"Bosh, Maitland!" said Gerard. "Old Kingsland's not half a bad sort.
He's colonial, you know, and these colonial fellows are always blunt and
outspoken--at least, so I've heard. He doesn't mean any harm, and, if I
were you, I'd knock off being so touchy about everything. I'm tolerably
sure it won't pay out here."

"Hallo!" sneered Maitland. "You seem to be taking a leaf out of old
Kingsland's book. And it's rather rich you setting up to lecture a
fellow when you know about as much of this country as I do."

"Well, we shall both know a little more about it directly," was the
good-humoured reply, "for in less than half an hour we shall be at
anchor."

The _Amatikulu_ was now nearly abreast of the lofty brush-clad headland
known as The Bluff, which extends its protecting arm between the port of
Durban and the full force of the south-westerly gales. Signals were
exchanged with the lighthouse, and, tumbling through the blue and lumpy
seas, the steamer with slackened speed dropped cautiously into the
roadstead. Then the rattling of the cable, as down went the anchor into
half a score fathoms of water, and the voyage was at an end.

Not quite, however. There was still the "bar" to cross, before any
could set foot on that beautiful land lying there spread out, an ocean
of wooded hills, softly outlined in mellow distance against the
cloudless blue. Dotted along the Berea, nestling amid tropical foliage,
were scattered the villas of the well-to-do. Below lay the roofs of the
busy town, a forest of masts rising above them from the land-locked
harbour.

The _Amatikulu_ drew too much water to attempt crossing this bar even in
the smoothest of seas. From her decks the lines of roaring, boiling
surf, the spume flying in misty clouds from each combing roller, were
plainly visible. Visions of battening down, of a horrible half-hour
spent in darkness beneath closed hatchways and crushing, thunderous
seas, arose in the minds of her dismayed passengers. And their
misgivings underwent no abatement as they watched the puffing little
tug-boat, tossing like a cockle-shell upon the great rollers, or burying
her hull out of sight beneath the surf. Out she came, however, right
bravely, and soon sheered up alongside, to take off the passengers.

Then followed much leave-taking. Gerard, who had made friends with
everybody on board, from the skipper and his mates to the sour-visaged
old quarter-master, felt low-spirited enough a