After the usual trouble in procuring
hammock-bearers, and many discussions as to
the amount of remuneration they were to
receive—during which they contrived to find
out that the journey was one of importance,
and could not be delayed— they came
to the conclusion that they would not take
me at all unless I paid them three times
the sum usually demanded. Naturally I was
unwilling to accede to this; but the African
in such a case is resolute, and I had to
submit.

At six p.m. we started. Twelve hammock-
bearers, one carrier, my servant with gun
and rifle, and myself. The first part of our
journey lay along the beach, and, as the sun
had set, possessed little interest; nothing to
be seen and nothing to be heard except the
roar of the surf. In about an hour,
however, the moon rose. Only those who have
lived in the tropics can picture to themselves
the bright splendour of the moonlight and
the increased size and brilliancy of the stars.
The surf now looked like a shower of silver,
and the men, whose white teeth gleam, and
well-oiled bodies shine, hurried on at a
sling-trot so as to make the most of the
moonlight. At ten o'clock we reached a
small kroom, or village, called Fettah; and,
as the moon had gone down, my bearers
refused to go any further, saying that the
path was bad, Patacoos would eat us all, and
many other evils would befal us.

I tried to influence them by a present of
two bottles of rum over and above the usual
allowance—for, in addition to their pay,
hammock-men have rum morning and evening
—but in vain. They drank the rum, but
were deaf to my entreaties. Foreseeing how
the matter would end, my man Quobna had
meanwhile found out the headman of the
kroom, and arranged that I should pass the
night in his abode; and I was forthwith
ushered into the presence of this potentate,
who was dressed for the occasion in a pair of
English boots and a white silk waistcoat,
which had seen some service. He was proud
of his appearance, but very gracious; and
gave me a little sour palm-wine, and the use
of a bed. The bed was about the size of a
sofa, and consisted of a rough wooden frame,
with bamboos split and nailed crossways,
about a foot apart, and covered with a thin
flag mat. Sleep appeared out of the
question. The room swarmed with mosquitoes;
so I struck a light, smoked a cigar, and read
a Yankee novel till three in the morning.
I then roused all hands, and insisted on
starting; which we did by torchlight, and
with an average amount of grumbling on the
part of the bearers.

Soon after leaving Fettah, the road begins
to get difficult, and my bearers requested me
to get out and walk. I found the path was
a steep descent, narrowing until it was
scarcely a foot wide, and with rocks on each
aide from thirty to forty feet high. Trees
straggled up the sides; and, so completely arch
in the top, that not a ray of sunlight
penetrates even in the daytime. The sun had
not yet risen, so we had lighted a small
lantern, which was carried by the first man,
throwing gleams of light on the rocks and the
trees and branches above us, and on the
gaunt single file of naked negroes who
followed in our dark, mysterious path.

About half an hour took us into the open
country. We passed a kroon belonging to the
French, the ruins of a fort abandoned by
them, and then walked for about a mile
through prickly pears and thick scrub, and
were stabbed and scratched and torn in all
directions. Then, all of a sudden, up started
the sun, and we made our way up the dry
bed of a torrent scooped out of the solid
rock. I saw a large blue monkey at some
little distance on my right, in such a
tempting position for a shot, that I raised my
gun. But Quobna caught my hand.

"Not good, massa, not good for you shoot
dis monkey. A bad plenty monkey live
here. Suppose you shoot! Plenty come,
kill you one time (one time, is always used
for immediately). Kill you, kill all: ebery
moder's son of us!"

Accordingly I desisted, and then Quobna
proceeded to tell me—and all the bearers
emphasised his story with gesticulations and
exclamations—how these monkeys had come
in great numbers to the neighbouring town of
Barricoo to avenge an insult offered to one of
their sensitive tribe, and how they had set
fire to the town and burnt it, and driven
away all the inhabitants. Some time
afterwards I was told the same thing of another
African village: and the native informant
assured me that it had been twice fired by
the monkeys, who threw burning brands
into it.

About an hour's walk brought us to
Barricoo, which had been rescued, I suppose
from the monkeys. It looks pretty and
picturesque from the distance. There is a
ruinous Dutch fort on the cliff, with the
Dutch flag floating on it, magnificently
guarded by one valiant soldier. But it is
best not to inspect the fort too closely; for
the batteries have fallen in, the guns have
dropped off the rotten carriages, some have
fallen through the embouchures to the ground
beneath, and there is scarcely a plank which
will bear your weight. Satisfied with a
cursory examination, I left the fort and
went to a cocoa-nut tree; in the shade of
which I sat on a chair, brought with some
dignity by the headman, and partook of a
breakfast consisting of turkey's eggs, biscuit
provided by Quobna, and cocoa-nut milk
laced with brandy.

The meal was simple—light and nutritious
we might style it—but the circumstances
under which it was eaten were peculiar. For
as I ate there, on the one chair in the place
under the cocoa-nut tree. I was surrounded