THE DARK CONTINENT
About a month after the events related in the last chapter the
bluff-bowed French coasting steamer, Admiral Dupont, dropped anchor
in the shallow roadstead off the steamy harbor of Fort Assini on the
far-famed Ivory Coast. A few days before, the boys had left Sierra
Leone and engaged quarters on the cockroach-infested little craft
for the voyage down the coast. It was blisteringly hot and from off
the shore there was borne on the wind the peculiar smell that every
traveler knows as "African." It is the essence of the dark
continent. Our young voyagers and Ben sniffed at it eagerly.
"Smells like marigolds," said Billy at last--and it did.
But there was soon plenty more to discuss than the strange
appearance of the town, which in reality was little more than a big
village with here and there one, or two houses of some pretension
scattered about. For the rest, it consisted of the wickerwork huts
of the natives. Back of the town were dense forests and beyond
these again a long blue line of hills. An unhealthful looking lagoon
lay between the houses and the mainland, into which the boys had been
told the Bia River, up which they were to begin their voyage to the
interior, emptied.
A broad yellow beach stretched in front of the houses and from this,
as soon as the little steamer dropped anchor, whaleboats and canoes
in great numbers were launched through what looked to be a thunderous
surf. They were navigated by Kroomen--or Krooboys as they are
sometimes called--and who are a superior race to most of the natives
of Africa.
Some of the paddlers and oarsmen in the boats that surrounded the
Admiral Dupont were almost six feet in height and splendidly built.
"Good looking fellows those," said the captain, who had joined the
group of wondering young adventurers, "but in spite of their good
looks they are petty thieves, if they get the chance."
Of this quality, the boys were soon to get an example. Frank had
laid down his field-glasses on a deck chair and didn't give them any
more thought, even when the decks were fairly swarming with
half-naked, chattering, laughing Kroomen. When he looked around for
them, however, for the purpose of making out more clearly the
outline of the distant mountains, the glasses had vanished.
The young leader quickly divined what had occurred and stepping to
the rail he held above his head an English sovereign and a pair of
glasses, borrowed, from Billy.
"I'll give this money to the man who finds my field glasses," he
shouted.
"It's a long chance," he remarked to Harry, "there may be some one
there who understands English. Anyway they can see that I'm willing
to give money for something like the object I held up."
As much to Frank's astonishment as anyone else the next minute they
heard a hail from a canoe containing two particularly black Kroomen.
"Hey, boss;" one of them was shouting, "what you lost, eh?"
"Some one stole my field-glasses," shouted back Frank.
"All right, American massa," hailed back the Krooman, "I sail long
time 'Merican ships. I catch him for you."
"Well, what do you think of that?" demanded Billy. "If the Statue
of Liberty had come off her perch and done a song and dance you
couldn't have astonished me more than to hear that sack of coal talk
English."
"They take several of those fellows to sea on trading ships, that
stop in here for logs from the interior," struck in Ben. "It
wouldn't surprise me but what that fellow there has been in New York
harbor, yes, and in San Francisco too."
The boys looked their astonishment.
"They are good hard workers," went on Ben, "and make good sailormen.
They always come back here though in the end. They are as home
loving as a house cat."'
While the boys talked, their baggage was being hoisted into a
lighter that lay alongside, ready for shipment ashore. They were
about ready to quit the ship when their attention was attracted by a
terrific uproar among the natives alongside. Two or three canoes
had been upset and in the water half a dozen Kroomen were splashing
about like big, black fish.
"They'll drown," gasped Harry, as he watched the furious water
battle.
"Not them," sniffed Ben, "they are as much at home in the water as
they are ashore. Hello!" he exclaimed, suddenly pointing, "there's
your field-glasses again, Frank."
Sure enough, from the hands of a spluttering, half-drowned native,
the Krooman who spoke English had just wrested a dripping pair of
black morocco-covered field-glasses. He held them aloft in triumph,
treading water while he held the other's head under the sea as a
punishment for his thievery.
"I catch 'um, boss, I catch um," he kept shouting triumphantly. A
few seconds later, having half drowned the unfortunate thief, he
stood dripping like a figure cut out of black basalt before the boy.
As he received his recovered property Frank presented its rescuer
with the sovereign. If it had been a fortune the man could not have
been more overcome with gratitude. He sank on his knees.
"You come ashore my boat?" he begged. "Cost nothing to United
States boys."
The adventurers assented and, having seen their baggage properly
stowed on the lighter, they landed through the surf a short time
later and found themselves on the flat, yellow beach facing the
rather dreary looking row of Europeans' houses. The method of
landing the surf boats and the wonderful dexterity with which the
natives handle them is worth a whole chapter to itself. But it
might prove tedious reading, so suffice it to say, that with one man
standing erect in the stern with a steering oar, and the others
paddling like demons, the Ivory Coast boatmen invariably land their
passengers, in a smother of foam which seems overwhelming, without
spilling a drop of water on them. Not a visitor to this coast but
has been impressed by their wonderful skill.
