IN WHICH I BID FAREWELL TO THE READER.
The _Lady Jane_ glided up the bay, taking in sail as she went; and
as square after square of creamy white canvas was gathered up into
wrinkled festoons, the men began to crowd out on to the yards, and the
hoarsely-carolled strains of “Old Horse” and “Paddy Doyle” mingled
with the music of running rigging. As the brig opened out the
whitewashed fort from behind the trees, she slewed up into the wind;
the report of the little brass gun on the poop rang out sharply, and
the chain thundered out through the hawse-pipe.
No sooner was the anchor fairly down than the Captain commenced to spy
inquisitively at the shore through his telescope, which he steadied
against a shroud; nor were his observations long without result, for
after about ten minutes’ spying he suddenly beckoned to me.
“Pereira’s boat has put off,” said he; “I know her by her white
paint.”
“Is anyone coming with her?” I asked nervously.
“I can’t see yet--Yes I can, by Jove!--Yes, the old man’s on board; I
can make out his black coat and topper.”
“No one else?”
“No, I can’t see anybody else. No, there’s only one chair in the boat,
and the old man’s sitting in it.”
I drew a breath of relief.
I should have been sorry for my first meeting with Isabel to take
place in public, for my position with regard to her was one of some
delicacy and difficulty. That she loved me I had little doubt; but
yet, since I had spoken no word to her, I could not take her love for
granted, especially after so long an absence, and I looked to our
first meeting to put an end to my suspense.
Bithery handed me the telescope, which I levelled at the approaching
surf-boat. Already the quaint figure of my old friend was clearly
distinguishable in his queer habiliments, and I could see him
scrutinizing the brig with the aid of a binocular. As the boat came
nearer, I leaped on to the rail and stood holding on by a backstay and
waving my cap--or rather Jobling’s. He recognised me almost at once,
for I saw him stand up and wave his hat in response, sitting down
again with some suddenness as the boat gave a lurch.
As the surf-boat swept alongside he made a snatch at the ladder, and
was on deck in a twinkling, fairly falling into my arms as he came
over the rail.
“Now God be praised that I have been spared to see this day!” he
exclaimed, in a voice that shook with agitation, “this blessed day
that I had ceased to hope for.”
He stood, holding both my hands, while the tears chased one another
down his sunken cheeks, though his face beamed with delight.
As for me, I was too much affected by the old man’s emotion and my own
to be able to speak, until the skipper created a welcome diversion by
loudly stigmatising the by-standing deck hands as “a pack of grinning
apes,” and hustling them away forward.
“How is Isabel?” I asked, when I had recovered my composure a little.
“She is well, my dear boy, very well, thank God. Ah! and that reminds
me; she must share our happiness at once. Captain, would you kindly
fire the gun twice? It was to be the signal. We saw the brig come in
all gay with flags, and I promised, if she brought good news, we would
fire the gun once, and if our dear friend was on board, we would fire
it twice. She is on the beach with the telescope now.”
Twice the little gun sang out its joyful note, and then Captain
Bithery executed a diplomatic move, the brilliancy of which I have
never ceased to admire.
“Look here, Englefield,” said he, “there is no need for you to stay
here while I am pitching Pereira the yarn and letting him finger the
gold. Yes, my friend, gold; good, yellow gold by the hundredweight;
you cut ashore, and send the boat back for us, and tell Miss Pereira
that we are all coming to breakfast.”
I glanced at my old friend to see how he took the proposal, and as he
beamed approvingly, I lost no time, but dropped into the boat
forthwith.
“Shove off,” I said to the boatswain, as I took my seat in the Madeira
chair that was lashed to the thwart; and as the big boat sheered off,
I caught a glimpse of Jobling’s face looking over the bulwark,
wistfully regarding his best drill suit as it moved shoreward.
The canoe-men glanced at me curiously as we went along, having
apparently gleaned some particulars from the natives on board, and
presently they broke out into the classical Gold Coast boat song,
“White man cummygain”--which was so apt to the circumstances, that I
would have rewarded them with a substantial “dash,” but Jobling’s
pockets were empty.
With a glance round, to make sure that Isabel was not on the beach, I
ran across the sandy flat, and down the narrow streets, until I came
to the compound gate. Here I paused a moment to get my breath, then I
pushed open the creaking gate and entered.
She was standing on the verandah waiting for me, looking in her soft
white dress, with its single spot of scarlet blossom, more daintily
lovely even than the visions my memory had conjured up. I hurried
across the compound, and ran up the stairs, at the head of which she
met me with outstretched hands and a radiant smile of welcome.
In a moment all my fine speeches were forgotten; all my resolutions to
consider the delicacy of our position vanished before the ingenuous
love that sparkled in her eyes; and without a word I took her in my
arms and kissed her.
She did not resent my bluntness, but only murmured some broken words
of joy and relief at seeing me alive and well, till growing more
conscious, she made as if she would gently disengage herself, and this
with a very pretty confusion.
But possession is nine points of the law, and I would not give up my
advantage.
