I BID FAREWELL TO MY FRIENDS.
I remained at Quittáh some six weeks owing to various delays on the
part of Annan, and so pleasantly the time sped that, as the period of
my departure approached, my impatience to be gone gave way to a strong
reluctance to leave the scene of so much happiness. Pereira, having
once accepted my scheme, entered into it with all the fire and
enthusiasm of the genuine old Portuguese adventurer, and spent all his
leisure in preparing me for the difficult part I had to play. He
brought out an aged Arabic grammar and dictionary, with the aid of
which and of a printed Koran that he had imported for trade purposes,
he instructed me in the sacred tongue. He accompanied me to the
Mahommedan settlement outside the town and expounded the habits and
customs of the people in it. He visited the primitive thatch-built
mosque with me, and conversed in Hausa with the old Mallam or priest
that I might study the vernacular and improve my accent. He took me
through the camp at sunset that I might commit to memory the strange
sing-song cries of the worshippers as they prayed on their mats by the
road-side; and he picked up odds and ends of Hausa clothing to furnish
me for my journey.
But it was not the sympathetic interest that my host showed in my
project that made me look forward regretfully to my departure from
Quittáh. The fact was that the fair Isabel, whose imagination had
been fired by the romance of my Quixotic enterprise, had thrown
herself into the scheme with an enthusiasm fully equal to that of her
father, and, realising the paramount importance to me of a working
knowledge of Arabic, she set herself to superintend my studies in that
language; and a most exacting taskmistress I found her, as well as an
indefatigable fellow student. We were thus thrown a great deal into
one another’s society, and there grew up between us a comradeship that
was very intimate and sympathetic. It is not often that the
companionship of a man and a woman is quite satisfactory, complete
coincidence of interest being exceptional. But when such sympathy and
community of interest does exist, it renders possible a companionship
with which no other can compare. And Isabel Pereira was as delightful
a companion as any man could desire.
To many men, indeed, her mere beauty would have made her desirable had
her wits been far less acute than they were; but in truth, her mind
was as well and justly proportioned as her body, and even as her
manifest physical strength served but to render perfect her feminine
grace, so her sturdy common sense and steady judgment but heightened
the charm of a playful, romantic fancy and a temper entirely amiable
and sweet. To me, her father’s friend, she was full of frank,
unaffected friendliness and good fellowship, never prudish or
conscious; and yet there was with this a modesty and womanly reserve
that called forth a responsive chivalrous respect on my part.
And so, as I have said, the time sped swiftly and pleasantly in her
gentle companionship, and the day of my departure, ever looming
nearer, was almost forgotten.
Very delightful it was in the late afternoons to walk together on the
smooth wet beach, and listen to the booming surf; to watch the hideous
red crabs playing peep-bo! at the mouths of their burrows and
squinting at us with their goggle eyes as we passed; or to show our
newly-acquired erudition by inscribing Arabic flourishes upon the
smooth sand, and all the time to babble unceasingly of the mysterious
cavern and of wealth beyond the dreams of avarice. Very peaceful and
pleasant was the walk home in the quickly-fading twilight, with the
palm-trees chattering overhead, and the cicadas chirping in the
distance, while the little sandpipers trotted along before us on the
wet sand, and the nightjars whirled around us with ghostly
flutterings. And then in the hot afternoon when the sun was high and
the old merchant was taking his siesta, we would sit together in the
verandah with our book between us, conning the uncouth characters and
laughing over our mistakes. But in all this there was no philandering
or coquetry but steady earnest work; and indeed so close was our
application that it was a real relief, when Aochi appeared with the
tea, to shut the book and fall to talking about the treasure in the
cavern and the pool with the golden floor.
The awakening from this state of dreamy happiness came with the
disagreeable suddenness of a douche of cold water.
We were sitting at table at our late breakfast, discussing--with
unbecoming hilarity, I fear--the chapter of the Koran on which we had
been engaged the day before, when there appeared in the open doorway
an excessively dirty negro who stood and glared silently at us as he
slowly masticated a chew-stick.
“What do you want, boy?” demanded Pereira sharply.
The man drew a filthy and crumpled envelope from the folds of his
cloth and handed it to Pereira, who, having glanced at it, passed it
to me with a grin.
