coal, thrown by a
sailor on the hulk, crashed upon the wooden awning, and for a moment the
savage skipper paused. For all that, Lister stopped the sailor, who was
going to throw another block.

"Hold on! The stuff is valuable!" he said.

The captain began again, but the steamer had forged ahead, and his voice
got fainter and was presently drowned by the beat of the screw. Lister
went back to the pump. The machine was running unevenly and sometimes
the powerful engine jarred. He meant to take it down, but so long as the
pump sucked up the kernels he durst not stop. Speed was important; they
must finish the job and get away before the heat and malaria wore them
out. In the meantime, he was disturbed about Brown, who ought to have
returned, and at sunset he started for the factory in the tug's second
boat.

Dark came suddenly and when he landed a hot, clammy fog thickened the
gloom. Little fires the factory boys had lighted by ancient custom
twinkled in the haze and a yellow beam from the veranda windows touched
the towering cottonwoods, but all else was dark and the spot was somehow
forbidding. One felt the gloom was sinister. A few miles up the creek,
the naked bushmen served their savage gods with fantastic rites and the
Ju-Ju men and Ghost Leopards ruled the shadowy land. At the factory
white men got sick and died.

Lister went up the steps, and entering the big room, saw Montgomery in a
Madeira chair. His face was wet by sweat, but although his thin form was
covered by a blanket he shook with ague. Brown occupied a rude couch,
made from two long boxes in which flintlock guns are shipped. He lay in
an ungainly pose, his head had fallen from a cushion, and his face was
dark with blood. His eyes were shut and he breathed with a snoring
noise.

"What's the matter with the captain?" Lister asked, although he thought
he knew.

"He's exhausted by his efforts and the worse for liquor," Montgomery
answered with a laugh. "On the whole, I think you had better let him
sleep. Perhaps you remarked that some of the glass is broken and two of
my chairs are smashed!"

Lister had not remarked this, but he looked about and began to
understand. He had seen Brown throw a Spanish landlord out of a Grand
Canary wine shop.

"Your captain arrived when the steamboat men were dining with me,"
Montgomery resumed. "In this country we're a hospitable lot and it's the
custom to send West African factories a supply of liquor every three