I was not anxious to reach Victoria before nightfall,
but yet to reach it before dinner, and while I was
chatting, my boys came through the wood and the engineer
most kindly gave them a tot of brandy apiece, to which
I owe their arrival in Victoria. I left them
again resting, fearing I had overdone my arrangements
for arriving just after nightfall and went on down
that road which was more terrible than ever now to
my bruised, weary feet, but even more lovely than
ever in the dying light of the crimson sunset, with
all its dark shadows among the trees begemmed with
countless fire-flies—and so safe into Victoria—sneaking
up the Government House hill by the private path through
the Botanical Gardens.
Idabea, the steward, turned up, and I asked him to
let me have some tea and bread and butter, for I was
dreadfully hungry. He rushed off, and I heard
tremendous operations going on in the room above.
In a few seconds water poured freely down through the
dining-room ceiling. It was bath palaver again.
The excellent Idabea evidently thought it was severely
wanted, more wanted than such vanities as tea.
Fortunately, Herr von Lucke was away down in town,
looking after duty as usual, so I was tidy before
he returned to dinner. When he returned he had
the satisfaction a prophet should feel. I had
got half-drowned, and I had got an awful cold, the
most awful cold in the head of modern times, I believe,
but he was not artistically exultant over my afflictions.
My men having all reported themselves safe I went
to my comfortable rooms, but could not turn in, so
fascinating was the warmth and beauty down here; and
as I sat on the verandah overlooking Victoria and
the sea, in the dim soft light of the stars, with the
fire-flies round me, and the lights of Victoria away
below, and heard the soft rush of the Lukola River,
and the sound of the sea-surf on the rocks, and the
tom-tomming and singing of the natives, all matching
and mingling together, “Why did I come to Africa?”
thought I. Why! who would not come to its twin brother
hell itself for all the beauty and the charm of it!
CHAPTER XXI. TRADE AND LABOUR IN WEST AFRICA.
As I am under the impression that the trade of the
West African Coast is its most important attribute,
I hope I may be pardoned for entering into this subject.
My chief excuse for so doing lies in the fact that
independent travellers are rare in the Bights.
The last one I remember hearing of was that unfortunate
gentleman who went to the Coast for pleasure and lost
a leg on Lagos Bar. Now I have not lost any
portion of my anatomy anywhere on the Coast, and therefore
have no personal prejudice against the place.
I hold a brief for no party, and I beg the more experienced
old coaster to remember that “a looker on sees
the most of the game.”
