“Perhaps the lion or tiger will try for you,” smiled Tom. “What then?”
“It will be a pitched battle, that’s all,” drawled Mortimer Blaze. He was rather a sleepy looking man, but quick to act when the occasion demanded.
The weather was all that could be wished, and during the first week out the Republique made good progress. On a steamer there was but little for the boys to do, and they spent all of their spare time in reading the books on Africa which Captain Cambion had in his library, and which were printed in English. Often they persuaded the genial captain to tell them of his adventures in that far-away country.
“You have many strange sights before you,” he said to them one day. “The strange vegetation, the immense trees, the wonderful waterfalls, some larger than your own Niagara, and then the odd people. Some of the natives are little better than dwarfs, while others are six feet and more in height and as straight as arrows.
“Did you ever hear of this King Susko?” questioned Tom.
“Yes; I have heard of him several times. He is known as the Wanderer, because he and his tribe wander from place to place, making war on the other tribes.”
The captain knew nothing of Niwili Camp and expressed the opinion that it had been, like many other camps, only a temporary affair. He said that the best the party could do was to strike straight up the Congo, along the south shore, and question the different natives met concerning King Susko’s present whereabouts.
On the beginning of the second week a storm was encountered which lasted for three days. At first the wind blew at a lively rate, and this was followed by thunder and lightning and a regular deluge of rain, which made all of the boys stay below. The steamer pitched from side to side and more than one wave broke over her decks.
“This is the worse storm I ever saw,” remarked Dick, as he held fast to a chair in the cabin. “They won’t be able to set any table for dinner today.”
“Dinner!” came from Sam, with a groan.
“Who wants any dinner, when a fellow feels as if he was going to be turned inside out!” So far none of the boys had suffered from seasickness, but now poor Sam was catching it, and the youngest Rover felt thoroughly miserable.
“Never mind, the storm won’t last forever,” said Dick sympathetically. “Perhaps you had better lie down, Sam.”
“How can I, with the ship tossing like a cork? I’ve got to hold on, same as the rest, and be glad, I suppose, that I am alive,” and poor Sam looked utterly miserable.
It was very close in the cabin, but neither door nor port-hole could be opened for fear of the water coming in. Dinner was a farce, to use Tom’s way of expressing it, for everything was cold and had to be eaten out of hand or from a tin cup. Yet what was served tasted very good to those who were hungry.
“I believe we’ll go to the bottom before we are done,” began Sam, when a loud shout from the deck reached the ears of all of the Rovers and made Tom and Dick leap to their feet.
“What’s that?” cried Dick. “They are calling to somebody!”
Above the wind they could hear a yell from a distance, and then came more cries from the deck, followed by a bump on the side of the steamer.
“We’ve struck something!” ejaculated Tom.
“But I guess it wasn’t hard enough to do much damage.”
“That remains to be seen,” answered Dick. “Storm or no storm, I’m gong on deck to learn what it means,” and he hurried up the companionway.
CHAPTER XIII
A RESCUE IN MID-OCEAN
Dick found that he could remain on the deck only with the greatest of difficulty. Several life lines had been stretched around and he clung to one of these.
“What has happened?” he asked of one of the sailors. “What did we strike?”
“Struck a small boat,” was the answer. “It had a colored man in it. We’ve just hauled the fellow on deck.”
“Is he all right?”
“No; he’s about half dead. But the captain thinks he may get over it, with care,” and the sailor hurried away.
Dick now saw several men approaching, carrying the form of the rescued one between them. He looked at the unconscious man and gave a cry of amazement.
“Alexander Pop! What a strange happening!”
“Do you know the man?” questioned Captain Cambion.
“I know him very well,” answered Dick. “He used to work at the military academy where my brothers and I were cadets.” And the boy told Captain Cambion the particulars of Alexander Pop’s disappearance from Putnam Hall. “I am glad that I will be able to tell him that his innocence is established,” he concluded.
“All providing we are able to bring him around to himself, Master Rover,” returned the captain gravely.
