet theirs.

Had it been calm, it would have been impossible for a ship of any kind

to approach the anchored fleet without being heard. There were the roar

of the wind, the rage of the lashing waves, lit up every now and then by

spectral lightning, and the artillery crash of the thunder.

But shortly before midnight, and while the British Consul himself, with

one or two friends, sat in an unlit room, smoking and occasionally

gazing seawards, suddenly the pitch darkness out yonder was lit up with

the fires of death and destruction. An explosion was heard, far louder

and awe-inspiring than any that ever before had shaken the city's

foundations.

One of the biggest ships was blown up, literally broken into two

gigantic fragments, the red ends of which shot up into the air in the

centre of a perfect volcano of light and fire. In the midst of this,

could be seen, along with debris of every description, the mangled and

dismembered bodies of scores of poor wretches, who had not been given

time even to utter a cry or explanation.

Then a seething plunge, as the wreck sunk down, followed by a darkness

that could be, metaphorically speaking, cut with a sabre.

But pieces of the wreck were hurled as far as the sands, on which they

fell, still hot and blazing.

Another explosion took place very soon after. It was, if anything, more

horrible. A third, a fourth, and a fifth.

The torpedoes had done their terrible work with a completeness that had

never before been equalled.

Two vessels, had not been sunk, but one of these had taken fire, white

smoke spued up from her first, then flames quickly spreading fore and

aft.

And by the light of this blaze of war the Sultan's flagship could still

be seen swaying safe and stately at her moorings.

A more terrible, because less sudden fate was reserved for her.

Abdularram knew his business. He knew that three or four times a week

the youthful Sultan was in the habit of sleeping on board this

battle-ship, the after quarters having been furnished for his sake with

all the luxuriousness of an eastern palace.

"He may be there to-night," thought the great chief, "and I have orders

to make him prisoner. Never a torpedo must be fired in her direction,

never a hair of the monarch's head must fall to the ground."

Guided by telephonic communication with Admiral Abdularram's ship, the

midget fleet had pierced the darkness in two lines, and taken up

positions in the same formation in which Nelson had placed his ships at

the battle of the Nile.

Arab's eyes are more used to darkness than a European's, so with their

twinkling lights, that the Zanzibarees had not even taken the precaution

to put out, each ship in the anchored fleet could be correctly

positioned. Apart from this, the lightning that flickered and flashed

ghost-like about their hulls would have given the clue to the enemy.

This great flagship now began to vomit forth fire and shot and shell,

and the rattle of her belching guns was louder far than the loudest

thunder.

But in the inky night there was now no visible target, for the burning

ship had soon blown up. They might as well have fired in the empty air.

Then flashlights were turned upon her by the enemy, lighting her up

fitfully, and for a moment or two only.

For the time being, the streams of electric light were only necessary to

guide the midgets towards her.

Five of these latter surrounded her, and a hellish legion of fierce

cutlass-armed fighting Arabs swarmed on board of her.

There had been a sudden lull in the storm, the thunder had also ceased

to rattle, though the seas still lashed in fury. It was as if Nature

appalled, held her breath to witness the horrors of the fight that was

now raging on the battle decks of the Sultan's flagship.

The cries, the yells, the wild appeals for mercy, could be distinctly

heard at the Consul's window, and added to the horror of this terrible

night.

But it was soon over. The crew had all been slain, or leapt overboard

in wild panic, and those who remained alive were rushed below and

imprisoned, The Sultan was not found.

The flagship's fires had been found banked, and soon after her capture,

with every light extinguished, she was steaming out to sea.

About the same time flash lights began to gleam from the Sultan's

palace, and the forts opened fire at last.

A bit of useless braggadocio, for had the enemy been visible, which they

were not, those gunners could not have hit a single ship. In fact,

there is strong reason for believing that when a gun was trained, or a

broadside to be fired by electricity the men placed their fingers in

their ears and fell flat on the gallery floor.

The midget fleet, it was believed, had gone for the night. It was

swallowed up in the black beyond. The Sultan, terror-stricken now, and

weeping like a boy of ten, had been shut up in the inner recesses of his

palace, and his bodyguard tripled.

The enemy had retired, it is true, but in three hours' time it gave

ample evidence that, instead of having gone for good, it lingered out

yonder for evil.

Without doubt it had come to stay until it had accomplished the object

of its mission.

But now the sky had cleared, and the calm had come.

Out shone the radiant stars, and a moon in its last quarter shed silver

radiance on the sea.

