Alone in West Africa

by Mary Gaunt

“Much good would it have done 'em,” opined the captain; “no living thing could have got ashore in that sea.”

Then up came the chief engineer, a German; his face was scalded and his eyes were bloodshot, and it was to him we all owed our lives.

The waves had beaten in the top of the engine-room, and the water had poured in till it was flush with the fires; a gauge blew out—I am not sure if I express myself quite rightly, but the place was full of scalding steam, and all those educated negro engineers fled, but the white man stuck to his job.

“I tink it finish,” said he, “when I see the water come close close to the fires, but I say, 'well, as well dis vay as any oder,' so I stick to do my job, an' I not see, I do it by feel.”

And we all three shook hands, and the captain and engineer had a glass of whisky, and though it was so early in the morning, never did I think it was more needed. I had been but an onlooker. On them had fallen the burden and heat of the day.

And then came boats, bringing on board the captains of the French and German steamers that lay in the roadstead, far out, because the surf was so bad.

They had been watching us. They thought we were gone, but though they had out their boats they confessed they would have been powerless to aid. No boat could have lived in such a sea, and the captain declared that though he was swept bare of all food nothing would induce him to go back. It would be certain death.

We looked a rather forlorn wreck, but the German captain came to the rescue with a seaman-like goodwill, lending men to work the cargo in place of the broken-down crane, and giving food to the hungry ones. He had come from Lome, and he brought news that the hurricane of the night before had swept away the bridge that had been the pride and delight of the people of Togo, and that never for many a long year had there been such a storm along the Guinea Coast. He had been unable to get his papers and had come away without them. He would take me if I liked, but he must go back to Lome.

But I was rather feeling I had had enough of the sea, and so I turned to the Frenchman. He was just as kind and courteous. His ship was small, he said, and he was not going to Sekondi, but I might tranship at Accra if I liked. The captain of the bar steamer advised my going on board at once, for his ship was in a state of confusion, and also he was going to tranship cargo.

Then Grant took a hand in the proceedings. Whether he had stripped I don't know, for I did not see him, but he presented himself before me in a very wet and damp condition.