The part of the river they had reached was so perfectly still that every cloud in the sky, every mangrove, root and spray, and every bending bulrush, was perfectly reproduced in the reflected world below. Plaintive cries of wild-fowl formed appropriate melody, to which chattering groups of monkeys and croaking bull-frogs contributed a fine tenor and bass.
“Hallo, Disco!” exclaimed Harold in a subdued key, looking over his shoulder.
“Ay, ay, sir?” sighed the seaman, without moving his position.
“Range up alongside; I want to speak to you.”
“Ay, ay, sir.—Jumbo, you black-faced villain, d’ee hear that? give way and go ’longside.”
Good-humoured Jumbo spoke very little English, but had come to understand a good deal during his travels with Dr Livingstone. He wrinkled his visage and showed his brilliant teeth on receiving the order. Muttering a word to the men, and giving a vigorous stroke, he shot up alongside of the leader’s canoe.
“You seem comfortable,” said Harold, with a laugh, as Disco’s vast visage appeared at his elbow.
“I is.”
“Isn’t this jolly?” continued Harold.
“No, sir, ’taint.”