“The Honourable and Reverend Mr. Englefield, Esq.,” I read aloud; and
tearing it open, extracted a sheet of ruled notepaper covered with
childish scrawl. The letter--for such it appeared to be--was headed,
“Cape Coast, Friday,” and commenced--
“Honoured and reverend Master,
“With petious and mercifully I employ to thy protection----”
“Now what in the name of fortune is this?” I exclaimed. Turning the
document over I sought the signature, which I presently found squeezed
into a lower corner: “thy handmaidden in affliction,--David Annan.” I
remember that, ludicrous as the thing was, none of us laughed. For my
own part, I felt a sudden chill, and hastened to decipher the rest of
the absurd epistle, of which I made out the contents to be as
follows:--
“Honoured and reverend Master,
“With petious and mercifully I employ to thy protection and also the
carrer man no good and he say they not fit because of susistence
unless he get some pay but the Mansu brige never spoil any more and so
the bush people complain the weather fine too much and the carier man
they say he not fit get only his susistence because he sit down too
long to wait for you. Sir I have the honour to inform you these few
words to tell you if the steamer from leeward came here in few days I
beg you that you came on board one time because the rain finish and
carier man no good for sit down too long because he say they not fit
for get sussistence unless he find some pay so I beg you not stay any
longer because carrier man they say he not fit unless they get some
pay.
“I have the honour to be Sir, thy handmaidden in affliction.
“David Annan.”
“Can you make any sense of this?” I asked, passing the precious
document to Pereira.
“Certainly,” said Pereira; “it is perfectly clear. He means to say
that he is waiting for you at Cape Coast, that the dry season has set
in, that the bridge at Mansu has been repaired, having apparently been
washed away by the floods, and that the carriers refuse to accept
subsistence money only (threepence a day), but demand to be put on
full travelling pay, so he begs you to come on by the first steamer.
He also implies that he is being put to great expense in consequence
of your delaying, which he will expect you to make good.”
“I see. Do you know when the next steamer is due from leeward?”
“The _Benin_ is due now homewards,” replied Pereira, “so if you think
of going by her you will have to get your things together.”
He rose from the table, and, taking up a handful of biscuits from a
dish, held them out to the messenger and waved to him to be gone. Then
he strode up and down the room a few times, and presently halted
before me.
“You had better think again, my son,” said he, “whether this thing is
worth doing. The chance of your really getting any substantial good
out of it is, as you know, very small, and you may easily come back no
wiser than you go, while the risk you run is enormous. The question
is, is it worth while? I need not say that Isabel and I will be loth
to see you go, for this will be an empty house without you--but I
mustn’t talk like this,” he added in a shaky voice; “only, think it
over again before you decide once for all.”
It was a great temptation.
I had never been so happy in my life as during these last few weeks;
had never known a friendship so intimate and real as that of this
fatherly old man and this sweet, gentle girl. And for what was I
giving up all this? For an enterprise so shadowy and vague that I
could not even state it to myself.
And yet the unrest of youth was upon me and the treasure seemed to
beckon me on.
“I think it is worth while,” I said at length.
“As you will, my son,” replied Pereira. “Your native clothing is in my
room, so if you come I will give it to you now, and Isabel will pack
it up for you.”
We went to his room, where he produced from a locked drawer the
garments that he had purchased as “curios” from Hausa merchants: a
_riga_ or gown of blue-grey cotton cloth, a pair of _wondo_--immense
baggy trousers--a Fez, a litham, or face-cloth, and turban of dark
blue cotton, a vest, and a pair of yellow leather slippers.
“Here is a knife, too,” said Pereira, bringing forth a long clumsy
dagger in a leather sheath, “native steel, and not much to look at,
but I sharpened it myself and found it mighty hard metal. I have also
got you a spear-head and ferrule--you can make a shaft for
yourself--so you will be able to take care of yourself, especially if
you carry a pistol, and I have made up six small packets of gold dust
and a bag of cowries, so that you can start as a man of substance.”