“You think, then, that he is in bad shape?”
“I hardly know what to think. We will take him below and do all we can for him.”
It was no easy matter to transfer Pop to one of the lower staterooms, but once placed on a soft berth the Rovers did all they could for him.
“It is like a romance,” said Sam, while Randolph Rover was administering some medicine to the unconscious man. “How thin he looks.”
“He’s been suffering from starvation,” put in Dick. “I suppose he gave that yell we heard with his last breath.”
All of the party watched over the colored man with tender care, and feeling that he could be in no better hands the captain left him entirely in his friends’ charge. “When he comes to his senses you can let me know,” he said.
Dick was watching by Pop’s side, and Tom was at the foot of the berth, when the colored man opened his eyes. As they rested on first one Rover and then the other he stared in utter astonishment.
“My gracious sakes alive!” he gasped. “Am I dreamin’, or am I back to Putnam Hall again?”
“Neither, Aleck,” replied Dick. “You are safe on board an ocean steamer.”
“An’ yo’—whar yo’ dun come from?”
“We are passengers on the steamer,” said Tom. “You were picked up several hours ago.”
“Yes, but—but I can’t undersand dis nohow!” persisted the colored man, and tried to sit up, only to fall back exhausted.
“Don’t try to understand it, Aleck, until you are stronger,” said Dick. “Would you like some hot soup?”
“Anyt’ing, sah, anyt’ing! Why, I aint had, no reg’lar meal in most a week!” moaned the sufferer. “Glory to Heaben dat I am sabed!”
And then he said no more for quite a long, while.
The soup was already at hand, and it was Dick who fed it slowly and carefully, seeing to it that Pop should have no more than his enfeebled stomach could take care of, for overfeeding, so Mr. Rover had said, might kill the man.
The next day Pop was able to sit up, although still too weak to stand on his legs. He was continually praising Heaven for his safety.
“I dun Vink I was a goner more dan once,” he said. “I was on de ocean all alone about a week, I reckon, although I lost time ob days after I’d been out two or Vree nights. I Vink I was most crazy.”
“Perhaps you were, Aleck,” said Sam. “But tell us how you got in that position.”
“Dat am de queerest part ob it, Master Rober—de queerest part of it. I got into de small boat fo’ a sleep, and de fust Ving I knowed I was miles an’ miles away from eberyt’ing; yes, sah-miles an’ miles away on de boundless ocean, an’ not so much as a fishin’ smack sail in sight. Golly, but wasn’t I scared—I reckon I dun most turn white!” And Aleck rolled his eyes around impressively.
“You were in a small boat attached to some steamer?”
“Dat’s it. Da had been usin’ de small boat fo’ surnt’ing, and left her overboard.”
“Were you cut adrift?”
“I don’t tink I was—but I aint shuah nohow.”
“What boat was it?”
“De Harrison, from Brooklyn, bound to Cuba.”
“Did you ship on her after you left Putnam Hall in such a hurry?
“I did, cos I didn’t want de police to coted me. But, say, as true as I stand heah—mean sit heah—I aint guilty of stealin’ dem watches an’ t’ings, no I aint!”
And Aleck raised both hands earnestly. “Captain Putnam made a great mistake when he dun suspect me.”
“We know it,” answered Dick quietly. “We thought you innocent all along, Aleck.”
“T’ank yo’ fo’ dat, Master Rober—I’se glad to see dat I’se got one friend—”
“Three friends, Aleck—we all stood up for you,” interrupted Tom.
“T’ank yo’, t’ank yo’!”
“And we discovered who the real thief was,” added Sam.
“Wot, yo’ dun found, dat out!” burst out Pop. “An’ who was de black-hearted rascal?”
“Jim Caven.”
“Dat cadet wot tried to be funny wid me an’ I had to show him his place? Hol’ on—I dun see him comin’ from de attic one day.”
“When he must have put those stolen articles in your trunk,” said Tom. “Yes, he was guilty, Captain Putnam was going to have him arrested, but he got away.”
