we tell him that four
days after the storm in question the _Red Eric_ had anchored in the
harbour formed by the mouth of one of the rivers on the African coast,
where white men trade with the natives for bar-wood and ivory, and where
they also carry on that horrible traffic in negroes, the existence of
which is a foul disgrace to humanity.

"Go ashore!" echoed Captain Dunning. "Why, if you all go on at this
rate, we'll never get ready for sea. However, you may go, but don't
wander too far into the interior, and look out for elephants and wild
men o' the woods, boys--keep about the settlements."

"Ay, ay, sir, and thank'ee," replied the two men, touching their caps as
they retired.

"Please, sir, I want to go too," said Glynn Proctor, approaching the
captain.

"What! more wanting to go ashore?"

"Yes, and so do I," cried Ailie, running forward and clasping her
father's rough hand; "I did enjoy myself _so_ much yesterday, that I
must go on shore again to-day, and I must go with Glynn. He'll take
such famous care of me; now _won't_ you let me go, papa?"

"Upon my word, this looks like preconcerted mutiny. However, I don't
mind if I do let you go, but have a care, Glynn, that you don't lose
sight of her for a moment, and keep to the shore and the settlements.
I've no notion of allowing her to be swallowed by an alligator, or
trampled on by an elephant, or run away with by a gorilla."

"Never fear, sir. You may trust me; I'll take good care of her."

With a shout of delight the child ran down to the cabin to put on her
bonnet, and quickly reappeared, carrying in her hand a basket which she
purposed to fill with a valuable collection of plants, minerals and
insects. These she meant to preserve and carry home as a surprise to
aunts Martha and Jane, both of whom were passionately fond of
mineralogy, delighted in botany, luxuriated in entomology, doted on
conchology, and raved about geology--all of which sciences they studied
superficially, and specimens of which they collected and labelled
beautifully, and stowed away carefully in a little cabinet, which they
termed (not jocularly, but seriously) their "Bureau of Omnology."

It was a magnificent tropical morning when the boat left the side of the
_Red Eric_ and landed Glynn and Ailie, Tim Rokens and Phil Briant on the
wharf that ran out from the yellow beach of the harbour in which their
vessel lay. The sun had just risen. The air was cool (comparatively)
an