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.