"Well, here we are," remarked Billy, looking about him at the novel
surroundings.
"The first thing to do," announced Frank, "is to go to the house of
Monsieur Desplaines, to whom Mr. Barr gave us a letter of introduction,
and talk over our plans."
Monsieur Desplaines was the consular agent of the United States
government at Assini, which is a French port, and had promised by
cable to Mr. Barr to give, the young travelers all the advice that
his experiences could suggest. He had also volunteered to select
for them a train of native baggage carriers, and hunters that would
be reliable. There are no roads into the heart of Africa and
everything is transported by human pack-trains. The natives of this
part of the coast are strong, muscular men not easily fatigued and
are capable of carrying burdens on their heads twenty-five miles or
more a day without exhaustion.
As the boys started to make their way up the beach a trim figure
with neatly waxed black mustaches, almost extinguished in a huge
pith helmet and dressed in white duck with a red sash about the
waist, emerged from the nearest house and hastened toward them.
"Welcome to Africa!" cried the newcomer as he approached and who, as
Frank at once guessed, was M. Desplaines himself. "Come with me to
the house and make yourselves at home."
The boys shook hands warmly with the little Frenchman who seemed so
hospitably inclined and followed him eagerly toward the whitewashed
house from which he had emerged.
"I would have been at the steamer to meet you," he exclaimed
apologetically; "but she got here a day ahead of time and I was not
prepared."
Inside the house, which was delightfully cool and darkened by
jalousies from the glaring heat outside, the young adventurers were
introduced to Madame Desplaines and two little girls, who
constituted the family of the consular agent, who also kept the
general supply store at Assini.
After dinner that evening, M. Desplaines talked long and earnestly
to the boys. Of the real object of their mission, he had of course
no knowledge. That was kept a secret even from Barr's intimates.
There was too much at stake to let it leak out. His idea was the
boys had come on a hunting and exploration, much of which was to be
performed by aeroplane. He informed the boys that, acting on cabled
instructions, he had laid in a good supply of gasoline by the last
steamer from Sierra Leone and that arrangements for a train of
carriers and for boats up the river had been made. There was a
wheezy steam launch belonging to the trading post which would tow
the boats up the Bia River as far as they desired. The Kroomen the
boys engaged would take them to that point would then be abandoned,
as they refused to go far from the coast. Such was the outline of
M. Desplaines' conversation with the travelers.
The evening was far advanced when already the little party was ready
for bed and already their imaginations had been fired by the tales
that the consular agent had told them of the interior of the wild
Bambara country. As they were saying good night to their hospitable
host and hostess, there was a knock at the door. In response to M.
Desplaines shouted: "Come in," a tall coal-black figure stalked into
the lamp-light. The glow shone warmly on his black skin and lit up
the mighty muscles that played beneath it. The strength of the man
was evidently tremendous. The boys, to their surprise, recognized
him at once, as the rescuer of Frank's opera-glasses. He paid no
attention to Desplaines or his family, but walked straight up to
Frank.
"Hi boss, you go hunt, you go far into land of Bambara," he said,
raising his mighty arm and pointing to the northeast.
Frank nodded.
It was a strange scene. The boys and Ben in their hunting costumes
and stout boots, M. Desplaines, short and inclined to be fat and as
neatly barbered and tailored as if he had just stepped off the
boulevards, Madame Desplaines and her little girls in cool, white
frocks--and in the center of the group--dominating it by his
impressive manner and mighty form--the huge, ebony Krooman.
"In the land of Bambara much game," went on the Krooman.
"So we have heard," replied Frank.
"In the land of Bambara much danger," continued the Krooman, fixing
his dark eyes full on Frank, "much danger to the white boys, who fly
like birds."
"Why, how do you know that?" exclaimed Frank, amazed that the
Krooman should not only know their destination--which might have
been a guess--but have divined the fact that they had an aeroplane.
"Krooman know much that white man not know!" replied the giant
black.
Then, rising his finger, he counted the amazed group of adventurers
who stood transfixed at the scene.
"One--two--three--four--five go to Bambara," he intoned. "Come back
one--two--three. Two die. Sikaso, know."
Before any of the astounded party could frame a question or open
their lips, the huge figure had stalked to the doorway and vanished.
"He'd make a nice, comfortable house-pet that fellow," said Billy,
who was the first to speak. "One, two, three, four, five go to
Bambara," he mimicked. "Come back one, two, three. Two die.
Sikaso know. Br-r-r-r-r, he gives me the creeps."
They all laughed at Billy's absurd aping of the stately negro, but
nevertheless none of them felt inclined for more talk that night.
Somehow, the Krooman had cast a gloom on the party. Had they known
how nearly his prophecy was to come to fulfillment they might even
have been tempted to abandon the expedition.