an Gulf, and
I'm not going to put myself in the way of the law, if I know it."

"Well, I think you're wrong, sir," said the Mate. "I believe they're in
some cases that are down on the manifest as 'machinery.' I saw them
stowed down No. 3 hold, and I remember one of the stevedores in London
joking about them when they were struck below."

"Supposing they were rifles, what than?"

"Rad wants them. He says they're consigned to some of his neighbors up
coast, who'll raid him as soon as they're properly armed; and he doesn't
like the idea. What raiding's done, he likes to do himself, and at the
same time he much prefers good Brummagen rifles to the local
ironmonger's blunderbusses."

"Well," said Kettle, "I'm waiting to hear what he thought you could do
with the rifles supposing they were on board."

"Oh, he expected me to broach cargo and bring them here ashore to him.
He's a simple-minded savage."

"By James!" said Kettle, "the man's mad. What did he think I should be
doing whilst one of my mates was scoffing cargo under my blessed nose?"

"Ah, you see," said the foggy voice, with sly malice, "he did not know
you so well then, sir. That was before he persuaded you to come into his
house to stay with him."

It is probable that Captain Kettle would have found occasion to make
acid comment on this repartee from his inferior officer, but at that
moment another voice addressed him from the slit at the other side of
his prison, and he turned sharply round. To his surprise this new person
spoke in very tolerable English.

"Capt'n, I want t'make contrack wid you."

"The deuce you do. And who might you be, anyway?"

"I cullud gen'lem'n, sar. Born _Zanzibar_. Used to be fireman on P. and
O. I want arsk you--"

"Is this the Arabian Nights? How the mischief did you get here, anyway?"

"Went on burst in Aden, sar. Th'ole Chief fired me out. Went Yemen.
Caught for slave. Taken caravan. Brought here. But I'm very clever
gen'lem'n, sar, an' soon bought myself free. Got slave of my own now.
An' three wives. Bought 'nother wife yesterday."

"You nasty beast!" said Kettle.

"Sar, you insult me. Not bally Christian any longer. Hard-shell
Mohammedan now, sar, and can marry as many wives as I can buy."

"I'm sure the Prophet's welcome to you. Look here, my man. Pass down a
rope's end from aloft there, and let me get on deck, and I'll give you a
sovereign cash down, and a berth in my steamboat's stoke-hold if you
want one. I'