A STRANGE MEETING IN BOMA
The storm delayed the passage of the Republique nearly a week, in
a manner that was totally unexpected by the captain. The fierce
waves, running mountain high, wrenched the screw and it was found
next to impossible to repair the accident. Consequently the
steamer had to proceed under a decreased rate of speed.
This was tantalizing to the boys, and also to Randolph Rover, for
everyone wished to get ashore, to start up the Congo as early as
possible. But all the chafing in the world could not help
matters, and they were forced to take things as they came.
A place was found among the sailors for Aleck, and soon he began
to feel like himself once more. But the sea did not suit the
colored man, and he was as anxious as his masters to reach shore
once more.
"It's a pity da can't build a mighty bridge over de ocean, an' run
kyars," he said. "Den nobody would git seasick."
"Perhaps they'll have a bridge some day resting on boats, Aleck,"
answered Tom.
"But I don't expect to live to see it."
"Yo' don't know about dat, chile. Look at uddert'ings. Did
yo'gran'fadder expect to ride at de rate ob sixty miles an hour?
Did he expect to send a telegram to San Francisco in a couple ob
minutes? Did he eber dream ob talkin' to sumboddy in Chicago froo
a telephone? Did he knew anyt'ing about electric lights, or
movin' pictures, or carriages wot aint got no bosses, but run wid
gasoline or sumfing like dat? I tell yo, Massah Tom, we don't
know wot we is comin' to!"
"You are quite right, Alexander," said Mr. Rover, who had
overheard the talk. "Science is making wonderful strides. Some
day I expect to grow com and wheat, yes, potatoes and other
vegetables, by electricity," and then Randolph Rover branched off
into a long discourse on scientific farming that almost took away
poor Aleck's breath.
"He's a most wonderful man, yo' uncle!" whispered the colored man
to Sam afterward. "Fust t'ing yo' know he'll be growin' corn in
de com crib already shucked!" and he laughed softly to himself.
On and on over the mighty Atlantic bounded the steamer. One day
was very much like another, excepting that on Sundays there was a
religious service, which nearly everybody attended. The boys had
become quite attached to Mortimer Blaze and listened eagerly to
the many hunting tales he had to tell.
"I wish you were going with us," said Tom to him. "I like your
style, as you Englishman put it."
"Thanks, Rover, and I must say I cotton to you, as the Americans
put it," laughed the hunter. "Well, perhaps we'll meet in the
interior, who knows?"
"Are you going up the Congo?"
"I haven't decided yet. I am hoping to meet some friends at Boma.
Otherwise I may go further down the coast."
The steamer bad now struck the equator, and as it was midsummer
the weather was extremely warm, and the smell of the oozing tar,
pouring from every joint, was sickening. But the weather suited
Alexander Pop perfectly.
"Dis am jest right," he said. "I could sleep eall de time,
'ceptin' when de meal gong rings."
"Blood will tell," laughed Randolph Rover. "When you land,
Alexander, you ought to feel perfectly at home."
"Perhaps, sah; but I dun reckon de United States am good enough
for any man, sah, white or colored."
"Right you are," put in Dick. "It's the greatest country on the
globe."
It was a clear day a week later when the lookout announced land
dead ahead. It proved to be a point fifteen miles above the mouth
of the Congo, and at once the course was altered to the southward,
and they made the immense mouth of the river before nightfall.
It was a beautiful scene. Far away dashed the waves against an
immense golden strand, backed up by gigantic forests of tropical
growth and distant mountains veiled in a bluish mist: The river
was so broad that they were scarcely aware that they were entering
its mouth until the captain told them.
When night came the lights of Boma could be distinctly seen,
twinkling silently over the bay of the town. They dropped anchor
among a score of other vessels; and the long ocean trip became a
thing of the past.
"I'm all ready to go ashore," said Tom.
"My, but won't it feel good to put foot on land again!"
"Indeed it will!" cried Dick. "The ocean is all well enough, but
a fellow doesn't want too much of it."
"And yet I heard one of the French sailors say that he hated the
land," put in Sam. "He hadn't set foot on shore for three years.
When they reach port he always remains on deck duty until they
leave again."
Mortimer Blaze went ashore at once, after bidding all of the party
a hearty good-by. "Hope we meet again," he said. "And, anyway,
good luck to you!"
"And good luck to you!" cried Tom. "Hope you bag all of the lions
and tigers you wish," and so they parted, not to meet again for
many a day.
