elbowing them aside as they passed. Sebastian found it difficult to concentrate.
His two accomplices were involved in a family discussion.
It seemed that Walaka's youngest daughter had given birth to a fine son, but that during his absence aleopard had raided Walaka's village and killed three of his goats. The new grandson did not seem to compensate Walaka for the loss of his goats. He was distressed.
'Leopards are the excrement of dead lepers,' he said, and would have enlarged on the subject but Sebastian interrupted him.
'Tell me of the things you have seen on this canoe. Say swiftly,
there is little time. I must go before the Allemand comes for all of us with the ropes.' Mention of the ropes brought the meeting to order,
and Walaka launched into his report.
There were fires burning in the iron boxes in the belly of the canoe. Fires of such heat that they pained the eye when the door of the box was opened, fires with a breath like that of a hundred bush fires, fires that consumed... 'Yes, Yes.' Sebastian cut short the lyrical description.
'What else?' There had been a great carrying of goods, moving of them to one side of the canoe to make it lean in the water.
They had carried boxes and bales, unbolted machinery and guns.
See how they had been moved. They had taken from the rooms under her roof a great quantity of the huge bullets, also the white bags of powder for the guns and placed them in other rooms on the far side.
'What else?' There was more, much more to tell. Walaka enthused about meat which came out of little tins, of lanterns that burned without wick, flame or oil, of great wheels that spun, and boxes of steel that screamed and hummed, of clean fresh water that gushed from the months of long rubber snakes, sometimes cold and at other times hot as though it had been boiled over a fire. There were marvels so numerous that it confused a man.
'These things I know. Is there nothing else that you have seen?'
Indeed there was. The Allemand had shot three native porters, lining them up and covering their eyes with strips of white cloth. The men had jumped and wriggled and fallcii in a most comical fashion, and after-wards the GerJulius had washed the blood from the deck with water from the long snakes. Since then none of the other porters had helped themselves to blankets and buckets and other small movables the price was exorbitant.
Walaka's description of the execution had a chilling effect on
Sebastian. He had done what he had come to do and now his urge to leave Blitcher became overpowering. It was helped on by a German petty officer who joined the group uninvited.
'You lazy black baboons,' he bellowed. 'This is not a bloody
Sunday- school outing move, you swine, move!' And his boots flew. Led by Mohammed's cousin they left Walaka without farewell and scampered back along the deck. Just before they reached the entry port,
Sebastian checked. The two German officers stood where he had left them, but now they were looking up at the high smoke stacks. The tall officer with the golden beard was describing sweeping motions with his outstretched hand, talking while the stocky one listened intently.
Mohammed's cousin scurried past them and disappeared over the side into the launch, leaving Sebastian hesitant and reluctant to run the gauntlet of those pale blue eyes.
'Manali, come quickly. The boat swims, you will be left!'
Mohammed's cousin called from down below, his voice faint but urgent above the chug of the launch's engine.
Sebastian started forward again, his stomach a cold lump under his ribs. A dozen paces and he had reached the entry port.
The German officer turned and saw him. He challenged with raised voice, and came towards Sebastian, one arm outstretched as though to hold him.
Sebastian whirled and dived down the catwalk. Below him the launch was casting off her lines, water churning back from her propeller.
Sebastian reached the grating at the bottom of the catwalk. There was a gap of ten feet between him and the launch. He jumped, hung for a moment in the air, then hit the gunwale of the launch. His clutching fingers found a grip while his legs dangled in the warm water.
Mohammed's Cousin caught his shoulder and dragged him aboard.
They tumbled together in a heap on the deck ofthelaunch.
'Bloody kaffir,' said Herman Fleischer and stooped to cuff them both heavily around the ears. Then he went back to his seat in the stern, and Sebastian smiled at him with something close to affection.
After those deadly blue eyes, Herman Fleischer seemed as dangerous as a teddy-bear.
Then he looked back at Blitcher. The German officer stood at the top of the catwalk, watching them as they drew away, and set a course upstream. Then he turned away from the rail and disappeared.
Sebastian sat on the day couch in the master cabin of HMS.
Renounce, he sagged against the arm-rest and fought off the grey waves of exhaustion that washed over his mind.
He had not slept in thirty hours. After his escape from Blucher there had been the long launch journey up-river during which he had remained awake and jittery with the after-effects of tension.
After disembarking he had sneaked out of Fleischer's camp,
avoiding the Askari guards, and trotted through the moonlight to meet
Flynn and Rosa.
A hurried meal, and then all three of them had mounted on bicycles supplied with the compliments of the Royal Navy, and ridden all night along a rough elephant path to where they had left a canoe hidden among the reeds on the bank of one of the Rufiji tributaries.
In the dawn they had paddled out of one of the unguarded channels of the delta and made their rendezvous with the little whaler from
HMS. Renounce.
Two long days of activity without rest, and Sebastian was groggy. Rosa sat beside him on the couch. She leaned across and touched his arm, her eyes dark with concern.
Neither of them was taking any part in the conference in which the other persons in the crowded cabin were deeply involved.
Joyce sat as chairman, and beside him an older heavier man with bushy grey eyebrows and a truculent jaw, hair brushed in streaks across his pate in an ineffectual attempt to conceal his baldness. This was
Armstrong, Captain of HMS. Pegasus, the other cruiser of the blockade squadron.
'Well, it looks as though Blitcher has made good her damage, then.
If she has fired her boilers, we can expect her to break out any day now von Kleine would not burn up good fuel to keep his stokers warm.'
He said it with relish, a fighting man anticipating a good hard fight.
'There's a message I'd like to give her from Bloodhound and Orion an old account to settle.' But Joyce also had a message, one that had its original the desk of Admiral Sir Percy Howe, Commander-in-Chief, South
Atlantic and Indian Oceans. In part this message read: 'The safety of your squadron considered secondary to containing Blitcher. Risk involved in delaying until Blucher leaves the delta before engaging her is too high. Absolutely imperative that she be either destroyed or blocked at her present anchorage. Consequences of Blitcher running blockade and attacking the troop convoy conveying landing forces to invasion of Tonga will be catastrophic. Efforts being made to send you two tramp steamers to act as block ships, but failing their arrival,
and failing also effective offensive action against B14cher before 30
July 1915, you are hereby ordered to scuttle Renounce and Pegasus in the channel of the Rufiji to block Blitcher's exit.' It was a command that left Captain Arthur Joyce sick with dread. To scuttle his splendid ships a thought as repulsive and loathsome as that of incest, of patricide, of human sacrifice. Today was 26 July, he had four days in which to find an alternative before the order became effective, 'She'll come out at night, of course, bound to!' Armstrong's voice was thick with battle lust. 'This time she'll not have an old girl and a baby like Orion and
Bloodhound to deal with.' His tone changed slightly. 'We'll have to look lively. New moon in three days so Blitcher will have dark nights.
There could be a change in the weather...' Armstrong was looking a little worried now, we'll have to tighten up.'
'Read this,' said
Joyce, and passed the flimsy to Armstrong. He read it.
'My God!' he gasped. 'Scuttle. Oh, my God!'
'There are two channels that Blitcher could use.' Joyce spoke softly. 'We would have to block both of them Renounce and Pegasus!'
'Jesus God!' swore
Armstrong in horror. 'There must be another way.
'I think there is' said Joyce, and looked across at Sebastian.
'Mr. Oldsmith,' he spoke gently, 'would it be possible for you to get on board the German cruiser once again?'
