Then the paddles dipped and the
big craft came surging back.

"She'll be across our track!" sang out Dick. "Get below, Johnnie. Keep
down! look out for those who manage to get aboard the launch."

At once the native slipped completely into his engine well, where he
lay, rifle in hand. As for our hero he could not afford to take cover
just yet, for he had to direct the course of the launch. And
magnificently he stuck to his post. A slug struck him on the point of
the knee as he sat, and caused him anguish. A second, fired at the same
close range, thudded against his ribs and dropped to the deck, while
another from the same discharge carried away his hat. But he stuck
grimly to the tiller. His eye was glued on the war vessel, and he
watched her like a cat. She was just beginning to cross his track, but
the angle at which she moved would bring the two boats almost alongside
one another, and then--

"They would hang on and be aboard before we could look round. No, thank
you. We'll try some other plan."

The muscles in his steering arm were like steel bands. There was a look
of determination on his face. He moved the arm with a sudden jerk, and
sent the launch over when she was within thirty feet of the enemy. A
second later he was bearing down upon her broadside. Then, indeed,
there were shouts. The natives saw their danger and paddled furiously
in the vain endeavour to alter their position. But they had no chance,
for the steersman aboard the launch, conscious of the superiority which
steam gave him, countered every move instantly. It was a matter of
seconds. He was within five feet of them, going full speed. The
natives saw now that they had no chance of coming alongside, and Dick
watched them drop their rifles, draw their swords and crush to the
centre of the boat. He moved the tiller again, ever so little, and bore
right down upon the huddling group. Then he dived into his well and sat
on the boards, one hand still gripping the tiller, while the fingers of
the other sought for his revolver.

Crash! The launch shuddered, and stopped on her way. But she had
weight behind her, and her frame was of sound construction. Also she
was running at full pace, and her propeller never ceased to grip the
water. She moved again, rose at the bows for a second or so, and then
subsided again, to the accompaniment of shouts and the sounds of
splintering wood. Dick heard the scraping as the native boat passe