The beach at Zanzibar is of clearest sand, the blocks of buildings

facing the roadstead whiter than granite, and in the dim light of the

stars and scimitar moon they could be easily seen at a distance of two

miles, and even at this long distance, with his midget fleet,

Abdularram, knowing well the accuracy of his gunners' aim, commenced the

bombardment of Zanzibar.

Their plan was to watch and wait till a volume of white smoke with a

centre of fire showed out on shore, and to aim and fire at that

particular spot.

The Admiral of the fleet thought that by this means he would manage soon

to silence the forts.

He knew the British Consulate, and guns were laid, and, indeed, for

every white block of building it was possible to distinguish, with the

exception of the palace itself.

His desire was to show the Sultan that so long as he remained there he

was safe.

Zanzibar's guns, however, took much longer to silence than Abdularram

could have credited; and when the sun once more rose over the sea, the

shells from the fort being now better planted, he considered it prudent

to take up a position farther away, where he knew his vessel would be

safe.

This Arab Viking, if the truth must be told, was more at home in a

sailing fighting dhow than in a ship of war.

He had, nevertheless, performed one of the most wonderful feats of

modern times, namely, the boarding and carrying by cutlass and revolver

of a great and mighty battle-ship.

After a time there was a lull in the firing from both sides.

Abdularram felt himself sure of that city. Zanzibar, he told his

captain, was sure to fall, and its Sultan, to say nothing of the best

part of his harem, would be in his power.

"And after that, your Highness?" the captain asked, with an evil glare

in his eye.

"After that," replied Abdularram, "the looting and sacking of the city."

He smiled grimly as he thought of it. The cruelty of the pirates in

days of old has hardly any parallel in the twentieth century, and I now

ask myself, ere penning the concluding lines of this chapter, whether I

should tell my young readers anything of the tragedy that now took place

on board the conquered battleship. I shall do so in the simplest

language I can command, and in the least graphic. And I do this much,

because I know and feel that our British boys, who I trust will grow up

good and brave defenders of their fatherland, may realize some of the

horrors of naval warfare.

And savage and ruthless as Abdularram was, he was no worse than Napoleon

Buonaparte, who slew his prisoners by thousands.

Few Arabs are such devils at heart as Buonaparte was, and even this man

before giving orders for the deed of horror to be committed, led

gradually up to it in a conversation with Captain Suleiman.

"My Captain," he said, "those men of the _Mahomed's Pride_ (the

flagship) fought well and bravely."

"Alas! yes, as our dead and wounded can testify," was the cautious

reply.

"They nevertheless encumber us greatly; but though, no doubt, you have

them securely battened down they were sealed up so quickly that it was

impossible disarm them. They have still their swords and cutlasses?"

"Yes, sahib."

"I mean to man the guns of _Mahomed_ with our own brave fellows, and

turn them against the city.

"Yes, good sahib."

"But what if, at the very commencement of the fight, the prisoners break

loose from the hold, like a horde of foul fiends, and attempt to retake

the ship, and if successful, turn her powerful guns on our midget

fleet?"

"I do not fear for that; we could overpower them, I think," said

Suleiman.

"Yes, I believe we might, but the slaughter would be harrowing."

His captain did not answer. He waited.

"It would be best of all," said the Admiral, at last, "to get rid of

them in a more humane and safer way. Suleiman," he added, "it must be

done!"

And Suleiman knew what was meant, and that the order for the execution

of two hundred prisoners had to be given by him.

"The die is cast!" said Abdularram.

And he walked aft to smoke a pipe of opium. The plank was rigged, it

was long, wide, well-balanced, and commanded at the ship end by a strong

rope.

The further end was made slippery with vegetable oil.

The prisoners were then ordered up in batches of ten--disarmed, of

course.

The poor fellows knew their doom, and most of them went quietly to

death.

But the scene was soul-harrowing, for some of them refused to mount, and

even attempted to fly at the necks of their enemies.

I'll go no further, only to say, that all throughout this awful and

sickening execution, the battle-ship was _going ahead at full speed,

lest some of the unhappy wretches should attempt in their agony to

clamber back on board again_.

When it was all over, the decks were sluiced down, but not properly

cleaned, so that blood still lurked dark in cracks and seams.

Then laying down his little pipe, Abdularram, in his jewelled uniform,

stalked stately forth from his room.

"They have gone?" he said.

"Yes, sahib."

"Thank Allah! He has delivered His enemies and ours into our hands.

Breakfast, and prayers, now, Suleiman."

