Part 11 (2/2)

The man who sat in Jefferson's room could, at least, understand the treatise in the medicine chest, although it was one approved by the Board of Trade, which august body has apparently no great fondness for lucid explanations. He was, however, still pouring over it when his comrade thrust his head into the doorway again, and it is possible that Jefferson had not suffered greatly from the fact that he had not as yet quite decided on any course of treatment.

”Well,” said the newcomer, ”I s'pose you know what he--has--got?”

”Come in, an' sit down there,” said the other. ”It's fever, for one thing--I've seen it coming on--an' sunstroke for another. What I'm stuck at is if I'm to treat them both together.”

Bill looked reflective. ”I think I'd take them one at a time. Get the sunstroke out of him, an' then go for the fever. How d' you start on it, Tom?”

”Undo his clothes. That's easy. The b.u.t.tons is mostly off them, an' he has hardly any on. Then you put cold water on his head.”

”That's not easy, anyway! Where the blazes are you going to get cold water from?”

It was somewhat of a paradox, for while there is plenty of water in Western Africa, none of it is cold. Tom, however, was once more equal to the occasion.

”We could get a big spanner from the engine room, an' put it on his head,” he said. ”There's plenty of them. S'pose you go an' bring one.

Any way, we'll swill him with the coldest water we can get.”

They laid a soaked singlet upon his head with a couple of iron spanners under it, and then sat down to watch the effect. Somewhat to their astonishment, it did not appear to do him any appreciable good. Darkness closed down as they waited, and it seemed to grow hotter than ever, while the thick white steam rose from the swamps. Tom stood up and lighted the lamp.

”The fever's easier,” he said. ”I've had it. You give him the mixture--it's down in the book--though I don't know what the meaning of all these sign things is. That starts him perspiring, an' then it's thick blankets. We used to give them green-lime water in the mailboats.”

”Where's the green limes?” said Bill. ”Any way, I'd give the sunstroke a decent chance first. Perhaps he'll come out of it himself. I don't know that it wouldn't be better if he did.”

Jefferson came out of his limp unconsciousness into a raving delirium that night, and they rolled him in two blankets, while Bill, being left on watch, wisely threw away the draught his comrade had concocted.

Jefferson was also very little more sensible during the next few days, and, though the work went on, before the week was over the two lonely Englishmen found they had another difficulty to grapple with. The sun was almost overhead, and the iron deck, insufferably hot, when the surfboat negroes, who had just finished their meal, came forward together, eight or nine big, naked men, with animal faces and splendid muscles. n.o.body knew where they came from, but when two or three of them appeared in a canoe, Jefferson had managed to make them understand that he was willing to pay them for their services, and they forthwith went away, and came back with several comrades and a man of shorter stature who had apparently worked on a steamboat or at a white man's factory.

They had worked tolerably well while Jefferson was about to watch them, but they had now apparently decided on another mode of behaviour, for the att.i.tude of their leader was unmistakably truculent. The man called Bill, sitting on the fore hatch, turned at the patter of naked feet, and looked at him.

”Well,” he said sharply, ”what the ---- are you wanting?”

”Two bokus them green gin,” said the negro. ”Two lil' piece of cloff every boy.”

Tom laughed ironically. ”There isn't any green gin bokus in the s.h.i.+p, for one thing. You'll get your cloth-piece when the work is done. That's all I've got to say to you. Get out of this!”

The negro made a little forceful gesture. ”You no cappy.”

”Well,” said Bill, drily, ”he figures he's a bloomin' admiral in the meanwhile, and that's good enough for you. Go home again, and don't worry me.”

”Two cloff-piece,” said the negro. ”Two cloff-piece every boy. You no lib for get them, we come down too much boy an' take them 'teamboat from you.”

The white men looked at one another, and it was evident that they were uncertain how far the negro might be able to make good his threat. There was, as it happened, very little to prevent him doing it, and stockaded factories, as well as stranded steamboats, have been looted in Western Africa. Still, they remembered that they had the prestige of their colour to maintain.

”Oh, get out one time!” said Tom.

The negro turned upon him. ”You no cappy. You low, white 'teamboat bushman. Too much boy he lib for come down one night an' cut you big fat t'roat.”

Bill, who was big and brawny, rose with an air of sorrowful resignation.

”This ---- nonsense has got to be stopped,” he said, and walked tranquilly towards the negro. ”You wouldn't listen to reason, Black-funnel-paint.”

<script>