“Do you understand English?” he asked.
A frown, and a decided shake of the head from both men, was the reply. The poor negro girl cowered behind her keepers, as if she feared that violence were about to ensue.
Having tried French with a like result, Harold uttered the name, “Yoosoof,” and pointed in the direction in which the trader had entered the woods.
The men looked intelligently at each other, and nodded.
Then Harold said “Zanzibar,” and pointed in the direction in which he supposed that island lay.
Again the men glanced at each other, and nodded. Harold next said “Boat—dhow,” and pointed towards the creek, which remark and sign were received as before.
“Good,” he continued, slapping himself on the chest, and pointing to his companion, “I go to Zanzibar, he goes, she goes,” (pointing to the girl), “you go, and Yoosoof goes—all in the dhow together to Zanzibar—to-night—when moon goes down. D’ee understand? Now then, come along and have some rice.”
He finished up by slapping one of the men on the shoulder, and lifting the kettle off the fire, for the rice had already been cooked and only wanted warming.
The men looked once again at each other, nodded, laughed, and sat down on a log beside the fire, opposite to the Englishmen.
They were evidently much perplexed by the situation, and, not knowing what to make of it, were disposed in the meantime to be friendly.