“This is what I call a right-down regular Harmattan,” said the master, who, like me, had been before in that delectable clime. The rest of the officers were new to it. “It will put the purser’s whiskers in curl if he gives them a turn round with a marline-spike. Don’t you smell the earthy flavour of the sands of Africa?”
“In truth I think I do,” said Jenkins, the second lieutenant, one of a group who were collected on the weather side of the quarter-deck. “I can distinguish the lions’ and boa-constrictors’ breath in it, too, if I’m not mistaken. Not much of Araby’s spicy gales here, at all events.”
“Blue skies, and verdant groves, and spicy gales sound very pretty in poetry, but very little of them do we get in reality,” said the master. “And when there is a blue sky there’s such a dreadfully hot sun peeps out of it, that one feels as if all the marrow in one’s bones was being dried up. But this won’t last long. We shall have a change soon.”
“Glad you think so,” observed Jenkins; “I’m tired of this already.”
“I didn’t say the change would be for the better,” answered the master. “We may have a black squall come roaring up from off the land, and take our topsails out of the bolt-ropes, or our topmasts over the side, before we know where we are, if you don’t keep a bright look-out for it; and we shall have the rainy season beginning in earnest directly, and then look out for wet jackets.”
“A pleasant prospect you give us, Smith,” said I. “I wish I could draw a better, but my experience won’t let me differ from you.”
The fog and the heat continued, and the wind, which put one in mind of the blast of a furnace, was equally steady, so, that we slowly beat up till we got close in-shore. It was dark when we made our approach to the mouth of the Sherbro, and when we were off it we furled everything, and let the vessel go where she might, in the hopes that should there be a slaver inside ready to sail she might take the opportunity of running out while the land-wind lasted, and, not seeing us, might fall into our clutches. Every light was dowsed on board, and the bells were even not allowed to be struck. There we lay, like a log on the water, or, as Jenkins said, like a boa-constrictor ready to spring on its prey. Besides the regular look-outs, we had plenty of volunteer eyes peering into the darkness, in hopes of distinguishing an unsuspecting slaver. We of course kept the lead at the bottom, to mark the direction we were driving; but we did not move much, as the send of the sea on shore was counteracted by the wind blowing off it. Everybody made sure of having a prize before morning. Jenkins said he was certain of having one, and the master was very sanguine. The first watch passed away, and nothing appeared, but neither of them would go below.
“I think we must have driven too much to the southward,” said Jenkins to the master, growing impatient. “The written orders for the night are to hold our position. Don’t you think we had better make sail back again?”
“What! and show our whereabouts to the slaver, if there is one?” answered the master. “Besides, we haven’t driven the sixteenth of a mile, except off-shore; and there isn’t much odds about that. Hark! did not you hear some cries coming from in-shore of us?”
We listened, but if sounds there were they were not repeated; and as Jenkins had the middle watch, I turned in, desiring to be called if anything occurred. I was on deck again just as the light of day was struggling into existence through the heavy canopy which hung over us; and as the sun, which must have been rising in the heavens, got higher, so the mass of vapour over the land increased in density and depth. At first it hung just above the mangrove bushes, and we could see the tops of a few lofty palm-trees on shore, and some distant mountains popping their heads above it; but by degrees they and the whole scene before us were immersed in it.