Nothing would do for Alexander Pop after this but that the boys give him the full particulars of the affair, to which he listened with the closest attention. But at the conclusion his face fell.
“Ise mighty glad I am cleared,” he said. “But I’d give a good deal to face de cap’n—jest to see wot he would say, eh?”
“He said he was sorry he had suspected you,” said Dick.
“What a big fool dis darkey was to run away!” murmured Aleck meditatively. “I wasn’t cut out fo’ no sailer man. Ise been sick most ebery day since I left shoah. By de way, whar is dis ship bound?” he went on.
“To Africa.”
“Africa! Shuah yo’ is foolin’, Massah Dick?”
“No, I am not. We and our uncle are bound for the Congo River.”
“De Congo! Dat’s whar my great gran’ fadder dun come from—so I heard my mammy tell, years ago. I don’t want to go dar, not me!”
“I don’t see how you are going to help yourself, Aleck. The first stop this steamer will make will be at Boma on the Congo River.”
“Wot am I to do when I gits dar? answer me dat, chile.”
“I’m sure I don’t know. Perhaps the captain will let you remain on the Republique.”
“What wid dern Frenchmen? I don’t t’ink I could stand dat. An’ what am yo’ going to do in Africa?”
“We are going on a hunt for my father, who has been missing for years.”
Again Aleck had to be told the particulars and again he was tremendously interested. When the boys had finished he sat in silence for several minutes.
“I’ve got it-jest de t’ing!” he cried suddenly.
“Got what?” asked Tom.
“De right idea, Massah Tom. Foah gen’men like yo’ don’t want to go to Africa widout a valet nohow. Let me be de workin’ man fe de crowd. I’ll take de job, cheap,—an’ glad ob de chance.”
“Hullo, that’s an idea!” mused Dick.
“Will yo’ do it, Massah Dick?”
“We’ll have to speak to my uncle about it first.”
“Well, yo’ put in a good word fo’ me. Yo know I always stood by yo’ in de school,” pleaded the colored man. “I don’t want to be driftin’ around jess nowhar, wid nuffin to do, an’ no money comin’ in—not but what I’ll work cheap, as I dun said I would,” he added hastily.
A little later Randolph Rover joined the group and Aleck’s proposition was laid before him. Strange to say he accepted the colored man’s offer immediately, greatly to the wonder of the boys, and from that minute on Pop be came a member of the searching party.
“I will tell you why I did it,” explained Randolph Rover to the boys in private. “When we get into the jungle we will need a man we can trust and one who is used to American ways. Moreover, if there is any spying to be done among the natives the chances are that a black man can do it better than a white man.”
“Uncle Randolph, you’ve got a long head,” remarked Tom. “No doubt Aleck will prove just the fellow desired.” And Tom was right, as later events proved.
CHAPTER XIV
A STRANGE MEETING IN BOMA
The storm delayed the passage of the Republique nearly a week, in a manner that was totally unexpected by the captain. The fierce waves, running mountain high, wrenched the screw and it was found next to impossible to repair the accident. Consequently the steamer had to proceed under a decreased rate of speed.
This was tantalizing to the boys, and also to Randolph Rover, for everyone wished to get ashore, to start up the Congo as early as possible. But all the chafing in the world could not help matters, and they were forced to take things as they came.
A place was found among the sailors for Aleck, and soon he began to feel like himself once more. But the sea did not suit the colored man, and he was as anxious as his masters to reach shore once more.
“It’s a pity da can’t build a mighty bridge over de ocean, an’ run kyars,” he said. “Den nobody would git seasick.”
“Perhaps they’ll have a bridge some day resting on boats, Aleck,” answered Tom.
“But I don’t expect to live to see it.”
