But presently, after luncheon, we saw a surf boat making its way towards us, and the captain through the glasses proclaimed, “Custom's boat. No white man. The surf is very bad.”
When the boat same alongside, the black Custom officer said the captain was right. The surf was bad. They had rather hesitated about coming out, but the bar steamer in the river could not come out till to-morrow.
“Will you land,” said the captain, “or shall we take you on?”
It seemed a pity to pass Addah, now I had come so near, and if the Customs could get through I did not see why I should not, so I got into the mammy-chair and was lowered into the surf boat with my servant and my gear. A surf boat is about five feet deep, and this time, as no one had expected a white woman to land, no chair had been provided, so I was obliged to balance myself on one of the narrow planks that ran across the boat and served as seats, and of course my feet dangled uncomfortably. Also, as we approached it, the surf looked most threatening. We were going straight into a furiously boiling sea with white, foam-lashed waves that flung themselves high into the air. I did not like the look of it at all, but as we were bound to go through it, I whisked myself round on my seat so that I sat with my back to the thing I was afraid of. Then the Custom-house officer, a black man, edged his way close beside me, and stretching out his hand put it on my arm. I did not like it. I object to being touched by black men, so I promptly shook it off, and as promptly the boat was apparently flung crash against a stone wall; she had really hit the beach, and over I went backwards and head first into the bottom of the boat. The man's help had been kindly meant; he would have held me in my place. But there is no time for apologies when a surf boat reaches the beach. Before I had realised what was happening, two Kroo boys had dived to the bottom of the boat, seized me without any ceremony whatever, and raced me up to the shore, where they put me down in all the blazing sun of an African afternoon, without even a helmet or an umbrella to protect my head. Grant followed with the helmet, and I endeavoured to smooth my ruffled plumes. At least, I had landed in safety, and the thing was now to find the Commissioner and see what he would do for me. We were on a beach where apparently was not even a boat, only the forlorn remains of the wreck of an iron steamer rapidly coming to its last end. The shore, rising to a height of about six or eight feet, was all sand with a little sparse, coarse grass upon it. We climbed up the yielding bank, and then I saw a native town, Beachtown, on my right, and on my left three or four bungalows built after the English fashion, on high posts rising out of cement platforms. Those bungalows at Beachtown, Addah, are perhaps the forlornest places on all the West-African coast. The wild surf is in front of them, the coarse grass all around them, and behind is a great swamp. Brave, brave, it seemed to me, must be the men and women who lived here and kept their health. The strong sea breeze would be healthgiving, but the deadly monotony of life must be something too terrible. But here the doctor, who was going home by the next steamer, had his wife, and the doctor who had just come out had brought his bride; two women, and I was told there was a third at the transport station. The Commissioner came forward, and I looked at him doubtfully. I had thought I should have known him and I didn't.
“You have forgotten me?”
Yes; I certainly ought to know him, but—it came on me with a flash, and I spoke my thoughts. “Ah, but you have grown a beard since I met you.”
He laughed and blushed.
“I've just come off trek and I've lost my razors.”
It was so like Africa. The dishevelled woman from the sea met the unkempt man from the bush, and we foregathered.
They were awfully good to me. Packed they were already with two more people than the bungalows were intended to hold, and so they considered what they should do for me, and while they were considering, hearing I had had luncheon, they gave me coffee and other drinks and offered cigarettes, and then they wrote to the transport company and asked them if they would take in a stray woman.