We gathered up these treasures and bore them off to my room. I had
bought a small cheap iron trunk for the journey, and in this I now
threw the very few things that I proposed to take with me--chiefly,
for reasons which will presently appear, cast-off clothes and objects
of no value. I then put aside the native clothing and weapons, placed
with them the gold dust, the cowries, a pocket compass, a sailor’s
knife, and a small revolver with a box of cartridges, and asked Isabel
to make these things into a separate package, using the _riga_ as an
envelope, and to stitch it up securely. Leaving her to this
occupation, I went with Pereira to his office to make final
arrangements as to the custody of the small remainder of my property
and the money that had been paid to him on my behalf by Captain
Bithery, who had sailed for England three weeks before.
“Did I show you Bithery’s letter?” Pereira asked, as we took our seats
at the office table; and on my answering in the negative he pushed
over to me the missive in the Captain’s well-known handwriting.
“Tell Englefield,” it said, “that I am very well satisfied with him,
and hope he is equally so with me. His pay and commission amount to a
hundred and fifty-six pounds, which I enclose, with all good wishes.
We have done very well this voyage, and I expect we shall be out again
in less than six months, so, if he should come to his senses again in
that time, he will be able to take up his berth on the _Lady Jane_.”
“I am glad the Captain is coming out again,” I said as I returned the
letter. “He has been a really kind and generous friend to me, and I
should like to have a chance of showing him that I realise it.”
“Yes,” replied Pereira, “Bithery is a really good fellow, and very
fond of you, too. And now to settle our business. I understand you
want me to take charge of your goods and this money. Is that so?”
“Yes, if you will. I will take fifteen pounds, and you hold the
remainder until I come back.”
“Very well.” He wrote out a receipt, stamped it, and laid on it
fifteen sovereigns. “You can change the gold on board ship,” he said.
“Is there anything more?”
“Only this,” I replied, drawing, somewhat sheepishly, from my pocket
an envelope addressed to himself. “It is my Will--not a very important
document, but it is all regular; the Commissioner witnessed it. You
can open it if you hear that anything has happened to me.”
Pereira took the packet from me and deposited it in his safe. “It will
remain there,” said he, “with your money and the old journal until you
come back; and I hope it won’t be there long. Is that all?”
“That is all,” I answered.
He banged the door of the safe and put the key in his pocket, and,
almost at the same moment, the report of a gun sounded from the sea.
“That will be the _Benin_,” said Pereira.
We both hurried round to the front of the compound, from which a view
of the anchorage could be obtained, and as we turned the corner, we
perceived the elegant, yacht-like steamer slowing down opposite the
Fort.
“I don’t expect she will finish loading to-day,” said Pereira, shading
his eyes with his hand as he peered at the ship. “I know there is a
good deal of produce to go on board. But you had better have
everything ready in case the Captain is in a hurry.” So saying he went
back to his office while I made my way slowly up to my room.
Now, it happened that I was wearing a pair of tennis shoes with rubber
soles, and I suppose that, walking slowly, lost in thought, I must
have stepped more noiselessly than usual, for evidently Isabel had not
heard me approach; and as I came to the half-open door I drew back
with a start. She was kneeling on the floor before my trunk, making as
if she would fold up the blue _riga_ that she held in her hands, and,
although her back was turned to me, I could see that she was sobbing;
indeed, as I stood there, she raised the blue cloth in both hands and
buried her face in it.
For one moment I remained stock-still, petrified with amazement. Then
I stole softly away and hurried down into the compound, looking round
right and left to see that no one was about; for the choking at my
throat and a fulness in my eyes warned me not to speak to anyone lest
I should utterly lose control of my emotions. Slipping out by the back
gate, I strode down the narrow lane, breathing hard and clenching the
pipe that I had thrust into my mouth so fiercely that the fragile stem
crunched like straw between my teeth, and so reached the quiet lagoon
side, where I paced to and fro upon the dry mud trying to collect my
thoughts and to decide what I should do in these new and surprising
circumstances.
For the sight of that weeping girl had been to me a double revelation.
It had shown me, what I was indeed dull enough not to have seen
before, that her sweet comradeship came from something more than mere
friendliness; and it had made clear what I was yet more dull not to
have perceived--that this lovely and gracious woman was to me more
than all the world beside.
What then should I do? Should I give up my plan and settle down
quietly at Quittáh? That was the course that common-sense suggested.