“Yo’ don’t know about dat, chile. Look at uddert’ings. Did yo’gran’fadder expect to ride at de rate ob sixty miles an hour? Did he expect to send a telegram to San Francisco in a couple ob minutes? Did he eber dream ob talkin’ to sumboddy in Chicago froo a telephone? Did he knew anyt’ing about electric lights, or movin’ pictures, or carriages wot aint got no bosses, but run wid gasoline or sumfing like dat? I tell yo, Massah Tom, we don’t know wot we is comin’ to!”
“You are quite right, Alexander,” said Mr. Rover, who had overheard the talk. “Science is making wonderful strides. Some day I expect to grow com and wheat, yes, potatoes and other vegetables, by electricity,” and then Randolph Rover branched off into a long discourse on scientific farming that almost took away poor Aleck’s breath.
“He’s a most wonderful man, yo’ uncle!” whispered the colored man to Sam afterward. “Fust t’ing yo’ know he’ll be growin’ corn in de com crib already shucked!” and he laughed softly to himself.
On and on over the mighty Atlantic bounded the steamer. One day was very much like another, excepting that on Sundays there was a religious service, which nearly everybody attended. The boys had become quite attached to Mortimer Blaze and listened eagerly to the many hunting tales he had to tell.
“I wish you were going with us,” said Tom to him. “I like your style, as you Englishman put it.”
“Thanks, Rover, and I must say I cotton to you, as the Americans put it,” laughed the hunter. “Well, perhaps we’ll meet in the interior, who knows?”
“Are you going up the Congo?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I am hoping to meet some friends at Boma. Otherwise I may go further down the coast.”
The steamer bad now struck the equator, and as it was midsummer the weather was extremely warm, and the smell of the oozing tar, pouring from every joint, was sickening. But the weather suited Alexander Pop perfectly.
“Dis am jest right,” he said. “I could sleep eall de time, ‘ceptin’ when de meal gong rings.”
“Blood will tell,” laughed Randolph Rover. “When you land, Alexander, you ought to feel perfectly at home.”
“Perhaps, sah; but I dun reckon de United States am good enough for any man, sah, white or colored.”
“Right you are,” put in Dick. “It’s the greatest country on the globe.”
It was a clear day a week later when the lookout announced land
dead ahead. It proved to be a point fifteen miles above the mouth of the Congo, and at once the course was altered to the southward, and they made the immense mouth of the river before nightfall.
It was a beautiful scene. Far away dashed the waves against an immense golden strand, backed up by gigantic forests of tropical growth and distant mountains veiled in a bluish mist: The river was so broad that they were scarcely aware that they were entering its mouth until the captain told them.
When night came the lights of Boma could be distinctly seen, twinkling silently over the bay of the town. They dropped anchor among a score of other vessels; and the long ocean trip became a thing of the past.
“I’m all ready to go ashore,” said Tom.
“My, but won’t it feel good to put foot on land again!”
“Indeed it will!” cried Dick. “The ocean is all well enough, but a fellow doesn’t want too much of it.”
“And yet I heard one of the French sailors say that he hated the land,” put in Sam. “He hadn’t set foot on shore for three years. When they reach port he always remains on deck duty until they leave again.”
Mortimer Blaze went ashore at once, after bidding all of the party a hearty good-by. “Hope we meet again,” he said. “And, anyway, good luck to you!”
“And good luck to you!” cried Tom. “Hope you bag all of the lions and tigers you wish,” and so they parted, not to meet again for many a day.
It was decided that the Rovers should not leave the ship until morning. It can well be imagined that none of the boys slept soundly that night. All wondered what was before them, and if they should succeed or fail in their hunt.
“Dis aint much ob a town,” remarked Aleck, as they landed, a little before noon, in a hot, gentle shower of rain. “Nuffin like New York.”
“There is only one New York, as there is but one London,” answered Randolph Rover. “Our architecture would never do for such a hot climate.”
Along the river front was a long line of squatty warehouses, backed up by narrow and far from clean streets, where the places of business were huddled together, and where a good share of the trading was done on the sidewalk. The population was a very much mixed one, but of the Europeans the English and French predominated. The natives were short, fat, and exceedingly greasy appearing. Hardly a one of them could speak English.
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