Rounding up the Raider Part 16

In the chart-room a light, imperfectly screened, threw a narrow glare into the mist. The officer of the watch--one of the _Pelikan's_ petty officers--was doubtless indulging in slumber, since it was quite unlikely that Unter-leutnant Klick would have been out of his bunk to satisfy himself that all was well unless an alarm was raised by those on deck.

Cautiously the two blackened figures glided from the shelter of the bulwarks to the raised coaming of the engine-room fidley. Through the iron bars they could see the gleaming mechanism, now at rest, although steam was being kept at working pressure.

Groping, Denbigh felt his fingers come in contact with a cylindrical bundle. It was the rope-ladder enclosed in a canvas cover.

Returning to the side the sub lashed one end of the ladder to the upright of one of the davits. The other he allowed to drop. It touched the surface of the water with hardly a splash. Being too long for the purpose five or six feet of the ladder floated alongside.

There was not sufficient current to trail it out.

Swinging over the bulwark Denbigh felt with his foot for the rungs.

The rope creaked under his weight. He descended until his feet came in contact with the water, then he waited until he saw O'Hara's black form silhouetted against the moon-lit mist.

Thank heaven there were no hippos to be seen, although a splas.h.i.+ng sound at some distance off told the sub that some sort of large amphibians were sporting in the moonlight.

The Irishman's foot lightly touching Denbigh's upheld hand that grasped one of the rungs aroused the sub to action. Three steps down did he take, then he released his hold and struck out into the unknown.

CHAPTER XII

A Perilous Journey

Twenty slow, deliberate, and powerful strokes did Denbigh take, then, treading water, he turned his head to see how his companion was progressing.

In that short distance the outlines of the _Myra_ looked vague and distorted in the eddying vapour. Already the swimmers were practically safe from observation, since O'Hara, who was barely three yards away, looked indistinct in his cork-blackened disguise.

A dozen strokes more and the two officers were in the midst of a sluggish, turgid stream, their horizon bounded by banks of mist. Were it not for the moon, that shone dully through the haze, all sense of direction would have been lost. The water was warm and sickly-smelling. An odour like that of decaying flowers in an ill-ventilated room a.s.sailed their nostrils.

Once O'Hara gave vent to a partly smothered yell as his naked foot came in contact with a slimy water-logged tree. It was easy to imagine unpleasant things in that modern Styx.

At the sound Denbigh turned.

"What's wrong?" he asked in a whisper.

"Nothing," replied the Irishman. "Carry on."

He was swimming rapidly. His quick strokes betrayed his acute anxiety to traverse the stretch of water in as short a time as possible.

"Steady; don't splash," cautioned Denbigh.

A reply to his admonition came from another quarter, for almost in front of the swimmers rose a huge black object, quickly followed by another. In the semi-light the two men could see that these were enormous hippopotami, distinguish even their thick lips and wire-like bristles, and hear the business-like snap of their formidable teeth, capable of biting the side of a boat and shaking the craft like a terrier does a rat.

The two amphibians were gambolling. So intent were they that the swimmers were unnoticed, but for half a minute after the hippos had pa.s.sed Denbigh and O'Hara floated motionless, not trusting to swim forward another foot.

At length, after a seemingly interminable s.p.a.ce of time, the mangrove-covered sh.o.r.e loomed up against the moonlit sky. The banks, thrown into deep shadow, were invisible, until O'Hara, who was now leading, felt his foot touch the slimy ooze that fringed the sh.o.r.e.

With feelings of relief the Irishman waded to the bank and awaited Denbigh's emergence from the river.

"Thank G.o.d," he muttered fervently as Denbigh joined him. "Now, what's the move?"

"Dress," replied his chum laconically.

The two men unfastened their bundles, and proceeded to sacrifice one of their scanty stock of handkerchiefs as a towel. To allow the foetid fresh water to dry on them would be courting a speedy attack of black-water fever.

"We can't see the _Myra_," whispered O'Hara. "How shall we know where to 'kick-off' when we return?"

"Bend that damp handkerchief on to one of the bushes," replied Denbigh.

"We'll have to take jolly good care to----"

His words ended abruptly, and he found himself sitting on the soft ground. In order to facilitate the dressing performance he had sat down upon what he imagined to be a log. The "log" promptly lurched forward and overthrew him. It was a healthy specimen of a crocodile.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE "LOG" WAS A HEALTHY SPECIMEN OF A CROCODILE]

O'Hara gripped his chum's hand and literally lifted him to his feet.

Both men took to their heels, with the now aroused saurian in pursuit.

Luckily the animal was not quick at turning, and before it could do so the two subs placed a safe distance between them and their pursuer.

"There may be others," gasped Denbigh, who half-dressed was clutching the rest of his clothing. "The river bank is too jolly risky. I had my doubts about it. We'll cut inland and risk the forest. It's high ground, as far as I could judge when we came up stream. Therefore it ought not to be swampy. What's more, we'll save half the distance."

"And, possibly, take double the time," added O'Hara, who, although willing to risk the unknown perils of the mangrove forest to the partly-known adversities of the river banks, was rather doubtful as to his comrade's skill in navigation on dry land.

They halted in a little clearing to complete their interrupted task of donning their clothes. With their ears strained to catch the faintest suspicious sound, they struggled into their light cotton garments, that at the best of times were ill-adapted to the miasmic night-mists of the East African coast.

"That's better," exclaimed Denbigh cheerfully. "Feel a bit more civilized. We might pa.s.s muster as a pair of Christy minstrels. Now, then, a few grains of quinine, and we'll be on the move."

O'Hara's reply was to release the safety-pin of his automatic pistol.

Denbigh, who was studying the luminous face of the pocket-compa.s.s, smiled grimly.

"Now I'll admit that little toy may come in handy, old man," he remarked. "Since I lead the way, pray be careful how you finger the trigger. Nor'east by east is the ticket."

Before the adventurers had proceeded fifty yards, a rustling sound overhead brought them up all-standing. Some heavy body was moving from tree-top to tree-top with great rapidity.

"Doesn't sound very healthy," whispered Denbigh with a forced laugh.

"I think I'll arm myself with a club."

He wrenched at a stout sapling. Instead of the stem coming out by the roots as he expected, it snapped off short. The fractured part tapered to a chisel edge. The wood was hard and close-grained.

"No, I'll use this as a spear," continued the sub. "It makes a nasty weapon to jab an animal with."

In silence the chums proceeded on their way. It was fair going between the trunks of the palms and mangroves, there being very little undergrowth.

"'Ware mosquitoes," exclaimed O'Hara. "There must be a swamp somewhere about."

A swarm of these pestilential insects were buzzing around their heads, but, possibly owing to the protection afforded by the burnt cork, the mosquitoes did not press home the attack. Fifty yards farther the two men were stopped by a deep mora.s.s.

"Edge away to the left," suggested the Irishman. "I think I can hear running water. By Jove! Look at those fireflies. They're simply great."

Denbigh merely grunted. He was in no mood to study the beauties of nature. The marsh meant loss of valuable time.