d, orders were sent to the Cape of Good Hope for the return of a
regiment of the line, which had not been more than three months there.
But the Cape was likely to be restored to Holland, and two empty
transports returning from India were to call under convoy, and bring
home these troops. One of the officers was Captain Erle Twemlow, then
about twenty-five years of age, and under probation, by the Admiral's
decree, for the hand of the maiden whose heart had been his from a time
to itself immemorial. After tiresome days of impatience, the transports
arrived under conduct of a frigate; and after another week, the soldiers
embarked with fine readiness for their native land.

But before they had cleared the Bay, they met a brig-of-war direct
from Portsmouth, carrying despatches for the officer in command of the
troops, as well as for the captain of the frigate. Some barbarous tribes
on the coast of Guinea, the part that is called the Ivory Coast, had
plundered and burnt a British trading station within a few miles of Cape
Palmas, and had killed and devoured the traders. These natives must be
punished, and a stern example made, and a negro monarch of the name of
Hunko Jum must have his palace burned, if he possessed one; while his
rival, the king of the Crumbo tribe, whose name was Bandeliah, who had
striven to protect the traders, must be rewarded, and have a treaty
made with him, if he could be brought to understand it. Both sailors
and soldiers were ready enough to undertake this little spree, as they
called it, expecting to have a pleasant run ashore, a fine bit of sport
with the negroes, and perhaps a few noserings of gold to take home to
their wives and sweethearts.

But, alas! the reality was not so fine. The negroes who had done all
the mischief made off, carrying most of their houses with them; and
the palace of Hunko Jum, if he possessed one, was always a little
way further on. The Colonel was a stubborn man, and so was the
sea-captain--good Tories both, and not desirous to skulk out of scrapes,
and leave better men to pick up their clumsy breakages. Blue and red
vied with one another to scour the country, and punish the natives--if
only they could catch them--and to vindicate, with much strong language,
the dignity of Great Britain, and to make an eternal example.

But white bones are what the white man makes, under that slimy sunshine
and putrefying moon. Weary, slack-jointed, low-hearted as they were, the
deadl