The breakfast was no mockery, but surely the prayers were.

After all this, well knowing the advantage and restorative power of

rest, Abdularram ordered every man who could be spared to lie down and

sleep.

And motionless for hours upon the blue bosom of the great deep, lay the

midget fleet, and the huge and stately battleship.

*CHAPTER XVIII*

*FURIOUS FIGHTING ON SEA AND LAND*

The bombardment began in earnest about midday.

The midget fleet remained at a respectable distance, keeping up a

plunging fire. Abdularram meant to keep his own ships afloat though he

cared nothing about the mighty leviathan that had been flagship to the

feeble-kneed young Sultan of Zanzibar. Indeed, she was advanced later

on in the day very close indeed to the city.

She was prettily manoeuvred too, and poured broadside after broadside

into the principal part of the town, which now lay completely at its

mercy.

The British Consul had remained and also the American, and about four in

the afternoon they succeeded in getting audience of the Sultan himself.

They had been unable to see him sooner. He had a headache, and was

lying down, his prime minister told them.

The Sultan received him in what we may call his reception room, for want

of a better name.

He remained seated and looked ghastly pale and old. Indeed, though

little more than twenty, he seemed quite an aged man, with the exception

of his black and flowing locks.

The British Consul stopped to bow at the audience chamber door.

So quickly had he stopped that the tall raw-boned American Consul, who

appeared always to be in a hurry, and who was coming up behind, ran foul

of him with such force that both were precipitated on the carpet.

The carpet was exceedingly rich and soft, yet, to say the least of it,

this was rather an undignified way of entering into the presence of so

great a Sultan.

"Come, I say," cried Munro the American, as he gathered himself up, fold

after fold, from off the floor, "why the old Harry did you stop and

protrude your stern like that? I believe I've split my blessed

breeches."

Before Mr. Johnson could gather himself up, for he was somewhat John

Bull-ish fore and aft, Munro had stepped over him, and advanced to the

regal chair.

"Shake," he said, holding out a long, bony, twelve-inch hand.

The Sultan moved not, nor answered. Was he not a king?

"Shake!" shouted the Consul, in a voice that made the jewelled ornaments

round the room ring and tinkle. "How long have you been deaf?"

The Sultan now condescended to shake hands with both Consuls.

Munro wheeled quickly round to a liveried or uniformed attendant.

"I say," he cried, "fetch us two brandies and a split, I see this is

going to be dry work."

The gentleman whom he addressed was really one of the Sultan's ministers

and advisers.

He smiled as he looked comically at Munro. "Would ye no hae a drap o'

the auld kirk," he said. "It's prime stuff and a' the wey fae

Glendronach."

"Ho, ho, ho," laughed Munro. "You're Scotch are you?"

"Ay, man, and a Banffshire laddie for bye. But, dod, man, I have ma ain

adees (troubles) wi' that fushionless sinner, yonder."

A shell at this moment burst in the air outside, and the concussion

shivered the glass in the window.

"Losh!" said the Scot, "that's gey near and vera emphatic."

The Sultan leapt up and would have bolted had not Sandie caught him by

the skirts and thrust him back into his chair of state again.

"Off you go, my friend, and order the drinks; I'm going to talk big to

this little Arab."

There was no respect for "nigger Sultans" in Munro's mind.

"I say, young fellow," he cried, "this is a pretty kettle of fish, ain't

it? You're in a jolly tight corner you know."

"Oh! Can you save me?" whimpered the Sultan. "That pirate king will

slay us all."

"Not he. He will pay some degree of respect for the Stars and Stripes

and the Yewnion Jack, you may bet your bottom dollar on that. No, young

fellow, it is you they are after, and they're going to catch you alive

too. Your fleet is all down below among the jelly-fish except your

flag-ship. They are knocking everything about but sparing your palace."

"Where shall I hide? whither shall I fly? I must hie me to my harem.

"Nary a hie my dear boy; if that pirate king, as you call him, comes on

shore, one of the first places he will visit will be your harem. He

will soon have you out of there."

"But where--where--can I go?"

"Well, to tell you the truth the coal cellar would be the best place for

a potentate like you. Ah, here come the drinks. I suppose your

Highness won't join us? No?"

"Now then," he continued, "let us finish this talkee-talkee. I'm not

giving John Bull here a show, but he can put in his oar when he

pleases."

"I'll leave the talking to you, sir," said Johnson.

"And, young fellow, have you called out your troops?"

"They are assembling. They are now in the bush," said the Sultan.

