ers. Coming into the
harbour from the southwards, as I've entered it many a time when
returning from a trip down to the Mozambique, your vessel has to wind
slowly along through numerous little coral islands, which are, however,
grown with stunted trees and bush quite close down to the water."

"That must be lovely!" I remarked.

"Aye, aye, so it is," said my friend; "but the navigation is awfully
difficult, not to say dangerous, even with a man in the chains heaving
the lead and singing out the depth every moment, for the soundings shoot
from the `deep nine' to the `short five,' and less nor that too, before
you know where you are! Howsomdever, once you've got inside and cast
anchor, it's as pretty a roadstead as I ever clapped eyes on--as pretty
as Rio in South America, which I daresay you've heard of?"

"Yes, and seen too," I said in response.

"Have you, sir?" replied the ex-man-o'-war's-man--"then all I can say is
that you've seen the handsomest harbour in the world! But, still,
Zanzibar ain't far behind it. The front of the town, which faces the
anchorage, looks quite imposing like. The water of the bay is clear
too, so that you can see the bottom down to any depth; and the white
sandy beach fringing it round is just like snow against the dark
background of palm-trees and green foliage. Along the beach are the
warehouses and residences of the English-speaking merchants, the grand
mansions of the richer sort of citizens, and the offices of the
different foreign consuls--each with its own national flag fluttering
gaily from the top, the British Union Jack and the Yankee Stars and
Stripes being very prominent; while, in the very centre of the lot, is
the palace of the sultan, a fine concern. From the top of this flies
the red ensign of Arabia, and around it may be seen sentries in a sort
of zouave uniform, selected from that very slave army I told you of just
now."

"What struck you as most peculiar about the place?" I asked.

"Well, I'm hanged if it weren't the niggers, sir!" said my informant.
"You see there the most extraordinary number of little darkies you ever
saw in your life, all with nothing on 'em, no more than Adam--not even a
fig-leaf! The next thing to strike you, if a stranger, would be the
heat, for it is far hotter, strange to say, ashore there than it is
aboard your own ship. Some of the houses are curious to look at, for
they have neither windows nor doors; for the best dwellings are