At length the stormy Atlantic was crossed, and one day, when the sun was so hot that it fairly melted the pitch on her decks, the Mary Newman came to anchor at the mouth of the Congo River, on the African coast.
Lank Edwards, the mate, had been as good as his word, and had indeed been a friend to our hero during the voyage.
Though Van did not like the life of a sailor any too well, he got along fairly enough, thinking all the while that he would yet corner the murderer of his uncle, and be the means of having him conveyed to the United States to stand trial.
As it was past noon when the ship came to anchor, the captain concluded to wait till morning before he proceeded ten miles up the river to a trading station.
A canvas awning was stretched over the deck, and the crew of the Mary Newman lay under this in a listless manner, waiting for the sun to go down so they could get the cool breeze which invariably comes after nightfall in that latitude.
Van noticed that the red-whiskered sailor appeared to be very uneasy, and he concluded to watch him closely.
The afternoon passed and darkness came, and with it the cooling breeze they so much desired.
Van was in the second watch, and, consequently, he turned into his bunk soon after mess.
But it was so warm below decks that he could not sleep, and after tossing about for perhaps an hour, he went on deck and crawled into a fold of the main jib, which made a first-class hammock.
It was cool and refreshing, and the boy soon fell asleep.