birds, etc., sheered off, and very soon we had restarted
on our southward voyage.

Ere long, having passed the snow-capped peak of Teneriffe of which we had
heard so much at Trigger's, we entered the region of the trade-winds, and
the steamer, aided by its sails that were now spread, held rapidly on its
course rounding Cape Verd. For a day we anchored off Bathurst, then
steamed away past the many rocky islands off the coast of Guinea until we
touched Free Town, the capital of that unhealthy British colony Sierra
Leone. Anchoring there, we discharged some cargo, resuming our voyage in
a calm sea and perfect weather, and carefully avoiding the dangerous
shoals of St. Ann, we passed within sight of Sherboro Island, a British
possession, and also sighted Cape Mount, which Omar told me was in the
independent republic of Liberia. For several days after this we remained
out of sight of land until one afternoon, just about tea-time, the
captain came up to us, saying--

"We shall make the mouth of the Lahou River in about two hours, so you'd
better be prepared to leave. I'll keep a good look-out for your boat.
Have you had a pleasant voyage?"

"Very," we both replied in one voice.

"Glad of that," he said, and turning to Omar added, "you'll look after me
if ever I get up country as far as Mo, won't you?"

"Of course," my friend answered laughing. "If you come you shall have a
right royal welcome. Come at any time. You'll have nothing to fear when
once inside the borders of my mother's country."

"Ah, well. Perhaps I'll come some day, when I retire on my pension and
set up as an African chief--eh?"

We all laughed, and he ascended the steps again to the bridge.

Kouaga, in the meantime, was busy collecting our things, giving
gratuities to the stewards, and otherwise making preparations to leave.
For over two hours we eagerly watched in the direction of the shore,
being assisted by a crowd of passengers who had by this time learnt that
we were to be taken off.

The shore which slowly came into view as our eager eyes scanned the
horizon was the Ivory Coast, but the sun sank in a glorious blaze of
crimson, and dusk crept on, yet the captain, whose glasses continually
swept the sea, could distinguish no boat approaching us.

"I'm afraid," he shouted to us from the bridge, "their look-out is not
well kept. We'll have to take you along to Cape Coast, after all."

"Why not fire a gun, Captain?" suggested Kouaga, his words b