"Sergeant!" His voice was hoarse with strain. "Get two men with knives over the side to cut that away!"
And a stillness fell upon them all. Every man tried to shrink himself down into insignificance, so that the choice might not fall on him. Two volunteers were selected, divested of their uniforms and hustled to the stern, despite their terrified entreaties.
"Tell them to hurry," grunted Herman, and went to his folding chair. His personal boy placed the evening meal with its attendant pitcher of beer on the table before him and Herman fell to.
Once from the stern there was a squeak and a splash, following by a furious burst of rifle fire. Herman frowned and looked up from his plate.
"A crocodile has taken one of the men, his sergeant reported in agitation.
"Well, put another one over," said Herman and returned with unabated relish to his meal. This last batch of sausage was particularly tasty.
The netting had wound so tightly about the blades and shaft of the propeller, that it was an hour after midnight when the last of it was hacked away by lantern light.
The drive shaft had twisted slightly and run one of its bearings, so even at quarter speed there was a fearsome clattering and threshing sound from the stern as the Icicle limped slowly down the channel towards the sea.
In the grey and pallid pink of dawn they, crept past the last island of mangroves and the launch lifted her head Lo the sluggish thrust of the Indian Ocean. It was a windless morning of flat calm, and Herman peered without hope into the misty half light that obscured the ocean's far horizon.
He had come this far only on the slight chance that the dhow might have gone aground on a mud bank during her night run down the river.
"Stop!" he shouted at his battered helmsman. Immediately the agonized clatter of the propeller ceased, and the launch rose and fell uneasily on the long oily swells.
So they had got clear away then. He could not risk his damaged launch on the open sea. He must go back, and leave the dhow and its ivory and its many candidates for the rope, to head unmolested for that pest-hole of rogues and pirates on Zanzibar Island.
Moodily he looked out across the sea and mourned that cargo of ivory. There had been perhaps a million Reichsmarks of it aboard, of which his unofficial handling fee would have been considerable.
Also he mourned the departure of the Englishman. He had never hanged one before.
He sighed and tried to comfort himself with the thought of that damned American, now well digested in the maw of a crocodile, but truly it would have been more satisfying to see him kick and spin on the rope.
He sighed again. Ah, well! At least he would no longer have the perpetual worry of Flynn O'Flynn's presence on his border, nor would he have to suffer the nagging of Governor Schee and his endless demands for O'Flynn's head.
Now it was breakfast time. He was about to turn away when something out there in the lightening dawn caught his attention.
A long low shape, its outline becoming crisper as he watched. There were cries from his Askari as they saw it also, huge in the dawn. The stark square turrets with their slim gun-barrels, the tall triple stacks and the neat geometrical patterns of its rigging.
"The Blitcher!" roared Herman in savage elation. The Blucher, by GoD! He recognized the cruiser, for he had seen her not six months before, lying in Dares Salaam harbour.
"Sergeant, bring the signal pistol!" He was capering with excitement. In reply to Herman's hasty message, Governor Schee must have sent the Blitcher racing southwards to blockade the Rufiji mouth. "Start the engine. Schnell! Run out to her," he shouted at the helmsman as he slid one of the fat Verey cartridges into the gaping breech of the Pistol, snapped it closed and pointed the muzzle to the sky.
Beside the tall bulk of the cruiser the launch was as tiny as a floating leaf, and Herman looked up with apprehension at the frail rope ladder he was expected to climb. His Askari assisted him across the narrow strip of water between the two vessels and he hung for a desperate minute until his feet found the rungs and he began his ponderous ascent.
Sweating profusely he was helped on to the deck by two seamen and faced an honour guard of a dozen or more.
Heading them was a young lieutenant in crisp, smart tropical whites.
Herman shrugged off the helping hands, drew himself to attention with a click of heels. "Commissioner Fleischer."
His voice shaky with exertion.
"Lieutenant Kyller. "The officer clicked and saluted.
"I must see your captain immediately. A matter of extreme urgency."
Capitan zur See Count Otto von Kleine inclined his head gravely as he greeted Herman. He was a tall, thin man, who wore a neat, pointed blond beard with just a few threads of grey to give it dignity. "The English have landed a full-scale expeditionary force in the Rufiji delta, supported by capital ships? This is correct?" he asked immediately.
"The report was exaggerated." Herman regretted bitterly the impetuous wording of his message to the Governor; he hadd been fired with patriotic ardour at the time. "In fact, it was only... ah," he hesitated, "one vessel
"Of what strength? What is her armament?" demanded von Kleine.
"Well, it was an unarmed vessel."
And von Kleine frowned. "Of what type?"
Herman flushed with embarrassment. "An Arab dhow.
Of about twenty-two metres."
"But this is impossible. Ridiculous. The Kaiser has delivered an ultimatum to the British Consul in Berlin. He has issued mobilization orders to five divisions." The captain spun on his heel and began to pace restlessly about his bridge, clapping his hands together in agitation. "What was the purpose of this British invasion? Where is this... this dhow? What explanation must I send to Berlin?"
"I have since learned that the expedition was led by a notorious ivory poacher named O'Flynn. He was shot resisting arrest by my Askari, but his accessory, an unknown Englishman, escaped down the river last night in the dhow."
"Where will they be headed?" The captain stopped pacing and glared at Herman.
"Zanzibar."
"This is stupidity, utter stupidity. We will be a laughing stock! A battle cruiser to catch a pair of common criminals!"
"But, Captain, you must pursue them."
"To what purpose?"
"If they escape to tell their story, the dignity of the Emperor will be lowered throughout the length of Africa.
Think if the British Press were to hear of this! Also, these men are dangerous criminals."
"But I cannot board a foreign ship on the high seas.
Especially if she flies the Union Jack. It would be an act of war an act of piracy."
"But, Captain, if she were to sink with all hands, sink without a trace?"
And Captain von Kleine nodded thoughtfully. Then abruptly he snapped his fingers and turned to his pilot. "Plot me a course for Zanzibar Island."