He insists
on fair play.

"This is not cheery," Jack Meredith observed to his servant as they
found themselves deposited on the beach within a stone's-throw of the
French factory.

"No, sir, not cheery, sir," replied Joseph. He was very busy attending
to the landing of their personal effects, and had only time to be
respectful. It was Joseph's way to do only one thing at a time, on the
principle, no doubt, that enough for the moment is the evil thereof. His
manner implied that, when those coloured gentlemen had got the baggage
safely conveyed out of the boats on to the beach, it would be time
enough to think about Loango.

Moreover, Joseph was in his way rather a dauntless person. He held
that there were few difficulties which he and his master, each in his
respective capacity, were unable to meet. This African mode of life was
certainly not one for which he had bargained when taking service; but he
rather enjoyed it than otherwise, and he was consoled by the reflection
that what was good enough for his master was good enough for him.
Beneath the impenetrable mask of a dignified servitude he knew that
this was "all along of that Chyne girl," and rightly conjectured that it
would not last for ever. He had an immense respect for Sir John, whom he
tersely described as a "game one," but his knowledge of the world went
towards the supposition that headstrong age would finally bow before
headstrong youth. He did not, however, devote much consideration to
these matters, being a young man although an old soldier, and taking a
lively interest in the present.

It had been arranged by letter that Jack Meredith should put up, as his
host expressed it, at the small bungalow occupied by Maurice Gordon and
his sister. Gordon was the local head of a large trading association
somewhat after the style of the old East India Company, and his duties
partook more of the glory of a governor than of the routine of a trader.

Of Maurice Gordon's past Meredith knew nothing beyond the fact that they
were schoolfellows strangely brought together again on the deck of a
coasting steamer. Maurice Gordon was not a reserved person, and it was
rather from a lack of opportunity than from an excess of caution that he
allowed his new-found friend to go up the Ogowe river, knowing so little
of himself, Maurice Gordon, of Loango.

There were plenty of willing guides and porters on the beach; for in
this part of Africa there is no such thing as contin