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

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

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

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

The Mate rapped out sulphurous wishes for the Krooboys’ future state.

“Yes, yes,” said Sheriff, “but we’re wasting time.  Come now, Captain, you heard my offer, and you seemed to like it.  I’m waiting for you to fill your part of the bargain.  Away with you ashore, and bring off your army and take possession.”

“I’m afraid, sir,” said Kettle honestly, “you’ve been taking a little too much for granted.  I’ve got no establishment ashore.  I’m just what you see—­a common tramp, or worse, seeing that I’ve been play-acting for my dinners of late.  And as for any help those niggers ashore could give, why, I shouldn’t recommend it.  The one-eyed old son of a dog who’s head-man, has served on ships according to his own