This Craft Also Had A Strong Weather Helm, Owing To
A Warp In The Tree Of Which It Had Been Made.
I learnt all these
things one afternoon, paddling round the sandbank; and the next
afternoon, feeling confident in the
Merits of my vessel, I started
for the island, and I actually got there, and associated with the
natives, but feeling my arms were permanently worn out by paddling
against the current, I availed myself of the offer of a gentleman to
paddle me back in his canoe. He introduced himself as Samuel, and
volunteered the statement that he was "a very good man." We duly
settled ourselves in the canoe, he occupying the bow, I sitting in
the middle, and a Mrs. Samuel sitting in the stern. Mrs. Samuel was
a powerful, pretty lady, and a conscientious and continuous paddler.
Mr. S. was none of these things, but an ex-Bible reader, with an
amazing knowledge of English, which he spoke in a quaint, falsetto,
far-away sort of voice, and that man's besetting sin was curiosity.
"You be Christian, ma?" said he. I asked him if he had ever met a
white man who was not. "Yes, ma," says Samuel. I said "You must
have been associating with people whom you ought not to know."
Samuel fortunately not having a repartee for this, paddled on with
his long paddle for a few seconds. "Where be your husband, ma?" was
the next conversational bomb he hurled at me. "I no got one," I
answer. "No got," says Samuel, paralysed with astonishment; and as
Mrs. S., who did not know English, gave one of her vigorous drives
with her paddle at this moment, Samuel as near as possible got
jerked head first into the Ogowe, and we took on board about two
bucketfuls of water. He recovered himself, however and returned to
his charge. "No got one, ma?" "No," say I furiously. "Do you get
much rubber round here?" "I no be trade man," says Samuel, refusing
to fall into my trap for changing conversation. "Why you no got
one?" The remainder of the conversation is unreportable, but he
landed me at Andande all right, and got his dollar.
The next voyage I made, which was on the next day, I decided to go
by myself to the factory, which is on the other side of the island,
and did so. I got some goods to buy fish with, and heard from Mr.
Cockshut that the poor boy-agent at Osoamokita, had committed
suicide. It was a grievous thing. He was, as I have said, a
bright, intelligent young Frenchman; but living in the isolation,
surrounded by savage, tiresome tribes, the strain of his
responsibility had been too much for him. He had had a good deal of
fever, and the very kindly head agent for Woermann's had sent Dr.
Pelessier to see if he had not better be invalided home; but he told
the Doctor he was much better, and as he had no one at home to go to
he begged him not to send him, and the Doctor, to his subsequent
regret, gave in.
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