And yet that would be a heavy sacrifice, for, so strongly had this
foolish scheme taken hold of me that it had become a positive
obsession. And then my pride raised objections to the evident dictates
of reason; not the noble pride that makes a man scorn to fall short of
his own ethical ideal, but the paltry pride that makes him ashamed to
repudiate an ill-formed and hasty resolution. It would seem an
absurdly weak and flat conclusion if, after all these preparations, I
should collapse at the last moment and go back humbly to my oil
puncheons and kernel bags. The mountain that had been in labour would
have brought forth such a very small mouse. And what would Isabel
think of me? Might she not misunderstand my heroic self-sacrifice? It
was not a noble thought; but yet it must be admitted that to a
romantic girl, a lover girding up his loins for a perilous, if
Quixotic, quest is one thing, and the same lover, with his sleeves
rolled up weighing out rubber in the factory yard, is another and a
very different thing.
That rubber decided me. My vanity came to the aid of my self-will, and
I once more decided to see my adventure through.
And having reached this conclusion I made my way back to the house
with a firm step and a steady lip.
She was standing in the verandah when I entered the compound, and when
she saw me she waved her hand and greeted me gaily with a Hausa
salutation; and when I bounded up the stairs and stood by her side she
was quite cheerful and self-possessed, though rather more sober than
usual.
“The ship won’t nearly finish loading to-day,” she said, “so we shall
have one more evening together. I wonder how long it will be before
you come back.”
“Not more than a month or two, I expect,” said I. “Perhaps less if I
am lucky and find out what I want to know quickly. The actual distance
is quite small from here to Upper Ashánti.”
“Yes. And perhaps you won’t think it worth while to stay there at all.
You may find that the whole thing is a myth.” I thought she seemed to
rather hope that it might be so, but I did not encourage the hope.
“That is hardly likely,” I said. “There must be some foundation for
all those reports. But here is your father, straight from the beach, I
expect, with the latest news of my reprieve.”
“The Captain expects to get off between ten and eleven to-morrow,”
said Pereira, as he stepped on to the verandah, thoughtfully dusting
his silk hat with a pocket-handkerchief. “There is a lot of produce
from the Bremer Factory as well as mine, so he may be later. You can
go off with the last boat-load.”
“Very well; sufficient for the day is the evil thereof; and now let us
drown our sorrows in the tea-pot and go for a walk.”
We walked that evening along the beach towards the village of Vojé,
and I was glad that Pereira made one of the party, as his presence
decided the question whether I should speak to Isabel or leave matters
as they were until I came back. My own feeling had been that it would
be hardly fair to make any kind of declaration as I was going away on
so perilous an enterprise, and I was relieved at not being left alone
with her and so tempted to make confidences that I might afterwards
have regretted.
On my last night at Quittáh I will not dwell. We all tried to make it
as festive an occasion as possible, but with only very moderate
success. Enthusiasm respecting the treasure refused to revive, and we
separated at length in a quiet and thoughtful mood.
Eleven o’clock on the following morning found us on the beach watching
the loading of the last boat. The time of separation had come, and we
stood, with our hearts too full for speech, watching the blue Peter
flutter down from the steamer’s mast-head. The canoe-men stood up to
their knees in the water, holding on to the surf-boat, which reared
like a restive horse as each wave rolled in to the shore, and waving
their trident-shaped paddles as they shouted their hoarse chant.
And now the last bag of kernels was flung into the boat and my little
trunk laid on the heap. The steamer was hooting impatiently, and the
boatswain called to me to hasten. The old man seized both my hands and
prayed God to bless me and bring me back safe; Isabel and I clasped
hands in silence for a moment, and then I leaped into the boat.
The keel ground upon the sand, the boat reared and swept down on the
back wash, and amidst a chorus of shouts from the canoe-men, and a
shower of spray, we charged into the surf. I sat on the swaying
thwart, with my back to the sea, watching the two figures on the shore
until they had dwindled to the size of dolls, and the green waves
heaved up and hid them from my sight. And even after I had climbed the
ladder and stood upon the deck, my eyes turned shoreward until the
surf-fringed beach had faded out of sight and the land was but a grey
streak upon the sea-horizon.