But before doing so the youths walked out to the rail to view their surroundings.
The sight that met their eyes made them gasp, so different was it from anything they had previously seen.
Before them was the new port, which contained numerous docks, warehouses, and the like. To one side they saw the old harbor with its numerous native ships and boats. Beyond the waterfront were the prominent buildings of the city, while not far away was the old Portuguese fort. Farther away was the bright green of endless tropical vegetation.
“So this is Africa,” muttered Bob. “What do you think of it?”
“Pleases me, all right,” grinned Joe. “I’m longing to get into the jungle.”
“Come along, boys.” It was Mr. Holton’s voice. “Gather up your baggage and come back on deck. Do it as rapidly as you can.”
During the next ten minutes the youths worked furiously, attending to such things that they had not already packed. On their way down the hall they stopped at Cecil Stone’s suite to have a parting word with that young man. But apparently he had left, for no one answered the knock.
“The last we’ll see of him, maybe,” remarked Bob, picking up the cases he had been carrying.
On deck, Bob and Joe found a large number of passengers amassed ready to move down the gangplank. There was an exchange of parting words, and the chums left with their fathers and made their way to a hotel, in which they had previously engaged rooms.
“What’s next?” inquired Joe, after they had had breakfast.