Dick was glad that he had heard that after he had accepted the task.
“After all,” he thought, as he left the office, “I would rather work for the fun of the thing and for the good of old England than for money. If, however, there is a reward and I win it, why, all the better. It will be like winning a prize. And now for the preparations. I shall want to think it out.”
He bade farewell to the staff officer who had brought him from the ship and went to see Mr Pepson. A week later he set off on his hazardous journey to Kumasi, to the headquarters of the most ferocious monarch known to Englishmen, to the spot where everything was fetish, where thousands of slaves were butchered in the year, and where the sight of a white man was sufficient to rouse all the inhabitants to a condition bordering on insanity.
“Recollect, my dear lad,” said Mr Pepson, as he bade his young friend good-bye, “that King Koffee is a wild beast, and that it would be better for you and your men to die fighting, or to shoot one another, rather than fall into his hands. Good-bye, and good luck.”
He turned away to hide a tear, this strong man who so seldom showed his feelings. But he was deeply attached to Dick, and would gladly have kept him. However, this was duty, duty to his country, and he was forced to let him go. Then he turned and watched as the surf-boat took our hero out to his launch. There was the scream of a whistle, the waving of many hands, and Dick was off—perhaps never to return again.
Chapter Fourteen.
A Brush with the Enemy.
“We will look into Elmina on the way over to the Pra,” said Dick, as the launch steamed along the coast, keeping just outside the rollers. “I have news of something, and want to inspect. Later we can go up the Pra and get this other information.”