"Well, I'd keep them there for a time. How many maxims?"

"Only a few."

"Get them under weigh. Then I think we may be able to repel these

fellows if they attempt to land. Write us a note now, introducing us to

your general, and John Bull and I will take it."

"Meanwhile where shall I hide my august person?"

"There is a rare lot of the august about your high-and-mightiness I must

say, but 'pon honour, old chap, you'll feel safer and more at home in

the coal cellar. I'm not joking, really."

Then both consuls bowed, and made for the door.

Mr. Johnson lingered a moment to smile and say, "Keep up your heart,

Sultan; it is sure to come right in the end."

"Allah be praised for those words of comfort!" whimpered the Sultan, "I

shall do what is best in His sight."

At this moment the bombardment seemed to be at its fiercest and the

inhabitants of the doomed city were terror-stricken. Never before had

anyone here, Arab, Parsee, Hindu, or negro slave, heard the sound of a

gun fired in anger, nor the sound of a bursting shell. For the most

part they lay low in their houses, fearing to go into the open or trust

themselves in the bush, so that the usually crowded streets were now

almost deserted.

Johnson and Munro got horses from the Sultan's stables and went tearing

out to the sylvan suburbs.

They found here about 5,000 Arab soldiers. Only the ghost of an army,

for of late years it had been much neglected, and many of the men were

now unarmed while others had merely the long, old-fashioned Arab guns.

But they had all spears and swords.

Darkness fell before the two consuls were able to evoke something like

order and arrangement in this force. Only their presence had been a

comfort to the officers, while the men were in good spirits and

evidently burning for a fight.

Would the enemy land, and if so where and when? A complete row of

sentinels were spread within hail of each other as far round the beach

as they could be extended, and the Sultan's troops were held in

readiness to march, upon any given spot.

But the night passed quietly away. Abdularram saw the futility now of

wasting his ammunition in the darkness.

The name of the gunner who fired the shot in a moment of forgetfulness

at the palace itself, was taken, and for the present he went unpunished,

as the Admiral could not spare him, but he was to fight now under the

not very comforting assurance that the moment the city capitulated or

was carried by assault he would be hanged or thrown into the sea, which

after the fearful tragedy of the day before was now alive with monstrous

sharks. The hundreds of poor fellows who had become their prey had only

whetted their appetites as a few oysters before dinner would that of a

gourmand.

Many of the houses far beyond the beach had been knocked down by shells,

and set fire to over the heads of the buried inmates, alive or dead.

The glare from these lit up the sky, but as yet there was no general

conflagration.

Another night wore on, and at sunrise the bombardment was recommenced

and kept up intermittently all day long. The shooting of the Zanzibar

gunners was very bad indeed. But the forts themselves, which had only

been built to replace older walls about a year ago, were of great

strength, and faced with metal, so that it was evident they would take a

much longer time to silence than Abdularram had calculated on. As some

of these commanded the entrance of the palace, silenced they would have

to be before Lamoo's great admiral could capture the Sultan.

Day after day the desultory fire was kept up, but on the sixth it became

fierce and fearful, and it was evident to everyone that Abdularram was

about to attempt a _coup de main_.

That night shells rained and burst over the old town itself, and soon it

was on fire from end to end, and the flame-stricken inhabitants,

hundreds of whom had been slain, were fleeing to the bush for their

lives.

From the sea the conflagration was an impressive and awful spectacle.

It must be seen from the mainland even from B---- itself and Abdularram

had two of his best vessels to intercept any vessel who might send

assistance. These did patrol duty and warned off all ships of all

sorts.

Meanwhile in the darkness, and in a distant part of the island,

Abdularram had landed 2,000 of his fighting braves. This from the

flag-ship and with very great caution, his object being to make a

forced, but silent march on the city, taking it in flank or rear.

The sentinels, there were six of these to one mile of beach, were

keeping their lonely vigil, honestly enough, but they neither saw nor

heard a black and armed boat glide in and land about a dozen warriors.

The oars had been muffled, and the men were half naked and black from

head to foot. Armed with daggers only.

They crept silently through the bush in pairs, and approached as

stealthily as tigers till within a yard or two of their victims, and

these were knifed before they could utter a cry or give an alarm.

The beach thus cleared offered an easy landing to the troops, and long

before daylight they had reached the camp of the Sultan's army, and

attacked it with such fearful determination that in a few minutes what

remained of it were scattered panic-stricken into the woodlands, or

hurled back towards the flaming city.