It was decided that the Rovers should not leave the ship until
morning. It can well be imagined that none of the boys slept
soundly that night. All wondered what was before them, and if
they should succeed or fail in their hunt.
"Dis aint much ob a town," remarked Aleck, as they landed, a
little before noon, in a hot, gentle shower of rain. "Nuffin like
New York."
"There is only one New York, as there is but one London," answered
Randolph Rover. "Our architecture would never do for such a hot
climate."
Along the river front was a long line of squatty warehouses,
backed up by narrow and far from clean streets, where the places
of business were huddled together, and where a good share of the
trading was done on the sidewalk. The population was a very much
mixed one, but of the Europeans the English and French
predominated. The natives were short, fat, and exceedingly greasy
appearing. Hardly a one of them could speak English.
"I don't see any Americans," remarked Dick. "I suppose--"
"There is an American store!" burst out Sam, pointing across the
way. He had discovered a general trading store, the dilapidated
sign of which read:
SIMON HOOK,
Dealer in Everything.
English Spoken by an American.
Horn of All Kinds Bought.
Yankee Boots Are the Best!
"He believes in advertising," laughed Dick. "I'd like to go in
and see Simon Hook. Perhaps he'll remember something about
father!" he added suddenly.
"That's an idea!" returned Tom. "Let us go in, Uncle Randolph."
Mr. Rover was willing, and they entered the low and dingy-looking
establishment, which was filled with boxes, barrels, and bags of
goods.
They found the proprietor sitting in an easy chair, his feet on a
desk, and a pipe in his mouth.
"Is this Mr. Hook?" asked Randolph Rover.
"That's me," was the answer; but Mr. Hook did not offer to rise,
nor indeed to even shift his position.
"We saw your sign and as we are Americans we thought we would drop
in," went on Mr. Rover.
"That's right; glad to see you," came from the man in the chair;
but still he did not offer to shift his position.
"Been here many years?" asked Dick.
"About twenty."
"How is business?" put in Tom, bound to say something.
"Aint none, sonny."
"You don't look very busy."
"It's a fool's place to come to, sonny. When these goods are sold
I'm going to quit." Mr. Simon Hook paused long enough to take an
extra whiff from his pipe. "What brought you here?"
"We are on a hunt for a missing man," answered Randolph Rover.
"Did you ever meet him? His name is Anderson Rover, and he is my
brother."
"Anderson Rover?" Simon Hook thought for a moment. "I remember
him. He was a gold hunter from Californy, or somethin' like that."
"Yes; he was a mine owner."
"Went up the Congo four or five years ago--maybe longer?"
"Yes."
"I remember him. He had lots of money, and took several guides
and a number of other, natives along."
"Have you seen or heard of him since?" questioned Dick eagerly.
Simon Hook shook his head. "No, sonny. 'Twasn't to be expected."
"And why not?" put in Tom.
"Because them as goes up the Congo never, comes back. It's a
fool's trip among those wild people of the interior. Stanley went
up, but look at the big party he took with him and the many fights
he had to get back alive."
At this announcement the hearts of the Rover boys fell.
"You never heard one word of him?" persisted Sam.
"Nary a word, sonny. I reckon he's either lost in the jungle or
among the mountains, or else the natives have taken care of him."
"Did he say anything about the trail he was going to take?" asked
Randolph Rover. "I understand there are several."
"He was going to take the Rumbobo trail, most all of 'em do."
Simon Hook drew a long breath. "Say, can I sell you any of these
old things of mine cheap?"
"Perhaps you can," said Randolph Rover.
"We are bound for the hotel now. We will come in later."
"Glad to see you," and as they left the shopkeeper waved them a
pleasant adieu with his hand. But he never stirred from his
chair.
"I guess he has grown tired of trying to sell goods," observed
Tom.
"Perhaps he knows that if folks want the things he has to sell
they are bound to come to him," said Dick. "His store seems to
be the only one of its sort around."
The hotel for which they were bound was several squares away,
located in something of a park, with pretty flowers and a
fountain. It was a two-story affair, with spacious verandas and
large rooms, and frequented mostly by English and French people.
They had just entered the office; and Randolph Rover was writing
his name in the register, when Dick caught sight of somebody in
the reading room that nearly took away his breath.
"Well, I never!"
"What is it, Dick?" asked Tom quickly.
"Look at that boy reading a newspaper. It is Dan Baxter--Dan
Baxter, just as sure as you are born!"