Up against it in Nigeria . while the branchboat hunted for us, to the melancholy accompani-ment of the bell-buoy on the Bar. We werethen lowered in mammie chairs into surf-boats,and paddled, wet and dejected, to the branchboat, which in turn transferred us to the riverstern-wheeler, Sarota, in almost pitch darknessat Burutu. The lights were not working, and our chop-boxes being in the hold, we had to go to bedempty but for a small tot of brandy, very kindlyprovided by a Roman Catholic missionary, whohad come on board. These Fathers are notedfor their hospitality, and their Mission is themost,
Up against it in Nigeria . while the branchboat hunted for us, to the melancholy accompani-ment of the bell-buoy on the Bar. We werethen lowered in mammie chairs into surf-boats,and paddled, wet and dejected, to the branchboat, which in turn transferred us to the riverstern-wheeler, Sarota, in almost pitch darknessat Burutu. The lights were not working, and our chop-boxes being in the hold, we had to go to bedempty but for a small tot of brandy, very kindlyprovided by a Roman Catholic missionary, whohad come on board. These Fathers are notedfor their hospitality, and their Mission is themost, if not the only, practical one in West misery of the newly arrived exile at Burutuis a byword—and I will not enlarge on the dismalsubject. It is from Burutu that some drunkardshave dated their original fall. I had my shareof misery, what with the attentions of the Customs,who relentlessly tore from one duty on cases ofliquor, which turned out afterwards to have beenbroken, or broached, to vanishing point, the. POLING UP THE RIVER BESUE. Mi fi^^; ? ^ ^v fc$ w X \ A HAUSA GIRL. BAUCHI 17 inability to find anything one wanted, and ofcourse the usual difficulty with boys. In this connection coming events did indeedcast their shadow before them when a Germantrader, who was travelling to Onitsha, said tome deprecatingly : Vy vorry apout your poys ?I alvays bromise my poy von bound on arrivalat Onidsha, and ven I gets there I kick him outvidout nothings. A scrap of paper, in fact. Stone, by the way, handed me over one of hisboys, Yaro, 1 who has been with me, off andon, as boy, cook, and finally courier, ever since. When we had managed to dig a few provisions,and odds and ends, out of the hold, we had acomparatively peaceful and comfortable voyageof six days, thanks largely to the kindness ofStone, without whom I should have been lost,for I was horribly green (witness my endeavoursto fit a filter-candle into a sparklet-syphon)—asare most poor devils on their first arriv
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