Few who witnessed even a tithe of the horrors of that dread night will

be likely to forget it till their dying day.

Those victorious tigers of the sea cared neither for drink nor food, it

was blood, blood, blood, they thirsted for, money that they sought, but

vice and lust also held their souls enthralled, and it is well to draw a

veil--it needs a big one--over the scenes that took place in almost

every street that the fire had spared.

But in the darkness they must attack and carry the palace.

Little did they know what was prepared for them. For here by the gates

maxim guns had been stationed manned by men, both British and American,

men who knew what maxims were too, for some had been volunteers in

well-beloved Britain, and others had served in American regiments.

Abdularram's little army was foiled. It was driven back decimated by

the hell-fire of these guns without having been able to cross a bridge

or force a gate.

They retreated in some sort of order, however, and made their way to the

beach, and here they speedily threw up trenches some distance away from

the frowning forts.

They were making signals, too, for assistance. And just before daylight

assistance did come. But it was not for them.

The brave _Breezy_ had come in by stealth, attracted by the lights of

the flagship some time after she had landed the fighting forces.

They understood now at once what the position of affairs was and, before

Abdularram realised what was up, torpedoed the ship, which, although she

but lifted her bows a little way out of the water, it was evident had

received her death blow, for she began now to fill rapidly and to

settle. Abdularram himself was seen on her deck, coolly giving orders

for guns to be fired at the _Breezy_.

Before the broadside could be delivered, however, the doom of the mighty

battleship was sealed. Even after she had sunk, men were seen

struggling in the seething waters, and boats from the _Breezy_ were at

once sent to save them.

Many, glad of their lives, were quiet enough, but others drew their

knives as soon as they got over the gunwale and attacked the sailors.

They wounded several before they had their quietus.

Swimming powerfully in the glare of the searchlight and heading for the

shore was a tall and powerful Arab officer. His turban had fallen off

and his long black hair was floating on the water like sea-weed.

He was caught by the boat commanded by Guilford himself, and in which

Kep had entered to help the rescue.

He drew his dagger, and the blow he aimed at Kep had it descended would

have closed this story as far as that poor boy was concerned.

But Abdularram, for it was no other, was struck down by a blow from the

fist of the stroke-oar. And that man was Jack Stormalong.

The Arab Admiral fell on his face at Kep's feet, and to all appearance

dead, for he had been put to sleep and had an ugly gash on the forehead

caused by coming in contact with the side of the boat.

"Thank you, Jack, a thousand times and o'er," said Kep with a smile; "my

old friend here, who now so lowly lies, certainly didn't mean to be

sparing in his attentions to poor little me."

"You're kindly welcome, sir," said Jack; "you would do as much for me

any day, that I know."

"Ay, that I would."

It was the boats of the _Breezy_ that were coming in and that the

piratical soldiers mistook for their friends. They were at once

undeceived, as soon as the quick-firers opened upon them.

They were driven into desperate confusion.

But now the Sultan's troops, whom the American Consul had succeeded in

getting together, approached and quickly attacked the pirates at the

point of the bayonet. And the battle was soon over.

There was still the fleet to deal with, and for hours it looked an ugly

business for the _Breezy_. She had to make a running fight of it all

day long, but after getting two of the midget fleet well away from the

others, she attacked now with her heaviest guns, and was not long in

sinking both.

Meanwhile others of the fleet had made a _detour_, and cutting her off

from the south and seaward began to close in upon her from all round.

"By George!" cried the Captain, "this is being between the devil and the

deep sea with a vengeance."

But suddenly the enemy ceased firing, and went off at full speed towards

the south. And while everyone on the _Breezy_ was wondering what this

extraordinary move meant, there came a hail from one of the fighting

tops.

"Two powerful battle-ships just in sight on the horizon. No, sir, I can

only raise their tops."

A middy was sent up at once and presently he hailed:

"I can see the flags, sir."

"Well, what can you make of them?"

The middy had another long look.

"Why sir, they are Stars and Stripes."

"That must be the _Niagara_ and the _Delaware_."

On board the _Breezy_ there was shaking of hands all round, and laughing

and talking and general jollity fore and aft.

Then up marched the doctor.

"Pardon me, sir, but I think that the crew now will be none the worse of

some medical comforts.

"Certainly, by all means," replied Captain Breezy. "Pipe to dinner,

officer of the watch, and we'll splice the main-brace, Surgeon

McTavish."

* * * * *

The end had not yet come however. The midget fleet must not escape.

