The Pirate Slaver | Page 6

wydah bird flaunted his gay plumage in
the brilliant sunshine, where it could be seen to the fullest advantage;
and butterflies, like living gems, flitted happily from flower to flower.
Astern of us, some three miles away, lay Boolambemba Point, the
southernmost extremity of the group of islands to which I have already
alluded, where the embouchure of the river may be said to begin, the
stream here being about three and a half miles across, while
immediately below it abruptly widens to a breadth of about five and a

half miles at the indentation leading to Banana Creek, in the narrow
approach to which we were lying at anchor. Of course it was not
possible for us to distinguish, from where we were lying, much of the
character of the country on the southern or left bank of the river, but it
appeared to be pretty much the same as what we saw around us; that is
to say, low land densely covered with bush and trees along the river
margin, with higher land beyond. About half-a-mile beyond us, broad
on our starboard bow as we were then lying, the anchorage narrowed
down to a width of less than half-a-mile, the western extremity of the
group of islands already referred to there converging toward Banana
Peninsula in a low, mangrove-wooded point. Beyond this, however,
could be seen a stretch of water about a mile and a half wide, which I
subsequently learned ran for several miles up at the back of the islands,
between them and the mainland, in the form of a narrow, shallow,
canal-like creek that Bates, the master, seemed to think might well
repay the trouble of careful inspection, since the narrow maze of
channels to which it gave access offered exceptional facilities for the
embarkation of slaves, and a choice of routes for the light-draught
slavers from their places of concealment into the main channel of the
river.
CHAPTER TWO.
WE RECEIVE SOME IMPORTANT INTELLIGENCE.
We had barely got our canvas furled and the decks cleared when we
saw a fine, handsome whale-boat, painted white, with a canvas awning
spread over her stern-sheets, and the Portuguese flag fluttering from a
little staff at her stern, shove off from the wharf and pull toward us. She
was manned by four Krumen, and in the stern-sheets sat a tall, swarthy
man, whose white drill suit and white, broad-brimmed Panama hat,
swathed with a white puggaree, caused his suntanned face and hands to
appear almost as black as the skins of his negro crew. The boat swept
up to our gangway in very dashing style, and her owner, ascending the
accommodation ladder, stepped in on deck with a genial smile that
disclosed a splendid set of brilliantly white teeth beneath his heavy,
glossy black moustache.

"Good-morning, sar," said he to the first lieutenant, who met him at the
gangway. "Velcome to Banana," with a flourish of his hat. "Vat chip
dis is, eh?"
"Her Britannic Majesty's brig Barracouta," answered Young. "You are
the Portuguese consul here, I suppose?"
"No--no; I not de consul," was the answer. "Dere is no consul at
Banana. I am Senor Joaquin Miguel Lobo, Portuguese trader, at your
savice, sar; and I have come off to say dat I shall be happie to supply
your chip wid anyting dat you may require--vattare, fresh meat,
vegetabl', feesh, no fruit--de fruit not ripe yet; plenty fruit by an' by, but
not ripe yet--parrots, monkeys--all kind of bird and animal, yes; and
curiositie--plenty curiositie, sar."
Here the skipper, who had been below for a few minutes, re-appeared
on deck, and, seeing the stranger, advanced toward him, whereupon the
first lieutenant introduced Senor Joaquin Miguel Lobo in proper form.
"Glad to see you, senor," remarked the skipper genially. "Will you step
below and take a glass of wine with Lieutenant Young and myself?"
"Ver' happie, captain, I am sure," answered the senor with another
sweeping bow and flourish of his Panama; and forthwith the trio
disappeared down the hatchway, to my unbounded astonishment, for it
was not quite like our extremely dignified skipper to be so wonderfully
cordial as this to a mere trader.
"Ah, I'm afraid that won't wash," remarked Bates, catching the look of
astonishment and perplexity on my face as I turned my regards away
from the hatchway. "The captain means to pump the Portuguese, if he
can, but from the cut of the senor's jib I fancy there is not much to be
got out of him; he looks to be far too wide-awake to let us become as
wise as himself. I'll be bound that he could put us up to many a good
wrinkle if he would; but, bless you, youngster, he's not going to spoil
his own trade. He professes to be an