"So—so! Across France and the Mediterranean it was easy going, but North Africa was the devil. We were nearly buffeted to pieces—especially about mid-day. So, towards the latter end of our flight, we went up only in the mornings and evenings."
"Good! You've picked up plenty of useful knowledge of the air conditions out here?"
"Yes! I don't think we're likely to have much trouble if we start an hour or so before sunrise each day and come back about sunset."
"What's the aerodrome like?"
"Excellent . . . considering . . ."
"No illness among the others?"
"Fitter than ever they've been!"
Chatting thus, we came at last to the mission station, which was a cluster of bamboo buildings, consisting of three houses for the whites, a church, a storehouse, a school, several lodging-houses for the children, detached kitchens, and numerous pens for fowl. The whole was surrounded by a hedge of fragrant lime trees, and the cocoanut and mango provided plenty of welcome shade—and fruit!
As a healthy, residential quarter it appeared to be immensely superior to the average suburban street in London. There was certainly no picture palace or public-house round the corner, and our neighbors hardly belonged to the worthy and dignified middle class of England, but in spite of all these drawbacks I liked the place the moment I saw it. It had an air of complete freedom from all the worry and turmoil of a workaday world; it was restful to tired eyes; and yet it seemed to hold the promise of untold excitements and adventures.
Molly had already made friends with the missionaries and their wives, and Sally Rebecca with a group of fat little native children who clustered round her like a brood of affectionate chickens. It was a pretty picture and reminded me of a film of royalty "slumming"—in the heart of Africa! So I levelled my Kodak at the scene, and snapped it.