So now, although she was somewhat damaged, the _Breezy_ put on all speed

in order to meet the Americans as quickly as possible, and hold a

conference, and in about an hour's time the two nations, Britain and

America, were exchanging salutes.

When Captain Breezy of H.M.S. _Breezy_ went on board the _Niagara_, he

found the Captain of the _Delaware_ there already, and Captain Breezy,

wasting as few words as possible, told the whole sad story, and it was

unanimously agreed that something must be done at once.

"There is no doubt," said Breezy, "that the Lamoo fleet will get back to

their own Sultan as soon as possible, and there is only one way for them

to get there, they must cross the bar one by one, and," he continued,

"it is better, in my opinion, that we should sail for the mouth of that

river and wait their appearance. Their sailing south was only to avoid

meeting you. They will make a wide _detour_ after they are out of

sight, and come straight for the equatorial coast again."

This was agreed to. A steam launch was sent back to Zanzibar to advise

the consuls as to their movements.

They were going on a punitive expedition now--that was the message--they

were to be found near to the mouth of the river, and should a torpedo

boat or destroyer come in as well as the large man o' war which had been

signalled, the former were to come to the river's mouth, the latter to

lie at Zanzibar to defend it.

*CHAPTER XIX*

*KEP COMMANDS A DHOW. A DEPOSED SULTAN*

The weather was now splendid, and the sea smooth and blue like the sky

itself. Just a snow-flake of a cloud here and there, and that was all.

So quickly did these three grand ships dash through the water that they

reached their destination in little over a day's time.

They kept well out to sea however. Had they gone close enough to the

shore to be seen by a sentinel from Lamoo, no doubt the Sultan would

have been apprised of their arrival, and suspecting that something had

gone wrong would have adopted some means or other of warning his ships.

With steam up they lay at a little distance north of the river, for if

some tell-tale dhow had met them to the south, it was within the bounds

of possibility that the master thereof might have reported their

presence.

But only one dhow appeared, and she was requisitioned, much to her

disgust. She was two-masted and very fleet. Her men were taken on

board the battleship to be well tended and cared for. Then the dhow was

manned with enough Kroomen to sail her, and to his great delight Kep

himself, once more got up as an Arab, was put in charge.

This clever lad had spent nearly all his spare time since he joined the

Service in learning the duties of a midshipman, and so hard a student

had he been, that already he could have done all that was required of

such an officer.

He was now to cruise in his dhow near to the mouth of the river, and on

the appearance of the midget fleet coming east again make all sail far

enough to signal to the warships.

It was a glorious thing, Kep thought, to tread the decks of his own

ship. For the time being he felt a real captain and monarch of all he

surveyed. It would be only for a short time, but Kep would have liked

to be skipper of this dhow for a year he thought. The owner of the

craft, had a most superbly furnished poop saloon. The dhow was one of

the largest of its class, and its owner evidently a man of wealth.

By day and by night watches were kept and a constant look out. But it

was the morning of the fourth day before Kep caught sight of the midget

fleet creeping up in line and as near to the wooded shore as it could

get with safety, but slowly, because two were crippled.

"Ready about!" shouted Kep, and at the touch of the helm the great sails

came round and the dhow was soon dashing eastwards.

As soon as the tops of the warships were visible he signalled, and in a

very short time he had the pleasure of seeing them bearing down towards

him.

He waited until he could point out the right direction, and as he was

not ordered to come on board he thought he might as well follow on in

his dhow and see the fun.

It was terrible fun, for the warships certainly gave the enemy little

time to say his prayers. The result was that half the fleet was sunk,

and four captured, others escaped to be captured another day.

It was lucky they had captured those four midgets for the _Breezy_ could

never have crossed that fearful bar. There was but one opening in and

that not wide, and breakers roar and dash to starboard and port as you

enter.

The day was spent in manning and re-arming those midgets, and there

could be no getting up the river in the darkness.

But when another glorious day awakened those silent forests to life and

love, the bluejackets and marines, to the number of seventeen hundred

Americans and British, and with a few sturdy Kroomen, were put on board

and started with three ringing cheers; there was little else but

standing room, for Jack Stormalong knew every inch of this river, and he

was made pilot. Captain Breezy himself took command, Guilford was there

as well as the tall athletic surgeon, and Kep, still in his Arab dress,

was taken as interpreter.

In dealing with savages or semi-savages, and the inhabitants of Lamoo

were little better, there is nothing beats audacious coolness coupled

with firmness.

