ves who openly admitted
his liking for human flesh, and rapturously described its incomparable
tenderness, whiteness and delicacy. A year ago, when visiting his
village, he had been inconsolable because he had come a day late for a
cannibal feast, and had blamed his father bitterly for not having saved
a piece for him. Aside from this ghoulish propensity, Bourbaki was
a thoroughly nice fellow, obliging, reliable and as happy as a child
at the prospect of seeing his father again. We expected good service
and help in recruiting from him, and promised him ample head-money.

Bourbaki had run away without the permission of his chief, who was
furious at the loss of his best man, and had given orders to kill the
recruiter, a brother-in-law of George. Some natives had ambushed and
shot at them while entering the whale-boat; the white had received
several wounds, and a native woman had been killed. The boat pulled
away rapidly. Bourbaki laughed, and, indeed, by this time the little
incident was quite forgotten, as its only victim had been a woman.

The morning was damp and dull. The hills came down to the sea in slopes
of grey-green, the shore was a soft brown, and the rocks lay in dark
patches on the beach, separated from the greyish-green of the sea
by the white line of the breakers. The hollow sound of the dynamite
explosions glided along the slopes and was swallowed in distant space.

A few hours later, thinking the natives might be coming, we got
our arms ready: each of us had a revolver and a repeating rifle,
the boys had old Sniders. The cutter lay about 200 metres off-shore,
and we could see everything that was going on on the beach. Behind
the flat, stony shore the forest-covered hills rose in a steep cliff
to a tableland about 100 metres high. On the water we were in perfect
safety, for the villages lie far inland, and the Big Nambas are no
sailors, hate the sea and possess no canoes. They only come to the
beach occasionally, to get a few crabs and shell-fish, yet each tribe
has its own place on the shore, where no stranger is admitted.

We took Bourbaki ashore; he was very anxious to go home, and promptly
disappeared in the bush, his Snider on his shoulder. We then returned
to the cutter and waited. It is quite useless to be in a hurry when
recruiting, but one certainly needs a supply of patience, for the
natives have no idea of the value of time, and cannot understand the
rush which our civilization has created.