“We can’t leave that woman behind there!” Fred shouted, hardly making himself heard against the wind.

“Can’t we!” shouted Lady Waldon.  “Give me that rifle, and I’ll solve the problem for you!”

But Coutlass solved it in another way by jumping overboard, over his head in deep water, taking our hempen warp with him (I had made one end of it fast to the bitts, meaning to be able to find it in the dark).

There was quite a sea running, even as close inshore as that, and for a moment I doubted whether the Greek would make it.  By that time it was all we could do to see the woman’s white figure, still gesticulating, and screaming like a mad thing.  Presently, however, the warp tightened, and then by the strain on it I knew that Coutlass was trying to haul us back inshore.  Failing to do that, for the strength of the wind was increasing, he seized the Syrian woman by the waist and plunged into the water with her.  I saw them disappear and hauled on the warp hand-over-hand with all my might, Lady Waldon leaning over to strike at my hands until I shouted to Fred to come and hold her.  Then she begged Fred again for the rifle, promising to kill the two of them and reduce our problem to that extent if we would only let her.

Will and I hauled the dripping pair on board, and Coutlass carried the maid to the stern.  She had fainted, either from fright or from being half-drowned, there was no guessing which.  Then in pitch blackness with Will’s help I got the ship beam to the wind and began to make sail.

Now danger was only just beginning!  I was the only one of them all who knew anything whatever about sails and sailing.  I was too weak to get the sail up single-handed, had no compass, knew nothing whatever of the rocks and shoals, except by rumor that there were plenty of both.  There appeared to be no way of reefing the lateen sail, which was made of no better material than calico, and I was entirely unfamiliar with the rigging.

Behind us, as we payed before the gaining wind, was brilliant blaze that showed where Muanza was.  Against the blaze stood out the lakeward boma wall.  I stood due east away from it, and discovered presently that by easing on the halyard so as to lower the long spar I could obtain something the effect of reefing.

I set Fred and Will to making a sea-anchor of buckets and spars in case the sail or rotten rigging should carry away, leaving us at the mercy of the short steep waves that fresh-water lakes and the North Sea only know.  The big curved spar, now that it was hanging low, bucked and swung and the dhow steered like an omnibus on slippery pavement.  Luckily, I had living ballast and could trim the ship how I chose.  They all began to grow seasick, but I gave them something to think about by making them shift backward and forward and from side to side until I found which way the dhow rode easiest.

When Fred had finished the sea-anchor he got out the tools and began striking off the iron rings on the porters’ necks through which the chain passed.  The job took him two hours, but at the end of it we owned a good serviceable chain, and a crew that could be drilled to take the brute hard labor off our shoulders.