This scoundrel Sultan was taken unawares, the flower of his little army

had gone with the expedition. Those he had left he could not trust, so,

as Jack Stormalong phrased it, he was up aloft and the rigging cut.

Captain Breezy in full uniform landed with Kep in his own, with only a

few marines as a body guard, and landed on the beach with the greatest

_sang froid_. This sailor had never known what fear was, and the British

navy owned no braver man. He asked for a guide to the Sultan's palace

and half a dozen sooty scoundrels begged for the honour of conducting

him.

They were dressed only in cummerbunds or little canvas kilts, and each

carried a spear. Corner boys were they of this wild city, the only

thing stately about which were the forts and the lofty palace.

When the Sultan heard an hour before this that his fleet was returning

triumphant, he rejoiced and was exceedingly glad. His greatest enemy

would soon be in his clutches and he would have the rarest fun on earth.

He was resting in his audience chamber when Captain Breezy with

Kep--leaving the marines outside--were shown in. If a half-black Arab

could turn pale that Sultan would have done so now. The Captain and Kep

bowed low and the Sultan advanced and held out his hand. Captain Breezy

did not see it.

"Tell the fellow all I told you," he said to Kep.

Kep appeared to grow suddenly three inches taller. He held his head

erect and cleared his throat.

"Ahem! you see before you, Mr. Sultan," he said in his best Arabic, "the

might, and pomp, and power of the British nation."

That seemed a good beginning, and the Sultan, who really was a splendid

specimen of the dark Arabs, looked at Kep from toe to top somewhat

curiously.

"You see before you," continued Kep, "the offended dignity of that

nation. Your accursed fleet has laid most of the city of Zanzibar in

ashes, has destroyed and burned the British and American Consulate, and

we come in our might and strength to demand redress."

An amused and somewhat haughty smile was visible for a moment on the

Sultan's face. Then an angry frown.

"What is to hinder me," he cried, "from throwing the might and power of

Britain, in the persons of you two badly armed men, into my handsomely

furnished dungeon. One word and----"

"You dare not. If we are not safely back in one brief half hour, our

fleet shall silence your forts, set your palace on fire, and your city

as well, and you shall see the inside of a British ship as our prisoner,

on your way to Ceylon or St. Helena.

"And now we leave you to your reflections. If we have no answer in one

hour's time we shall proceed to action."

Next moment they marched out with marvellous coolness and soon reached

the boat.

Breezy took out his watch.

"A quarter to twelve," he said. "By a quarter to one the men will have

finished dinner, and then for business, for I expect no answer from that

fellow."

The forts, although the guns were good, were badly positioned, and the

little fleet lay just round the bend of the river in a most commanding

situation.

Now this Sultan--Said Hassam to name--was the most unpopular man on the

coast at this time, and his own people were only waiting for an excuse

to depose him.

It was half-past twelve when a magnificently adorned gondola-looking

barge swept round the corner, and three richly dressed Arabs requested

audience of Captain Breezy.

The interview took place aft on the upper deck, and was just as brief as

it was important. One a very old man, who looked like a prophet, Kep

thought, told the Captain, through Kep, that they had been opposed to

the sending of an expedition against Zanzibar, but were over-ruled by

the Sultan himself, and that the city had been about to rise and depose

him even had the ships not arrived.

"This is very satisfactory if true."

"You have our word of honour."

"We shall have to be paid a large indemnity, which my Government," said

Breezy, "must fix."

"We will pay it willingly if not too large and if time be allowed us."

"And the present Sultan must be deposed immediately. We shall take him

prisoner with us to the Cape."

"He is already deposed," answered the old minister smiling grimly, "and

his son reigns in his place. It was all done very quietly."

"He must be brought here," said the Captain, and Kep translated.

"But he is here. I will give orders to have him up at once."

He stepped to the side, and next minute a powerful and burly black

staggered up the ladder with a heavy sack, and, much to the astonishment

of all, threw the body of the late Sultan at the Captain's feet.

There was no mistake about it. He had been deposed with a vengeance.

But this is only an example of the neat and effective way they have of

settling political difference in those regions.

There was no danger now in landing, and not only the officers but even

boatloads of the crews were allowed to go on shore and stretch their

legs.

All agreements having been arranged to the satisfaction of Captain

Breezy, and visits interchanged with the great men of the town, the

fleet dropped down the river next morning, and their friends very much

astonished as well as pleased at their early return.

On the other hand Captain Breezy was not surprised that during his

absence Abdularram had succeeded in committing suicide. He preferred

death to imprisonment.

