There were delighted exclamations, for the hand was utterly worthless. It could have been beaten by a single pair of sevens, to say nothing of the triple sevens which St. John had discarded.
With this valueless hand the young naval captain had beaten the American, out-smarting him for almost 900 guineas. It was a spectacular coup. The company gradually realized how carefully it had been engineered, how Clinton had lured his adversary, how he had made a pretence at fumbling uncertainly until exactly the right moment, the moment when he had struck boldly and decisively. They burst into spontaneous applause, the ladies oohing with admiration and the men calling congratulation. Oh jolly good play, sir! ' St. John held the smile, but his lips drew tighter with the effort, and there was a savage glitter in his eyes as he stared at the cards and realized how he had been duped.
The applause subsided, some of the spectators were beginning to turn away still discussing the hand, and St. John began gathering the cards to shuffle when Clinton Codrington spoke. His voice was low but clear, so that nobody about the tables could miss a word of it.
Even a black-birder's luck can run out at last he said. I must admit, I would rather have caught you at your dirty slaver's game than beaten you out of a few guineas tonight.'
The company froze, with gaping at Clinton expressions of horror and comical amazement. The silence in the room seemed impenetrable, the only sound was the ripple and click of the cards as Mungo St. John began to shuffle them, splitting the pack with a click and then running them into each other under his thumbs in a blur of movement.
He did not look down at his hands as he rippled the cards. He never removed his gaze from Clinton's face, and his smile had still not slipped, only there was a flush of colour under the dark sun-touched skin.
You like to live dangerously? ' St. John smiled the question.
Oh, no. ' Clinton shook his head. 'I am in no danger.
In my experience, slavers are all cowards.'
Mungo St. John's smile disappeared, extinguished instantly, and his expression was coldly murderous, but his fingers never broke the rhythm of cut and ripple, and the cards flowed under his fingers as Clinton went on evenly, 'I was led to believe that so-called Louisiana gentlemen had some exalted code of honour, he shrugged. 'I suggest, sir, that you are a living contradiction of that notion.'
Every listener was stunned. Not one of them could doubt what they were hearing; the accusation of slave dealing. To an Englishman, there could be no worse insult.
The last English duels had been fought in 1840 when Lord Cardigan shot Captain Tuckett, and in 1843 when Munro shot his brother-in-law Colonel Fawcett. In consequence of these encounters, the Queen had made her desire for reform known, and the articles of war were amended in the following year, making duelling. an offence. Of course, gentlemen still went abroad, mostly to France, to settle affairs of honour with pistol or sword.
But this was Cape Colony, one of the jewels of the Empire and the Naval Captain was one of Her Majesty's commissioned officers. The evening had proved diverting beyond any expectations, and now there was the promise of blood and violent death charging the gaming-room. Gentlemen, ' an urgent persuasive voice interrupted them. The Admiral's flag-captain had come through from the whist room at the Admiral's orders. 'There has been some misunderstanding.'
But neither of the two men as much as glanced in his direction. I don't think there has been any misunderstanding at all, Mungo St. John said coldly, his gaze still locked with Clinton's. 'Captain Codrington's insults cannot possibly be misinterpreted. 'Mr. St. John, may I remind you that you are on British soil, subject to Her Majesty's laws. ' The flag-captain was becoming desperate. Oh, Mr. St. John sets little store by laws. He sails his slave ship, fully equipped, into a British harbour. ' Clinton stared at the American with cold blue eyes. He would have gone on, but St. John interrupted him harshly, speaking to the flag-captain but addressing the words to Clinton Codrington. 'I would not dream of abusing Her Majesty's hospitality. In any event I will sail with the tide before noon this day, and in four days I shall be far beyond Her Majesty's territory, in latitude 31' 38' south. There is a wide river mouth there, between tall bluffs of stone, a good landing and a wide beach. It is unmistakable. ' St. John stood up. He had recovered his urbane air, and now he adjusted the ruffles of his shirt front and gave the lovely widow his arm. He paused for a moment to look down at Clinton. -, Who knows but that you and I may meet again, when we must certainly discuss the question of honour once more. Until then I give you good morrow, sir.'
He turned away and the spectators fell back ahead of him and seemed to form a guard of honour as St. John and his lady sauntered casually from the room.
The flag-captain flung one furious glare at Clinton. The Admiral wishes to speak with you, sir, and then he hurried after the departing couple, followed them down the curve of the staircase and caught up with them at the double doors of carved teak. Mr. St. John, Admiral Kemp asked me to convey his compliments He sets no store by the rash accusations of one of his junior captains. If he did, he would be obliged to send a party aboard your ship. 'None of us would like that, St. John nodded. 'Nor the consequences. 'Indeed, the flag-captain assured him. 'Nevertheless the Admiral feels that, in the circumstances, you should take advantage of the next fair wind and tide to proceed on your passage. 'Please return my compliments to the Admiral, and convey my assurance that I will clear the Bay before noon.'
At that moment the widow's coach came up, and St. John nodded distantly to the flag-captain and handed the lady up the steps.
From the deck of Black Joke they watched the clipper raise her anchor, her master skilfully backing and filling his topsails to run up on her cable, and break the anchor flukes out of the mud and sand of the bottom of the bay.
As soon as it was free, he piled on his canvas, sail after sail bursting out in quick successive explosions of brilliant white, and Huron tore eagerly out of Table Bay on the south-east wind.
She would be out of sight beyond the lighthouse. at Mouille Point for almost four hours before Black Joke was ready to follow her out of the bay. The Admiralty powder barge was alongside, and all the elaborate precautions for taking on explosives were in force. The red swallow-tail warning flag at the masthead, the boiler fires in the engine room extinguished, the crew barefooted, the decks kept wet with a constant stream from the hoses to prevent a chance spark, and each powder barrel carefully inspected for leakage as it came aboard.
While the engineer refired his boilers the last members of the Ballantyne expedition came aboard. Once again, Zouga's letters of introduction had proved invaluable, and together with his persuasive manner had provided him with the most valuable addition so far to his expedition.
Old Tom Harkness had warned him during the long night discussion, 'Don't try to cross the Chimanimani Mountains without a force of trained men. Beyond the narrow coastal belt there is only one law and it is
