he cruelties and indignities they had so long suffered at the
hands of their captors. [See Captain Sulivan's _Dhow-chasing in
Zanzibar Waters_, page 252.]

"Wot's the matter with her, poor thing?" asked Disco of a half-caste
Portuguese, dressed in something like the garb of a sailor.

"Oh, notting," answered the man in broken English, with a look of
indifference, "she have lose her chile, dat all."

"Lost her child? how--wot d'ee mean?"

"Dey hab sole de chile," replied the man; "was good fat boy, 'bout
two-yer ole. S'pose she hab carry him for months troo de woods, an'
over de hills down to coast, an' tink she keep him altogether. But she
mistake. One trader come here 'bout one hour past. He want boy--not
want modder; so he buy de chile. Modder fight a littil at first, but de
owner soon make her quiet. Oh, it notting at all. She cry a littil--
soon forget her chile, an' get all right."

"Come, I can't stand this," exclaimed Harold, hastening away.

Disco said nothing, but to the amazement of the half-caste, he grasped
him by the collar, and hurled him aside with a degree of force that
caused him to stagger and fall with stunning violence to the ground.
Disco then strode away after his friend, his face and eyes blazing with
various emotions, among which towering indignation predominated.

In a few minutes they reached the harbour, and, while making inquiries
as to the starting of trading dhows for the south, they succeeded in
calming their feelings down to something like their ordinary condition.

The harbour was crowded with dhows of all shapes and sizes, most of them
laden with slaves, some discharging cargoes for the Zanzibar market,
others preparing to sail, under protection of a pass from the Sultan,
for Lamoo, which is the northern limit of the Zanzibar dominions, and,
therefore, of the so-called "domestic" slave-trade.

There would be something particularly humorous in the barefacedness of
this august Sultan of Zanzibar, if it were connected with anything less
horrible than slavery. For instance, there is something almost amusing
in the fact that dhows were sailing every day for Lamoo with hundreds of
slaves, although that small town was known to be very much overstocked
at the time. It was also quite entertaining to know that the commanders
of the French and English war-vessels lying in the harbour at the time
were aware of this, and that the Sultan knew it, and that, in short,
everybody knew