Then we had a dog, Steadfast, and a cat, Duchess, the only thing of much rank aboard us; two fine cocks and ten hens for laying eggs, besides a couple of dozen other fowls, to be eaten by my wife and the girls. We had a pair of pigeons, a pair of robins and sparrows, and a hen lark—her mate died just as we were going on board—belonging to Mark and John. I don’t think we had much else. Yes, we had some primrose, violets, snowdrops, daisies, and other roots and small plants, which took up little space, to remind us of old England.
We sailed in the autumn, so as to arrive in the summer, and to get housed before the rains set in. We took our departure from Ashanto, and shaped a course for Rio Janeiro, in the Brazils, there to take in a further supply of water and fresh provisions. Thence I hoped to carry the trade wind across the Atlantic, and round the Cape, though I thought it possible that I might have to touch at the Cape, unless we had an unusually fast run, for water. You see our little craft couldn’t carry enough for ourselves and the sheep for as long a time as we could have wished, and yet you may depend on it we wasted none. I have often thought of the story of the poor Arab who, wishing to make the caliph the most valuable present in his power, took him a skin bottle full of muddy water from the desert. He, when journeying across the desert esteemed it of more value than silver, gold, or precious stones. We, too, learned how to value fresh water, and I would not have filled up my cask with wine instead of it, had I been offered the finest in the world. We were especially favoured with fine weather and a fair wind, and we made good use of our time, for every one on board was as busy as a bee from morning till night. We had prayers regularly morning and evening out of the Prayer-book, and on a Sunday I read out of Galpin’s sermons, and that the lessons it taught might not be forgotten I used to talk about them every day for the week which the Sunday began, and asked the young people questions about it. Then I set them their lessons, and Mary or Peter heard them, and they got on famously. They gave their mind to the work, do you see, and did it well.
Chapter Four.
The Rescued Stranger.
We made the Desertas off Rio without having had one day on which my wife and the children couldn’t be on deck with comfort. They were tried somewhat by the heat, for it was hot in our little cabin with the sun striking down on the deck all day, but they didn’t mind that much. I was most anxious about the sheep. I had made up my mind that we were to do great things with them, and I dreaded any of them dying. We used to have them up on deck every day to walk about, two at a time, and they all became as tame as lambs; indeed, they lived like aldermen, and grew as sleek and fat, for we kept them well washed and clean, for I couldn’t help thinking that would be conducive to their health.
It was necessary to go into Rio, but I was sorry to have to do it on one account. It is so beautiful a place that I thought my wife and daughter might think meanly of our future home after it. It is a beautiful country, with its magnificent harbour, and surrounding hills, and tropical trees and villas, and the city looks very fine till you get into it. I hoped not to be detained there more than three days, so as soon as Peter had returned from the shore where he went to order our provisions, and to learn where we could get the best water, I took my wife and Mary and the rest of the children there, that they might see what a foreign city is like.
Scarcely had we set foot on shore than we saw collected on the quay nearly two hundred black people all huddled together, men and women, young girls and boys, and little children, with hardly a rag to cover them, looking wretched and startled and wild, very little like human beings. Mary drew closer to me.
“Oh, father, what are they?” she asked.