Exciting adventures were before them.
CHAPTER XI.
THE CITY OF BLOOD
"In the city of Benin," said the commander, that night at dinner, "and all around it, westward to Dahomey, Abomey, and Ashantee, they are a bad lot, an accursed lot, treacherous and cruel to a degree."
"I've heard it said," Creggan ventured to remark, "that the men of Benin are not brave, Captain Flint."
The captain shook his head and smiled.
"We must not believe all we hear. Remarks like these are generally made by gentlemen journalists who live at home at ease. But I've been there, lad, and found it altogether different."
The dinner passed off very comfortably indeed. Dr. Grant would not touch wine, but when dessert had been removed, and the commander ordered the steward to bring in the tumblers, he helped himself somewhat liberally to the wine of his native land.
"Well, Captain Flint," he said, "I haven't really been a dog's watch[[1]] in the service, as you might say, and with the exception of a brush with the Arabs on the East Coast of Africa, and north of the Equator, I've never seen what we in Scotland term 'solid fighting'."
[[1]] The dog-watches are from four to six and six to eight every evening, and therefore only two hours long, while all the others are four hours.