“Isabel,” I whispered, “this is what I have thought of and longed for
in all the long months of my wanderings--this, and to hear you say
that you love me, that there is to be no more parting for us until the
end.”
She looked up into my face with grave frankness.
“You may hear me say it now,” said she, “as you might have heard me
months ago. When you went away my heart and my world went with you.”
“If I had, I should never have gone,” I said.
“Then would there have been saved a world of sorrow and heart-sickness
in this house,” she replied; and with a sudden burst of emotion she
exclaimed:
“Oh! my dear! how long the days have been! How dark and full of
sickening dread, and hope dying into despair!”
Her eyes filled at the recollection, and laying her head on my
shoulder, she wept silently.
I was touched with remorse at the thought of her sufferings, but yet
my heart was singing with joy.
“Come, my dearest,” I said, “this is no time for weeping or thoughts
of sorrow and sadness. Let us dry our eyes and rejoice; ‘for, lo! the
winter is past, the rain is over and gone, and the time of the singing
of birds is come.’”
EPILOGUE.
I am writing these last few lines, telling of the end of my youthful
wanderings, by an open window that looks out across the sunlit sea,
where the Goodwins sleep peacefully amidst the summer blue, and the
idle shipping lingers in the Downs by the hazy Sandwich shore.
Down in the garden I can see a white-haired old man sitting on a bench
enjoying a cigarette which the deft fingers of Isabel have just rolled
and lit for him. The pair are watching a burly old man who is rigging
a flagstaff with the help of a tall, sturdy boy; and as the former
turns to his assistant with a wry, genial smile, I see that the brown,
wrinkled face is that of my old friend Captain Bithery.
My papers lie upon the ancient desk that my father-in-law brought with
him when he left Africa for good--the desk on which good Master
Barnabas Hogg was wont to write up his “Journall,” when Charles the
First was King; and I look around upon other mementoes of the stirring
days of my youth. And especially upon a little cotton bag that hangs
on the wall hard by. In it is a tablet of baked clay, on one side of
which is scratched in rough Arabic characters, “Praise be to God,”
while the other bears the inscription, in my wife’s handwriting,
“Aminé loveth thee.”
[The End]
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
Though not without flaws, the edition hosted on Project Gutenberg
Australia (publisher and date not given) has been cautiously consulted
for most of the changes listed below.
Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. Jellah-Coffee/Jella-Koffi/Jella
Koffi, pitifull/pitiful, shade-tree/shade tree, etc.) have largely
been preserved.
Alterations to the text:
Abandon the use of drop-caps.
Place the two brief footnotes inline with the text.
Punctuation: fix some quotation mark pairings/nestings, and a few
missing periods and commas.
[Chapter I]
“before we could get about to speak him he was off” add _to_ after
_speak_.
“ye great, fat, lazy, lollopin, black divil!” change the comma after
_lollopin_ to an apostrophe.
[Chapter II]
Change “he _sung_ out in his mellow Irish baritone” to _sang_.
[Chapter III]
“the Captain secured for me the assistance of _Vandepuye_” to
_Vanderpuye_.
[Chapter VII]
“the massive form of Captain Bithery _apeared_ in the doorway” to
_appeared_.
(“Well,” said the _Skipper_ gruffly, “you know your own mind) to
_skipper_.
[Chapter IX]
(“What you want, boy?” demanded Pereira sharply.) add _do_ after
_What_.
“purchased as “curios” from Hausa _mechants_: a riga or gown” of
_merchants_.
[Chapter XI]
“obtained a start of fully _three quarters_ of an hour before” to
_three-quarters_.
[Chapter XII]
“when the civilisation of the _west_ was yet unborn” to _West_.
[Chapter XIII]
“The pool was evidently of considerable depth, even close _in shore_”
to _inshore_.
[Chapter XIV]
“Musa and _Dam Bornu_ held the weeping giant by the arms that” to
_Dam-Bornu_.
[Chapter XV]
“struck the hard floor with the sound of a pavior’s _rammer_” to
_hammer_.
[Chapter XVII]
“_especally_ as I was evidently not a native of that part” to
_especially_.
“No one will have him _at_ a gift.” to _as_.
[Chapter XX]
(“We will sup by _ourslves_,” Aminé put in quickly,) to
_ourselves_.
[Chapter XXI]
(thou hast come back to us,” said _Al-hassan_, “for it was I) to
_Alhassan_.
[Chapter XXII]
“armed with one of my knives, _moved_ down the high elephant grass”
to _mowed_.
[Chapter XXIV]
“my deliverance seemed to come within _measureable_ distance” to
_measurable_.
[Chapter XXV]
“I ran the canoe _in shore_ where a small, stout tree grew close” to
_inshore_.
[Chapter XXVI]
“the pile of foaming water was sweeping _in shore_” to _inshore_.
“blow after blow, and tended to sweep me _in shore_.” to _inshore_.
[Chapter XXVIII]
(“You may hear me say it now.” said she, “as you) change the period
to a comma.
[End of text]