On board the mighty American ship the British officers dined that

evening, and to his great delight Kep was among the invited.

The Admiral himself took a great pleasure in talking to him.

Kep dined in his handsome Arab suit, and after dinner delighted the

Americans with his marvellous fluting and piano-playing.

He was permitted to go forward while the elder men sat at their wine.

As in the British Service, the men had all extra grog to-night, and a

merry hour was spent in dancing when Kep came amongst them.

Among the toasts of the evening was one which I hope will never be

forgot. It came from the lips of Admiral Gray himself. "This is the

first time," he said, "that the British have fought shoulder to shoulder

with the Americans. Together may we stand in many a stout fight yet to

come."

*CHAPTER XX*

*"THAT BAR OF GOLD WAS STOLEN FROM ME," SAID KEP*

In six weeks' time they were once more leaving Zanzibar and heading

southward for the Cape.

The men of the midget fleet, whom they had taken prisoners, were left at

Zanzibar, and in due time would be tried for piracy and murder on the

high seas, and no doubt many of them would meet the doom they so richly

deserved.

Kep had searched for his Arab friend high and low, but he was not to be

found, and neither he nor dear Zeena would he ever see again. He would

have given a good deal to know they were safe, or even to know something

of their fate, whate'er it may have been.

Kep's little romance was ended.

There were no letters from either Madge or his father, for whom he cared

so much, but he felt sure that both must have written and that their

letters had been destroyed in the bombardment.

The _Breezy_ entered Symon's Bay in triumph. No wonder, for under her

wing were the four captured gun-boats of the midget fleet. And all the

English-speaking world had been singing the praises of the

broadsword-men of the _Breezy_.

Dispatches, of course, and private letters from men in the Admiralty.

Very simple had been the narrative which the bold sailor _Breezy_ had

sent to the Lords Commissioners. But they could read between the lines,

and he was promised his promotion at once if he chose to leave the ship

and go home to take it up.

He decided to hold on to the end of the commission. The officers, too,

would certainly be promoted, and even Kep, it was hinted, was to receive

an appointment when he arrived in England that doubtless would be very

much to his taste--this was mentioned in private letters only. The

Admiralty never forgets its dignity. But what pleased the Captain most

of all was an autograph letter from the King himself, thanking him and

his officers for so bravely upholding the glory of the Royal navy. The

King commanded him also to visit him on his return, if God in His

goodness should spare both their lives.

A mail came in from England before the _Breezy_ once more sailed for the

still-farther east.

There were letters from home for nearly all hands, and one from Kep's

father inside Madge's. Sore and sad was Kep's heart when he read it.

Both were well and likewise Bounder, but Martello Castle and lands were

let, and they were living in a small cottage near the sea. "Very happy,

though," Madge's letter said, and poverty made her love her father all

the more, and he is now proud of you, Kep, so he told her, and we all

long so much to see our dear boy again. There was a postscript, as

there is in most young ladies' letters. It ran as follows: "P.S.--Old

Elspet sends her love, and I haven't married the wealthy Israelite yet."

The last word was strongly underlined. Kep kissed the letter, and there

were tears in his eyes as he refolded it.

He would put it under his pillow to-night just to see what he should

dream about. Well, I for one cannot laugh at Kep, for often enough when

far away at sea I've kept letters from home under my pillow for weeks.

It was hours and hours before Kep fell asleep that night,

notwithstanding. Madge's letter brought the past back again so vividly.

Ah! he had been happier than he knew of.

The splendid old castle, the cliffs and rocks and moorlands wild and

wide, and his own little turret chamber high above the rookery in the

rustling elms. Was he never to see them more?

Never as a boy, and, ah! boyhood is life's brightest happiest season.

The _Breezy_ had been in commission nearly two and a half years, and

there was at least a year to go by yet, and then Kep was to have an

appointment.

It could not be as a middy, or anything of that sort, of course, because

the laws of the Admiralty are inflexible. The executive officers have

all to enter the service between the ages of twelve and thirteen.

Never mind, Kep determined to continue his study of languages, and of

everything else, and who could tell what he might not rise to in course

of time.

Kep, the reader does not need to be told, was very clever, and moreover

he had a first-class idea of himself, and I never blame any boy for

that.

At all events one never does get to the top of the tree unless he tries

to, and Kep made a vow that night that he was going to try and keep on

trying hard as ever he knew how to.

As to the letter under his pillow well--he never dreamt a single dream.